Wicked 1. Chapter 1

**So here it is, at long last, the sequel to **_**The Bonds That Tie Us**_**. Sorry it has taken so long, hopeful it won't disappoint though as I always do, I worry it will.**

**Anyway, if you have any constructive criticism feel free to message me here or on my Tumblr. Or if you just want to yell at me for what I have written, I'll even take that :)**

**I hope you will enjoy it.**

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><p>One moment people had been crowded around the stage, cheers and applause echoing in the early Summer air. It brightened the already brilliant day into one that would surely remain clear in anyone's mind for some time to come. The smiling faces of young and old, all brought together for the greater good, to help those less fortunate than they. The beaming expressions of the orphans who had lost their parents in, and to, the mines towards the north, finally given a spark of hope in their otherwise dismal lives. Finally able to smile for the first time in so long, they seemed almost confused by it.<p>

Yes, surely it would be a day long remembered. Though, perhaps, not for the reasons they once believed. For the moment, like many, was short-lived.

_Crash!_

Screaming, shouting, the stampeding sound of footsteps as the congregation broke, running in all directions. The wailing of children and adults alike filling the air until it became stiflingly, claustrophobic even though they were outside. They ran and fell, littering the ground with their bodies.

Rubble rained down on their forms, bruising and cutting, painting the grass with greys and browns and whites.

Chaos.

Amongst it all, the sound of a confused, young voice called for help, lost beneath the weight of everything else.

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><p>In whole, it had been sudden, the death of the Eminent. Still something she had yet to come to terms with even as she stood amongst the roses, black cloth hanging from the windows and the single balcony of Colwen Grounds.<p>

The funeral itself was a rather private affair, with only those closest to Nessarose or those in positions of importance attending. There were few people there Glinda knew, and so she remained on her own for the most part, for once not embarrassed by the breaking of social norms. Though that did not mean she did not feel awkward, for she did. As such she made her way through the rows of flowers, untouched by the fierce storm that took place only a short distance away, in search for a familiar greying figure.

She did not fully understand the pull she felt, the one leading her to seek someone she had very rarely purposeful sought out before. Perhaps it was due to her understanding of what he was going through, an innate desire to seek one who was now shouldering pain she herself had felt not too long ago. For her sorrow now, for Nessarose, was not as great as the sorrow she had felt those few years ago. She cared for Nessie, had become friends in their mutual loss, though they had drifted apart in the past years. Her connection with her Ama, on the other hand, had only strengthened during their time apart. A connection that would never break, only grow stronger with age.

In a secluded corner she found him alone and quiet.

It took her back to their first meeting, or rather the first time they met one another in person. It had been late at night, she once again found sleep was a distance goal, one she could not grasp easily, so she wandered the halls, planning to while away some time in the library of all things.

She had opened the door, and there he sat. Head bowed, and hands cupping some poor wooden bird that appeared to have been chewed by some young wild animal. A pose he was now replicating in the present, as if the memory had become real and appeared before her.

At first there had been a sense of distain towards her, not for her personally, but for her people. A bigotry towards the Gilikinese as a whole. Something she had come to see as a common opinion amongst the Munchkins. But, as they had come to know one another, that bigotry faded away until they had a mutual respect between them – if not a pleasant familiarity of sorts. Like… well, like family in a way.

She took in his wavering form, his figure hunched far beyond its years as he rested his weight on a sturdy cane. His hair swept back, tied, and beard trimmed as normal, but now its colour almost fully overtaken by grey.

Glinda approached cautiously, though she made sure Frexspar knew of her approach by clearing her throat daintily, but loudly. His hearing was failing quite rapidly nowadays.

Once by his side, she rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, a gesture of support she hoped, "Frexspar?"

He did not respond at first, too absorbed in his own thoughts and sorrow that Glinda wondered if he was even aware of her presence at all.

She almost jumped when he spoke.

"First Turtle Heart…" His voice cracked, his words weighed down as much as his frame now was. Glinda ensured that her hand and posture remained strong, as if her stability could pass over to the man beside her, strengthening and supporting him, "My dear Melena, my oldest child…" He sighed heavily, his misty eyes downcast, "And now Nessa. It seems I am fated to be alone."

"I understand." For now she did, if only distantly.

He turned his head to her, lifting it slightly as he smiled weakly at her, "At least I still have you and my son."

She returned his smile, though hers was far firmer, as he looked once more to the open expense beyond the hedges, "Surely you mean your son and his wife?"

"Do not belittle yourself so." He turned his glassy eyes to her again; even now his face bore none of the familiar signs of Nessarose, nor Elphaba, something she was, in that moment, greatly thankful for. Selfish of her perhaps, but it made things easier to deal with. To push aside.

He lifted a hand to rest against her own, squeezing weakly.

"You have grown, more than I imagined possible."

The words could easily be interpreted as a veiled insult, but she knew it not to be that way. Not with Frexspar. Not now.

"I would like some time alone." He shifted his weight, taking an unsteady step forward, moving from under her hand as he did, "Will you escort me to the Sunroom?"

"Of course." As she moved forward, he stuck the elbow of his spare arm out, an offer she politely took. Ever the gentleman was Frexspar, even as he grew older. She slid her arm through his and they began the slow and careful walk out of the rose gardens and towards the main building in a comfortable silence.

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><p>"Lady Glinda?"<p>

She turned at the voice, brows raised in her surprise, a reaction she covered up swiftly when her eyes landed on Genfee's familiar shinning head.

"Yes?" She asked, hiding her displeasure at being interrupted, she would much rather have been left alone for the day to come to terms with her sudden loss. The other business she was now responsible for could wait, if only for a day.

Though perhaps that was not wise.

She could not hole up in her room and ignore her responsibilities, nor could she rightly continue about as if nothing had happened. She had duties now. Something she had to remind herself of. When a leader is lost, so too become the people.

They needed a leader and, she supposed, she was that leader now. As such, she was unsurprised when Genfee informed her that The Council of Munchkinland were awaiting her presence in the main study of Colwen Grounds.

She followed after the Munchkin, struggling to push down her annoyance that The Council had the cheek to go to the main study to wait for her, rather than the drawing room as was polite. Even the normally mild mannered Genfee seemed irritated as he broke proper manners to tug at his beard like a teenager unsure of what to do, or an ill-mannered peasant.

Genfee led her to the study she was well aware of, entering before her to state her arrival before hurrying back out of the room, leaving Glinda alone with the occupants.

The men, all Munchkins save one, were a mixture of advisors and powerful landowners. She recognised some of them from when she still resided at Colwen Grounds. One in particular, a Munchkin with a shockingly dark toupee and grey eyebrows, was a particularly outspoken individual who had attempted to convince Nessarose to abdicate and abolish the position of Eminent. Showing the familiar stubbornness of the Thropp's, Nessarose had refused again and again, month after month, until the Munchkin had finally dropped the matter. Seemingly resigned in his loss.

Ah. With those memories resurfacing she had a certain theory of just where this conversation was heading.

And with Nessarose only a few hours in the ground.

Vultures, the lot of them.

She did not greet them straight away, instead walking to the large desk in the room, hesitating before deciding not to sit down. Instead, she lifted her head even higher, exaggerating her height advantage and rested her hands on the back of the chair.

"What can I help you with?"

A Munchkin with oversized eyebrows and narrow eyes cleared his throat, taking a step forward as he did, "We, err, wished to broach a subject with you." He began, scratching at his throat with a fat finger when he paused, "With the Eminent dead and the condition of Munchkinland at present, we thought it most important."

"That I understand." And Glinda did, Nessarose does – did her best, but all realms have problems that will rear their heads no matter what actions a leader takes. Do one action, certain problems arise, take the opposite action and different problems arise instead. There was no winning, only slightly less problematic losses, "But Nessarose passed only the other day, was buried barely a few hours prior to this moment. Surely it can wait until at least tomorrow morn."

Eyebrows, for his part, had the decency to look ashamed. The other men suddenly seemed a little more apprehensive, all aside from the toupee wearing Munchkin.

Toupee stepped towards the desk, tilting his head up and squaring his chin as if that would make an impression, "There can be no waiting. The time to take action is now."

He punctuated his words with a slam of a palm on the dark wood of the desk separating them, his pale brows drawn low.

"Am I incorrect?" He turned to the five individuals behind him, gesturing with his hands. They all nodded their agreement, though Eyebrow's head moved more hesitantly.

The only Munchkinlander there, though closer to a Munchkin in height, spoke next, his face tightly constricted, "He is right. There can be no more waiting when Munchkinland is need of a firm guiding hand."

Glinda lifted a single brow, "You do not believe I am skilled enough to replace Nessarose?"

Toupee shock his head, sending the hair upon his head askew, he opened his mouth, but she cut him off –

"This is about abolishing the title again, isn't it? Well that will _not _happen." She had not meant to snap, but after all that had happened in the past week could she really be blamed for doing so? She had lost a friend, an ally, for Lurline's sake!

She took a breath, and willed herself to calm. Unfortunately, that did not last long, Toupee instead continuing on in spite of her clear refusal.

"The Eminent did not leave a Will; as such she did not restate what is to happen when she dies."

"Something that is not required."

"I think you will find –

"Something that is_ not_ required," she stressed the words this time, trying to get it to stick in his think skull, "Not with a tradition of this sort."

The men in the room seemed to shrink at her words, apparently beginning to see that they would not be able to exert their power over her as they originally thought. All expect one.

Toupee hit the surface of the desk with both hands this time, his lips curled back over his teeth.

Another, his stomach protruding obscenely, gained courage at this, stepping forward besides his colleague, "How do we know you're not in league with that Gillikinese Adept? How do we know that she wasn't sent her to dispose of The Eminent? To use that girl as a scapegoat when it didn't end up looking like an accident?"

"What happened was a freak accident; there is no evidence to the contrary." Glinda repeated, having grown long tired of such rumours. Ones that had only began a few days ago.

"Then why did she run away?"

Glinda's lips pressed into a thin line, her composure failing as her anger grew steadily more apparent; something that was not recognised by Toupee.

"Your kind cares nothing for us, your hand will be far too soft," he snarled, "It is time _we_ controlled our futures, no more interference from _others_."

"Is this to do with my _heritage_?!" The pitch of her voice dropped, the last word hissed rather than spoken. The other occupants of the room visibly stepped back this time, even the raging Munchkin before her, "You are trying to find a loophole in a centuries old practice, one that has only been strengthen with time, because I am Gillikinese?!"

"Err –

"And Nessarose? Why did you want her to abolish the Title?" For their reasons had been much the same as the ones they confronted her with, only when they were brought up with Nessie the reasons were weaker, with much less evidence to back them up. Now most of the problems came from the pressure placed upon Munchkinland by Loyal Oz, something that could not be easily controlled or rectified, until now that is. For she was in charge now. "Because of her association with me? Is that it?"

"This has nothing to do with race." Thick beads of sweat were forming on the creases of his forehead, rolling down his face sluggishly, "You are simply not a native, you don't understand what Munchkinland needs."

"That was supposed to convince me that this has nothing to do with race?" The bigoted fool. Her knowledge on Nessarose's parenthood was only known by a few, but her pinkish skin might have given rise to a rumour that Glinda had not heard. If that was true, then maybe race played a part with their attempts to oust Nessie also. Then again, Munchkins were not very good at keeping secrets, nor were they all that subtle, so she doubted they were aware that Nessie had been half Quadling.

Flustered and sweating more profusely, Toupee, pressed a handkerchief to his brow, his cheeks burning bright, "I – that isn't –

He spluttered, the others remained silent, their eyes wide and faces pale. Eyebrows edged towards the door with the carefulness of one confronted by an enraged beast.

Perhaps it was wrong of her to twist things, for surely they did have a slight point buried deep beneath their bigotry, but – for reasons she could not discern – she would not let them take what was now rightfully hers. She had been through enough to get this far, lost too much too quickly, only to now lose the only thing left for her to gain.

"The Title will continue down the line, as it has for generations." She raised her chin, straightened her shoulders to put forth the image of pure power and authority that she needed to get across to these men, "In the future there may be time for discussions of concessions, the possibility for reducing the powers of the Eminent, maybe to the point of only being a figurehead."

The group's unofficial leader's throat bobbed rapidly as he tried to swallow his words, tried to grab them from the space between them and stuff them back inside, to force them down and pray they had never been released into the air.

"Until then, I remain. Munchkinland needs to know that they have someone in charge. Someone they can voice any concerns to, someone to look up to in this dark time. Surely even you can understand the benefit? See past your self-absorbed fantasies to see what is best for Munchkinland as a whole?"

The other occupants in the room were still shrouded in silence, the air around them still while the air around her crackled and tingled against her skin – enough so she feared she may have unintentionally used her Sorcery skills on the short fellows. Not that she could, she would feel wholly horrified if she had, it would leave a decidedly awful taste in her mouth, one that would grow as time passed. Not that Sorcery of that sort was easy to do; in fact she was not even sure if it was possible to use it to harm another.

And there she goes, getting of topic in a way she had not done in a long time.

Handkerchief crumpled in his hand, the still red faced Munchkin bowed his head, his fellows following suit.

"Of course, your Eminence."

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><p>How could those fools possibly think the Northern Adept had anything to do with Nessarose's death?<p>

She did not truly know Locasta, but from the little she had experienced first-hand, and heard second-hand, she was a kind and somewhat naïve individual. She even refused to let people refer to her by her title, preferring a more personal connection with everyone she came across. Having experienced many people who acted as though they were kind and caring, Glinda was certain that with Locasta she was genuine in her behaviour. Her brief meeting with The Gillikinese Sorceress had been at a large celebration in Gillikin for the approval of an extension for The Great Gillikinese Railway into Munchkinland. Of course such plans had fallen through at the last moment due to some dispute Glinda would now, with Nessie… deceased, never know the cause of. A great loss for both countries involved in her opinion, though at least she was able to meet such a powerful and apparently influential figure before the plans did fail.

She was aware that Locasta was a popular figure in most areas of Oz, but when the locals noticed her presence there – in Munchkinland so soon after the death of The Eminent – the rumours started and spread like a raging fire.

Locasta was the Adept of the North. Of Gillikin. Besides the inherent dislike of the Gillikinese the Munchkins' held, there was also the fact she was a part of Loyal Oz, the so called 'enemy'. So really it was not much of a surprise when the whispers that she had something to do with Nessarose's death began.

As so did hardened looks directed at Glinda _herself_. Anyone with more than fluff between the ears would realise how ridiculous the rumours were, but Munchkin's were never particularly smart. And The Council proved that. Her being Gillikinese and still residing in the Emerald City was apparently enough evidence to raise suspicions against her. Suspicions that had never knowingly been present until poor Nessa had passed.

For her part, she ignored them.

Ignored rumours would disappear eventually, and so, despite her desire to share some words with the Adept of Gillikin, she kept her distant and did not approach her in order to extinguish the rumours more swiftly.

Wisely, Locasta for her part, left Munchkinland swiftly along with the girl some deemed magical. Of course The Council would claim she was running away, anything to strengthen their own argument, no matter how pathetic it was.

The girl. Strange, perhaps, how she had appeared mere moments after the storm that tore the area apart and ended Nessa's life so suddenly.

But a girl she was, and one so lost and confused there was no doubting her harmlessness. Though the same conclusion had not been drawn by everyone. The girl would be safe, Glinda assumed, with Locasta by her side, together they should be fine until they crossed the borders back into Loyal Oz. Back into supposed 'safety' as others deemed it.

And now they thought she had something to do with it, all because she had 'gained' something. It made her sick.

Weary, Glinda made her way to the room that opened onto the main balcony of the building, preparing to spend the rest of the evening resting with a fairly pleasant view. Something to ease the stress of the day.

She had attempted to find Nanny, having not seen the old woman in an age, but was informed that she was 'gone'. Sensing her initial reaction, or perhaps simply hearing how the sentence had come across, the staff member that she asked quickly corrected themselves. Nanny had left on some journey of her own, searching for something none of them understood. They had added a quick joke about a late midlife crisis, something Glinda saw no humour in. Nanny was indeed very old now; perhaps her journey had to do with wanting to do something before she had no time left to do so.

It left a bittersweet feeling in Glinda's chest.

She had only just lowered herself into a plush armchair when the door reopened. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to greet the intruder with a cordial smile and kind word. When she opened them and turned she was genuinely surprised to see Shell in front of the closed door.

Her tight smile eased as she relaxed in her chair.

"Evening dear," he grinned facetiously, before making his way to the chair at an angle to her own, so they could have a view of the gardens while also keeping one another in their sight, "How was your meeting with those old fools?"

"You know about that?"

"There is very little that escapes my notice."

"As I am aware."

Glinda drew in a breath slowly, her gaze focusing on the sky as it began to turn orange and red, the clouds floating by carelessly. Hard to believe that such a fierce storm has struck nearby only a few days prior.

"We do not have to move here do we?" It would be far easier to keep her distance from the place, from the memories that the walls held. It was part of the reason she chose not to return Gillikin to live, not that Shell was keen on the idea anyway – naturally she let him believe he had won their 'disagreement' of where to reside, though in truth it was a mutual decision to move to the City. Her side of the decision was simply not verbalised to him, "Our home in the City is far more pleasing."

"Oh I don't see that happening anytime soon," Shell responded followed by a chuckle, "The City has much more going on for it. Don't you think? Far more lively than this backwater town." Now while she knew of his dislike for his home, she had never realised just how much distain he had for his home country. His tone was heavy with loathing. She couldn't blame him; if she were from Munchkinland she would be ashamed too. She would do as he did and mention it as rarely as possible – if ever. His brow, which had drawn low with his last sentence, smoothed now as he cocked an eyebrow, "I think we can manage things from our home easily enough."

"'We'…" Glinda raised an eyebrow of her own as she turned to face him fully, filing away information without acknowledging it verbally, a useful and beneficial habit she had developed over the years, "My, how presumptuous."

"I suppose it rather was. Or poorly chosen words." He tapped his chin with a slim forefinger, twisting his face into mock expression of thoughtfulness.

"I rather the latter."

"Of course you do." The expression dropped quickly as he leant a hand on his knee and leant slightly towards her, "And you did not answer my question?"

Like a cat with a mouse it planned to eat, he would tease and play, stray from it, but never let it truly go. He would get what he wanted in the end, no matter how long it took. No matter how long he spent playing.

"It went as you already know it did."

"They tried to oust you then." Out of the corner of her eye she could see Shell nod at the end of his sentence.

"And that was as far as they got." He looked towards her now, and when she met his eyes she saw genuine fascination in their depths, "They will not be trying to dispose of me anytime soon."

He made an impressed sound in the back of his throat, pleased at that turn of events. No doubt he saw some advantage he could gain for himself, not that she could really condemn him for doing so.

"So Eminent," he murmured as he let his head drop to rest against the back of his chair, "what do you plan to do now?"

"Reconnect the lands."

"Reunite with Oz?" His head jerked forward, snapping to face her with a concerned crinkle between his brows, "That will cause many to revolt."

"My," she mused with a smile, "it almost sounds as if you are worried that the 'peasants will rise' and dethrone me."

"You think they won't? Reuniting with Loyal Oz would be the strongest trigger for one to explode into being."

"And they won't simply revolt due to a Gillikinese 'lording' over them?"

He shrugged, rolling his shoulders in resignation, "I guess you have me there."

Glinda weighed her next words, wondering whether to voice them aloud or not. In the end she decided she had already said enough about her intentions, what harm could more possibly do? It would be for the best if he understood that nothing occurring at the present moment could change her opinion on what actions she would need to take.

"It is better to be unified, for everyone I believe. Nothing will change my mind. No arguments you may come up with, nothing."

"But that would go against dear Nessarose's wishes."

Glinda's brow drew in, a niggling feeling tugging in her chest. It would be wrong, in a way, one of Nessie's last actions was to separate from Oz, and she had done so with such determination. Had, in her odd way, thought it would be best for Munchkinland to do so. Though whatever reasons Nessarose had were still lost on Glinda.

Back then, when Nessarose had begun her actions, Glinda had silently disagreed, and had tried to pry from Nessarose just why she believed it to be beneficial for her people. There had been no clear answer forthcoming, and now there would be none at all.

A death so sudden and unexpected, Nessie had yet to even write out a will or verbalise her wishes. Something the Council had latched on to if their words in the meeting were anything to go by. Something they may let slip for now, but which will undoubtedly be brought up again in the future.

Though, would Nessa have even made one even if she had foreseen her rapidly approaching demise? Or would she have trusted things to continue under Glinda's own hands? That she would understand her wishes? Or that others would?

These thoughts continued running around in Glinda's head, she tried to push it back for the moment but failed, and so she responded as she always did when conflicting feelings arose within.

"Do you not have some desperate mourners to offer a shoulder to?" There were few people there, but many more who were not invited to attend the funeral lingered nearby. It would not be hard to find someone.

"Later Dear." Her husband raised his brow, his eyes dancing, then it disappeared as he turned his gaze back to the window.

He stood swiftly, walking towards the glass and looking down to have a better view of whatever had caught his attention.

"Well…" He muttered, and so Glinda moved to stand by his side and followed his gaze, her own eyebrows jumping up.

"Is that…?"

"It seems the prodigal daughter has returned."

She could not reply, not even to point out his incorrect use of that word, her own words had lodged firmly in her throat, and no amount of swallowing would free them to either flow up or down.

There was no doubting the quickly striding figure even in the near shadowy night; not the dark, drab dress and the bright emerald skin.


	2. Chapter 2

With swift steps Glinda made her way through the halls of Colwen Grounds, her eyes sweeping every area she passed through.

She did not stop, even when her feet protested the strain of her heeled shoes, until she caught sight of a familiar shining head.

"Mister Genfee!" She called in a rare show of detectable impatience as she rushed forward towards the Munchkin.

His brows shot up as he registered her presence, he hesitated, tugging at the end of his beard as he visibly mulled over his forthcoming greeting, "Ah, L – Your Eminence."

"I am glad I was finally able to find you," she said, ignoring the greetings she was accustomed to, her breath was still a little short as was her temper, her chest rising and falling faster than normal as she tried to calm herself.

"You were looking for me?" He pulled at the sleeves of his dark suit, his eyes wider than normal, which was saying a lot when it came to Munchkins.

Glinda did not respond, for she knew her answer would be honest and that would cause the Munchkin to deflate from the obvious look of pride now shining in his eyes. Instead she moved the conversation – if it could even be deemed that at its current point – along quickly.

"Have you seen anyone…"

Glinda pondered over her words, debating over whether to bring up that Elphaba was there, and she knew. Did anyone else even know? What would his reaction be? He served the family, for many years if Glinda's memory served her correctly, so would his views be the same as those that he worked for? If only Glinda had paid more attention to the Munchkin's view of Elphaba, but after she had left it had been too much for Glinda to even think of her, let alone mention her.

So instead, she used the vaguest terms she could think of on the spot:

"Anything that would require my attention?"

"Ah!" He clapped his hands together, his forehead furrowed in a clear display of anxiety, "Yes. There is actually, but I'm unsure how you will take it… that is why I did not bring it up immediately."

She chose her next words just as carefully, just enough pressure to coax him into answering without him feeling as if she were demanding an answer, or forcing it from his lips, "I'm sure there is nothing that could… dampen my spirits any more than they have been already."

"Of course…" His brow dropped this time, his own sorrow or perhaps simply his sympathy for her palatable, "The oldest has returned."

Glinda tried to show her surprise at this news, without going overboard with her reaction.

"E – Miss Elphaba has returned?"

He jerked his head in affirmation, the tension in his face eased at her rather level tone. Though she still feared that too much of her excitement at the prospect of seeing Elphaba again, after far too long, had seeped into her voice.

"I took her to speak to her father a short while ago. I doubt it would have lasted for any longer than now."

He wrung his hands and shifted his feet, but Glinda did not pay that much attention, too focused on his words as she was.

"Do you mean you think their meeting is over?"

He nodded quickly, gesturing down the corridor towards the Sunroom.

Glinda bid him her thanks, and continued on her way much as she had before, only this time her destination was fixed in her mind. If Genfee was bewildered by her reaction, or her apparent dismissal of him, he did not show it instead wishing her luck as she hurried away.

She reached the room just in time to see a figure clad in dark colours – not that unusual considering a funeral had just taken place – disappear around the corner before her. With ever hasty steps she strode forward, closing the distance between them until she could seize the figure by their arm with both her hands and drag them into the nearest room.

Heart beating heavily in her chest, Glinda found herself staring at the closed door her hands rested against.

Her goal finally realised, her feelings were free to spring from the faraway place that she had buried them. The swirl of emotions spun out of control beneath her chest, surrounding her heart, seemingly interrupting its constant beat in brief spates.

Acting on impulse was something she should have learnt not to do a long time ago.

Another lesson she had failed.

"Galinda."

Her fingers reflexively twitched against the door as she fought the urge to press her nails into the grain of the wood. Closing her eyes, she took a breath before using her hand's purchase to push herself into motion.

Elphaba, much as Glinda herself, had notably aged. The stern frown lines deeper than they once were, her features somehow more severe. But it was her eyes that struck Glinda most. There was something different about her eyes, something harder in their dark depths.

It was, in a way, frightening.

"It's Glinda now." Her answer was automatic, something she had repeated often but over time the need to do so lessened, and lessened, until the words were no longer needed.

"And why, exactly, is that?"

"I decided it was for the best to change my name to something that would be more respectable, all things considered."

Elphaba did not rise to the bait dangled before her, much to Glinda's surprise. Instead she peered at her with dark eyes, her expression bizarrely neutral and yet callous.

"Why exactly did you accost me and shut me in a room?"

Glinda did not know the answer to that question herself. It had seemed the best cause of action at the time, she could remember clearly how Elphaba would run if cornered. But this was not cornering, this was trapping and as such she could not run.

"You came to Nessarose's funeral?"

"In a way."

"How did you know?"

"I have my ways."

"Are all your answers going to be short and cryptic?"

Elphaba did not dignify her with a reply, instead turning her back to her and striding to the window to gaze out at the just set sun. The sky a mixture of deep purples and blues.

There were many things that they needed to speak of, foremost amongst them the loss of her sister and the rumours that had been building over the years that the other woman had been gone. Glinda's throat felt tight as she stood there, struggling with her whirling thoughts, and the fact that one in particular kept forcing itself to the forefront of her mind. A repetitive pounding against the front of her head, inciting a pain behind her eyes and cutting of her breath for a few long moments at a time.

"Why…" Her voice cracked, perhaps a sign that part of her subconscious recognised that she should really be bringing up some of those far more important matters, not this. Yet, even now she was still so self-absorbed, "Why did you leave?"

There was no reaction on Elphaba's part, not even a minute flicker of guilt or sorrow crossing the face of her reflection. There was nothing.

Nothing.

"You promised me." Glinda's voice had strengthened, had risen in mimic of her temper that sparked like a fuse. The fierce heat of anger building within her chest, stoked in strength by the pounding in her skull, "You promised."

There was no obvious sign that Elphaba had even heard her, not even a slight wavering in her posture.

Glinda clenched her hands tightly at her sides, her nails biting into her skin.

She took a step forward, the soles of her feet protesting any additional movement. It was that sudden movement that finally gained her a reaction.

"No." Elphaba said over her shoulder, before turning to face her, "You promised, you replied to my question in that way. I never said anything in a way of a promise back."

"You implied." Glinda bit of the words, because Elphaba _had_ done that. Hadn't she?

"No I did not, if you thought I did then you are just as thoughtless as I always assumed." There was a slight edge to Elphaba's words, something that would have been unnoticeable in another's speech, but in Elphaba's it was as good as a snarl.

The anger inside Glinda spiked, her eyes stinging as she fought the urge to turn and flee the room. When had she ever ran from a confrontation? That was not like her, not at all.

"So you expect me to promise to 'hold out' for you, which I have! While you can go around doing whatever, or _whoever_," she spat, "you want?"

She approached the taller woman as if to lash out, in action rather than words, ignoring the ache in her feet and head, "And how dare you call me brainless, I've always had a brain in my head. _You_ showed me not to hide it."

There had been a rumour of some prince from the Vinkus being involved with the terrorists that now plagued the City – though Glinda had seen nothing to suggest that such a group even existed – that he had an… intimate relationship with the worst of them. The most well-known. His death had followed swiftly.

Her bitterness forced the words out before her brain could stop her, "I knew you would prefer to be with…with someone like that. Doing things like this."

"What _are_ you rabbling on about?" Elphaba all but growled out, her irritation apparent this time. If Glinda had been in a calmer state of mind she would have been struck by the rarity of such a reaction, for Elphaba always seemed to remain passive even when her emotions where spinning inside. It was her eyes that gave her away, not her actions.

Before Glinda could answer, Elphaba continued, her face twisting in her anger.

"And where exactly is your _rabble_ of children?"

Glinda choked on her breath, causing it to hitch painfully, as the pain in her head reached a peak, she could not stop her words if she was even able to try, "I can't have any!"

The words hurt, bringing with them painful memories of appointments and doctors. How she had mourned her 'loss'. For she had been raised all her life to believe her most important roles in life were to marry well and produce heirs to carry on her name and legacy, to continue to improve their family's standing.

She couldn't even do that right.

Elphaba's expression fell, looking as stunned as she was capable of.

Glinda's chest heaved as she tried to calm her breathing and rid her vision of the red that had consumed it a mere moment ago. The smart thing to do would be to turn her back on Elphaba, finally put to rest her feelings and move on with her life.

But she couldn't.

She had _never_ been able to.

She opened her mouth, but closed it just as quickly. Why should _she_ be the one to apologise? Elphaba was the one being as difficult as always, or perhaps her experiences while she was gone had changed her.

Glinda knew of the rumours, of course she did. But to acknowledge the woman she knew was partaking in the actions attributed to her was something she had not been able to comprehend, nor come to terms with. She had seen none of these actions, but rumours had deep roots.

Elphaba growled in the back of her throat, her features growing stern once again.

"I don't know why I bothered coming back."

Glinda held her tongue, stopping herself from adding that she did not see why Elphaba had bothered either.

"I should have known you would confront me with your stupidity once more."

Glinda took a deep breath, motioning with one hand that she was calming herself, and that Elphaba should be too.

"You're angry, and sad, I understand that Elphie for I am feeling much the same right now. But that does not give you the right to behave in such a way." Glinda sighed, her eyes fluttering shut for a split second, "And neither should I."

"I can behave in whatever way I wish," the taller woman snapped, her shoulder's trembling in such an unusual display of rage that Glinda stepped back with a barely contained gasp. Now she was more placid she could see the changes in Elphaba, the most noticeable her apparent inability to control her emotions as she once had.

Well then, Glinda would have to be composed for the both of them.

"Using anger to cope with sorrow is –

"Sorrow? You think I am mourning?" The following laugh was short and bitter, nothing like the one that once graced the woman's lips, "Why should I mourn her or any of you? The same would not be the case if our places were switched."

"You do not mean that Elphie," Glinda's words were soft, placating, "She did care for you, as do we. The worry we experienced when you left has not lessened over time. What I feel hasn't –

"You expect me to believe that?" Elphaba's eyes narrowed as she spoke, "I left once and was found, but this time…"

Had Elphaba expected to be found? But that did not make any sense. Surely. Glinda was starting to get the feeling she was simply saying these things to be intentionally confusing and difficult. The Elphaba she had known a long time ago had been like that on occasion.

"We looked. How could we not?" Considering whether to tell her the truth or lie, Glinda instead settled on a half-truth, "We found no hint of you."

There was no response from the taller woman, instead she moved back, increasing the distance between them – an action that felt like a twisted dagger in Glinda's chest.

Glinda swallowed thickly, which brought to her attention the tension in her muscles. While she had tried to stop her mind from responding to it, though she still allowed herself to notice it, her body was all too aware that there was something terribly wrong with Elphaba.

Mere moments ago she had put it down to sorrow and anger, the processes of mourning. But her eyes… Elphaba's eyes told so much more than her words or actions ever could.

"What else happened?"

Glinda blinked, snapping from her thoughts into a bout of confusion before it occurred to her what Elphaba was referring to.

"After you left?"

"Of course." Elphaba's words were hard, as if she were biting back from some retort about Glinda's intelligence.

"The title was forfeited to Nessie when you left."

Elphaba turned her back to her once more, approaching the window to lay her hands against the windowsill, "You think I'm clueless to that?"

"You asked!" Glinda snapped back, her irritation returning.

Closing her eyes, she released a drawn out breath in an effort to calm herself once more. This was getting ridiculous. When Elphaba remained silent, Glinda continued.

"It has passed to me now –

Elphaba whirled, her dark eyes blazing with an anger so sudden, so unexpected, that Glinda felt herself propelled backwards. Her own barely suppressed feelings of indignation vanishing in her shock.

"The title is passed on my say. I am here now and so I claim it back."

Glinda frowned, her bafflement would have been clear to Elphaba if she had been paying any attention to anything beyond her words.

"It doesn't work like that –

"And I am supposed to care about how things are 'supposed to work'?" Elphaba punctuated the end of her sentence with a sharp cackle. One that sent a chill down Glinda's spine.

"No one would pay your claim any attention." Glinda lifted her hand in a peaceful gesture, at Elphaba's dark gaze, Glinda's hand dropped back to her side, "I struggled to retain the title. They would rather the position be abolished than passed to a Gillikinese. At least that is the impression I came away from our meeting with." Glinda paused to take another deep breath, her difficulty taking in air a common trouble throughout this confrontation, "Though they tried to get rid of it even when Nessarose was alive."

Elphaba's lips pulled down and back sharply, baring her teeth, "It will be abolished only when _I_ say so."

"It won't be. I stopped it."

"And now it is _yours_." The brunette jabbed a thin finger in her direction, "All you have ever been interested in is that title. Excuse me if I am wrong, but that is the very reason you were sent here, was it not?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Okay, perhaps there was some truth to Elphaba's words, but things had changed. _She_ had changed.

"Well remind me dear Glinda, what were your first words after my grandfather died?"

What kind of question was that? Glinda's face scrunched up at the puzzling question, where had it even come from?

"How am I supposed to remember that? Many years have passed Elphaba."

"Well, I remember. Clear as day." Elphaba sneered, "The very first words to spill from your lips were to state that the title of Eminent was mine."

Glinda's jaw tightened, her back teeth pressing together painfully, "I… I did not know what else to say. You must see, Elphaba, that I have never been in such a situation before. I had neither met nor laid eyes on your grandfather, how was I supposed to know how to comfort you. If you would have even wanted that."

Elphaba lurched forward, pushing past Glinda.

"E-Elphie, what are you doing?"

The impact, or perhaps simply the action, caused an 'oomph' to expel from Glinda's lips as she stumbled.

"I have grown weary of you, and all these pointless words."

Glinda spun around just in time to see Elphaba yank the door open.

Her parting words echoed in the room were Glinda found herself frozen to the spot.

"What I said will remain true. The title is mine."

The door slammed.

* * *

><p>Some things never changed, Glinda concluded once she had settled down, Elphaba still 'ran' when she felt she was losing an argument.<p>

Glinda sighed, pressing her thumb into the furrow between her eyebrows. Her form had remained hunched over the dresser in her old room for a long stretch of time, she much so she had lost track of it.

It was less the words exchanged than the changes in Elphaba herself. The general air of animosity surrounding the woman.

And it was selfish. Completely self-absorbed, that Glinda was far more wounded by _that_ than anything else. She felt far more pain over Elphaba's response to _her_, was far more distressed over that than the loss of Nessarose. She had grown closer to the middle sibling over the years, had spent far more time with her than she ever had with her sister. Yes they had drifted apart, but they still cared for one another.

And yet she felt more loss over Elphaba. Even as she still walked Oz, unlike her sister who would never return.

It was ridiculous. Frightening even.

Glinda closed her eyes, pressed her thumb harder against her skin, surely with enough force to leave an unsightly mark.

Was she really that terrible a person?

That was the only answer, wasn't it?

She was fully aware of just how brief their time together had been. How in the grand scheme of things it was all but a grain of sand in the hourglass of life, and yet she was still drawn. Completely and inarguably.

It was ridiculous, childish, and completely immature. But there was no fighting it. It was something she would never be able to combat or ignore. She would be drawn to her, no matter what she did, no matter where she was, or what she told herself.

She did not know how to feel about it.

Lost perhaps?

Powerless?

There was no describing it, and perhaps that was what scared her the most.


	3. Chapter 3

After their marriage they had, thankfully, relocated to a more pleasing to the eye house in the heart of the City. It rested on the bank of one of the many manmade canals the threaded through the City; she often enjoyed watching the waterway and the people who travelled along it on her lazier days.

Back then it had been a relief in a way to be away from Colwen Grounds. While she had missed Nessarose, the freedom from the physical reminders of what had occurred in that place lifted a weight from her shoulders. Besides, she had reasoned, they could always visit or, as she found herself doing far more often, write letters. It was far simpler to communicate that way, for it came with distance and she could easily separate herself from any reminders.

Those first few months had been good, or as good as they could be all things considered.

When Nessie first mentioned her plans to separate Munchkinland from Oz, Glinda returned to Colwen Grounds immediately, determined to help talk sense into her sister-in-law. Obviously she had failed. It took time, but finally she realised she was unlikely to be able to talk sense into Nessarose, and so she returned to the City after many weeks of trying to help.

Things returned much to the way they had been prior to her leaving, even after Munchkinland separated from Oz. That was until her expended social circle – filled with people she did not particularly care for, but she had an image to maintain – began entertaining more gossip and rumours, a large number concerning events outside their social class. Something unexpected and very new.

It began with whispers. Whispers concerning a terrorist group sabotaging water and food supplies destined for the City, or rather for the heart of it. The upper classes believed themselves safe from the effect of such actions. For what did they have to fear from a group believed to be comprised of rogue Munchkins? A small, incapable group apparently attempting to incite a war, or perhaps they were after some sort of gain, now their country was separate from the rest of Oz. Or perhaps their actions were simple due to a general dislike of those they saw as above them, and considering what Glinda knew about the condition in Munchkinland, that was not an unlikely reason.

She paid it all little attention. She had not been affected by the events, nor had she even seen any evidence that the hearsay was true. She was well aware that many rumours held at least a small kernel of truth within, but none that she heard caught her attention.

That was until she caught wind of some other suspects believed to be responsible for the supposed attacks.

A green skinned terrorist.

After that, every little titbit that flew by her supposedly unknowing ears was clung to. She was fully aware of the falseness, the exaggeration that must have been present in the majority of the words, but she still took them. Studied them like some obsessed monstrosity. Searched the words for that small nugget of truth that they must hold within.

The things she heard…

The things she tried to ignore.

The Elphaba she knew would never take such actions. Even if she had changed over the months, even if she had a negative view of their leader.

But the woman she had spoken to that day… she seemed nothing like that woman she had once known.

She seemed just like 'The Witch' that she had been deemed by others.

* * *

><p>The first thing she became aware of was the throbbing in her head, a constant pounding not too different to the beating of her heart. Then the rest fell in line. Her back ached and goose bumps covered her skin as the chill night air seeped throughout the room.<p>

She had fallen asleep at the dresser.

She slid to her feet, her legs wobbling as she stumbled towards the fireplace, only the weak moonlight filtering in through the uncovered window acting as her guide.

She stopped before it, becoming fully aware that she was far too tired to try lighting it; she instead turned to undress and put on her nightclothes. Far more difficult to do in near darkness than she thought, but she managed it in the end.

Even if she was tired, there was time for her mind to drift to other matters. In her exhausted state the barriers that normally existed in her mind weakened, allowing thoughts that would not normally occur to her to make an appearance.

Foremost amongst them the conversation she had with Elphaba earlier that day. The other woman's anger at her for so many things that Glinda was, in truth unaware of. Grief, Glinda thought, she had seen the emotional whirlwind it conjured in individuals, and that was what she saw in Elphaba. Though with the other woman, it was the acknowledgement that Glinda had inherited the title that seemed to be the final straw.

Of course, even if Elphaba had claimed the title back nothing would come of it. Even so, perhaps it would be best to make her appearance as the leader, as Eminent, as minimal as possible. Not just to pacify Elphaba, of course not, but minimising her presence for a short while might help the Munchkins and Munchkinlanders come to terms with her as their new leader. If she were too forceful from the beginning, made her changes and enforced her ideals straight away, the possible backlash may be far more aggressive. If she waited, made her changes subtly, which admittedly was far more underhanded and quite possibly manipulative, than they may be more willing to listen to her. Far more accepting of her decisions.

Possibly placating Elphaba was simply a beneficially side-effect. That was all. To mollify the oldest Thropp sibling would bring her back to her senses, Glinda hoped, and they could have a pleasant conversation. If Glinda could find were she had disappeared to, that is.

Her plan almost fully formed in her head, Glinda nodded to herself. Now she just needed someone she could trust to assist her.

Hopefully her sleepy decisions would not turn out to be muddled foolishness when she awoke in the morning, as was so often the case with late night ideas and choices.

* * *

><p>The morning after the funeral, Glinda went about the usual morning rituals ruminating on her decisions of the night before.<p>

Glinda tugged on the ties of her dress a tad too hard – she had decided to leave her maid at home, preferring to do more of her daily tasks independently now.

She bit at her bottom lip, in the light of day her late night thoughts did seem sensible. Surprisingly so. She would act on them; she _needed_ to act on them. The sooner the better.

She readied herself, before heading to the morning meal where she waited until she could slip away unnoticed. Once she had she immediately tried to find Elphaba once again, she had not found her the day prior nor was she present at the morning meal.

None of the staff had seen her. It was as if she had all but vanished.

Glinda exhaled loudly, letting her head drop as she stood in some secluded corridor. Elphaba had gone, there was no doubting that. She could only assume that she had once again fled to wherever it was she was residing.

It was the obvious conclusion she had come to the day before, but she had not wanted to accept it then as she searched with fruitless fervour. Truly, she did not want to accept it that day either.

She bit her knuckle, quickly realising the idiocy in her actions.

She needed to focus on what was important, and that… that wasn't Elphaba.

Glinda lifted her head and fixed her appearance as she gazed at her reflection in the nearby window.

And what was important was finding an ally, and as such she set about finding the person she should have gone to straight away, rather than chasing her flight of fancy like she promised herself she would not do.

It took some time, but she eventually found him fussing about in a small room of to the side of the main entranceway. He jumped remarkably high when she made him aware of her presence with a gentle clearing of her throat.

He whipped around, eyes as wide as saucers. Something she could not help but smile at.

"Mister Genfee, good morning."

"Ah." He paused to chuckle at himself, no doubt for his foolish actions, "Good morning, Lady… err, your Eminence. I mean."

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his flushed face in an effort to cool his heated skin.

She ignored his fumbling, not at all surprised by it. Munchkins had a habit of stumbling over their words, just as the Gillikinese had a habit of being formal no matter the circumstances at hand.

"I wished to speak with you before I left."

"You are leaving?" He asked, his brows rising in surprise, "So soon?"

"I will be returning to the City to begin talks to lessen the tension and problems between our countries."

He pressed his hands together, nodding his head at her words.

"I heard, if you do not mind me saying, that you plan to reunify with Loyal Oz."

"That is correct," Glinda replied calmly, doing well to avoid any annoyance at the gossip that was already spreading – even if she did expect it.

The people there were worse than the girls at University.

"And if you do not mind me saying…"

She gave a short nod of permission, an action that caused the Munchkin to beam brightly.

"… I have to agree with your decision, in my opinion the situation may have improved in the short-term, but in the long-term things will grow much worse. Our goods are selling for more, but overall less is being sold. Add in that the tax on importing goods will no doubt be raised, we are looking at quite the economic loss. While the City may only provide luxury goods which we do not need, we will still be suffering in the long-term." He trailed off, freezing mid gesture. Glinda had remained silent, half-expecting Genfee to fall into one of his rambling speeches concerning his theories and beliefs.

The Munchkin twilled the end of his beard around a single finger, his cheeks growing red beneath his whiskers again, "Err… My apologies…" He murmured before continuing, "I did not mean to get carried away."

"That is quite alright, I was hoping to hear as much."

He opened his mouth the question her words, but seemed to think better of it. She allowed him the time he needed to mull over whether to reconsider his decision on not asking her what he wanted, which partially paid off. She could tell the query was not the one he wished to ask, not that she minded all that much.

"How long will you be gone for? When will you return to run things here?"

"I imagine…" She paused to mull over her words and select which of her prepared statements would be the best with the way the situation had turned out, "That I will be gone for quite a while. That is why I have come to you."

Now was the best time to get to the 'meat of the matter'. Or so she hoped.

He blinked rapidly, turning slightly to rearrange parcels she had not noticed, on the table behind him – no doubt tokens from mourners. Giving gifts seemed odd to Glinda, but she had swiftly learnt that it was a common practice in Munchkinland. One she doubted she would ever understand.

"I'm afraid I do not understand." And it seemed she was not the only one who had trouble understanding things.

"Well," she began softly, "I do not trust the Council, but I have grown to respect you." She waited until his eyes met hers, which they did nervously, "I would like you to be, how do you put it here? Ah, yes, my 'eyes and ears'. I would like you to be in charge in my stead."

"Oh!" He squeaked, his ears turning pink with the force of his new flush, "That would be – that is unexpected, but it would be such an honour, to know you trust me. I have never been given such a task. Never. And one of such importance!"

Glinda could not prevent the genuine smile that crossed her face at his reaction. Sure his ramblings could be annoying, as could his fondness for idle gossip and theories, but even so, she had grown somewhat attached to the bald Munchkin.

"I would like you to ensure that my orders and wishes are being adhered to."

"Of course, Lady Glinda – Your Eminence." His face creased as he tried to wipe away his enthusiastic expression, to morph it into the stern, seriousness that was required of a man in his newly acquired position, "And I assume that you would like me to put right anything that goes against your plans."

Glinda gave a small nod, her smile still firmly in place, "Our plans. And, I think, due to our new relationship you need not call me Lady or Eminence. Simply Glinda will do."

His eyes grew even larger than they already were, as his barely cooled face heated up even more, "If that is what you wish, La – Glinda."

He said the word slowly, as if testing for any differences now it was on its own. He looked thoughtful for a few short moments before his face brightened. Perhaps Locasta's oddity in her informal interactions with people was not such a mistake after all. That being a common belief amongst some of the higher social class of people. Glinda would have to make a note to acknowledge her approach if they ever met again.

"Is there anything in particular that you wish me to do immediately?" He seemed to bounce on his heels, his excitement reminiscent of the few young children she was privileged to have met.

"For the moment keep everything to yourself, and an overall eye on things. I will formulate the order which I want things to transpire and forward it to you as soon as possible." She paused as he nodded rapidly, his small chest puffed out proudly, "If you have any suggestions do not hesitate to contact me with them – or act on them if it furthers our goals to benefit Munchkinland." She added quickly, realising that the Munchkin's age and knowledge in such matters were far greater than hers would ever be, as evidenced by his previous rambling on reunification and the future of Munchkinland.

"Of course. I will get to work straight away." His serious expression wavered, his grin breaking through with force, "I will not disappoint you or Munchkinland."

"I am sure you will not."

If possible he managed to look even more honoured.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to those who have left reviews, and of course to those who are simply just reading.**

**I tried to make it obvious in the narrative of this chapter, but in case it is not, this chapter is a flashback one.**

* * *

><p>Highmuster Arduenna was a large man, not in appearance or height, but in the force of something else – something unnameable. His presence easily garnered the attention of others in his nearby proximity. It was not an effect he was ever truly all that aware of.<p>

As they watched a carriage drawing its slow way up the road to their home, he circled an arm around his wife, something she tutted at, but indulged him in for a moment, before carefully removing the offending limb. He chuckled to himself, causing Larena to shoot him a feigned look of impatient annoyance.

His friends had mocked him at first, for taking his wife's name rather than force her to take his own. As was the norm. They had acted as if it somehow made him something lesser, weaker. Even the weight of what the name stood for did not sway them, but he had eventually. He made sure they would never insult his family again; he would never stand for it.

His family was his everything.

The carriage finally came to a stop before them, his grin broadening to the point of making his cheeks hurt. It had been a long time, far too long.

The door of the carriage opened, the figure inside bounding out with quick steps, baffling the driver who was just climbing down to open the door himself.

A handheld bag dropped to the floor as the figure rushed forward.

"Papa!"

He gathered his daughter into his arms, noticing a tenseness that shouldn't be, and barely stopped himself from spinning her as he had once done so frequently.

"Highmuster…" Larena moved her head in a subtle motion, "Not in public."

"Right," he chuckled, though there was no one else around.

Galinda turned, retrieving her bag and bid farewell to the carriage driver.

"Is that all you brought?" Larena asked, her head tilting subtly.

"Most of my old belongings are still here, it made more sense not to bring a lot," Galinda explained. Highmuster nodded his head in agreement with her decision, but neither he nor his wife were quite able to cover their surprise at an action they had never expected their daughter to take.

"No maid?" Larena asked as she spotted the carriage begin to roll away, the driver making his journey back to the train station.

"Coming home is important." That it was, "And I am trying to increase my independence. You never know when something may befall those you rely on."

There was no doubting just what their daughter was referring to, even if there was something to doubt, the quietness of her last sentence would have confirmed the truthfulness of her words.

"Let's get you inside," Highmuster said gently, placing his hand on the top of his daughter's back and taking her bag from her hand.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, the door closing with a quiet click, Larena wrapped her arms around their daughter. Highmuster's bright eyes picking up on a slight hesitation before Galinda returned the action.

He set her bag on top of an end table besides the stairs, choosing not to bring Galinda's reaction to attention.

Larena pulled back, both hands resting on Galinda's upper arms, studying their daughter's features, before hugging her once more.

Perhaps it was selfish of them to have distanced themselves from their daughter in the way that they had. After all, they had done it in order to lessen the inevitable upset that would come when she left them for a place they could not reach easily, not yet at least.

As Highmuster made his way to his wife's side he saw Galinda glancing around the room, as if she was taking it all in for the first time – which, in a way, she was. How long had it been now since she last stepped foot into her childhood home?

"How are things now, with your marriage?" His wife cupped Galinda's cheek in one hand as the other fussed with her curls, "I understand from your last letter you were still suffering from nerves?"

Galinda's gaze wavered, but remained in place, "Yes. Things have settled now."

Something about her reaction, coupled with what else he had seen, set Highmuster's nerves on edge, "If he does anything, I will have words with him." Galinda shook her head at his reaction, her lips quirked into a small smile.

Larena slid one hand down to hold her daughter's arm, "And still no children."

Highmuster fidgeted, his brow furrowing. His daughter's gaze had slipped, her lips parted as if she was going to say something immediately, which she did not. When she did speak there was a slight crack to her voice that made his hands tremble, "No. Not yet. But we shall continue to try."

The older Arduenna woman smiled, oblivious to what her husband had noticed. Or perhaps he was reading things that would not real, seeing things that were not actually there. It was possible Galinda's hesitance, the slight air of an inner struggle within her were all due to the reason she was there in the first place.

It was only natural, of course, that she would be so very concerned over her Ama's condition. It was a sorrowful thing that she would return only due to such an occurrence, rather than a happy event. Yes, he would rather that be the case than anything else.

"I understand…" Larena began, rubbing at her daughter's arms with both hands, "… these things take time, but you will get there. Marriages between unknown parties often end up pleasant, if not completely joyous. You learn to love them; it simply takes more time for some. Don't you agree, dear?"

Highmuster scratched at the hair along the top of his jaw, his eyes crinkling with his smile, "Not for me. It was love at first sight."

Larena's eyes dropped low, an uncharacteristic smirk spreading across her face, "Of course it was."

He scoffed playfully at her false ego.

Both mother and daughter fell into the same bright and bubbly laughter. The sound made his heart swell with joy, made him almost forget that this was not a happy occasion.

* * *

><p>Her stomach churned painfully, the fluttering in her chest changing into something more painful and aching.<p>

Glinda turned to her parents at the base of the stairs. Her father's brow crinkled in concern, her mother holding her hands before her, fidgeting with her fingers. They had already offered to come with her, but she had gently declined. She needed to do this, on her own preferably.

She gave them a frail smile, hoping the distance between them would make it appear stronger than it was.

The short distance to her Ama's room, directly beside her old room, felt as if it took an age. The familiar corridor and decorations made her feel small and uncomfortable. The anxiety constantly eating away in her chest.

She paused in front of the closed door, steeling herself before raising her hand to knock softly on the wood before entering the room.

"Ama?"

The woman lowered the book she held in her hands, a smile crossing her face as she realised who had entered her room.

She looked dwarfed in the plush sheets wrapped around her and the pillows propping her up, "Duckie."

She had lost weight, a significant amount by all appearances.

Her voice was low, crackly in quality, but still so cheerful. She placed the book on the bedside table, not carrying to take note of the page she was currently on.

"I've missed you," Glinda said as she made her way to her Ama's bedside, wavering for a moment in her worry before circling her arms around Ama Clutch and hugging her softly. The familiar comforting scent helped calm Glinda's heart, her smile matching her Ama's.

There was already a chair at the bedside which Glinda promptly rearranged closer to the bed, before sitting on it. She reached across the sheets to grasp her Ama's left hand, further pacified by the warmth and strength in the grip.

"You look well," Ama Clutch said gently, her eyes dancing with warmth, "Are you really well?"

"Yes Ama, I feel much better now than I once was." Glinda wanted to return the compliment, but had a feeling it would not sit well, all things considered.

"And the girls? How are they?"

Now that was a difficult question, one that had Glinda fumbling for an appropriate answer, "They are well, I believe. We have grown closer; I think you could say we are friends now. Nessarose is quite kind once you get to know her, and ignore her tendency to fall back on religious discussions or scoldings for 'sinful' behaviour and comments."

Ama Clutch's chuckle was cut off by a harsh cough.

A glass and pitcher of water sat on the bedside table; Glinda quickly filled the glass halfway and pressed it into her Ama's free hand. The water sloshed in the glass as Ama Clutch shook; Glinda released her hold on her Ama's hand and helped her take a sip to sooth her throat.

Once Ama Clutch signalled she had drunk enough, Glinda returned the glass to the bedside table.

"You seem more capable than before."

"I feel more capable now." Glinda affirmed, "I am married now, did you know?"

"I told you that those girls would be good for you." Ama Clutch continued, ignoring or not hearing her quietly spoken words, "The more experiences a person has, the more they grow. I wish I had done more with my time."

Glinda shook her head, her lip wobbling, "Don't speak like that Ama."

"No point ignorin' the obvious, Duckie."

"Ama…"

"You're not that little girl running scared from ducks no more."

Glinda allowed a small laugh to escape her, remembering her childish fear of those feathered beasts and their piecing cries.

"The way they waddled, right Duckie?"

"Urgh." Glinda shivered, "Blasted things. Then you spent the rest of my childhood taunting me about it."

"You overcame that fear, and so many others." Ama Clutch paused to yawn, her eyes half open now, "I am proud of you."

"You're tired." Her Ama nodded and hummed her agreement with Glinda's words.

"You were always far more capable than you gave yourself credit for." Ama Clutch grabbed her hand, squeezing it with surprising strength, "You can still do so much."

And with that, the woman drifted off to sleep.

Glinda stayed for a while, mulling over the words exchanged in the far too short conversation.

Her Ama was right. There _was _still so much she could do, so much she had never experienced, nor truly thought she would ever experience.

When was the last time she had so much as thought of Sorcery? Let alone cast a simple spell or two?

The few challenges to herself that she had ever faced, she had managed to overcome in the end. Much as she had Elphaba's abandonment, though her distance from the memories helped with that particular fight. She was capable. More than she had ever thought. She _could_ be more; she could prove to so many people that a person could be greater than what was thought of them, or what was expected of them.

She could do that for her Ama, even if she was not around to see it come to its full fruition.

She slid her hand from beneath the weight of her Ama's, and left the woman to her rest.

* * *

><p>She jerked awake, a cold sweat sweeping across her brow.<p>

Glinda's body trembled as she pushed herself up, her arms barely able to manage that simple action. She gasped for breath, her hearth hammering.

Her dream. Terrible. Painful. She could not remember the details, as always with her nightmares, only the horrifying and all-consuming emotions that were brought about by them.

She calmed herself after a few long moments, and was debating whether to have a bath or just wash herself with a cloth until morning when she could have a long soak, when there was a soft knocking on her door.

She slipped from her bed to answer it, her brow creased in confusion and the beginnings of panic, when she the handle turn in the moonlight. The person on the other side too impatient to wait.

"Galinda, dear?" Her mother called as she opened the door, letting the soft light from the hall flood into the room as she looked around before her gaze landed on her.

Her mother's eyes were watering.

"Mama?"

Her mother let her old childhood term slip, not so much as frowning in disapproval. Before she knew it, Glinda found herself wrapped in her mother's arms.

"Come. Quickly, there isn't much time."

Glinda's stomach plummeted, her breath catching as her heart froze for a long moment. Her vision blurred but she pushed herself to remain dignified, for the moment.

This was too soon. Too quick.

Her mind raced.

* * *

><p>She had never known her grandmother, but she had never felt the loss of not knowing her. Not when she had her Ama, always bright and cheerful, reading her stories, indulging her and being ever so blunt when needed.<p>

The doctor had left them, waiting outside the room so they could say their goodbyes.

_Goodbyes._

There had been a turn for the worse in the middle of the night. Apparently her parents took turns checking on the woman throughout the night, Glinda wondered what happened to their old housekeep and cook, an odd thing to be concerned about with everything else that was occurring. The mind was a curious thing.

Her father had noted the change and had fetched the doctor, in his nightclothes of all things.

They let Glinda occupy the chair. Her father; his hair and sideburns mussed by sleep, stood on the other side of the bed, his arm wrapped around her mother; who looked as prefect as always. Both wore equally pained expressions. Of course. She had almost forgotten that Ama Clutch had cared for her mother in her later years also, and for her from childhood.

Her mother may have known Ama Clutch for longer, but they both agreed Glinda was closer to the woman, and she to her.

She said nothing, for there was nothing she could say, if Ama Clutch could even hear her anymore. She just held onto her Ama's hand and comforted her with her presence.

She had seemed fine that day when they had spoken. Smaller, weaker perhaps, but her mind was still strong. How could such a thing happen so soon? It was expected, yet so _un_expected at the same time. Was life truly so confusing? So out of their control?

Her mother whispered an old prayer to Lurline.

It was almost as if she had held on purely so Glinda would have the chance to say goodbye. As if she had only wanted to say those words to Glinda and then she was happy to just let go. To find her peace.

With one last rattling sigh she was gone.

Then, and only then, did Glinda let the tears fall, her head hanging low and shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

She would justify her Ama's pride in her. However misplaced it may have once been.

* * *

><p>The funeral was a quiet, reserved affair. A few of her Ama's family members, of which Glinda knew nothing, were present. They, however, kept their distance for the majority of the ceremony, only approaching Glinda at the end to thank her for her kindness – for she had paid for everything, despite her parents' insistence that it was their responsibility. Shell would likely be annoyed if he were to find out, but he would soon forget his feelings on the matter in a day or two. Not that it bothered her all that much how he felt.<p>

They invited her Ama's family back to her parents' house, her mother opening their home for the Wacian. A meeting of mourners in a home connected to the deceased, where food and beverages would be provided. It was short notice, but her mother insisted that they could manage a decent offering. The family, though politely, declined, stating they wished to spend the time privately and together to celebrate Ama Clutch's life. Her mother insisted, and they continued to gently decline.

In the end, her mother dropped the offer, respecting their wishes while still wanting to do what she could for them. Wanting to give them something more. The family thanked the three of them to an almost obscene degree while fighting against the tears in their eyes, as Glinda and her parents struggled with their own emotions.

When they returned home they had a small celebration of their own, trying to remain upbeat as Ama Clutch would have wanted them to be. They drunk and ate little, but remained up until late into the night sharing stories and memories.

Glinda could not return to her room that night, and so stayed in a guestroom until it was time for her to bid her parents goodbye and return to The City. To her new home.

Just before she left she travelled to her Ama's grave and left more flowers, of which there was already a large amount, and a small stone figure of a duck. She placed it prominently, and whispered her goodbyes and reaffirmation of her promise. That she would do something, that she could be more. Perhaps she could even make a difference and a mark on the world. A positive mark, one that could benefit so many people.

Every three months, at the very least, she would make the journey home to visit her parents and pay her respects to her Ama. She would kneel before the stone which was all that was left of the woman who had always been by her side, sharing stories of joy and sadness, of her continued life. All the while Glinda's fingers ran softly over the writing and poems on the headstone, her voice low and wistful as she let the tears roll down her cheeks silently.


	5. Chapter 5

Glinda rubbed her hands together, her brow furrowed. Slowly taking in a breath, she stretched one hand before her to hover over a half full cup. She took another small intake of breath, flexed her fingers and watched a spark jump from her hand to the cup, steam curling up from within in only seconds.

"Ha!" Glinda exclaimed, smiling widely at her success.

It had only been a few days since her return from Munchkinland, and as such she had been rushed off her feet since then trying to sort out her ideas and her other concerns. All of which seemed muddled together, and proving quite tricky to untangle and separate. Her own mind a complete mess.

For now, her focus _had _to be on Munchkinland. She had no time to be distracted by any other invasive thoughts, unwanted and as unnecessary as they were.

She took a sip of her reheated tea – she could have asked the maid to deal with it, but she had long ago decided against such actions. It was, after all, another opportunity for her to practice her Sorcery, and she would do just that.

No one knew she was practicing her skills, in fact she was unsure if anyone was even aware of what she had studied at University, or that she was one of a select few who had the innate ability. In fact, the only other she knew whose abilities were publicly known was Locasta. Either she was more of a rarity than she was ever led to believe, or there was something else occurring of which she knew nothing. The former seemed unlikely, though maybe not considering how she had once boasted about her talent to any who would spare her the time to listen. Which was most, if she was being honest. Whether they wanted to listen or not was not her worry.

"Enough of that distraction," she muttered lowly to herself as she lifted her pen from the inkwell, carefully tapping the nib against the side to remove any excess ink. She had already had one incident were ink had fallen and stained a letter she had almost completed. A letter that had been absolutely perfect, unsurprisingly considering how long she had spent writing it.

Naturally, she had no choice but to take a break to calm herself before she broke something. After a number of drafts and letters where she deemed the writing too chaotic upon the page, she was wound up rather tight.

Still, she was thankfully calmer now, and certain she would finally get it finished to her exacting standards this time. She used her free hand to rearrange one of the aforementioned 'chaotic' letters as she flexed her grip on the pen, before she began to copy the writing. Neatly, this time, perfect like she had been taught as a child.

* * *

><p>She signed the letter with a flourish, paused, then cast an appraising eye upon her finished worked.<p>

Perfect.

She released a long, drawn-out breath, her shoulders feeling freed from the tension that had settled on them. She rolled her head back to fix a crick that had formed there, her eyes closed as she felt a small weight lifted from her.

Her head dropped forward into a normal position just as a knock sounded against the door.

Glinda passed her pen from one hand to the other before she answered the person on the other side.

"Yes?" She called as she returned the pen to the inkwell.

Ella opened the door cautiously, peering around the side of it as if it were a shield, "I was wondering if you needed a drink, or something to eat, Lady Glinda?"

Glinda shook her head at the maid, "No thank you."

The young woman nodded her head, looking somewhat put out. It tugged at something in Glinda so, just as the woman was moving to leave; Glinda called out, "What a fool I am. I appear to have run out of envelopes."

To prove a point to herself, she slid open the top drawer of the desk, pulling out the single envelope she had seen that morning. She had made a note to find some more, but like most things at that moment in time, the thought had slipped her mind in favour of other undesirable things.

"I have one for my main letter, but I require more for the others."

"May…" Ella asked slowly, "I ask who you are writing to?"

"No," Glinda responded simply, closing the drawer far more aggressively than was necessary.

The girl flushed, her ears burning bright, "I – I'll go fetch some now, my Lady."

Glinda nodded her thanks as she moved the letter to her side, replacing it with a fresh sheet of paper as she made another mental note to increase the girl's wages. It had been a long while since her last pay rise, and Glinda did feel rather cruel in her often dismissive attitude towards the maid. She had tried to be kinder, but the girl reminded her of someone she could not name, and it set her on edge.

When Glinda looked back at the door it was closed.

Stretching her fingers and rolling her wrist – the crack it made caused her nose to scrunch up in distaste – she set about composing a far easier letter, and hopefully free herself from another weight on her form.

Her reply to Genfee and his unsurprisingly good ideas (which either coincided with her own or improved upon them) could wait for the moment; this particular one was for her parents. Writing to them had not always been an easy task for her, especially during her younger years, but after spending the majority of the day and afternoon attempting to complete just one letter to The Wizard, anything would seem a doddle.

* * *

><p>There had been no reply.<p>

Her parents replied promptly – yet another benefit of living in the City, or in any place that was connected to the The Great Gillikin Railway.

Genfee, if the date of his letter was to be trusted, which she was sure it was, had replied as soon as her letter had reached him. He detailed how the Council had immediately returned to their old behaviour as soon as she had left, but he had rallied his own friends and stood against them in her, or rather, his name. It had taken very little time for the Council to once again give up their protests, instead choosing to silently fume rather than actively and vocally protest.

The time it took for letters to reach the City from Colwen Grounds or vice versa had changed little over the years. It was an annoyance she could not avoid unless she returned to Colwen grounds, that was the only way where her orders and their ideas could be shared as soon as they occurred to them. Then, however, it would be her letters to The Wizard, and his hopeful replies, that would take a long time. So she took the option that would, with the current situation as it was, provide the most benefit in the long and short term.

Still. The Wizard had not replied to her first letter, or the second, or the third.

When no reply came after a week she poured over the ink splattered letter she had used as a draft, glad she had kept it in case she needed to reference its contents in a later letter. There was nothing in it that she saw as offensive or the least bit threatening.

_Perhaps he is simply busy._ She had thought, calming herself and letting another week past.

Then another.

* * *

><p>"You seem awfully chirpy today."<p>

Shell did not so much as twitch at the irate look she shot his way, instead he laughed far too loudly.

"Hungover?" He queried with a smile.

"No, Dear," Glinda sighed, "I am simply rather exasperated."

She shifted in her seat, tapping at the desk with a couple of fingers, it seemed she had claimed her husband's study over the last month or so, not that it really mattered as he rarely used it. If ever at all.

He leant against the doorframe, a single eyebrow raised as he faced her, "Shame. I thought you had finally loosened up." He tilted his head back before adding wistfully, "What fun we could have had."

She shook her head, rolling her eyes when he looked down to check his pocket watch.

"Someone not dignifying you with a worthy response?" He asked, closing his watch with a snap before returning it to his pocket.

"Or no response."

Shell hummed, a habit he had developed over their time together. He drew the sound out, tapping his chin as he did, "Since when has that ever stopped you?"

"I could say the same to you."

He rubbed at his chin, still appearing just as thoughtful, "Just what is it you are writing about?"

Glinda debated over wherever to lie or not, soon coming to the conclusion that Shell no doubt already new, and was simply seeing if she would be truthful.

"To The Wizard –

"I already figured _that_ out."

"You already have it all figured out." Glinda swiped at her brow, hoping she had not left a smudge of ink there as she had done a few days before, much to her own embarrassment when her maid had hesitantly pointed it out to her.

"Well, when your own wife won't open up, you have to." He rolled his shoulders, tilting his head to grin charmingly at her, "I deal in the collection of secrets."

Glinda sighed again, wondering if she now appeared to be deflating with the amount of air she had exhaled so harshly recently, "Your charm does not work on me."

"Oh, I know that." He paused to wink, "Why don't you simply ensure he is receiving your letters."

He reached behind himself to straighten his collar from back to front, spinning on his heel as he did.

"Enjoy your day working, Dear."

As the door clicked shut, Glinda realised that he might just be right.

Paper rustled as she sorted through the drawers of the desk, carelessly pushing objects aside as she took what she needed.

She would simply _have _to ensure that he was receiving what she was sending.

This would all be so much simpler if she were as smart as Elphaba –

Her grip tightened painfully on the metal handle of the top drawer, her heart churning.

She shook her head in a violent motion, blurring her sight with the fierce action. She did not know where Elphaba was, if they would even meet again. She had to do these things. Do these things on her _own_. She could not rely on others for the rest of her life.

Letting her grip relax, she lifted her hand before her seeing the pattern that adorned the handle had imprinted into the delicate skin of her palm. She wiggled her fingers, as if that would make the marks fade sooner.

She was doing this for her Ama.

No one else.

She had to remind herself of that.

It took a while before she was prepared to perform the spell. A clear mind, one free of swirling emotions or memories was required, lest something go terribly wrong. Not that there was much potential for damage if this spell went wrong (unlike a girl back at University who had been trying to conjure a small flame to heat some food; she had ended up losing quite a significant amount of her hair), still she wanted to ensure that it went perfectly. There was no room for errors. Not anymore.

She held both hands steady before her, hovering above the objects on the desk. Drawing in a slow breath she closed her eyes, focusing the gentle spark beneath her skin into her fingers and downwards.

It was a simple spell in reality, if it weren't for the time between her bouts of using her skill in this particular way. Though, surely, like when one learned to ride a horse, it was something you would never forget. And Sorcery was so ingrained in her, and this enchantment was used often enough at University. Girls could be terribly invasive of privacy, and in a dorm with many others, the use of the spell by the few Sorcery students ensured no one else would read their private thoughts or mail.

It took longer than she liked, but at last the tell-tale sign of a dark, almost black glow surrounded the envelope and the small slip of paper beside it, before fading leaving the paper just as it once was. Untouched and pure white.

Now, she just needed to write another letter about reunification and her willingness to discuss it, as she had in the first letter and the others that followed.

Hopefully it would not take too long this time, and hopefully she _would_ receive a reply.


	6. Chapter 6

**I apologise for the shortness of this chapter. I will honestly admit I made a mistake when it came to cutting up the story into chapters, accidently putting the separator in the wrong place resulting in the following being a chapter of its own rather than being at the end of the previous chapter as it should be.**

**Hopefully the length of the next chapter will make up for my error. **

* * *

><p>The slip of paper she had chosen to keep by her bedside darkened. Glinda froze in the process of extinguishing the lamp beside it, both of her eyebrows shooting upwards at the sign that her letter had been received – though not necessarily by the intended recipient.<p>

Sure, she had altered the spell somewhat to only react upon a certain individual opening the letter, but perhaps her alteration had not worked. It had, after all, been a significant length of time since she had used Sorcery of that particular type, let alone that exact spell, which she was certain she had not used since she had stopped chronicling her thoughts in diaries.

Of course, if her doubts proved false, than he _had_ been receiving her letters after all.

She brushed her hair from her eyes, not due to any strands being in her way, but more to keep her occupied as her mind ran through her thoughts.

She slid her legs out of bed, sitting on the edge while keeping her gaze solidly on that small slip of paper that signified so much.

Why, then, were there no replies?

Rooting through her mind for any possible causes for his dismissal, she came up empty. There was nothing offensive in her letters at all. Then perhaps it was due to something she could not possibly know about, after all she knew little about these types of situations and how to handle them, it was nothing she had ever been taught about.

Could that be the cause for his dismissal? That he knew she had little knowledge on these matters? Or was it, perhaps, because he did not know of her? Or perhaps because he knew that Elphaba was the former heir to the title and of the actions she was rumoured to be partaking in?

She bit the inside of her cheek, there she was thinking of Elphaba again.

She manoeuvred her feet into her house slippers, her brow creasing at her thoughts.

The fire had long ago dipped down in the grate, allowing a chill to permeate the air and sending a shiver through Glinda's form. She slipped on a robe, hoping it would help stave off the cold, and picked up the slip of paper.

All the reasons for The Wizard ignoring her seemed entirely plausible, but she would still feel better with someone else's opinion on the problem at hand.

Genfee, she decided in the end. He was a particularly deep-thinking Munchkin, he had seen so much for a man who had been in the same career for most of his life, perhaps he could shed more light on the matter. So far she had been impressed by the contents of his letters, and was more than a little proud of herself for making the decision to choose him as her confidant back at Colwen Grounds.

Disregarding her state of undress – not that Ella would be horrified seeing her in her nightclothes and robe, though it would be a rare sight – she ignored her tiredness. The sooner she wrote the letter, the sooner she would receive a response, and the sooner she could try to decide on her next course of action. Or should that be _their_ next course of action?

She left her room almost silently, and headed down the corridor towards the study.

She would wait, as she had before, but this time if no reply came from The Wizard in over a week, then she would have to decide on what to do next. And then act upon it. It was best to be fully prepared for such an event, so the sooner she had her new letter sent back to Munchkinland, the better.

* * *

><p>The response came as swiftly as it could, with all things considered.<p>

Ever since the letter had been sent, Glinda had found herself anxious to the point of pacing. More than once she had caught herself biting at her thumbnail, her forehead furrowed in stress. She was set on edge, and yet she did not know why. Besides knowing her correspondence was being received and ignored, nothing else had changed. Shell had mentioned once or twice that their – or rather his – acquaintances had picked up on her absence from all but the most important of events, even going so far as to joke that she had become a recluse.

She had found out, not from Shell, but from another companion that she was more fond of than the others, that he had shot back at their jokes. He had halted the jokes, explaining about Glinda's new position, though cleverly not mentioning that it was Munchkinland that she had gained a position of power in. After the secession of Munchkinland the population of Loyal Oz typically seemed to view anyone connected to Munchkinland as lesser, if not complete traitors to Oz.

At least that is what Glinda had deduced about Shell's words as their companion never mentioned it, nor seemed to realise that she was in _the_ position of power, not _a_ position.

Apparently after that their so called friends said no more on the matter.

It seemed odd on Shell's part for him not to gloat over his actions, but Glinda dismissed the thought. She had more important things on her mind.

She was at the desk in the study once again; it had gotten to the point that she may as well move her bed into the room. But being rumoured to be a recluse, and actually becoming one were two very different things, the latter of which she would wholeheartedly attempt to avoid happening.

By now she must have reread Genfee's reply a number of times, on the second read through she had taken a clean piece of paper and began writing down notes using a shorthand she had not used since her University days, and on some secret architecture plans she had doted upon during her free time. She felt a twist of sadness in her gut at that thought, when was the last time she had done something she actually enjoyed? Something for herself?

Her gaze dropped to the writing before her.

She had more important things to focus on.

Things she _had_ to focus on. Her own happiness could come later.

Genfee's thoughts made sense; a sense she would honestly rather be false, but now she saw that such naivety on her part may be damning. She had to see things with an open mind; she could not simply accept what she was told as the truth was just that. Like Elp –

Another twist in her gut, this one stronger and accompanied by a twinge in her head and a wavering of her gaze.

It seemed the more she tried to put aside her feelings about her, the stronger they became. She dropped her head, propping it up with her left hand, rubbing at the crease on her forehead with cold fingertips. This reaction, these thoughts, could not be healthy at all.

She had tried to ignore them, and now she was starting to think confronting them would have been the better plan. But she was not that strong, not yet. She had to ignore them. It was the only way.

Lowering her head, she tried to focus on the words before her once more.

His main theories concerned problems she was not completely aware of – besides the so called terrorist attacks that is.

He claimed that The Wizard could, and likely was, blaming Munchkinland for the increase in taxes on the public. Glinda had not noticed such an increase, though it was possible that only the poorer of their community were the ones being targeted. There were more of them after all, even if the upper-class did have more money available to them. Her thoughts on the matter did make some sort of sense, if The Wizard taxed the richest individuals, he too would have to pay a heavy amount.

Goods from Munchkinland, mostly grains and foods made from such, were some of the more heavily taxed items to both import and export. A loss for both countries surely.

The last theory he detailed in his letter, however, was the one that caught her attention the most. And if her memories of her essays so long ago were anything to go by, the last point was almost always the most important. The author would want the reader to remember that last point, to mull over it long after they had read their work.

And it did make a terrifying kind of sense. It, and everything else she had read or seen, or head, made her see the man they were raised to look up to was not the paragon of goodness and hope they were taught he was.

And that was a frightening thought.

Genfee detailed the terrorist attacks in the City – Glinda would surely have forgotten about those if Elphaba's name was not attached to them, for she had seen no evidence of any attacks herself. Though of course for the last few months she had spent most of her time secluded in her home like some sort of hermit, as the people they knew had joked.

Despite Elphaba's possible involvement (Genfee knew about that? …Of course he would), there was little evidence it was the sole doing of inhabitants of Munchkinland. In fact he seemed rather convinced that the terrorists were a 'mixed bag' of individuals from all over Oz.

If that was the case, Genfee concluded, then should they reunify and the attacks continue the general public would panic. They would know there were deeper problems in Oz, that there were people who were opposed to The Wizard's continued rule. People who saw the problems of Oz and could no longer stand by and watch the situation worsen.

_We are scapegoats._

The final words of his letter.

Glinda could not say whether his words, his descriptions of the problems were true. That people were suffering all over Oz, even with what little she _did_ know. It made sense though, and perhaps it was simply her fear that made her not want to accept everything as the complete truth.

But of one thing she was certain.

She had dismissed the words at the time, but now she saw the truth in them.

Elphaba had been right.

And now, that woman she had – she still cared for so deeply was gone, despite her earlier thoughts that she needed to ignore such feelings.

Now she saw that Elphaba had been corrupted and damaged by the world, she had experienced everything Glinda was learning second or third hand, first-hand, had she not?

But perhaps there was hope.

Perhaps she could make people see the truth.

Perhaps she could help them. Help her by helping them_._

That would be what Ama Clutch would want her to do, wouldn't it?


	7. Chapter 7

Ella squirmed in her seat opposite Glinda; the young girl from the border of Gillikin and the City looked unbelievably uncomfortable in something she should be long accustomed to. It was not all that surprising, Glinda rarely took the maid with her, barely paid her any attention besides the obvious requests for things she could not obtain herself – or did not have the patience or energy to retrieve.

But appearances had to be maintained, and Ella was not that bad a girl. She was quiet which was a good thing, and willing to do what she must to serve.

The carriage had been rolling forward for a good length of time now, feasibly there could not be much longer until they reached the Palace.

This was her last ditch effort to receive some sort of response.

While it had now become clear to her that The Wizard was not someone to be revered – not if he was unwilling to fix the problems between Munchkinland and the rest of Oz – there was still a part of her that wished to cling to the image painted of him in her youth. And really, was it not a logical step to ensure something hundred percent before rushing into action? That was the sensible thing to do, was it not?

Rightly she could not fully condemn an individual until she knew for certain. She had to keep an open mind.

So, in order to distract herself from her thoughts, Glinda observed herself in the glass of the carriage window, rearranging any errant curls of hair and checking her hair remained in the intricate chignon she had spent a good portion of the morning styling.

Pleased with herself (it _had_ taken quite a long time for her to practice the style on her own) she looked away from her reflection, her eyes catching something else outside the window. Paper from the looks of it, messily adorning the brickwork opposite. What an eyesore.

There was a shout outside.

A crash. And with a jolt the carriage stopped abruptly.

Glinda caught herself on the seat and wall, righting herself swiftly while Ella scrambled against the seat opposite. Her heart beating heavily in her chest, and her lungs fighting for an increased amount of air, Glinda turned her gaze turned back to the window just in time to see vegetables of all colours bouncing into view.

Her brow furrowed.

Finally managing to right herself, Ella offered to jump out of the carriage and see what was happening, anything to escape the overbearing silence. Glinda gave her permission with a curt nod, sending the girl clambering out of the carriage with a whoosh of cold air.

A few minutes passed with no sign of movement. Running her fingers over her hands, she returned her attention to the wall opposite to tut disapprovingly at the mess which had caught her attention before.

The paper plastered on the walls was weather beaten and damaged, still, there was no doubting whose face was displayed there. The images may be crude and not at all representative of who they were meant to detail, but there was no denying the bright green paint sloshed across the papers.

Glinda's breath caught in her lungs, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip before she could stop herself.

The rumours were just that, rumours. But now –

Now he was after her, or at least others were.

_Oh Elphie, what have you done?_

She had to do something.

Despite her thoughts and decisions on the matter, she _had_ to do something.

But _where_ was she?

How could she help if she did not know where she was?

No, she squeezed her eyes shut, she was supposed to be helping everyone, not just Elphaba.

Even so, things were worse than she had thought. Her life could be on the line.

Another short burst of air hit her as Ella hopped back into the carriage; her cheeks redden by the chill of the wind.

"A cart carrying goods lost a wheel, Lady Glinda, it shouldn't take long to move it out the way and pick the vegetables back up."

Glinda tried to think of something to say, some pointless string of words that could show how irritated she was by the event while not being too heavy handed. Instead, her nose scrunched up as she muttered an offended, "I do hope they do not plan on selling the dropped goods."

The skin between Ella's brows crinkled, "Um, I don't suppose they would."

Glinda forced her eyes away from the brick wall covered with papers and paint. Crossing her arms in her lap. Silence reigned over them once more; Ella busied herself by checking the papers beside her were still firmly in place and in order. Clever girl.

The sooner they continued their journey, the better.

She had to focus on the reason she was going there, not her rapidly building ire.

* * *

><p>If this had occurred during her younger days then Glinda would have, without a shadow of a doubt, huffed her annoyance and stamped her foot in impatience. Instead, Ella was doing a fine job of struggling to cover up her own restlessness while she, herself, remained calm on the surface.<p>

She had sent word in advance of her arrival there, deeming a reply not necessary in this particular situation, not that she would have expected to receive one.

They had been greeted at the Palace and taken to a gaudy waiting room decked in an even more nauseating green. The hard back of the chair dug into the base of Glinda's spine painfully, an ache having rapidly built there over time.

She had seen a few people pass through a corridor viewable through an open archway. She had not paid any attention to them at first, until she pieced together the layout of that section of the Palace in her mind. Unless there had been some extremely unusual architectural work done, the meeting chamber would be in the area that those people were walking to and away from.

After that deduction she had paid closer attention to the small number of people who passed. Some workers, officials and only one man who made her raise an eyebrow. He was dressed in the finest clothes, a bundle of documents held under his arm. There was no doubting that, like her, he was also a visitor.

The volume of the ticking of some tic-tok device had seemed to grow with time, becoming a pounding thrum in her temple.

The longer she spent sitting there the madder she seemed to be growing, and not just in the emotional sense.

Her left hand clutched tightly at the material of her dress, her right rising to push her thumb between her eyebrows, as if to smooth the furrow that had formed and seemingly stuck there.

Ella shifted in her seat beside her, the bundle of paper gripped tightly in her lap as if it were some precious cargo, which in reality it was.

Finally, the man who had greeted them re-entered the room from a side door. Glinda looked at his face and neatly groomed facial hair with distain.

She rose to her feet, ignoring etiquette. The man bowed his head, though there was something stiff about his movement. Something that made her fight back a scowl.

"He is not accepting any visits today." Were the blunt words of the red haired man.

Thankful for her years of practice, Glinda did not let the rapidly building heat of anger show on her face.

"I suppose that rather neat man who left his chamber mere moments ago was an illusion I conjured up."

The man was unable to hide his surprise, his reaction enough to please her considerably because she had been correct in her guess, "Err… he has had no visitors today, I –

"Do _not_ lie to me. It would not be in your best interests to."

She heard the shuffle of Ella's feet beside her, but Glinda paid her no attention.

"But it is true." The man lost his polite composure, spreading his hands, his face so earnest that it was far too easy to see it as the falsity that it was.

Her face heated in a way that could only come from anger, her hands curling into fists. Her battle to control herself rapidly failing as the next words fell from her lips with a venom that had not graced them in a very long time, "You have had us waiting here, for _hours_, just to inform us he is seeing no one?"

"I cou – couldn't receive a response for a while."

"Because he was too busy entertaining other visitors?"

"No!" The man said far too quickly.

Glinda, appearing far larger than her rather average height would suggest, folded her arms across her chest and with a tilt of her chin upwards, turned on her heel.

Enough was enough. She was having no more of _this_.

"Come Ella." She was sure she heard the girl squeak at her tone, "We are leaving."

As they made their way out the man muttered something beneath his breath that she could not quite pick up on. Not that she cared, not any more.

* * *

><p>It was a peculiar feeling that washed over Glinda as dense, ash thick smoke wafted past the carriage's window. It was like a tugging in her upper chest and a force pressing at her back.<p>

A thump on the roof of the carriage brought their journey to a brief halt, the driver only rolling the carriage forward for a few moments more in order to avoid the wind carrying the smoke in their direction.

"Lady Glinda?"

She rubbed at her hand, not realising how hard she had hit the roof with the side of her fist.

"I have to do something, wait here. I will not be long."

Ella's brow crinkled, but she knew better than to question her employer. With the grace of practice, Glinda exited the carriage, the driver seemed surprised to see her rather than her maid, but he did not vocalise his thoughts on the matter.

"I will be back shortly." She informed him, even though she had no idea where she was going, let alone just why she was going there.

The blue of the sky was slowly being consumed by orange as she walked the short distance from the street they were on to the square opposite, following that odd tugging in her chest. Her eyes soon began to sting even though the smoke was not blowing in her direction, the scent of burning wood and something else that smelt not quite woody hit her.

The glow of the orange in the sky seemed brighter as she stopped on the edge of the square, the central library, the main one for the City was to her right. To the left she saw the source of the smoke that irritated her throat and eyes. And the source of the glow.

A massive bonfire, tended to by men in green uniforms. The Wizard's men. While it had been growing colder there was still a few months until they celebrated the coming of winter. Why would they start the bonfire that early?

The pulling feeling intensified, drawing her attention back to it. It almost seemed as if it were directing her, guiding her to the right, to the Library, just in time to see two more uniformed men carrying a cart down the steps, their faces red with the strain.

Glinda watched them as if in a trance, only coming back to herself when they placed the cart down and wheeled it past her. There was a significant distance from them to her, but even so she could see the contents of the cart. Books.

They did not stop until they reached the fire, two other men turned from it to wheel an empty cart in the direction the other men had just come from. The still red faced men reached into the cart and began throwing the contents into the flames.

Glinda's lips parted, unable to contain her shock. She looked around, for the first time seeing the few others watching proceedings, but many more were rushing about their day, avoiding looking at what was occurring. Glinda copied them, looking to the library, acknowledging that foreign feeling within her and following it up the steps and into the lobby of the building.

She had been here a few times before to study the intricate arches and murals, but today she had no time for that. Seemingly still controlled by another she looked around at the piles of books placed around the lobby, like a fort built by a child.

A number of neatly dressed people were piling the books up like towers, appearing glum as they did so. One of them, a bespectacled gentleman registered her presence and rushed over to her with a determined expression.

It was only when he drew closer, and after he swiped at his glasses with the bottom of his shirt and placed them back on his nose, that the expression fell.

"Ah. My apologies my Lady, we have had trouble with ruffians attempting to lift books."

"Lift?" Glinda asked, her brain not quite in gear all of a sudden.

"Umm," the man hummed, "Steal, my apologies again my Lady."

He chuckled to himself, the sound lacking any genuine mirth.

"Why are these books being taken to the fire?"

The librarian pushed at his glasses with two fingers, glancing around himself he spotted two men in uniform taking out another full cart. He waited until they left before speaking.

"All libraries in the City and any private collectors have been sent lists of banned books. If any of those books are found in our collections after next week we will be fined."

"Banned books? May I ask which?"

The librarian fiddled with his glasses, rearranging them on his ears, "The same lists will be sent to everyone who resides in the City come two weeks' time."

Glinda would have pressed the matter if it weren't for the look in the man's eyes. It was a look of pleading and perhaps a little fear, enough to silence Glinda's outward curiosity.

One of the other librarians excused herself as she squeezed past them to lay an armful of books on the pile besides them.

A book on top of the pile caught Glinda's attention, it was clutched in her hands before she could register picking it up.

The female librarian jumped, the male calmed her down, laying a hand on her upper arm.

"May… may I look at this?" She asked, fighting her embarrassment at reacting in such a way.

There was something about the book, something that sent her senses tingling. Her innate Sorcery skills prickling beneath her skin.

The man nodded, his eyes dropping as he spoke, "That one is only there because it is untranslatable, the soldiers picked up on it and insisted it be thrown in with the rest. Just in case there was anything suspect in it."

"They did not believe it is untranslatable?" Glinda queried, cradling the book to her chest.

"Yes. It's a shame, it is one of a kind." The man said, gesturing behind him, "Or so I believe. Read it in the back, but return it."

He seemed genuinely upset at the prospect of the book being destroyed. It seemed odd to Glinda that someone could grow emotionally attached to paper and leather. Still, the book was rather beautiful to look at.

"Of course," she replied, already making her way into the back to find some privacy and see just why she seemed drawn to the book.

She found a secluded corner on the ground floor, not that it was truly needed for there appeared to be no other visitors in the library save for her.

The carriage was waiting for her, and she knew she should feel the guilt of making them wait with no word of what she was doing. Yet, she did not.

She shifted her weight on the cushioned seat she occupied, it was in a window overlooking the square and the burning fire in the centre. Glowing brighter now against the darkened sky, the smoke curling off the flames a beacon in the night's sky.

With more time allotted to her she could now study the book. It was a large, thick volume bound in rich leather. The writing on the cover, though she could not read it, nor even recognise the lettering as just that – letters – were composed of intricate gold letters. It would fetch a pretty price. A prime target despite its size and weight. She could see why the librarians were worried about people stealing the books, if thieves could make a profit on something then they would steal them. Though whether the punishment for not destroying a listed book would fall on the thieves' heads or the librarians, she did not know.

She flicked through the book, a few pages had titles at the top, but besides that they were strangely blank. Like a newly brought dairy.

Had the librarian not said the book was untranslatable? Glinda thought, thoroughly baffled.

Unless it had been some sort of joke on his part, but he had seemed sadly serious.

Then what was happening?

It was then she remembered that odd pull she had felt towards the book. A feeling she had not felt for a _very_ long time. Was there some sort of spell upon the pages? It was a possibility…

Closing her eyes, she hovered both hands over one of the pages with an unreadable title, focusing and stretching her sense to attempt to detect any sort of Sorcery that may have been present around the book.

She gasped. A sharp, but not painful jolt striking her form. More a push against her front than anything else.

Opening her eyes she saw nothing had changed on the pages.

This was beyond her. Whatever it was.

The gaslight opposite her seat flickered, catching her attention.

Another gasp.

Her hands trembled upon the book. For when she turned back to it, more of that unreadable writing had appeared where before there had only been white space.

"What…" She murmured, her voice small and near silent.

As her gaze fixed on the page the letters, if they could even be called that, seemed to twist, or morph, whirling across the page, putting to mind a colony of ants reforming themselves or escaping. They continued to contort before her eyes until finally, at last, coming to a rest.

The title was one word. History.

She glanced at the first line.

The book tumbled from her hands. A loud _thump_ echoing through the silent room.

Her breathing ragged, her whole form shook as her heart resumed beating heavily.

The first two words had struck her like a slap.

_Galinda Arduenna._

She raised a shaking hand, placing it to her forehead. This was some gross trick surely. Someone was trying to make her feel as if she had lost her mind, or losing it, someone was trying to terrify her.

She struggled to regulate her breathing, but once she could breathe more steadily and her form no longer shook to such an obscene degree. She retrieved the book from the floor. Luckily (or not considering her slowly building panic) the book had landed open on the page she was on.

But now as she gazed on it, the writing was much the same as it was before. Meaning unreadable.

Maybe her overtaxed and stressed mine was merely playing tricks on her.

Or so she told herself as she stared at the page, until the words began to swirl again.

She blinked, but they continued their dance.

When they had settled, she forced herself to take a breath and read, her mind too shocked to fully comprehend what could possibly be happening.

_Galinda Arduenna sired by Larena Arduenna and Highmuster Talmadge._

She stopped, flicking over some pages on a whim, and sure enough, there was more.

She skimmed the pages, her chest heaving as more and more details of her childhood were listed. The time she had been bitten by a cow of all things; the time when in her stubbornness she had climbed a tree and became stuck only a few feet from the ground; her war with the ducks that lived around a pond near the local school.

She turned the pages, faster and faster, her heart beating a rapid tattoo against her ribs, each breath she pulled in growing shallower.

Suddenly the end. Sometime in the middle of her childhood.

A blank page save for the singular word title.

_Departures._

She closed her eyes. Pressed them shut tightly as her mind struggle to catch up to what was happening, what this could mean. How it could even happen.

Shaking her head she opened her eyes.

Her head ached as she turned back a couple of pages only to see the words had changed, detailing events when she was older. She began reading before she could realise what had happened. Her etiquette lessons; her aunt she had meet once or twice with brilliant red hair which she admired so much. The room filled with the sound of turning pages until she landed once more on the page that started it all, _History_, and sure enough, the writing there had change also.

It was too much.

She let her head fall back, resting against the side of the alcove.

Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of something that made absolutely none.

No one could have known about all of that. Even her parents were clueless to some of the events detailed in the pages. Sweet Lurline! What if it was her Ama playing a trick on her from the afterlife?

"… Perhaps that was a little foolish of me."

She looked up the impressive paintings on the ceiling, still, her mother had always insisted that there was a realm beyond their own. And that there could be interaction between the two realms.

Even so…

What would Elphaba make of it all?

Her confusion made a swift departure, replaced instead by anger. How many times did she have to tell herself not to defer to Elphaba for everything? They had not even known one another for that long.

And yet, if Glinda was being honest with herself, that short relationship – and not just the more intimate aspect of it – was the most fulfilling one she had ever, and likely would ever, have.

Besides, this was out of Elphaba's areas of expertise, this was something only someone who was an expert in Sorcery would understand. Perhaps someone who had studied the very history and lore of the subject. Not someone like either of them, but perhaps someone like Locasta, she was an Adept after all.

Or perhaps it was best to keep this find to herself. Who knew just what it could do?

She righted herself, she had been gone for a long time now, it was a wonder neither the driver or Ella had come looking for her. Unless they had. She was in a rather private area, and all but completely hidden from sight. She needed to get back to them, the sooner the better.

_Elphaba Thropp_ –

What? Glinda blinked, checking that she was not seeing things. Her previous haste to depart vanishing in an instant.

_ – sired by Melena Thropp and Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig –_

Glinda stopped short. No one could possibly have a name that long, not even some of the more fanciful people she had been acquainted with. Was this some sort of odious joke, an errant spell made to agonise her mind. To cause her even more anguish? She had thought that before, and now perhaps she had her evidence. For why else would this happen?

But it had known so much about her life. So much so it could only ever be true, that whatever this was showed a person's past. Their every key moment.

Wait…

That was not Frex's name as the father, and if this book told the truth, than who was that man it mentioned? Did Elphaba know Frex was not her father? Doubtful, she knew Nessa wasn't, but had never hinted that she was not as well.

She must be unaware of the truth.

It was wrong, to continue reading. When it was her own past detailed in the pages there was no shame or guilt in reading the pages, for it was about _her_. This, however, was not about her. And not only that, this was about someone she cared so deeply about despite everything that had occurred between them.

It was wrong, and yet she found herself unable to turn from the book. To her minor relied, however, her eyes refused to focus on the pages as she flicked through them, just in case the words were true (which she knew to be true, for herself at least), it was not her place to snoop in someone's past unless it was they who told her. Especially not this person's past.

How different to whom she had been so long ago.

The pages ended abruptly, the beginning of the next section, the one titled _Departures_, on the opposite page. She darted her eyes over the page, Elphaba at seven years of age. It ended in much the same place as it had when it was her on the pages.

Overall the events mentioned seemed to only be important, (though some seemed not, at least not yet. Who knew what the future held?) Maybe some were only important to the person and that was why they were mentioned. At least that was her conclusion from seeing her own pages.

For the pages to jarringly end was an annoyance, and Glinda showed as must with an angry huff. Then a thought occurred.

Turning back to the beginning of the section she recalled how the book had changed before. Had she been thinking of Elphaba at the time? Now she thought back, she was certain that she had – so perhaps if she…

She closed her eyes, (it did help to focus!), and turned her thoughts to Elphaba, shortly after they met, the Elphaba she remembered rather than the one she had become.

Opening her eyes she turned her focus back to the page she was on, this time she caught the words as they shifted and whirled about the page, parting and joining to form different shapes.

Once more she turned her eyes away and flicked through the pages at high speed, she was unsure what it was she was searching for, only that the pull that had led her there in the first place had returned. At one moment she swore she saw her own name, or the name she once had, and was tempted to stop and read.

She did not, she trusted Elphaba, and she believed what she had told her. Though Elphaba said little about her feelings, her actions were proof enough for Glinda, and actions often spoke louder than words. She knew that now.

Of course after their last encounter she should not be thinking this way, Elphaba had said some things to the contrary of what Glinda, in her heart, believed, but Elphaba did have an acid tongue that only grew more acidic in anger, sadness. Or guilt.

And, at the end of the day, if the truth was different she would rather live in ignorance, believing a lie that brought her some comfort and happiness despite the pain it could also cause. Sometimes it was easier to accept a simple lie than a harmful truth.

She reached the end of the section, skimmed the page and turned to the front once more. Closed her eyes and copied her previous actions.

It seemed she had found the key to working the book.

She repeated the process a number of times, feeling a little more weary with each change. Each time she repeated the process it became a little clearer as to what it was she was after, though it was not until it happened that it became completely obvious to her. The force pressing at her skin dispelling in that moment.

A few times the writing jumped to different ages, she had to refocus, clear her mind and try again. She kept trying until the writing ended before she got to the start of the new section. Current events so to speak.

This time she read, but only the last few lines, and one word stood out.

_Kiamo Ko._

A person? A location, perhaps?

If it were a location, Glinda breathed in slowly, then she knew where she was.

The light in the room flickered, catching her attention. It was the same one that had disturbed her before. It brought her back to herself, to where she was and just how long she had been sitting in the window.

Lurline! What would her driver and maid think? Or more importantly, what would they say to others about her odd behaviour? Her social circle had already deemed her a hermit and who knows what else was being said behind her back?

She hurried to her feet, stumbling on her heels when one of her legs turned out to have become numb. She gave it just enough time to regain some feeling before she was rushing, across the library, heels hitting the lovely floors with a rapid tapping.

She knew where Elphaba was, but what to do with that information?

Well, first things first it was best to keep it to herself.

But the book, what if someone else found it. What if they figured out how it functioned much as she had? The possibility that they would think to use it to track down a terrorist was slim, but even so. It was a powerful object, one that would cause a lot of damage in the wrong hands, and possibly a lot of good in someone else's grasp. Unfortunately she did not fall into the latter, but she could prevent the former from happening.

She fumbled with book as she tugged her scarf off in a rare, rough motion, wrapping it around the book as best as she could.

More than a little eager to get back she increased her pace and shifted the bundle in her arms. The book would have to remain there for now, and for once she wished for stronger arms. Hopefully to an onlooker it would appear to be nothing more than a pile of scarves, though if they were to look closer... she shook the thought away, why should anyone question her on a book. Even if stopped by a member of the Gale Force it should pose no problem, it was not even a book that was on the list of undesirables the librarians were forced to cross off. And she was high in society, she had the power to do what she wanted, within reason of course.

There were more people in the lobby now. Glinda stuck to the edge of the room, head bowed as she headed to the entrance, the book held closer to her chest than was comfortable.

She did not feel all that guilty for stealing the book, the librarian had seemed to be distressed by the book being added to the piles to be destroyed. She was saving it. In this case, she could excuse herself for doing something so underhanded and potentially criminal.

Luckily, or not, some of those previous mentioned ruffians had gotten into the library and were distracting the librarians by attempting to pilfer some of the books. She could not be sure, what with her head kept low, but she thought she spied decidedly more Upper Class people loitering nearby, perhaps they intended to save some of the knowledge that was soon to be destroyed, risking the punishment. Or make some money off it.

For an 'ordered destruction' it was becoming quite unorganised, she thought as she exited into the square only to see more people than before. Some of them approached the soldiers at the bonfire, gesturing widely in what could only be assumed to be an argument. More were joining them, both soldiers and members of the public facing off to one another.

Glinda knew well enough when something troublesome was about to break out. However, the fights she was used to were filled with veiled insults and snide comments, not yelling and screaming. And definitely not physical exchanges.

A yell.

Glinda hurried down the steps, almost tripping down the second to last one, rushing towards the carriage.

The scent of smoke, the sting against her eyes did not mask the sight of a man being knocked to the ground. Soldiers descending on the fallen man, batons drawn.

She struggled to breathe, a lump forming in her throat, her lungs struggling to draw in air that was not tainted.

It couldn't be happening!

She spared a glance over her shoulder, a sweat breaking across her brow as the shouting had turned into a full out battle.

"Lady Glinda?" She faced forward, Ella stood by the open door of the carriage, her hands wringing worriedly, "Are you okay? Would you like me to carry that?"

The driver said nothing, though his mixture of irritation and annoyance was palatable even though he had not looked directly at Glinda.

"No it's quite alright, as am I. Though thank you for the concern." The girl turned her head to hide the shock her sentiments had caused her, Glinda was unaware a 'thank you' could cause that reaction. And more than a little bit shocked herself. Fear had an odd way of affecting people.

"In." She ordered as she could not gesture easily with her hands full.

Ella scrambled into the carriage, tripping and stumbling in her haste to make room for Glinda.

Before she followed, Glinda turned to the driver, her face a mask of stern concern, "There appears to be a fight taking place in the square, it would be best to return home as swiftly as possible."

If Ella's shaking and the almost sarcastic way the driver tipped his hat was anything to go by, they were all too aware of what the shouting and other sounds meant. Glinda ignored that, there were more important things to worry about.

It was not until she was in the carriage as it made its swift way to her house that Glinda allowed the beating of her heart to calm.

What if, she thought as she sat there, head bowed and the heavy weight of the book pressing against her lap. What if they thought she had something to do with the conflict in the square? At first they might have thought she had disappeared for some illicit liaison, not that she would have been panicked by such an assumption. No.

But to be gone for so long, then come running when the fighting had begun. Well, that could look suspicious.

Or was she simply overthinking the situation? What was to say they were thinking anything like that at all? What was to say her obvious guilt would not _make_ them think such things, when before the thoughts would not even cross their minds.

She felt her cheeks pinken beneath her concern, she had been so caught up in the moment she had not thought too much about the situation. There was no need for her to have done what she had. She could have offered to buy the book, though it did look beyond the amount she could easily spend without question. Even if it was added to the list only one solider and the librarian definitely knew about it. She could have easily have made a deal with the librarian. Sure there was the slight possibility she would have had to explain why she would want a book in an unknown, or dead, language. But she could have bluffed, explained that she just appreciated the appearance of it.

Going from breath stopping panic, to such a niggling concern was ridiculous. And it was giving her quite the headache.

Glinda rubbed her temple and waved off the concern shown by her maid, seeing the silhouette of her home through the window was already easing the pain. She could think when she got back.


	8. Chapter 8

Glinda idly smoothed a hand over the leather of the book, her chin resting on her other hand as she gazed out of the window at the cloudy sky. She was perched in the window seat of her room in an almost mimic of the day she had found the book, its heavy weight in her lap helped to ground her, it filled her mind with floating thoughts about it rather than what she should be thinking about, or what she knew she would be thinking of despite her wishes, instead.

It was both a curse and a blessing.

A few days had passed since her visit to the library and her exposure to the events that followed, however distant from them she was, and she still had yet to decide on just _what_ she should do. It was all beyond her. She had not been raised to deal with situations like this, the most she had been taught was how to retaliate to backhanded compliments, not to political dealings and potential riots.

What had occurred in the square outside of the library had been explained away in the local press. It was claimed the men and woman she had seen there were working against the interest of the general public, that they were some of the terrorists that they had been warned about. Those that had not died in the brief yet violent conflict had been rounded up and arrested.

Even though Glinda had seen very little of what had occurred, for she had ran, there was no doubting that the words being used to describe the people were lies. They had seemed very much like normal, everyday individuals, none of them appeared to be hardened criminals. Which raised the question of just why The Wizard was having these things said? For he had confirmed the words present in the papers.

It was foolish of her to ponder on such things, for had Genfee not already explained why he thought Munchkinland in particular was a target? Perhaps it was much the same for those poor people who were now behind bars, if they were lucky.

So much for the book grounding her and distracting her from her worries.

A soft knock on the door was a thankful reprieve from her circling thoughts.

"Yes?"

The door opened slowly, Ella came into the room with her head bowed but a determined set to her features. She closed the door behind her and fidgeted with her hands, her head still low.

Glinda had enough of her sense left to pick up on the anxiety clearly bubbling just below the maid's skin, "Ella? What is it?"

"Umm…" The girl hummed, her eyes darting up only to drop down a second later. A motion she repeated a few times before settling with her head raised, for the most part, however her eyes still flitted around.

"Ella?" Glinda repeated, her voice even and without even a hint of irritation. It seemed her mulling over her thoughts had mellowed her somewhat, or perhaps she was simply exhausted.

"There's… there is something you should be made aware of, Lady Glinda."

Glinda placed the book on the cushion before her and righted herself into a more prim pose, anything to cover up the prickling of distress against her skin, for she had never seen the maid display or vocalise, in tone rather than words, a deep-seated agitation or fear.

"There's a rumour." Ella paused, likely to collect her thoughts.

It felt as if the pit of Glinda's stomach had dropped. Her throat becoming dry as she swallowed her rising panic.

It appeared she had been correct. Ella, the driver and any others who knew would assume she had something to do with the trouble, and all because she could not control her actions. Instead she would jump into things before pausing and thinking it over. She was supposed to be better than that.

How was she supposed to fix this? She could fire the girl. Then her words would be questioned, she could be spreading such viciousness out of spite for losing her job. But then Glinda would also have to rid herself of the driver, and she had no idea if the duo had told anyone else. She could not possibly get away with ridding herself of two workers and then hunting down anyone else who knew to… well what could she do? Blackmail them?

No, she couldn't do that. Still, she had to do something, and that was better than nothing so –

Ella continued before she could do just that.

"About the head terrorist's name –

Head terrorist?

" – that she shares your name."

"I am an Arduenna." It had been to a number of confused, and in some cases offended, looks and comments that Glinda had originally revealed that she had refused to give up her own name. Something that she was not entirely sure upset or pleased her parents. Either way, while legally her name had changed, she still used her former, as did most if not all of her correspondences. For her name had only been changed on that insignificant slip of paper, in the name of some outdated belief of the very 'traditional values' she once held so dear. Out of nurture, not nature. She wondered how her mother and father had managed to adopt her name instead of his.

"Oh, Lady Glinda." Ella moved closer, her voice lowing to the point Glinda had to strain her ears to catch her every word.

There was no anger or suspicion in her tone, did she agree with the role she believed Glinda to have, or had Glinda jumped too quickly in her conclusions again?

"Your husband..."

"What of Shell?" Had he done something questionable again?

"He is related to the terrorist, to The Witch. He is likely working with her, and you… I know what you are doing, Lady Glinda."

Glinda's expression did not falter as she tried to sort out what she knew and what Ella believed, but she was struggling to make sense of any of it. The maid believed Shell was a terrorist? Glinda swallowed her sense of dread, what if Ella reported him? What if she already had? The thought sent a wave of panic over her form, that would not look good on her.

Wait… what did she mean by knowing what she was doing?

Finger's digging into her upper thigh, Glinda forced herself to remain still. She had already seen the folly of jumping to conclusions a multitude of times, she needed to remain calm and wait the girl's words out. Then and only then could she act.

"What is it you believe I am doing?"

"There is no need to lie to me, Lady Glinda, I will not breath a word to anyone else. I swear on it." Ella lifted her hand, and pressed three fingers together over her heart. An action which accompanied the promises of Glinda's childhood.

"Your letters to The Wizard, you being in the place of the conflict a few nights ago. The item you took." Ella gestured to the book. Glinda cursed her inability to think on the spot, she should have hidden it better when she first took it.

"What is it you are suggesting?"

Ella smiled, her eyes shining with genuine warmth and idolisation.

"You are helping The Wizard. That is why he could not meet with you, he didn't want to blow your cover. You are helping stop the terrorists that are a threat to us all." Clearly baffled now Glinda's brow furrowed, trying to understand just how Ella had come to such a conclusion, but she failed spectacularly. She had never been too skilled at getting into the minds of those of a lower rank than herself. And even those of the same rank was a struggle at times, particularly when she could not focus for certain reasons.

"That is why I had to warn you about your husband, you could be at risk –

"There is no need Ella," Glinda said gently, trying to ease the girl's mind and use her gullibility to her advantage, falling into the role remarkably easily, "I have heard that rumour and can assure you, that is not the name of… The Witch. Shell is no terrorist."

"Oh…" Ella breathed, her spine straightening and the crease of her worry evaporating from her features. Glinda returned her smile, though for entirely different reasons, "What a relief, and soon we will no longer fear them or The Witch."

Since when had people begun to refer to Elphaba as a witch? She had no talent in Sorcery, Glinda of all people should know that as that fact that it is.

"And why is that?"

If Ella thought the question was odd coming from someone who she believed was leading, in part, the action against the terrorists, she did not show it.

"Why the assassins of course."

_Assassins!_

"They were revealed yesterday and will be departing in just under a week to kill The Witch."

Her heart was hammering now, her blood freezing like ice in her veins.

They were going to _kill_ Elphaba.

_Kill_.

She needed… she needed to do _something._

How many times had that thought entered her mind recently? And just how often had she dismissed it, even when she promised herself and her Ama that she would not?

Maybe Ella was mistaken, "Is the point of assassins not to kill someone without anyone knowing until it is too late, if at all."

Ella flushed, "I – I am just retelling what I heard."

"Or it's for show."

They both jumped, Glinda managing to hide her own surprise, and turned to the source of the voice. Shell had, at some point, slipped into the room obviously unnoticed until now.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He raised an eyebrow at Glinda, gesturing with a flourish as he began to explain, "Scare her into giving herself up, make her concerned for her life. That way he can extract information from the woman."

"_If_ she gives herself up," Glinda replied, neither she nor Shell wanting to reveal their connection to Elphaba before another.

"How do they know where she is," Ella piped up, a hand jumping to her mouth when she realised she had spoken out of turn. Neither Shell or Glinda scolded her for her rudeness.

"They must do," Shell answered with a shrug, "Or the threat would hold no weight."

Shell had clearly known this, and yet he had not told her. Why? She met his eyes, beneath the sparkle they always held was something else, fear, acceptance? He knew what she was going to do, didn't he? Or assumed he did.

Glinda was clueless to how The Wizard knew where Elphaba was, but he wasn't the only one. If she knew Elphaba, which she was no longer sure was true, then she knew without a doubt that Elphaba would not hand herself in. She would rather wait for her inevitable death than give herself up. Her stubbornness a gift at times, and a blatant curse more often than not.

It was selfish of her, of Glinda, to fear that occurring. To want to stop it. But she would. She would protect Elphaba, she could not knowingly let her die. Even if it was in Elphaba's own stubbornness that her own death would find her.

She _had_ to go to her.

* * *

><p>She paused to observe herself in her mirror, despite its simplicity the dress she was wearing was actually quite flattering. It brought a smile to her lips, she was afraid it would leave her looking much like a sack of vegetables.<p>

After sorting through her dresses she had quickly discovered that there were few that were actually practical for what she had planned. So she sent Ella away with a decent amount of money and some very specific instructions.

The maid had done well, very well. The dresses were pleasing to look at (well as pleasing as they could be) and more than capable of functioning as she needed them to. Which in this case was to simply not get in her way, or make the journey more difficult than it needed to be.

It was mad, really. To drop everything in such a way as she was.

Glinda's eyes fluttered shut as she composed herself, she needed to remember that she was doing this for a _good_ reason. Her disappearance would be noted, but it would have little to no impact on anyone of note. The majority of Loyal Oz paid no attention to the goings on in their neighbouring countries, let alone Munchkinland now it had seceded, so she was all but unknown to them for now.

The day before she had hurriedly penned a letter explaining, as much as she could without causing any problems, that she would be departing for an unspecified amount of time, as well as listing some items of concern that she believed the recipient should be made aware of. Hopefully Genfee would receive it in good time and understand just what she was warning him off beneath her veiled words.

Who knew, with things as they were – with the things she was now aware of and that she had seen – her mail, as well as others could very well be monitored. Especially if the writing was going across the border to Munchkinland. It was best to be as cautious as possible. Something she should have thought of earlier.

Perhaps she was being paranoid. But now she saw that such behaviour could be, within reason, beneficial.

Ella had helped her arrange a lot of what she needed to do in advance, though Glinda had been careful to monitor and control just how much the maid was aware of. It made her feel more than a little bit nauseous, for was that not what The Wizard was doing to all of them?

She had to remind herself that what she was doing was for the safety of the maid, for if she knew where she was going she could very well become a target if such a terrible thing were to happen. She was sure it wouldn't, but one could never be _too _careful.

Besides, judging from that idolising look that still resided in Ella's eyes, the maid had already come up with her own conclusion as to what Glinda was doing. There was a brief moment when Glinda considered correcting the girl's mistaken belief, but it lasted for just that – a brief moment. Let her believe what she wants if it made things easier for them both.

The few belongings she deemed necessary enough to take with her were packed in a single bag, beside it was that book. She had yet to understand what the title claimed its name to be, and sadly lacked the imagination to think of a name for it herself.

The Carriage Train was leaving that day. It had taken her sometime to track down just where that castle, the one named by the book, was, but now she knew. The Carriage Train reached its end at a nearby village, she hoped from there she could find someone to take her the rest of the way.

Madness. For her to even consider such a journey! But it had to be done. She could not let the relationship between her and Elphaba remain in such a state, even if she could do nothing to help, or more importantly save her, she could at least ease the pain that stretched between them.

Perhaps it was selfish of her, for she doubted that the pain was equal in both of them. It was fear, she believed, fear that it was she who cared more. In part due to keeping that promise shared between them so long ago. But even if that was the truth, it would be wrong of her to simply sit in her home in the City and do nothing. To watch as events played out. Not just the events concerning Elphaba, but those that were occurring in the very city where she lived. Watched as people suffered, just as she had heard but never seen. Not until that night in the square.

Her things prepared, Glinda hesitated, biting at her thumb nail. There was no going back from what she was going to do. She could not change her mind halfway through the trip and demand to be brought back. If she left, she had no choice but to see it through to the end – whatever that end would be.

But ends could be shaped and moulded, if a person knew what they were doing.

No. She could not just sit back. This was something she needed to do.

There could be no room for doubts, not this time.

She located a second, cushioned bag for the book and informed Ella to post the letter to Munchkinland.

Shell was not there, and it did not cross her mind to leave a note or anything, however small, informing him of her actions. He likely already knew regardless. Her mind was set and her determination was controlling her actions by now.

Pushing the anxiety forming in her chest to the back of her mind, she focused on what needed to be done as she retrieved her bags and prepared to leave.


	9. Chapter 9

There were only a handful of people on the journey with her, few enough that she doubted the leader of the train was making enough money to possibly justify leaving the City. Surely the woman could have waited until there was a higher demand; more people equals more profit after all. Not that Glinda was in a position to complain, if it weren't for the train she doubted she would have been able to get to the Vinkus in time.

The group sent to… dispose of Elphaba, were set to leave less than a week after her own departure. Or so she was told by an eager Ella. Though, if Shell's assumption that this was just a scare tactic was incorrect, who was to say they had not already left? That, perhaps, the small groups she was travelling with may even include those very same people?

It was an odd thought, one that came from nowhere and struck her chest painfully, and in her confusion she kept her distance from the others, studying them perhaps a bit too intently.

In the end, however, it became obvious that while most of the group appeared to be composed of natives returning home for whatever reasons they had, the few others were adventurers. Tourists was perhaps a better term to use.

She would rather mar herself than ever repeat the experience of the journey, she was not brought up to cope with such ordeals. Yet, despite her struggles and frequent wishes to return to civilisation, she soldiered on with her chin held high and a determined set to her form.

This was not for her, at the end of the day, this was for someone else. Someone dear. And quite possibly for the good of so many other innocent people – which was the main reason, she reminded herself. That was what she continued to tell herself as she looked over the book in a secluded corner of their camps, trying to understand why now it no longer seemed to work.

Following the words of a book on a whim was laughable at best, and if it turned out to be a dead-end she would be left in a foreign land waiting desperately for the caravan to return after, presumably, winter. Then again, if it did turn out to be true… well then it was a chance worth taking.

And really, the scenery was rather beautiful, she doubted it was something she would ever see or experience again in her lifetime after she returned to the City. So why not appreciate it? Which she did, with a rapidly building enthusiasm. The architecture of nature comes close to, but had yet to surpass, some of the great words she had seen built by man's own mortal hands.

* * *

><p>There was an old, almost toothless man that caught her attention after a few days. Maybe it was simply because he was not as overbearing as some of the others on the trip, he kept to himself and spent most of his days whittling at various blocks of wood as he whistled. She was unsure where exactly all of it was coming from, but she chose to keep to her manners and so did not question him. There was something almost hypnotising about the process of creating something from nothing, she had never thought she would find such simple, primitive work, so interesting.<p>

After a few days of watching his work, seeing how he turned an ugly block of wood into a horse, or her favourite, a beautiful pfenix carved out of some rich, red coloured wood. She realised she did not know his name, something that previously would not have bothered her suddenly did.

When he had first noticed her interest in his work, he had beckoned her closer, and every day after that they could be found seated near or next to one another. Him with his figures, she with her book.

His name was Haumann, at least that is what she thought he said, his accent was thick and the loss of so many teeth did not help her understanding.

If she were still vain, little Galinda his appearance would have disgusted her. Instead she felt drawn to the kindness of the man, for it reminded her of her dear, sweet Ama. Quickly she found herself speaking more and more with him, inquiring about things that previously had never once crossed her mind. Not even in her most droll and idle thoughts.

She asked him if there was still a big demand for whittled items, for she had not seen many items like that in a long time. Sure some of her social circle would purchase such items when they travelled elsewhere as 'native curiosities', but that was about it. In fact the last time she saw an item like his was back in Colwen Grounds. The damaged bird that Frex treasured so.

Oh.

The realisation dawned on her like the rising sun over the mountains they saw each morning. Frex treasured that small, insignificant item. One that many would have disposed of as soon as it showed even a hint of damage. He carried it in his pocket; cradled it like a real, living bird as he stood at that window mourning the 'loss' of his oldest child.

She wondered…

* * *

><p>Years of secretly studying architecture, learning about and observing all the tiny, mostly over looked details had given her quite the eye and memory for remembering such things. Something she was extremely grateful of, and rather proud of herself for, as she instructed Haumann on the appearance of that damaged wooden bird of Frex's.<p>

All based on a hunch of hers, one that could prove to be very, very wrong. Much like this whole trip in actual fact. However, unlike the trip if this hunch turned out to be wrong, then it was no loss for her or the whittler, he would be paid and she would be able to keep the figure as a memento of him and the trip. Not that she was enjoying the journey in question or anything.

She had to fill in a lot of the details by herself, as she had only seen the figure from a distance and it was very damaged. Once again, it was thanks to her study of architecture that it was not as much of a struggle as it could be. As well as modern and well-kept old buildings she had studied a lot of abandoned and dilapidated buildings. Filling in gaps and picking up on signs of what the worn down work used to look like.

Over the course of a few days, the last few in the trip, Haumann focused on the work for her. He discarded many partially completed figures as there was something wrong with them, or Glinda remembered some other small nuisance of the original carving that they lacked.

On the last day she, and he, were finally satisfied with it. They stood at their final destination, a small village at the foot of a mountain, as he held the product of their work out towards her. Glinda beamed at the figure as if she herself had created it, which in a way she had, they both had.

"Thank you so very much for doing this for me." It was a bit of a struggle, one hand clasping the bag containing the book, the other rooting through her other bag for her money. Fully intent on giving Haumann a more than sizable amount for his work.

The whittler shook his head, grinning gummily.

"A gift."

"No. I insist –

"A gift," he repeated, pressing the figure towards her. Placing her bag down, she took it hesitantly.

"I – I do not know what to say. I really must give you something…"

He shook his head once more, holding out his closed fist. Glinda's brow scrunched, but she placed her own hand, palm open and up beneath his own hand. He opened his fingers dropping what he was holding into her grasp.

"Oh!"

Just to make sure she was seeing correctly she held the item up and, sure enough, the object he had given her was that small, pfenix figure she had complimented so much.

"Gift for you also."

"Please – " She pleaded, "Let me give you _something_."

The whittler declined, leaving Glinda feeling a mixture of guilt but also flushed delight that she had made such an impression.

As he bid goodbye, slinging his bag over his shoulder and departing with a whistle, she realised she would actually miss him.

Both figures were held like treasures in her hand.

* * *

><p>Finding someone to take her the rest of the way was a harder feat than she had believed it to be. She had been certain that the people here, a village so far from civilisation and appearing so primitive than what she was used to, would be more opened minded – meaning not completely taken in by The Wizard's words. There had been no verbal conformation of that particular belief of hers, but why else would they be so quick to decline to take her to Kiamo Ko?<p>

She stuck out like a sore thumb, smaller than the people here and with fair skin and hair. She had never felt so out of place and judged. Was this how she had once made others feel?

Communication was also more difficult than she foresaw, she had assumed they would be fluent in Ozian here, as she knew that it was a requirement in Munchkinland and Gillikin to learn the language fluently before graduating. She did have the benefit of being able to complain to herself in Gillikinese without offending anyone, but that was only a small positive.

In the end, with no other option forthcoming, she began the walk up the mountain trail. She could not see the castle, but she was fully aware it was built on the side of that very mountain, or so she had been informed when seeking where in the Vinkus the castle was. She was certain it would come into view soon and was simply not observable from the village. It would be a long trek, one she did not have the shoes to make without a lot of blisters and pain, but she had no other choice.

Who knew? Perhaps she would find someone on the way who would be willing to take her the rest of the way.

The village was still quite a large shape on the horizon behind her when she stopped in her tracks. A quickly approaching rattle catching her attention.

Stopping was definitely not the smartest decision of hers, for as soon as she stopped herself the pain that had built in her feet seemed to explode outwards, leaving her struggling to remain standing. It left her wanting to do nothing more than sit down on the ground, and put no more weight on her feet for the foreseeable future.

Over the brow of the hill came an ox drawn cart. The old man driving it peered at her curiously as he drew closer, the wheels of the cart slowing as he did. She turned, feeling decidedly uncomfortable for reasons she could not begin to explain, and resume walking, her body screaming at her to let her feet rest.

"Are you alright Miss?" He called, the cart drawing up alongside her, still slowing as it did.

"I am fine," she replied, automatically haughty, not the best way to convince the stranger to give her a lift the rest of the way. "I am travelling to Kiamo Ko castle. I have already inquired after a lift there, and despite my offering payment, no one has been accommodating of my request."

The old man shifted, scratching at the white hair on his chin as he narrowed his eyes at the ox pulling the cart. He hummed to himself for a moment before nodding his head, "Can do that, most of the way."

Well, that was better than nothing she supposed. And it was both a relief to find someone who she was able to communicate with well and for her feet to finally have a rest. Even if the price she had to pay was sitting in the back of a hay strewn cart that had most definitely seen better days.

"Thank you for your kindness."

The driver grinned at that, the skin around his eyes crinkling as Glinda hurried to the back of the cart, placing her bags on it before pulling herself up rather ungracefully. The man had the lack of manners not to help her, but also enough of them not to watch as she made a fool of herself.

He gave her a good length of time to settle before he looked over his shoulder to check on her. Once satisfied, he turned to the ox and the cart began to move forward at a steady pace.

Rather than fold her legs at an angle beneath her as was proper, Glinda allowed her moment of anonymity to grant her some freedom as she stretched her legs before her. Wiggling her toes in her shoes and rotating her feet, she tried to relieve the pain that was now throbbing in them. It would be a swifter process if she removed her shoes, but there was only so far she would be willing to stretch her lessons of propriety.

"Why it is you want to go there of all places?"

Startled by the man's voice it took Glinda a moment to register just what he had asked.

"There is someone there I was once close to." It was a bit of a challenge for Glinda to both answer his question while at the same time staying vague, if The Wizard knew where Elphaba was than who was to say that the people who actually lived near to there did not also know?

"Really?" The man asked, his voice filled with surprise. Enough so that it caught Glinda's attention, a tension settling into her muscles as she stared at the back of the man's dark shirt.

Why was he so shocked?

"Didn't think there were many left."

Glinda's brow furrowed in an almost childish manner as her confusion over the man's words settled on her features. Maybe it was a mistranslation, perhaps the man had not meant to use those particular words.

She did not want to be rude and point out that he may have made a mistake, not when he was the only reason she was not still on a never-ending trek (what in Oz would she have done once night had begun to fall and she was still nowhere near the castle? She really hadn't thought her plan through had she?) A question was needed, one that would get her what she needed to know, one that would clear the air of her confusion while maintaining the amiability of their fledgling companionship.

"How many people reside there?" Another benefit from the question was that the answer would allow her to know who to expect – which might help her prepare herself. To know who she needed to greet, to share her intentions with, perhaps even have some assistance in her dealings with Elphaba. But his earlier words made her doubts seep in, was there anyone besides Elphaba there?

"There used to be a lot."

"Used to be?"

"Gone now. All of them." The man's shoulders raised in a shrug, his hands gripping the ox's reins loosely.

"You are taking me to an empty building?" For she knew that could not be the case.

"Well, there's The Witch. Most folks scared of her. If you had any sense you would be too." He looked over his shoulder to her again, "But not my place to change your mind. Not when you're paying me."

"I've never been noted for my mind, or my senses." Her posture changed as she spoke, ignoring the need to stretch her legs out she tucked them beneath her, giving of an imposing air. A defensive reaction, perhaps, but one she suddenly felt justified for, "What happened to the others who resided there?"

"In the past now. No need to worry about it."

She disagreed with his words, but now was not the time for arguments. Instead, to distract herself, she watched what she could see of the village disappear as they made their slow way to her destination.

* * *

><p>It was dark by the time they arrived some distance from the castle. She would have been certain it was abandoned if not for a solitary glow in a single window high up in the sky.<p>

The man had long ago drawn a lantern from somewhere, lighting it before setting it beside him. Even with the light source present on the journey, Glinda had felt unsettled, as if someone was lurking in the shadows surrounding them, waiting to pounce. As those fears had grown so did her realisation that she had trusted a stranger to take her where she wanted, a stranger in a land where she had never set foot, nor even knew the native language.

It was not her smartest decision ever.

Even so, she was there now, and nothing disastrous had occurred to her on the journey.

Upon jumping down from the carriage, Glinda paid the man a decent sum, not as much as she original would have. She felt justified in doing so for he had not answered all of her questions as she would have liked. Still, he seemed pleased by the amount which annoyed her more than it should, in the City it would be offensive to only tip that amount, a nonverbal scolding that would be acknowledged internally by the recipient. Here, however, it was not. She should have realised that it would not receive the same reaction in the Vinkus.

She was tired. That was quite possibly the cause for her mistake. Weariness from the long journey there with the carriage, her walking and now here; with the man and his ox.

With no more words likely to be exchanged, Glinda moved to take her first tentative steps towards the imposing structure when a new, gruff voice cut in with a wish for good luck.

Her forehead creasing she turned back to the elderly man that brought her there, but his attention was elsewhere. Her eyes were caught, then, by movement at the front of cart. The nodding head and knowing eyes of the ox.

Froze in that moment she could only stare as the bulky creature bow its head and the carriage began its return journey to the village in the foot of the hills. She wondered idly where the man had originally intended to go, for he had been travelling in the same direction as her. But that did not last longer than a moment.

Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs of sleep from her head, she turned back to the castle, moving towards the grand door she could see.

It seemed to take longer than she imagined to reach the outer walls of the castle, followed by the disused courtyard. The darkness that swallowed the surrounding area as she and the cart drew away in opposite directions, did not help matters. Her heart hammering with each step, in the City there were always people around and lights even during the darkest, latest parts of the night. This was eerie, something she had never truly experienced.

She gasped.

Her heart jumping to lodge in her throat as some great beast charged her, jumping and barking, trying to reach her face as its great paws dug into and stained her dress. She stumbled backwards, her heels catching the ground beneath her oddly, her bag dropped with a thump to the ground. The one that contained the book swinging, still clasped strongly in her hand.

"Damnable mutt."

Glinda looked up from her struggle, one hand grasping a furry foreleg, the other trying to push her book between her and the beast.

One half of the door had opened, light spilling across the cobblestones and weeds of the courtyard from a lantern that trembled in old hands.

The beast jumped down, racing to the open door and sliding through a gap into the castle.

Regaining her footing and reclaiming her other bag, Glinda gasped for breath and found she could utter only one, confused word.

"Nanny?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Once again, thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and those that also review, it means a lot. Thank you.**

* * *

><p>Glinda cupped both of her hands around a chipped cup, absorbing as much warmth as the liquid inside it could offer her. She and Nanny were huddled around a table before a fire in the kitchen, from the drag lines in the brickwork of the floor, it had not always been there.<p>

"It weren't always like this Dearie, not like this at all."

"I heard." Glinda replied, sensing an opportunity to receive some answers she continued, "What exactly happened?"

Nanny chugged a large amount of her own drink – Glinda was not entirely sure what it was, possibly a local tea? The aftertaste was almost fruity and it had a deep indescribable flavour – the old woman seemed unaffected by the temperature of the liquid.

"Get used to it after a while."

"Used to what?" All this time and Nanny had remained the same; if she did not want to answer something she always resorted to the old 'hearing problems' she 'suffered'. Glinda would either have to try to receive an answer again, or wait for Nanny to randomly explain whenever she felt like doing so.

"The cold."

Ah.

Though Glinda doubted that. Stepping into the castle was akin to stepping into a storeroom for meats, far colder inside than out. Maybe it had something to do with the brickwork. Strange though, even the oldest of buildings were built in a way to conserve heat, this one however…

"It is good to see you Nanny, I had no idea what happened to you." And really it was good to see a friendly face, for the most part.

Nanny hummed contently, appearing almost identical to how she was when Glinda had first met her, almost as if she had reached that age and just froze in time. Never to grow another day older. If only the same could be said for –

"And we had no idea you were coming here."

_We._ Glinda frowned into her drink as she took a cautious sip. She had already scolded her tongue once before, and was loath to repeat it. Returning her cup to the table, she asked another question in the hopes of receiving an answer, "How did you know to come here?"

How had Elphaba? Or the Wizard's assassins?

…Though she had her suspicions, ones she could not bear to acknowledge, not yet.

"How did you?" Nanny responded, mimicking Elphaba's habit of cryptic answers before adding, "To be honest I don't rightly remember anymore."

"How long have you been here?" Glinda asked, diverting her attention elsewhere upon catching the sound of shuffling outside the door. She eyed the door wearily, afraid that the beast from before had found her again, as Nanny pondered over her answer or whether to acknowledge it at all.

"Don't rightly remember that either." The old woman finally replied, her bleary eyes focus on the ceiling in thought.

Finally certain the door was not about to burst open in the wake of some furry creature, Glinda returned her full attention to Nanny, "You should have sent word. When you first arrived."

"So what?"

"I would have…" But Glinda found she could not finish her sentence, for what would she have done? Would she have come running, so soon after her marriage? Would she have risked her standing as she was now? Without the years upon years of growth? No. Probably not. "I am here now. That is what matters."

Nanny hummed again, abandoning her cup on the table as she stood, waddling towards the very same door Glinda had been focused on before, leaving behind a lantern beside the door.

"Old bones need rest," she muttered to herself as she yanked the door open revealing the, thankfully, empty and dark corridor.

"Where am I supposed to go?" Glinda jumped to her feet; picked up her cup, placed it back down and picked it up once more.

Nanny shrugged her large shoulders as she moved down the corridor into the darkness, her voice echoing back, "Anywhere. Don't rightly matter where, no one in these rooms anymore anyway."

Hesitating for a moment, Glinda took after Nanny, a cup held in one hand, two bags clutched in her other. The old woman, however, moved surprisingly fast even in the dark and as such, was already gone. Leaving Glinda alone in the empty, cold building, jumping at the faintest sound of scurrying in the distance.

* * *

><p>She had found a suitable room after a few false starts the night before, glad that she had the good sense to seize the lantern from the kitchen before wandering away too far. From the light layer of dust, and the neatness of the rest of the room she assumed it to be an old guestroom that had not seen just that, a guest, in a long time before the previous occupants of the castle had left.<p>

Still, residing in an unfamiliar dwelling, enveloped in cold air and sheets she was certain were for summer weather, had all resulted in a terrible night's sleep. Thankfully bad enough that she was not plagued by any dreams, let alone her nightmares.

She left the stowing away of her few belongings until the morning, placing them in their usual places. The book, however, she left in its bag along with the two wooden figures and hid it in a gap between bed and bedside table, confident it could not be seen unless one were purposefully hunting for something concealed. She could not be certain why she decided to hide the book, only that a prickling feeling in the back if her mind encouraged her to do so.

With a grumbling stomach, and the growing realisation that she had not eaten for a significantly long amount of time, Glinda left her room to wander in the general direction she thought she had travelled down the night before.

Even with the sun high in the sky, the corridors of the castle were dark and narrow. Glinda wondered if she should keep the lantern with her, just to fight back the shadows during the day as much as the darkness of the night.

Ignoring proper manners, Glinda still wore her travelling cloak, anything to gain even a little bit more warmth. She wrung the edges of the cloak beneath the clasp with a hand, her pale skin growing pinker the longer she walked. She cast her eyes about, just in case the beast from the night before came bounding out of the shadows to maul her again.

She eventually found Nanny in the same place as the night before, with thankfully no furry creature in sight.

The old woman was fussing over a pot of some gruel looking substance, digging out a ladleful to put into a bowl, the appearance of the gloop took Glinda back to her first days at Colwen Grounds.

Nanny turned with a jump, surprise written across her face. "Oh!" She exclaimed, pressing a meaty hand to her chest, "I forgot you were here."

It didn't take her long to calm, and soon she was gesturing roughly with her thumb over her shoulder.

"Bowls are in a cupboard over there, go get one."

Glinda did just that, though it took some time as there were many different cupboards and Nanny was not supplying any help in finding the correct one. Glinda's nose scrunched in distaste at the worn, wooden bowl, not that she had a choice in the matter as that was all there was. She returned to the table where Nanny roughly spooned some of the substance into the bowl, sending globs splattering across the stained kitchen table, before thrusting a tarnished spoon in her direction.

Glinda shuffled her chair closer to the lit fire, not caring that it scraped noisily against the floor as she did so. She ate the food cautiously, pausing before each swallow as she had to force herself to continue eating the 'food'. Even the growling hunger that rumbled in the pit of her stomach was not a strong enough motivation for her to eat with enthusiasm, not that the food was unpleasant. It did have an odd aftertaste, one she could not decide whether she liked or not, but other than that it did not really taste of anything. It was the texture that left her feeling ill. Despite that, she was not about to ask Nanny what it was, sometimes it was best not to know.

Glinda waited until they finished before attempting to ask Nanny any questions. She was too slow, however, as the old woman beat her to it.

"Why did you come all this way?" Nanny inquired as she spooned another hefty amount of the substance into her bowl, licking her chapped lips as she did so, "You never seemed the type to travel so far."

"Nor did you." Glinda, though still hungry, pushed her bowl away from her, careful that neither her cloak nor dress were soiled by the food. It seemed coarse enough that it would eat clear through the decent material of her clothing, "Where is Elphaba?"

"Oh her?" Nanny said offhandedly, shrugging off the comment as if it were not the one, clear reason that Glinda was there. Not that Nanny would be aware of that, of course. "Probably doing something sinister and secretive, don't see her so much anymore."

Glinda doubt the old woman saw much of anything anymore.

The book had been correct, a fact that should have lightened Glinda, but for some reason it didn't. Perhaps it was the knowledge of just how powerful it was, what it could do in the wrong hands that still weighed her down. Or maybe it was something else, something she could not quite grasp.

"Where is she?" Glinda tried again, not in the mood for any of Nanny's games. Glinda had already wasted enough time, even if she had left with a semi-decent length of time between her and whoever it was The Wizard had sent. Swiftness was still key.

Nanny huffed, swallowing a large mouthful of her breakfast, one of her eyes narrowing at Glinda – not that Glinda was all that bothered about offending her in that moment. "In the tower." Nanny snapped, gesturing aggressively over her shoulder again, "The one over in that direction."

Ah. Now that should have been something Glinda had realised herself, for had she not seen a light last night high up the castle walls? She had been unable to tell, but it was entirely possible that the source of the light was indeed in a tower. She had not been outside in the daylight in order to check.

Nanny promptly returned to shovelling the food into her mouth, choosing to ignore Glinda, which the young woman was more than alright with.

Glinda stood to her feet and left the kitchen with quick steps, unsure where she was going. She only knew that there would be a lot of steps to climb. Her faint guide to the tower her weak, incomplete mental imagine from the previous night. But she had always been skilled at filling in the details.

* * *

><p>It made her stomach churn.<p>

The open rafters, the crows perched on them letting their droppings fall carelessly; the air that was far colder than any she had felt in recent memory. The array of refuse and papers left strewn around the room with no care. The leak that found some way through her clothes and cloak to drop down the back of her neck, leaving her shivering and jumping at the feeling with a sharp shriek.

A moving heap of black cloth in the corner of the room sent her stumbling backwards, she caught herself on the edge of a soiled desk, barely avoiding sending a half full bucket of water (to catch the leak?) flying in her surprise.

The cloth grew in size, until she realised that it was not something terrifying or otherworldly, beneath the ragged material there was indeed the shape of a person. A familiar one at that.

"Elphaba?"

"What have I told you about using _that_ name?" Elphaba turned, her words dripping with venom. If she was surprised to see who it was that disturbed her, Glinda could not tell as the other woman's eyes remained narrow, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Galinda Arduenna."

"I've already told you, I go by Glinda now." Her words were flat, automatic, as she found her mind buffeted by an array of thoughts and feelings.

Elphaba's face remained emotionless, her eyes however burned with conflicting emotions. Emotions that made Glinda's heart tighten, not in the way it once did, but rather with a sense of undeniable dread.

"Elp –

Glinda tried, only to be cut off by Elphaba's rapid change of expression. Her mouth downturned and forehead creasing in rage.

"Do _not_ use that name." She gestured aggressively to the window, which Glinda now saw had no glass, allowing a strong gust of wind to hit them at that moment, sending hair and clothes awry. "They wanted a witch and so a witch I became."

What had happened to her Elphie? For the woman who stood before her was even more fearsome than the one she had met at dear Nessie's funeral. The one before her was every bit the embodiment of 'The Witch' that Glinda had heard of, but had never believed existed – not truly.

"Elphaba…"

"The Witch!" Elphaba snapped, "That is who I am now!"

And, Glinda realised with trepidation, that she was.

"Why are you even here?" Elp – The Witch snapped as the crows above cawed, their dark, beady eyes glaring at Glinda.

This time when Glinda felt her heart constrict it was for entirely different reasons, "The Wizard has sent a group to dispose of you."

"You?"

Glinda's lips parted, her eyes widening in surprise. How could Elphaba even _think_ that? "No. Of course not. I don't know who they are, only that they are on their way here."

Elp – The Witch – she reminded herself, for the woman standing before her was a far departure from the woman she knew – tilted her head back, a short bark of humourless laughter leaving her.

"You expect me to believe you?"

The blonde's hands tightened into fists at her side, her lips pressing into a thin line, "You think I would travel this far simply to _lie_ to you. I haven't even washed yet!"

And that was simply revolting, but she had more important things on her mind than proper hygiene – as disgusting as that was to even acknowledge.

The Witch snorted at her, moving like a predator sizing up their prey, her hand trailing over the cover of some oversized book as she paced before her. "How do I even know you are real? A figment perhaps, it wouldn't be the first."

The Witch murmured to herself, as if she was crazed. Glinda's ire wavered then, for perhaps she was. Perhaps her mind had been damaged – had she not thought something similar not too long ago? It was difficult to remember sometimes.

So, Glinda did the only thing she could think of when confronted by a reality that frightened her. She ignored it. "It wasn't an easy journey." A basic fact that should show Elphaba, who she still knew was in there somewhere, just how far she was willing to go for her. Belated effort or not.

"Some people will do anything to get what they want."

The words were not what Glinda expected, but Elphaba had a habit of being a tad too rough with her word choice at times. Almost like a form of self-defence, it was not something unfamiliar or uncommon to her.

"Exactly. I needed to warn you, and…and you left before I was able to tell you just –

The Witch shook her head almost violently, her smile cruel, "Anything to get your precious title."

A cold, icy feeling that had nothing to do with the building washed over Glinda from head to toe. The blonde tried to bring moisture back to her suddenly dry throat, small pinpricks pressing into the corners of her eyes.

"No. No, no, Elphaba that isn't –

"That name is meaningless now. You should know that, residing in luxury and fear as you do."

The Eminence? Is that what she thought Glinda was here about? Had she not just told her the reason? The very important, life threatening reason?

Glinda took a step forward, her hand rising between them as if to reach out. The look in the other woman's eyes was enough for Glinda's hand to drop back, uselessly to her side.

"The title is meaningless to me. I was going to fix what I could, I only accepted to stop the position from being abolished." Perhaps a white lie, but was the purpose of them not to bring comfort to a person. To hide a truth that could be deemed painful? "I already told you."

"Still keeping to the same lies, I see." The crows' calls were louder now, almost as if they too were just as hateful towards the smaller woman. A few hopped down, sending black feathers flying about as they perched on tables and chairs. Glinda took a step back, feeling hounded, but it was not enough to calm her rapidly building nerves nor the tension filling her small frame.

"It is not a lie Elphaba!" Glinda all but spat, her face twisted with her sudden rage, with her desperation to get through to Elphaba, through to that sensible woman she once knew. Not this – this bitter creature standing before her. At the very least she needed to get her to understand just how much danger she was now in, "That group will be here soon. They will kill you if you remain here."

The Witch charged then, the distance between them shrinking as the moved in to Glinda's personal space. Her towering from bring forth a feeling of cowardice and outright fear in Glinda, "Get out." She snarled, as Glinda found herself retreating backwards until she teetered dangerously on the top step of the stairs leading into the tower, "You are no more welcome here than the others are."

Glinda had enough sense still about her to pick up on that word – others?

"Elp –

But she was cut off; barely catching herself on the wall to her left as The Witch pushed her hard enough to force her down some of the steps. The door slammed then. Leaving Glinda in darkness, her breath coming out in short pants, her heart beating a fearful tempo as she heard the slide of a lock.


	11. Chapter 11

After cleaning herself up, and trying to come to terms with what had happened that day, Glinda spent the next few days keeping to herself.

She did not see the creature that attacked her the night she arrived, nor did she inquire after it. She did, however, have the distinct feeling of being watched at times, if she was not so certain that El – The Witch kept to herself, she would have assumed it was her. In the end she put it down to her paranoia of being in an unfamiliar place, and the constant worry caused by knowing of the group heading there, but not knowing when they would arrive. So she continued to remind herself that it would take them far longer to arrive than it had Glinda – for they would either have to take a carriage of their own or walk. Perhaps even a mixture of both.

She decided to leave The Witch for a while, it was possible she would come to understand Glinda's words if left to mull over them. Instead, Glinda told Nanny what she knew, hoping it would somehow get back to the intended recipient. Who would hopeful finally begin to understand the words for the truth that they were.

Glinda did not like the hesitation, the waiting, but what more could she rightly do with E – The Witch behaving in the way that she was?

And Glinda _had_ to refer to her as The Witch, for she could not accept that woman stalking about at the top as the castle with the woman she had once known.

On her first full day there she had explored the other rooms in the castle. Despite The Witch's words she had seen no one else save for her and Nanny, and it was with a sustainable amount of embarrassment that she admitted to 'raiding' the bedrooms that she was certain were abandoned, for want of a better word. Finding thicker sheets and furs to take into the room she occupied, after that came the finding of 'tools' to aid her in making her temporary room more inhabitable.

Stringing up a thick sheet in front of the window cut out the light that came through the thin curtains considerably, but it also helped to maintain the heat from the fireplace in the room. That was a sacrifice that she did not particularly want to make, but it was the lesser of two evils in this case. Giving up natural light in favour of heat.

It was suffocating, to have the weight of so many sheets and furs on top of her – she had become accustomed to the thin sheets and heated homes of the City – but if it kept her warm she would reduce her complaints to herself to the bare minimum.

She had only been in a few of the rooms, and had left the ones that clearly belonged to someone alone, despite the dust that covered all the surfaces. There was no sign of anyone else still living there, which only made her concerns for Elphaba's state of mind all the worse.

She needed to ask Nanny at some point, but she feared that the old woman's mind was not in the best of conditions either. Glinda did not know where the old woman was staying, only that she spent almost all her time in the kitchen hunched by the fire writing out illegible lists.

There was not much in the way of food stored there, except for a few jars of honey which looked to be rather old. The limited amount that was there which wasn't honey, was either nearing the end of its edible lifespan or there was simply very little left of it. If she had known she would have stocked up on some choice foods while she was in the village, if she even knew what was edible in the Vinkus – some of what was stored did not look like food to her. Not at all.

She added the meagre supplies she still had on her from the carriage ride to the pantry, making a note to herself to keep an eye out on the road, to see if she could not find someone to collect some food stock for them before their supply ran even lower. Luckily for her, she saw such a person a few days after her discovery, and managed to pay him to collect some food for them. She just hoped she had not be conned, for if the farmer (at least that is what he appeared to be) did not return she would have to make the trek on foot with very little money left, and not much strength to carry the little she would be able to afford.

On occasion she would retrieve the book and look over it, but was unable to conjure anything legible with her mind whirling as it often was. More often than that, she would retrieve the small carving of a Pfenix and cradle it, running her fingers over the wooden image of the creature she had always felt drawn to as a child. She recalled vaguely an old tale of Lurline her mother had told her, where the Mother of all Pfenixes had been blessed by the Goddess, Lurline's own life giving water bestowed upon the bird. From then her tears would fall and heal all wounds, would even bring the Pfenix back when she died. To be reborn as the Ozma was said to be, over and over. The Pfenix represented life and rebirth, as well as something honoured in the hope of curing ills.

And that was precisely what Glinda found herself doing – she had never truly believed in Lurline like her parents did. Nor had she really prayed often, if at all. Now, however, she was reminded of those she had lost. Her dear Ama; Nessarose, who she had never truly had time to grieve over. And now, there was the possibility that she could lose Elphaba. If she had not already.

All she would have left were her parents, and she was rarely able to visit them. Now, with the title of Eminent weighing her down her sparse visits would spread even further out. If she was even able to return home…

What if the assassins arrived and took her prisoner, or killed her outright after deeming her as a traitor? Her parents, nor Shell nor even Ella, knew where she was. Would they ever know if something befell her? Would she be treated as a betrayer? Her name and image dragged through the mud.

Glinda's head dropped back against the headboard of the bed, her eyes sliding shut.

She was not made out for all of this. What in Oz was she going to do?

* * *

><p>To her relief the man she hired to collect supplies returned just over a day later, luckily too as soon after he left the snow began to fall. A heavy, thick and constant flurry of snow.<p>

Winter approached rapidly there, the already frigid temperature dropping even lower with the arrival of the snow, leaving Glinda shaking and her teeth chattering.

With no choice, Glinda found herself pawing through more of the rooms – perhaps it was a good thing there were so many she had not touched prior – in search of more sheets and furs to warm her. In the back of her mind she thought of the tower where The Witch resided, or so she assumed, and how awful it must be in there, not just with the conditions she had already witnessed, but also with the worsening weather. She could only hope The Witch had the common sense not to stay in there.

Glinda had tried to speak to her again, but the door to the tower was locked and she received no answers to her knocks and calls saved for the sounds of the crows.

It left her in a constant state of concern, but one she _had_ to ignore. For she had to keep a constant vigil for those that were coming there, the ones she feared for more than just Elphaba's life.

Would any of them be spared?

Glinda regretted raiding the rooms closest to her own so soon, for now when she found items that she could use she had to make an ever lengthening walk back to her room to place them there, before returning to her 'quest'.

She stood in one such room now. She had found some furs wedged in the small storage space in the top of a wardrobe, she pulled at them to free them, but they remained steadfastly stuck. Huffing to herself Glinda reached up, clutching the furs with both hands and braced herself strongly against the floor as she tugged aggressively.

They came loose unexpectedly. She cried out, the contents of the wardrobe tumbling down on her form, sending dust up her nose and down her throat.

"Sweet Lurline!" She managed to cough out, forcibly calming herself as she did, "What a fool."

"Cool, tool, drool, ghoul."

Glinda whirled around at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, her eyes wide and casting about, unable to find the source.

A flash of white that had nothing to do with the weather outside caught her eyes, her chest heaving as she tried to steel her nerves. She focused her gaze, tightening her hands into fists in order to free herself of some of the anxiety burdening her form.

Her brow scrunched when she saw just who had interrupted her.

A Monkey had wandered in, though he wore no clothing, and there was something about his gaze that looked, well, wrong. As if he was not capable of understanding what was occurring around him, the few words he – for she was certain the voice had been male – had said had rhymed. Which did not sit well with her either, it made a voice in the back of her mind scream that something was very wrong.

Glinda cleared her throat, expelling the last of the dust stuck there, and bowed her head in greeting, "Hello?"

He tilted his head, his pink face showing no reaction.

"Do you have a name?" She tried again.

He seemed to perk up at that, his eyes gaining some clarity as he took in the question.

"Name." He parroted, "Name. Ch..."

His head tilted to the other side, the skin besides his eyes furrowing as he appeared to struggle within himself.

"Ch – Chistery," He finally managed to finish, his features smoothing as pride swelled up his small chest at his achievement.

His speech seemed awfully basic for an Animal – perhaps it could be due to a lack of interaction with his own kind. No… actually that would not affect the ability to speak would it now? Not if he was around humans. Glinda had not interacted with many Animals in the course of her life, but she knew that they existed on the same plane of intelligence and speech capabilities as humans. Despite what so many say.

Then, perhaps, he was not an Animal after all. Was it even possible for an animal to learn to speak? She knew there were birds that could learn to talk… or did they just mimic the words they heard? It was all confusing, and most definitely not something she knew much about. Elphaba would… Glinda's gaze dropped to the floor, a wave of sorrow washing over her.

She needed to try again with the woman. Elphaba was in there somewhere, she just needed to get through to her.

Lifting her gaze, something caught her eye. A singular feather lying near the door. Glinda looked to the wardrobe, raising an eyebrow, then down to the furs that had tumbled out. She did not see anything that contained feathers, even if she missed something that had burst than surely the feathers would not have been able to travel clear across the room, nor would there only be one to see.

The monkey (Monkey?) twitched, shaking his form. Glinda tensed at this, for something seemed so very off that it set her nerves on edge once more.

Her form stiff she took careful, calculated steps towards the monkey, her bottom lip tugged between her teeth in anxiety. The monkey remained still, his eyes following her as she edged around him to see if her eyes were deceiving her or not.

They weren't.

Wings?

Glinda blinked, rubbed at her eyes with her fist, and then blinked again before stepping closer.

The monkey remained in place, bizarrely not even flinching, as she found herself leaning forward, touching the feathers there as if to check that they were actually real, and not a figment of her imagination.

They shifted beneath her touch, sending her jumping back with a squeak.

Chistery made a cooing sound in his throat, almost as if he were trying to calm her. Glinda lowed her hand from where it had pressed to her mouth, her eyes wide.

Once she managed to calm herself once again (oh what a child she was being!) she leant forward again to study the wings.

Indeed, they were attached to the monkey, just the acknowledgement of that fact made Glinda's head spin. Chistery shifted his wings again, as if they were a weight that irritated him, revealing to Glinda angry red welts and scars where his fur was sparse around the base of the wings. It almost looked as if surgery had taken place. As if…

Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to come to terms with what thought had just entered her head. For that could not be true, could it. No it couldn't possibly be true.

But the evidence was there, even if she was misunderstanding it, at that moment it said to her that someone – and she feared she knew who – had attached the wings to the monkey. They had performed a grotesque experiment that made her stomach churn nauseously.

Surely Elphaba hadn't…? Surely she couldn't?

"Oh…" Glinda whispered, running her hand through the fur on the monkey's head. "You poor thing."

* * *

><p>Determined to get some sort of answers for what had been going on in the castle, and knowing The Witch would not answer her (something Glinda would be quick to fix shortly, if it was the last thing she ever did), she made a beeline for the kitchens. Nanny could be difficult, but Glinda had – so long ago it now felt – dealt with the walking difficultly of Elphaba. She could make the old woman talk, and she <em>would<em>.

Marching across the entranceway, her breath visibly puffing out before her, Glinda fisted her hands at her sides. Her nails dug painfully into the fleshy palms of her hands, not that it bothered her. What did bother her however, was the sharp, echoing bark that made her faltered, losing her posture and composure in one fell swoop.

Her head snapped to her right just in time to spot that accursed creature from her first night there. It observed her with a cocked head, its tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth. She eyed it with a stern glare in the weak daylight that filtered in through the high windows.

Too late did Glinda realise her mistake, as frozen to the spot appeared to signal that she was receptive to the animal approaching her. The dog bounded up to her, sniffing her skirts, she attempted to put some distance between them, but the animal seemed to be determined to dirty her clothes again. Strange, he seemed smaller now than when they had first met. Not that she felt any less fearful of the beast.

"Shoo!" She hissed, pushing her leg forward to try to force the mongrel away, doing her best to do so without touching it.

"I said go." This time she gestured with both her hands, but the dog seemed to like that, jumping at her arms as if it were all a game.

Glinda's expression darkened, if she attempted to run to the safety of the kitchen it would no doubt view it all as another game and chase her down. How unseemly would that be? Just the thought reminded her of her childhood, when she had been chased by a group of ducks. That had started the war.

And now she had made herself sad, she scolded herself at that. Even though her Ama was long gone, just thinking of the happier times with her hurt.

She was definitely not used to a backlash of conflicting emotions like this. What was next? Burst into laughter for no reason?

"Hey! Leave Killyjoy alone."

Glinda snapped from her thoughts, to find herself still gesturing aggressively at the mutt, an action she promptly stopped to turn to the source of the squeaking voice – though she still kept a cautious eye on the dog from the corner of her vision.

She jumped back as gracefully as she could to avoid being knocked over by a young boy as he rushed past her, dropping to his knees and wrapping the dog in his skinny arms.

"This is your dog?" Glinda asked stupidly, far more baffled by a more pressing question, where had the boy _come_ _from_? She had been there for a significant length of time and had never seen even a hint of him before – excluding Elphaba's confusing use of 'others' during their conversation.

Well… perhaps he had disappeared into the same place the dog had, she thought, attempting to add some humour to the situation in order to lessen her flat out bewilderment.

He looked up at her with narrowed eyes, the familiar lines of his face fighting against the pudge of youth. She worked her suddenly dry throat, forced herself to remain still and reasonable.

A child. She never expected to see a child here.

"No. Well kinda." The hard look in his eyes melted away as he looked at the smelly beast, "He's my only friend."

Perhaps she did not have to pressure Nanny for answers after all. Forcing answers from a child, or rather using her words to receive what no one else would tell her, did leave a bad taste in her mouth. Her intentions were for best, however, so she would have to stomach it. That was the simple fact of the matter.

"This place was not always empty," Glinda prodded with her words, "Surely you had friends before?"

His head gave a sharp jerk, his face twisting in fear or sorrow, she was not certain, "There used to be others. They were my friends, I think. Maybe. I don't know."

Perhaps now she could get a straight answer from someone about what had occurred there. Put to rest her worries, long forgotten and quickly remembered as they were, that Elphaba – The Witch – had something to do with it. For the woman she knew would never harm an animal, yet she had seen with her eyes just that. It was possible that it had been the work of someone else, but the monkey's fur around the… additions was still short. Nanny with her shaking hands and this boy with his chubby fingers could not possibly be the culprits. That left only one person.

"And what happened to those people." She lowered her voice, injecting her tone with as much softness as she could manage, adding a kind smile for good measure.

The boy stood leaving the dog panting as it lay on its side, he scuffed at the stone flooring with ill-fitting shoes. Now she looked closer she saw his clothing was old and everything seemed too big, the sleeves of his shirt hanging to just below the first knuckles of his hands, at least he was keeping warm, "They were taken away."

Glinda's hands tightened in reflex, her nails pressing into her palms in the bad habit she had picked up in her youth to hide her panic or anxiety over a situation.

The boy, however, simply shrugged, his bottom lip poking out in his visible sorrow.

"It made me sad. The soldiers that came here were great!" His eyes brightened, shinning when he met her gaze, "They let me practice with them, well sort of, but I did get to help them! I didn't want them to go."

Soldiers?

"Your… friends, or the soldiers?"

He did not answer, not that he needed to for Glinda to conclude the correct answer. He pulled at the bottom of his shirt, one she was sure would take a year or so to fit him correctly, much like the trousers that bunched over his knees awkwardly from when he had been crouched on the floor, baring a sliver of ankle and a scratchy sock.

"Why are you here?"

She was taken aback by the question. The… servant boy's question as demanding as his eyes suddenly were.

"To speak to Elphaba."

His brow drew close together, his lips pursed, "The Witch?"

Glinda swallowed, her jaw lifting arrogantly, "Yes."

Her answer was sharp, bitter perhaps; it did seem to affect the boy, who stared resolutely at her.

"Why?" His tone was suddenly too young for his frame, like a toddler that would pester and pester for answers to the most nonsensical questions. She wondered briefly just how old he was. It seemed he had just reached adolescence, yet he seemed to behave rather childishly, either she had matured rapidly as girls were said to do, or the pressure of eventual adulthood were not forced upon the children here, unlike in Gillikin.

At least, judging from his skin he was from there. Though it was rather paler than what she had seen on her journey, but still much darker than her own.

"Simply because I am." His mouth opened in question, she continued before any more words could escape him, "Do you have a name?"

"I'm Liir."

Her head inclined, her mind swirling with questions she knew better than to verbalise. Partly for fear of who would hear, and partly for fear of the answers themselves. If she was even able to get a straight answer from anyone in the hellish place. At least she had managed to get the basics from him.

The servant boy looked poised to ask more prying questions, his eyes filled with a hunger for knowledge, perhaps, simply of the outside world, the world beyond the walls of the castle, for she doubted he had ever truly left them in a very long time.

Luckily for her, the ratty dog jumped up, his front paws landing on the boy's chest. Attention caught by something else, he looked down to the dog, his face lighting up as he hugged the animal, looking generally joyful.

Safe in the knowledge that he was distracted for the moment, Glinda took her leave as silently and swiftly as she could.

* * *

><p>It was not in cruelty that Glinda could not face any more questions from the boy, nor the reason she could not stomach looking at him. At least that is what she told herself as she moved quickly through the castle to the kitchen.<p>

While she now knew the basics of what had happened, the more information one had the better for constructing an argument. She just hoped the boy did not follow, that was all.

He had mentioned soldiers, she tried to calm her racing thoughts, relax the tension running through her form. They could have been local soldiers, that was a plausible possibility wasn't it?

But then why would they take the previous occupants? Unless it was simply a local dispute, or something similar. That type of thing happened in the Vinkus, didn't it? They were not as civilised as the Gillikin or the City.

She found Nanny where she expected her to be, hunched by the fire in the small kitchen.

"Who were the soldiers?"

Oh. That had not been how she wanted to approach the topic, not at all.

Glinda took a breath that was supposed to steady her nerves, glad that dealing with Nanny did not require the subtly she was brought up and expected to be an expert in. A benefit of the Munchkinlanders being so… culturally lacking.

Nanny jumped in her seat, wobbling dangerously as she turned around with a hand pressed to her chest.

"Really Dearie, I have enough of that one terrifying me on the rare occasion she wanders down."

"Who were they?" Glinda repeated, seeing no point in switching to proper behaviour as the reason she was now there was already out in the open.

Nanny scratched at her side, her murky eyes narrowing in thought. "Suppose they were Gale Force. Not sure really –

"Why did they take the others but not you and Elphaba?" The Wizard's army _had_ been there, her fear had been correct. But what did it mean? For surely if the soldiers had been there they could have easily disposed of Elphaba, a far easier method than sending a group of announced assassins a significant time later. "And the boy."

The last part was an afterthought, but she was not about to be rude and ignore him completely.

Nanny's face scrunched up this time, deepening her wrinkles immensely, "Now I don't rightly remember."

Glinda bit back a sigh, of course she didn't.

"That sourpuss wasn't here though."

Glinda straightened up at that, making her way to the chair opposite Nanny, but not sitting down, "Where was she?"

"Saying goodbye to Nessie."

Oh.

Glinda was not sure what to do with that information. If the soldiers had come for Elphaba than surely they were have waited for her to return, rather than taking the previous residents. Glinda swept her right hand through her hair (she had not bothered with properly styling it since she had arrived, something that was both freeing and yet left her feeling decidedly uncomfortable).

There was still a persistent voice in the back of her mind asking what in Lurline's name was she doing there? She did not know how to deal with all this, she was just a woman. She had no job, her treasured title did not give her any special duties. She had only just been dubbed the Eminent and most of what she had done there was her 'winging it'. She was simply something attractive to look at while her husband went about his business to provide them an income (and she _still_ was not sure what it was he did). Now she was dealing with political assassinations and terrorist plots.

Sweet Lurline; what would young, naïve Galinda think if she knew what awaited her in the future? Probably scoff, before fluffing her hair in ignorance, disbelieving.

At some point Glinda had placed both hands on the back of the chair before her, gripping the wood tightly enough that her knuckles turned white from the strain. So that is how Elphaba came to rule this place…

No, that was not right. Nanny had been here while Elphaba was at the funeral, implying that Elphaba and Nanny had been possible guests of the previous occupants. And now Glinda was reminded of a rumour she had heard, one that caused her heart to clench painfully as she recalled the details. It was plausible, too plausible for her liking. So much so she shoved the thoughts to the back of her mind, not daring to dwell on them for a single moment longer. Except for –

"What about the boy?"

"Oh him." Nanny muttered, "Guess he didn't trust you, probably why he hid."

Well, that hopefully explained the eyes she had felt watching her. That or it was the dog waiting to pounce on her again.

"He hid from my sight for this long?"

"Never said he was right in the head?"

Glinda quirked an eyebrow at that statement, but did not pursue Nanny's words this time. She doubted she would be able to get a clear answer about that sort of thing from the woman. Glinda's hands slid from the back of the chair as she straightened up.

She might not be skilled at this type of thing, about dealing with events so much larger than she. But she could at least manage to do what she came there originally for.

"I think you should prepare for a few extra mouths to feed."

"What?" Nanny huffed, her cheeks puffing out in annoyance.

Already moving towards the door, Glinda paused with her hand hovering over the handle. Turning back to Nanny with a look she hoped would be taken seriously, "You know who is coming here, Nanny."

"And I know where you are going," Nanny said in a sudden, unexpected burst of clarity, "Careful with that one. Used to chew on everything she could get her hands on."

_Chew…_

Glinda bid goodbye and headed towards the tower, this time intent on speaking to The Witch, no matter how much she may try to ignore her or argue. She would see her point, come to understand her.

But then what?

Glinda pushed that thought away for later, she could figure that out after she had spoken sense into Elphaba.

But first, she needed to get something from her room.


	12. Chapter 12

**As it was asked, we are just over half way through this story based on word count, as the chapters are cut up as I go and they vary in length, I do not know how many chapters there will be exactly.**

**This chapter is on the short side. The next chapter will hopefully make up for this.**

* * *

><p>A low cawed made her heart jump. Startled, she almost fell out the door and back down the steps she had just climbed.<p>

A hand to her chest, she breathed slowly and deeply in order to calm herself, before raising her eyes to the shadowed rafters and the many dark shapes that resided there.

Damnable crows.

Glinda scowled at them before turning her attention to the mess of a room.

Elphaba should not be staying there, it could not be healthy.

"What are you doing in here?"

Embarrassingly, she jumped at the voice, spotting Elphaba – The Witch in a 'corner' (as much as a circle could have a corner) of the room. Though really could she be blamed for being startled? Despite being so high up the room was awfully dark in places making it easy for The Witch and her dark clothes to blend in unseen.

"The door was unlocked." Something that was still a surprise to Glinda who admittedly had been almost certain it would, once again, be locked.

"Of course, how could I forget your habit of barging into places you have no place being?"

That brought back memories; the first time she had entered Elphaba's room, the thick document the woman had poured over sitting on her desk, the mountains of books all over.

Those images were swiftly followed by others coursing through her mind at a shockingly fast pace. Too quickly to be completely discerned, the emotions they invoked in her chest however, oh they were as clear as day, and intense in their impact upon her.

Her jaw tightened, her bottom lip wobbling for a moment as she visibly attempted to compose herself. If The Witch noticed, she said nothing, or perhaps she was too distracted by a strong gush of wind through the 'window' sending papers and Lurline knows what else flying about the room. The Witch cursed, not even bothering to lower her tone as she did so, pacing and gesturing vigorously in her fury.

Not that the additional mess truly made that much of a difference to the state of the room. In fact, Glinda was somewhat thankful for the broken window, the constant flow of air prevented the air from growing stagnant and heavy with the stench she was sure would permeate the air otherwise. Oh, how sad it was that this was what had become of Elphaba. It bore down heavily on her heart.

"How can you stay up here?" Glinda was honest in her concern, "Why does your servant boy not tidy up for you?"

The Witch's shoulders tensed; stark, sharp lines through the fabric of her threadbare dress.

"I suggest you leave before I throw you from the window."

Glinda sighed sadly, "You would never do that."

Whirling around The Witch snarled, her thin lips pressed into a tight line and eyes narrowed, "And what makes you so sure?"

Glinda's jaw tensed again, quickly enough that she caught the inside of her cheek doing so – not hard enough to cut the delicate skin, but enough to send a jolt of pain through her form. It sent her muscles jumping for an awkward second. Her own eyes narrowed back at The Witch, her natural stubbornness rearing up at the most inopportune time.

"Because beneath the bitterness and anger, you are still Elphaba."

The Witch gave a short, sharp burst of laughter, though much as before it lacked any genuine warmth or humour. It chilled Glinda far more than the weather possibly could.

"Elphaba, you can't stay here." Her anger fled as she found herself all out pleading now, spreading her arms to encompass as much of the room as she could, as if adding as much evidence to her words as she possibly could.

"I can stay wherever I please." The Witch replied haughtily, tilting her chin up as she did.

It was difficult for Glinda to try to hide her bubbling emotions, so much so that she visibly trembled with the effort. Her face felt icy, and to her horror she realised it was due to the tears that managed to slip from the corners of her eyes, the wind chilling the water tracks on her skin.

The Witch's lips curled down in distain, her eyes narrowing even further until her eyes were nothing but beady points.

"I am trying to help you!" Glinda stressed to no effect.

"I do not need any help."

"But you do!" She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks faster now. She had lost her point before, getting distracted by what she saw, she needed to focus on the meat of the matter. The most important fact. "There are people coming to hurt you, to kill you. You need to _do_ something."

Unmoved by Glinda's words, The Witch barely reacted save from a slow blink, "And what do you suppose I do?"

"I – I don't know, but you must have some idea." Glinda felt some of the tension in her head fade, if only slightly, at the positive reaction. At the hope that she was finally getting through to the other woman.

It did not last for long.

"Give up my title to you?"

The vague hope that she was getting through to Elphaba wavered, beginning to fade rapidly.

"That is all you have been interested in. Pathetic."

Glinda's lips curled down, not with sorrow this time, but irritation, annoyance that she could not get through Elphaba's thick skull. How could someone so smart be so ridiculously closed minded?! So focused on one insignificant, ridiculous point?

Perhaps her decision to allow Elphaba to believe that she could and had claimed back the title of Eminent, when Glinda had not corrected her when she did so, was not the best decision she had ever made. What was it her Ama used to say, better late than never?

Pouring too much information into the situation could potentially make matters ever worse, but on the other hand The Witch did not believe her. She likely would never believe her, and even if she eventually did, it would surely be too much of a challenge to convince her of the truth, too much to get her to the point of believing her. Not to mention convincing her would likely take far too long, the assassins would no doubt be there before Glinda could manage that feat.

"You know you don't have the title, don't you."

The Witch's face twisted, clearly intent on arguing that point, not that Glinda was about to let her do so any time soon.

"I am the Eminent, and I have been doing my best to fix the situation in Munchkinland. I have been trying so hard Elphie, to make a difference. Doing something positive for everyone." Her tears had dried, but their residue and the cold left her face feeling taut, "The Wizard is using Munchkinland as a scapegoat. I have seen what he is doing to the public with my own eyes. Burning books, I don't know why. Attacking the public when they protest. You are a target now, have been for a while, but…"

Glinda paused, thinking over Ella's words, for she was the only one to really talk to her about the topic in detail. The realisation came to her like a bolt of lightning.

"They are shaping you in the public's eye as the villain. _The _Villain. He has sent those people to dispose of you, to make a show of power to the public – to show that he will protect them from 'evil'. While also being a message to those that dare to oppose him."

The skin between The Witch's eyebrows furrowed, but there was no other sign of physical reaction.

Glinda's chest heaved, her lips parting rapidly as she tried to suck in breath. The cold air did not help matters, seeming to land heavily in her lungs, shortening her breath further.

The Witch spoke after a while, her voice low and measured, "Leave."

Stepping forward Glinda shook her head, her eyes wide, "Elphie please!"

"Leave my room now."

There was some odd sense of relief at that, for The Witch was only asking her to leave the tower, not the castle.

There was still a chance.

There was not long left now, she had been there too long. The group would surely be there soon, likely in a week or so.

This might just be her last chance, if The Witch was going to stand by and welcome her death then the least Glinda could do – if not convince her – was to tell her. Tell her what the Elphaba she knew meant to her.

And maybe, in the end, that would be enough.

"You are damaged, I don't know what you have been through, and I doubt I ever truly will." It was a struggle to keep her eyes on The Witch's relentless gaze. Glinda had once believed that Elphaba's eyes were like a mirror, reflecting what Elphaba felt inside despite how stoic she maybe be behaving, or how stern her expression or words were. Now, it concerned rather than frightened her that she could see nothing of woman's feelings in her eyes.

Glinda's hands curled into fists at her sides, the bite of her nails something to ground herself with as she forced herself to continue, "I know that beneath the damage, the things you have experienced and the things that have been done to you; that the woman I love is still in there."

The Witch's impassive features twitched, just for a moment, but her eyes remained hard, cold. But it was _something_.

Glinda's hands were fidgeting, to still them she folded her fingers together before her. Trying to remain steady when all she wanted to do was fall to her bed, curled into herself and forget everything if only for a moment.

"Our time may have been short, Elphaba." She said, targeting her words at the woman beneath the madness. The person she came her for, "But it was the most meaningful, fulfilling relationship of my life, it always will be. And do you know what the sad thing is Elphie, that no matter what you say or what you do I will always love you." Glinda's grip on her own hands tightened, nails cutting into her skin as she struggled to keep her hands steady.

"Why else would I be here? Why would I willingly have to deal with all…" Glinda gestured with her gaze, not trusting her to release her  
>grip on her hands, "… all of this? Please Elphie, I know you're in there still. At least take heed of my words. Remember them. As I remembered yours."<p>

The madness swirling in dark eyes, eyes that once were so caring beneath their hard sheen, was a constant. Glinda could not let it consume Elphaba, could not let the Witch take complete control. Elphaba was there, just beneath the surface, she could not let her fall any deeper then she already had. She had to pull her back up, help her break the surface any way that she could.

She couldn't wait for a response, couldn't bear to in case she failed.

A muscle in her jaw ticked painfully.

She released her hands, reaching for the pocket on the inside of her travelling cloak, curling her fingers around the small, solid object there.

It was a whim. All of it.

Glinda still did not believe it, for the figure had appeared chewed by an animal. Not a _child_, no child had teeth that sharp. Yet something about what Nanny said triggered the thought, and there it remained, niggling at the back of her mind.

She had retrieved the figure on a whim.

Had it made on a whim too.

Whether the damage was made by Elphaba or not, that did not matter, Glinda was certain the figure that Frex seemed to treasure was Elphaba's. And childish as it may be, she hoped it would bring back some strength to the other woman, after all it could very well be her last gift to her. Her last chance to help clear the madness in Elphaba's eyes if only for a moment.

Elphaba watched her movements wearily, as if she suspected Glinda was about to draw a weapon rather than a gift.

She presented the small figure resting on her open palm, her gaze focused on the carefully carved bird and there she forced it to remain, even when the scratching of the very really birds above her grew louder.

Her breathing also appeared to be louder, while the wind outside seemed so much

It seemed an age before she saw Elphaba's fingers close around the figure.

As soon as they had, Glinda turned on her heel, heading straight to the door.

She did, however, spare one last glance over her shoulder, something she had not intended to do, and in fact had not realised she had done until she was already looking behind her. Elphaba's back was facing the door, her head bowed and her hands appeared to be cupped before her.

Glinda hoped that was a good sign.


	13. Chapter 13

A short, sharp slam signalled Glinda reaching the end of her short fuse.

The book was thrown to her side in frustration, her brow furrowed and teeth gritted. No matter what she had tried since being there, nothing would appear on any of the pages. She repeated what she had done in the library, but that had not worked, so see tweaked her actions, trying as many different things as she could possibly do in order to see if anything at all would work.

Nothing did.

She wasn't even sure of what it was she hoped to see in the book, only that she felt drawn to search for something.

Perhaps that was exactly the problem. She was trying to get the book to show her something, but she did not know what it was she was looking for, so perhaps like with her Sorcery, it did not work well – if at all – when her mind was unfocused.

Glinda twirled a curl of her hair around her finger, using her unoccupied hand to tug at the fur wrapped around her, pulling it just that little bit tighter. She pouted at the flames before her in a moment of childish sulking.

She shuffled on the rug to shift closer to the fire in front of her, knocking the book with her foot as she did so.

She frowned at the book as if it was capable of seeing how it had annoyed her, before she heaved it up on to the edge of her bed.

Sighing she plucked at the corner of the snack on her other side. Toasted bread coated in honey and kept warm with a simple spell on the plate.

There was more food available now, but she had become quite fond of the unusual snack. It did bring back some memories of her childhood and her Ama's habit of eating banana sandwiches drizzled with honey. It had made her feel sick at the time, refusing to even look at the thing without sticking out her tongue in disgust. Even now she would not add any bananas to the mix (if the Vinkus even had any), but she had to admit that perhaps her dear Ama had been on to something after all.

She popped the torn bit of toast into her mouth; she may as well enjoy it before it all ran out, or grew too mouldy to eat safely.

It had been with careful consideration that she thought of putting the heating spell on the fur around her, but she quickly discarded the idea. If she did not set the furs alight immediately than she would likely overheat herself, and no matter how cold she was she did not want to be found collapsed because she had fainted from heat exhaustion.

She sat there for a while, watching the crackling and popping of the fire, lost in thought.

It had been a day since she had spoken to Elphaba, and unsurprisingly she had heard nothing from her. Not that she really expected to.

It was drawing to an end, this whole 'adventure'. The Wizard's men would be there soon, and their fate would be sealed. Glinda could leave before then, save herself. She wouldn't, though. She knew Elphaba would not leave no matter what she would say. That left the others; Nanny was too old to take on such a journey if she managed to convince her to come with her, then there was the boy and the monkey. She could not rightly leave any of them there.

It was bizarre, she knew she should be afraid of what was possibly coming her way at the hands of The Wizard and his men, but she wasn't. If anything she felt resigned. Tired and almost accepting of her likely fate.

Damn that man. Damn Elphaba for being the stubborn fool that she was. Why couldn't she just leave things be?

Glinda ran a hand through her hair, knotted as it was, exhaling slowly as she did.

And damn herself for being a ridiculous fool who did not know when to let something go.

She finished the last of the toast, removing the enchantment from the plate when she was done. She left it where it was, she would deal with it in the morning. She needed some rest to sort out her head.

She wobbled as she stood, her legs having grown numb from sitting down for so long, they gave way but she caught herself at the last moment on the edge of the bed, just barely.

Unfortunately it sent the book tumbling to the floor with a bang.

Glinda groaned, not just because she would now have to crouch down to retrieve the book, but because of the shooting pins and needles now fully formed in her legs.

She bit her lip and all but threw herself on the edge of the bed; she hunched forward quickly and rubbed at her legs through her skirts. A weak attempt at bringing back normal feelings to her legs.

It was when she got to her ankles that her gaze was brought back to the book, her body and breath freezing in one swift moment. It had fallen to the page titled _History_, but unlike all her previous attempts, there was writing there.

"What?" She breathed in confusion, reaching a trembling hand towards the book, before realising she would not be able to retrieve it that way. Ignoring the lessening pain in her legs, she used both hands to pick up the book and place it on her lap.

_Oscar _–

She blinked, reading the rest of the name.

She knew that name from somewhere, that ridiculous unbelievable –

Ah!

The library! That was the name that had appeared when the pages detailed Elphaba's past… the name of her real father.

Why would that, of all things, have appeared?

Curiosity had her reading the first paragraph. Unlike when the pages spoke of Elphaba or herself, it did not begin on their birth, rather it jumped straight in to the middle of an adventure.

She tilted her head to the side, her nose scrunching as she did.

Why was this important?

Why was she seeing this?

Then she saw it, one clear word near the end of the page.

Wizard.

This man was The Wizard?

The Wizard was Elphaba's father?

Glinda rubbed at her left eye with the heel of her hand, blinking when she dropped her hand back to her side.

Jumping to conclusions was never a good thing. She had learned that first-hand.

She forced herself to calm her heart, the quickening of her breath, and read the paragraphs in more detail rather than just a quick skim.

If this had been before the events since she had become the Eminent, then she would have never dared to read such private information. Now, however, she could not care less.

The confirmation she need was on that very first page, she did not need to dig deeper, which despite her thought from just a second ago that she did not care, was still a relief.

She rubbed at her cheek with the tips of her fingers, before gliding them across her forehead feeling the gathering beads of sweat there. It had nothing to do with the warmth in the room, though it did feel hotter than before, it was no doubt due to the stress bubbling beneath her skin and in the pit of her stomach. It tugged at the back of her eyes with a sharp pinprick of pain.

What was she supposed to do with this knowledge now she had it?

More importantly, was The Wizard even aware of his relationship with the woman he was trying to have killed?

Glinda swallowed, surprised at the tightness of her throat.

A light, like the beginning of a flame, sparked to life in her mind. The book had detailed events of her, and Elphaba's life up until the present day. The same should be true here also, shouldn't it?

And she really didn't care what anyone would think of her for digging into the private activities of this man.

Her chin set determinedly, she placed the book to her side, careful that the pages did not flicker closed, luckily it was far too large and heavy for that to happen, but just in case she retrieved the pfenix figure and placed it into the curve that separated the pages.

Now. She just needed to find some parchment and a pen.

She did not know when, or even if, she would ever use the information she was about to collect. If even there was anything she could find – which was not unlikely considering everything she had seen and heard – but there was always an advantage in knowing more than others believed you knew. She may not know what to do with it right now, but if she sat upon the information, mulled over it when she could, a use would come to her.

She may not be able to get through to Elphaba, but she may be able to stop her coming to any harm. If it wasn't too late.

* * *

><p>It would take far too long for a letter to reach the City, even if she had sent it as soon as she had finished noting down what she could about The Wizard from the book. She had taking to referring to it as a book of records, as it documented all the key points and events of a person's life. She briefly wondered if she had received any important letters back home, or what had been occurring there. Had there been more conflicts between the Gale Force soldiers and disgruntled members of the public? Or even if full blown protests had begun?<p>

No, a letter would not reach the City in time. So she had to adapt her plans, when the group arrived there she would present the information to them as a last resort. She was sure they would not believe her, and even if they did they would likely question where she had obtained the information.

She was not as dull in the head as she may appear, so she had made copies of the notes, attached a letter and tracked down the servant boy.

He had attempted to hide the mutt on her approach, as if she were about to attack the beast, but he quickly returned to normal at the sight of her disarming smile. He was old enough to run some errands, and as it was early morning she was certain he would be back before dark. Now she thought of it, she could have sent him to get some food supplies, but she doubted his scrawny frame would have been able to carry much. No. This was a far simpler errand.

She had given him the envelope containing the letter and the notes to him, and all but ordered him to take it to the village and find a messenger. He had been reluctant, until she had passed him some of her last gold coins, enough to pay the usual fees for messengers and some extra so he could buy himself something. As she told him about the latter, he perked up, running in to the castle to grab some warmer clothes, the mutt only a step or two behind him.

There was only one person she could trust with such information, a trust built more over letters than any personal encounters between them. She had even informed him of the book, even where it was hidden, just in case. Not that the hiding place was particularly good, but she doubted that The Wizard's men would search the castle beyond Elphaba's tower – for that was where any non-existent plans would be.

Genfee. She knew deep in her gut (a phrase she had never been particularly fond of) that she could trust him. And so he was the one she sent the letter to.

It was night now, the boy having returned some time ago with a grin and an enthusiastic insistence that he had done as she had asked.

That was one weight of her mind at least.

She had not been caring for herself as she should and usually would have, which simply would not do. So she found the best of the dresses she brought with her and ensured it was cleaned as best as she could manage, having never cleaned her own clothes before. She had to convince Nanny to help – or in her usual way, tell her what to do while watching her – it took some time and by the end the tips of her fingers had wrinkled disgustingly. She was just thankful she decided only to clean the one set of clothes that day, the rest could wait until the following day or so. One set a day was more than enough for her back and hands.

As it was now, she was soothing said back of the ache she had developed in it, all from being hunched over a washboard, in a tub of warm water. Or rather lukewarm water. While it had been good for her back to stay in the warm water for longer than necessary, that was not the case for her fingers which she now feared may stay wrinkled permanently at the rate she was going.

Glinda sighed, stretching her arms up and over her head. Considering that the water was rapidly cooling and her back was feeling a lot better, it was probably best for her to get out of the bath. At least now with a cleaner dress and an even cleaner her, she would give a decent first impression to their soon to be arriving 'guests'. And if there was one thing she had learned over her years, it was that first impressions mattered and the better the impression the more likely it was that she would be listened to.

She clambered out of the tub, thankful for the rug on the floor that saved her from touching the freezing stone beneath her feet. She retrieved a surprisingly thick towel she had discovered some time ago and set about drying herself. Her hair would take some time to dry, she was tempted to use a spell to speed things along, but decided not to in the end. The frizz would drive her mad.

At first it had felt awkward to wear clothing she was certain belonged to someone else originally, it still did have that effect on her but to a lesser extent now, not that she had become use to it or anything. The only time she wore something belonging to someone else there was after washing, she had not thought to bring a robe of her own. The one that she had found there was warm enough to keep the chill at bay until she could change into more appropriate clothing.

Robe in place, and hair still damp, she left the room not bothering to put out the fire that lit it. The flames would burn out by themselves eventually. Thankfully the room she was staying in was not too far  
>away (had they never heard of en suites there?), and she was well aware she would not see anyone on her journey.<p>

That was until she turned around.

"Oh!" Glinda cried, a hand pressed to her chest to stay the fluttering of her heart. "I did not see you there."

Since coming to that place, she had not seen The Witch leave her tower even once, hadn't even seen her approach the door in her tower save for that once when she had all but forcibly removed Glinda from there.

So to say Glinda was greatly surprised to see her standing before her, in the dull moonlight that filled the corridor as best it could, was not an exaggeration.

"Why?"

Glinda tightened the robe around her form, feeling oddly unsafe in the almost darkness, and wished she had brought her lantern with her. It had been light, though late in the day, when she had entered the bathroom; truly more time had passed than she had wanted to.

"I just left the bathroom, and as such had not seen you coming down the corridor." Glinda explained with a furrowed brow, not quite understanding why The Witch was there, nor why she was asking such questions of her.

"Why?" The Witch asked again, her expression unreadable, "Did you give me that figure?"

Had Glinda's assumption been incorrect? Had she misinterpreted the reaction to her gift?

She ran her fingers over her cheek, pushing away some droplets of water that had ran down from her hair, "Well, I assumed you had something similar in your youth. Frexspar – you father was holding a similar figure, though it was very damaged, after you left. He carried it around for such a long time."

"So you naturally assumed it had some connection to me?" There was not much of a questioning tone to her words, in fact Glinda would say The Witch only asked her to confirm what she already knew or asked simply out of habit.

"Yes. I did." Glinda's head dipped down, observing her own bare feet against the long rug on the floor. Perhaps she should have brought her slippers. Collecting herself, she returned her gaze to The Witch's dark eyes, "I had it made for you because… because I felt it must have been important to you. If I was wrong then –

"No." The Witch said firmly, her jaw ticking after the word left her mouth, but it soon settled down, "You were not wrong."

Glinda tried not to feel disappointment that her gift had not had the effect she had hoped it would. She knew it was a foolish belief that it could help Elphaba find herself again, but she still had that childish hope that perhaps it could, and would, work.

"I am glad then, that I could give you something that would remind you of better times."

Even in the moonlight Glinda caught the flash of something in The Witch's eyes; she could not be certain what it was she saw. After the previous disappointment, she daren't hope it was what she believed she may have seen.

The Witch moved closer to Glinda, towering over her barefooted form.

Glinda felt her heart begin to flutter again, like a bird against her rib cage, as her breathing grew shallower. An old reaction, one she had not had in so long that it felt new and foreign to her form.

The space between them shrinking, Glinda could see The Witch's eyes clearer than before, they seemed light almost. Less clouded by the madness that had become a feature of the woman before her.

"Elphie?" She asked, her voice meek, barely carrying across the small space between them.

The Witch, Elphaba, did not seem to hear her. The taller woman reached up to cup Glinda's cheeks in both hands, her expression softening so much that it caused Glinda's eyes to begin watering. But she would not let them fall, she simply couldn't.

"Why?" Elphaba asked, the skin between her eyebrows furrowed, confusion swimming in her eyes, "Would something so pure and good want something so broken and wicked?"

Her throat dry, Glinda found herself swallowing rapidly, attempting to bring some moisture back into her mouth so that she could speak. So that she could respond. Not that she truly knew how to answer the question, she was never too skilled at putting her feelings or thoughts into words – Elphaba had always been a much more apt wordsmith than she.

"Because I do." Glinda managed to answer after a time, "That is all there is to it."

If anything, her answer seemed to only baffle the other woman more. In the moonlight and shadows Glinda thought that, for just a moment, she saw Elphaba's eyes shining. But then the woman's head dropped, her gaze flickering to land elsewhere as her hands drew back. Glinda instantly missed the warmth they had brought, feeling now all too aware of her damp hair and the chill permeating the length of the corridor.

Her eyes hardened, something about Elphaba's hands catching Glinda's eye. Her reaction was automatic as she reached forward, enclosing Elphaba's wrists and turning her hands so she could view the other woman's palms.

Now, as The Witch tried to pull back her hands, Glinda could see the darkened, blistered, skin split; thin red streams opening, flowing down her palms.

Glinda gasped for breath, the sight unexpected and so confusing. She was certain Elphaba had been fine before she had touched her, and even now she did not react to the pain the wounds must be causing… was it some unconscious reaction on Glinda's part? Something to do with her Sorcery abilities triggering in self-defence against her will and beneath her notice, as she was fully distracted? Or –

It came back to her in a rush.

Elphaba standing in a doorway, sheltered by a veranda and a large umbrella, calling but not approaching. The pristine bathroom, even Glinda's own – in a guestroom – was larger, what was the point of having a large bathroom if only half of it was being used.

The water that still lingered on her skin, trailing down from the hair that she had not fully cared to dry, Elphaba would have come into contact with it when she touched her. The reaction, the darkening and cracking of the flesh. The sores that formed so swiftly.

An allergic reaction? To water of all things, it seemed strange to Glinda, but it was the only explanation that made even the slightest bit of sense. Perhaps there was another explanation, but for now that one would have to do. Such damage to the skin needed to be treated swiftly, not that Glinda had too much experience in these types of matters.

"You're hurt."

The Witch followed Glinda's gaze down, her thin lips pressing together tightly as she took in the sight. It was her only reaction.

"You didn't realise?" Glinda probed, but as usual she received no answer, nor even the smallest hint of acknowledgement. Elphaba was gone? Or was she simply in one of _those _moods again. At this stage Glinda could only softly shake her head to herself, accustomed now to such behaviour from both the Elphaba of before, and the Elphaba of now.

"Come now," she said, moving slowly down the corridor, leading the taller woman along with her.

She would take her to her own rooms, not that disgusting tower Elphaba insisted on residing in. Just breathing in that room would likely infect her with something, and Lurline forbid Elphaba get something into the sores and cuts on her hands. She might not know much about medicine, but she knew enough that it would not end well if that happened.

The Witch said nothing, nor did she resist. She just followed behind in silence.

* * *

><p>The cold was distracting; she could barely focus on the words and motions to cause a spark of fire to shoot from hand to grate. Her Sorcery skills were definitely rusty, how long had it been since her regular practice? She had been occupied by trying to get that book to work to spend any significant length of time practicing. She would have to do something about that.<p>

She had sat Elphaba down on the chair at her dresser–turned–desk, and set about lighting the fire in her room. She had lit it before her bath, but clearly it had burnt itself out while she had been out of the room.

As soon as the flames began dancing in the grate she focused on the new problem at hand. How do you clean wounds without the use of water? Did they even have any useful medicines or antiseptics or anything in the castle? She hadn't thought of looking.

She spared a glance at Elphaba; she was staring at her hands as if baffled by them, Glinda took the opportunity granted by the distraction to slip down the corridor and back into the bathroom. She quickly searched the cupboards there but found nothing of use. Shaking her head to herself she swiftly returned to her room, which had at last began to warm up, to see Elphaba in the same position as she had left her.

"Elphaba?" She tried, catching the woman's attention at least, "How do I –

She was interrupted by the door opening slowly, the servant boy perhaps? He would hopefully know where something useful was.

But it was not the servant boy that emerged from around the door but the monkey. Or was it Monkey?

His dark eyes took in the room and both occupants.

Glinda thought back to their first and only meeting, an idea forming in seconds.

"Umm..." It was worth a try. She coughed to clear her throat and to steady her thoughts, it was silly perhaps, but if it worked? Well then it would not be so foolish then would it?

"Could you get some wrap, for wounds?" She asked slowly, articulating every single word.

The monkey tilted his head, his lips pursing, and brow wrinkling.

He made a sound that Glinda could not quite hear let alone understand, and wandered back out the door (Glinda made a note to lock it before she went to sleep). She could only hope he understood what she had asked and had gone to retrieve some bandages.

Rustling from behind caught her attention, turning around as quickly as her robe allowed she threw out her arms.

"Sit down Elphaba."

Her arms were held out before her, hovering mere inches from the woman now standing before her; the brunette's face having returned to that hardened mask of before.

"I am fine." The Witch said, as if the words were a statement of a well-known fact.

Oh no. Not this again. Glinda tilted her chin up, looking as stern and stubborn as she could manage without shoes, her hair a mess and in a robe. It was as she did this she took in the other woman's haggard expression in more detail, noted the darkened skin beneath her eyes, the thin red lines beside her once earthy irises.

"You must rest." Glinda found herself saying before she could stop herself, "Look at what it's doing to you."

No, that had not come out right at all.

"Sit down, let me treat your hands then you can go to a room. One down here, and have a proper rest." Glinda said as gently as she could, wide eyes locked with Elphaba's own, "You do not look as if you have slept in a long while."

How had she not noticed sooner? Had she been too absorbed in her own thoughts and feelings?

She did not have time to dwell on such thoughts as she was forced back a few steps, unintentionally she hoped, as The Witch barged past.

Glinda grabbed a hold of her elbow, her lips pressed into a determined line.

"Sit." She ordered. She would have no more of this… this stupidity!

"Don't you see you small minded fool!" The Witch sneered cruelly, though it had little effect on Glinda who had been called much worse in her life. "I cannot rest!"

"Because of your worry over The Wizard's actions?" Glinda guessed, a little hopeful.

"No." The Witch growled out, "Of course not."

She was pacing now, no longer moving towards the door, but rather the covered window instead, much to Glinda's relief.

"I _cannot _sleep."

The furrow between Glinda's brows worsened, so much so the skin there was reddening.

"I…" She began, trying her best not to let the other woman know just how completely baffled she was, "I'm not sure I understand. Everyone can sleep –

"I _cannot_ sleep." The Witch repeated, turning her back on Glinda as she spat out the harshly spoken words, "When I sleep I see things. It haunts me."

Glinda's expression smoothed, though not entirely, as she took in the woman's words, "My Ama used to make me a remedy to help me sleep, to stop any unpleasant dreams. If the ingredients are available here I can have a go at making it for you –

"No you fool." The Witch's shoulders rose as she spoke, high in a tense line as she resumed pacing, "They are not dreams. They are truth. They are reality."

Glinda blinked, the words being absorbed slowly. Was she suggesting what Glinda thought she was? She could not possibly –

Yet those words…

She had heard them before, not from another, from herself.

Could it be…?

"I see things too," Glinda said tentatively, not completely comfortable revealing such an important fact to someone's back, even if that someone was so important to her, "But I don't let it affect me like _this_."

Elphaba froze in mid-stalk, her gaze returning to Glinda, her eyes unusually wide.

"You see things?"

It was a challenge not to cling to the hope Elphaba's reaction brought. She had been living on false hope for so long now, you would think she would have learnt her lesson long ago.

"Things that have yet to happen, yes." All her life she had believed them to only be bad dreams, or rather she had tried to convince herself that was what they were. But after her Ama passed she had realised them for what they truly were. Even so, speaking those words aloud made her chest clench and the creeping fear that she was merely mad remerging in her mind.

"I see what has already passed." The Witch's gaze wavered, seemingly closing in on herself as she muttered in a way Glinda could tell was not directed at her, "That explains those nightmares, the only way to calm you down was to hold you. The times I spent watching over you."

Glinda took quick steps to the other woman's back, for Elphaba had turned it to her once more, and laid a hand on her shoulder. The rambled sentence brought back memories. Memories of weeks spent trying to discover what made Elphaba act so out of character. Waking with the bony woman's arms wrapped around her.

Well, now she had her answer.

"Elphie?"

She slid her hand down to gently grasp Elphaba's elbow, pulling as lightly as she could.

"Sit." She insisted, "Your hands."

This time, the woman listened to Glinda's words, returning to her seat with no complaint.

Just before Glinda could begin worrying that the monkey had not understood her, he reappeared around the corner of the door.

He wobbled over to her, in one hand he clutched a bottle, which he presented to her. She took it hesitantly, spared a glance at the label which was in the native language, though a notable '70' stood out amongst the unreadable writing.

She pulled the cork out, thankful it had not been pushed in properly, and rather stupidly sniffed the contents.

She reared back, coughing as she did.

Alcohol. Rather strong alcohol at that if the smell and the number, which she assumed was the proof, were correct. She pressed the cork back into the top of the bottle.

Shaking her head as if it would remove the vapours from her nostrils, she saw the monkey holding out some white bandages, "Wrap." She took it with a wavering, but appreciative, smile; more than a little surprised he had understood her, "Bat, cat, mat."

He turned, wandering back towards the door. The angry red welts still stood stark against its' white fur and feathers, like someone had sewn up a deep cut. She had almost forgotten. She wished she had, for she could not bear to think that Elphaba had done such a thing.

"Thank you." She called after him – Chistery wasn't it?

He turned back towards her, head tilted to the side, "Boo, coo, do, too." He continued to mumble rhyming words as he left the room, the heavy door closing in the process.

Glinda looked back down to the objects in her hands. Had she not read somewhere that alcohol could be used to clean wounds? If it did it would make a better substance to use if Elphaba was truly allergic to water as she assumed she was. Alcohol did not contain that much water, right?

Lurline, she hoped she was right.

If she _was_ wrong, Elphaba would stop her, wouldn't she?

"Come Elphaba." She said as she slid the bottle into the crook of her arm, and the bandages over her shoulder, using her other to grab her lantern. She lit it with the same spell she had used for the fire, very thankful she was able to do so in a much shorter time than before, "We need to go back to the bathroom so I can clean your hands."

Elphaba said nothing. Simply stood, and hopefully followed as Glinda left the room.

* * *

><p>The fire had all but burned out, but thankfully the bathroom was still warm. They would not be there long anyway.<p>

Glinda placed the lantern on the stone counter that housed the 'sink', Lurline how she missed the modern plumbing of the City. Even the less appealing bathroom fixtures of Munchkinland were an improvement over _this_.

She added the bandages and the bottle – which naturally almost slipped out of her grasp – next to the lantern.

She coaxed Elphaba's hands over the sink, but soon met resistance.

"Elphaba, hold still." She strengthened her hold, but was prepared to let go if she needed to. If she was wrong, "I am not going to use water."

As soon as she said the words, the struggling stopped. She looked up, seeing Elphaba was watching her intently, as if studying some great mystery. It made her stomach flip.

"It will hurt, but in the end it will be much better." She said, vaguely remembering similar words leaving her Ama's lips when she had fallen out of the tree she had gotten stuck in, scraping her knee as she did. The memory returned to her suddenly, she was sure if she simply copied what her dear Ama had done than everything would be fine.

Elphaba did not respond to her words, nor did she do much more than grit her teeth as Glinda poured a healthy amount of alcohol on each hand.

As soon as Glinda moved to replace the cork in the bottle, Elphaba was already shaking her hands dry of the liquid. She must have had this type of treatment before, which considering she spent so much of her childhood in Quadling Country was quite possibly a correct assumption on Glinda's part.

Next came the bandages, which she attempted to wrap around Elphaba's hands as best as she could – trying not to scrunch her nose at the sight of the 'burns' on her palms. In the end the other woman released an annoyed huff that was completely and utterly Elphaba, causing a large smile to spread across Glinda's lips. Her hands were brushed as side as Elphaba somehow managed to finished tying the bandages herself, pulling the material painfully tight in Glinda's opinion.

"Done." Elphaba nodded slightly to herself, heading towards the door before Glinda had even retrieved the almost empty bottle and the lantern.

"Elphie?" Glinda called out, rushing after the rapidly departing woman, the moment of bliss she felt fleeing her, "Wait!"

The other woman looking over her shoulder, but continue moving forward down the corridor, though her strides seemed shorter than what Glinda was used to back when they were younger.

"Don't go back to that place." Glinda called after her, hoping Elphaba would understand what she was referring to.

The Witch turned her head back again, "Thank you."

Glinda stopped where she was, outside her door, watching the other woman. Her eyes wide as she took in the softness of the words, and even more importantly, the woman's expression. Gentle, caring, something she had not seen in so long. The loving side of Elphaba, something she had kept hidden save for those small, minute moments when she thought no one was paying attention.

Glinda's heart fluttered beneath her breast.

Perhaps her actions _had_ worked after all.


	14. Chapter 14

The mutt had ran off barking madly early that morning, nearly knocking Glinda off her feet as she observed the snow outside from the main door of the castle. She had huffed in annoyance as the beast disappeared out of the castle walls and down the steep road.

By the early afternoon, they had arrived.

Or so she gathered from the loud exclamations of the servant boy, who came running into the kitchen to inform a disgruntled Nanny of visitors, not realising Glinda was there also. Not that she truly had any other place to be.

"Well…" She had said, careful to put her usual mask of politeness on, "We best greet our guests."

Nanny had reluctantly agreed, heaving her weight up from her seat at the table while muttering something about how there would be less food for them now they had to share. Glinda had been too occupied with her own thoughts to pay the old woman's complaints her complete attention.

The boy said the group were waiting in the entrance hall. Glinda mused over the oddness of it all, if they were there to do a job than why would they not simply do it? She did consider that they may have done just that as soon as they were left alone, which caused her stomach to churn uncomfortably; a feeling that settled somewhat when they arrived in the entranceway to see the group was still there, melting snow dotting the floor.

And what an irregular group they were.

They were headed by a young girl of all things – a dog at her heels; a man that seemed impossibly thin, another wearing full body armour and a lion. An animal she had never before seen in her life. The servant boy seemed the most impressed by him, unable to tear his eyes away as he cautiously approached the beast, only to jump away as the animal did much the same, the animal hiding behind his friends.

It was then she began to doubt that these were the so called assassins.

However, if there was one thing she had learnt in her life – after arriving in Munchkinland for the first time – it was that looks could be oh so very deceiving.

* * *

><p>They had travelled a very long way (on foot no less! And in all weathers!), so it only seemed acceptable for them to offer the group a meal. A possible threat they may be, but that did not excuse them, as hosts, not offering some form of common decency. The meal, Glinda left Nanny to deal with – Lurline help them if it was anything like her usual cooking since being there, but what other choice was there?<p>

The girl was called Dorothy, an unusual name, most definitely foreign sounding much like her accent, though from where she hailed Glinda did not have the faintest clue. It was as she was observing the girl, who was talking about where her journey had started, that it hit her.

How foolish she was! This must be the girl would had appeared after Nessarose's untimely death!

A thought that was confirmed when the girl spoke of coming from a faraway place that was nothing like Oz. How she had travelled their by house of all things.

Glinda had never met her, or seen her in person, but she knew enough to know she appeared harmless to others, and Locasta seemed charmed by her. Surely someone with such a talent in Sorcery would know if someone had a hidden agenda. And Glinda, being as unskilled as she was, could detect no innate ability for Sorcery in the girl when she accidently brushed passed her.

So, if she was just a young girl with no extraordinary talents, why would The Wizard send her?

As soon as she was able, Glinda sent the servant boy (who was moping about as his dog had yet to return), to inform Elphaba of their new arrivals. He seemed reluctant to do so, but soon disappeared to hopefully do as she had ordered.

It was not too long after that when Nanny declared their dinner ready, though that did not stop her grumbling to Glinda about the waste of food when the group moved into the other room. Glinda did her best not to roll her eyes in an action reminiscent of the Elphaba of old, and forced herself to pat the woman on the arm, thanking her for what she had done.

And what she had done turned out to be far better than Glinda had assumed; roasted meat of some sort that was salty from how it had been stored, and a selection of vegetables which while near their end of storage life, were still quite edible. She had even had the forethought to light the fire before they entered the room, making it far warmer than it had been in a long while – seeing as they ate in the kitchen and not the dining room.

It was not until they began their meal that Glinda began her questioning of the group. Before the few words they had exchanged had mostly been greetings and discussions of the weather – something so painfully Gillikinese it made her miss home, made her wonder how her parents were coping.

Now, with the distraction of food, perhaps she could learn something actually useful.

"You said…" Glinda began, directing her words to the young, doe eyed girl when there was a lull in the conversation, "That your journey began in Munchkinland, I assume you met Locasta."

"Oh yes," Dorothy replied, smiling brightly as she placed her fork down, "She was the first of my friends I met. She is such a kind person."

"Yes she is," Glinda agreed. The others at the table clearly did not know who they were talking about, which was not at all surprising, "Did she journey with you to the City?"

Glinda's eyes darted to Dorothy's right, to meet the eyes of the armour wearing man. He had been watching her with a hard glint in his eyes since they had arrived – surely the result of being made of metal, but still, it sent shivers down her spine. He was the most dangerous, she had decided, the straw man (something she still struggled to accept as real, even as he sat there unable to eat) was just that – made of straw. And the Lion, why he was the most harmless of them all.

She would keep an eye on him, most definitely.

"Oh. Locasta didn't travel with us. Though I feel as though she has been watching over our journey." Dorothy nibbled delicately at a limp carrot, swallowing before she continued, "I do hope we get to meet again, I wish to thank her for everything. I wouldn't have met my friends otherwise."

The Lion blushed at that, or so Glinda assumed from the way he ducked his head, his tail twitching shyly.

"Yes, we should all thank her if she is the one that led you to us Dorothy," the Scarecrow's partly stitched mouth spread into a smile which caused another fearful shiver to travel down Glinda's spine, but it only caused Dorothy to grin. He was a bit of an idiot, Glinda decided, the straw man often adding in comments that contributed nothing to a conversation, if anything they seemed to be simple restatements of what had already been said.

The servant boy, Liir, she tried to remind herself, smiled to himself at that, a goofy smile Glinda recognised from her own youth. Well, it appeared someone had developed a fancying for the girl.

"We even met The Wizard." The Tin Woodman said, he too ate a little, odd if he was made of metal, surely he did not require the sustenance.

"We all saw the Wizard. He spoke to each of us." The Scarecrow continued for his friend, still smiling widely, or so she assumed that was what he was attempting to do.

Glinda acted as if disinterested, pausing to take a bit of the salty meat (just what animal was it?), swallowing it down delicately, "What did he say to you?"

The Scarecrow explained, adjusting the hat on his head, "That if any one of us was to stop The Witch then each of our wishes would come true."

"Your wishes?" Was The Wizard claiming to be a Genie now? All so he could manipulate people like the monster he is, oh how quickly a person's opinion of someone could change! To think she once respected that man!

She stamped down on her anger, not wanting it to show on her face.

"I want to go home, back to my family." Dorothy spoke up immediately, her wide eyes shining, "I love my new friends, but this place is so big and scary. Toto and I barely left my Aunt and Uncle's farm before."

"She misses them." The Scarecrow needlessly elaborated.

"H-he wants a brain." The Lion explained.

Well, now Glinda understood the straw man's behaviour, and to be honest she did feel a little guilty over her previous thoughts of how idiotic he was.

She noted then, that the Lion had no food before him either. Now, she could understand why the Scarecrow did not need to eat, couldn't quite understand why the metal man needed to eat, but why would the Lion not eat?

Breaking away from the important topic for a moment, she turned to the Lion, assuring herself that her concern was only there to strength the bonds between them – in order to build trust which in turn would encourage them to reveal more to her.

"Are you not eating?"

The Lion's large mouth hung open in his surprise, his ears twitching, "May I-I just have the cheese?"

Used to masking her surprise, Glinda's face remained passive.

"What kinda lion don't eat meat?" Liir piped up, his brow furrowed. Glinda frowned at him; some people knew nothing about subtlety or proper manners.

"Never was mu-much of a hunter," the Lion replied, head bowing as he spoke.

"Nanny will get you some," Glinda insisted, ignoring the sharp look shot her way from the aforementioned woman.

With an over-the-top groan, she heard Nanny pushing her chair across the stones before she waddled off back into the Kitchen.

So Dorothy wanted to return home, the Scarecrow wanted some intelligence, so what did the other men – err, man and Lion – want?

Nanny returned, chucked a lump of cheese on the Lion's plate and returned to her seat with another exaggerated sigh. Dorothy slipped some of the meat of her plate to feed to her small rat of a dog, which even now remained seated in her lap.

"And you? What did you ask for?" Glinda directed her question at the metallic man, who had fallen quiet once seated at the table, save for the odd short sentence here and there.

His head tilted to the side with a creak. She now saw his eyes were not as metallic as she originally believed, no, they were far too human. His eyes flashed with panic for a brief moment, likely due to being caught staring. His mouth opened, making no noise this time before he spoke.

"May I speak with you in private?"

She may have concluded that he was the most dangerous of the group, but she had no reason to fear him there. Not with two children present, no person could harm another in front of such innocence. Still, she would rather he leave his axe behind. She would prefer not to have to deal with any potential physical weapons near her.

"I do not see any harm in it."

They moved into the corridor leading into the dining room, Glinda ensured the door was left open and positioned herself to enable her to keep an eye on their company as most of them ate.

The silence between them began to grate on Glinda's nerves. Why ask to speak to her in private if they weren't going to do just that – spea? As it was, the man was studying her face again; it caused her hands to ball into fists and tightened at her sides, the aggressiveness of the action hopefully unnoticeable to anyone but herself.

"You are here to kill her."

That seemed to be enough to capture the man's attention fully.

"I cannot let that happen."

His head tilted again with a creak, his eyes showing sorrow for a second – something that shocked Glinda for despite his hard looks at her, he had appeared to be nothing but joyful since he arrived.

"I don't wish for anyone else to die," he said simply, "but if _she_ dies…"

Glinda's jaw tensed, knowing full well just who the metal man was referring to.

"Then we can have our wishes come true, I can have a heart again. And won't the rest of Oz be better off?"

"She is no harm to anyone save herself. The Witch I mean," Glinda implored the man, "Tin Woodman, believe me. I came here to help her; she may have been a threat before, but not now. Not anymore."

"Chopper."

"Pardon?" This time she was unable to prevent the obvious confusion from visibly showing on her face.

"My name is – well was Nick Chopper." There was something about the way he said the words that struck her, a feeling that he expected _her_ to know _him_. But how could she? "When I was normal."

"Normal? I do not…" She trailed off as he lifted a hand, his joints moving noisily.

"The reason I am like this is because of the previous Eminent. The girl I loved, she was a servant to a cruel woman, we were going to elope, but the woman found out. She went to the Eminent to get rid of me." His previous jovial expression had given way to something dark and a more than a little unsettling. In that moment Glinda truly began to fear he had no heart as he claimed. For without a heart would one have emotions? Would they become a blank slate? Forever neutral?

Then why could he portray feelings of happiness before, and this darkness now? Was it all a mask or was he incapable of seeing that he _did_ have a heart, for if he didn't he would be incapable of those emotions, would he not?

"The Eminent cursed my axe, it cut my limbs of one by one, scarred what it could not remove. I replaced them with tin, covered the scars with it too. Not quite a Tik-Toc machine, but not quite human either. I couldn't face my love like this; I can't feel for her what I did before. And that is why I need a heart, so I can."

"Nessarose did not do this to you."

"She did." His eyes flashed in anger, the barely moveable metal of his face twitching in distain, "I know she did."

Glinda shook her head, and focused on keeping her voice calm and collected, so as to avoid any unnecessary arguments or provocations, "She had no talent in Sorcery."

"The Witch is her sister, that is common knowledge amongst us." He was a Munchkinlander then, or at least that is what she assumed his words meant, and it would also explain why he gazed at her with such intensity – he knew who she was. "She can use Sorcery; does that not run in families?"

"Perhaps. But I have seen no evidence of her being capable of Sorcery; I believe that may simply by a false rumour, perhaps created as a form of fear-mongering. She lacks that talent, and so did Nessarose." Her hand trembled on his shoulder as she placed it there in an attempt to comfort, despite the fact he could not feel it, "Someone else cursed you."

"No." He likely intended his denial to come across strong and determined. Instead it came out as a whine, a plea. "I have spent all this time consumed by hatred, when before I was so passive. Do not tell me I have been directing such rage at an innocent woman. Do not tell me that."

His eyes glimmered with water, his head dropping low. It left Glinda once again feeling foolish for ever considering such an individual as a danger.

"Tin Woodman!" Dorothy slipped from her chair, The Scarecrow handing her some cloth as she ran past his chair. She slipped on the hard floor but remained upright, stumbling to a halt in front of Chopper.

"Careful," she tutted, pressing the cloth to the man's eyes, "You don't want to rust again."

"No." His voice wavered as he spoke, "I would rather not."

Glinda looked back to the table to see four pairs of eyes watching the scene intently. She turned away swiftly, just in time for Dorothy to cease dabbing Chopper's face and turn to her with her small hands on her hips.

"Why did you make him cry?" Her young brows furrowed as she pressed her lips into as tight a line as she could manage. "I thought you were nice."

Something about those last words caused a spike of pain in Glinda's chest. Her lips parted to reply, but stayed that way, completely useless as no words were forthcoming.

"She didn't." Chopper creaked as he moved forward, Dorothy's expression dropped, "I made myself cry again."

"Oh," the girl squeaked, her face flushing red as she ran the toe of her shoe along the gap between two stones.

Glinda's eyes widened, how had she not noticed before?

"I'm sorry Miss Glinda. I just get protective of my friends."

"I understand," Glinda forced herself to smile, not out of dislike for the girl, but her own swirling emotions, "I am much the same."

"Glinda. Your Eminence…" The rising feel of illness in her stomach ebbed for the moment, her attention caught by Nick Chopper's words. Why she was surprised, she did not know, for she had already concluded that the man must know who she is, "While I question your presence here, when you should be leading us back home, I have registered what you said. Perhaps not understood it yet, but I have taken the words in."

His eyes had lost any presence of moisture, though she could see a deep sadness in them, as if he had long ago learnt not to cry. Her hands uncurled, no longer feeling defensive or protective of herself.

"And I, and others, do believe in reunification. I believe that is the best for us."

"Thank you… Nick." His eyes widened beneath his mask of metal, than something else shone in them besides the sadness. He was touched, Glinda realised, that she had used his 'former' name. He bowed his head, guiding Dorothy back to her unfinished meal.

"What's an Eminence?" Glinda heard the girl ask, while she, herself, remained still in the doorway. Her eyes dropped back to the shoes adorning Dorothy's feet and she cursed inwardly.

She hated what that could mean.

What that could invoke should Elphaba – The Witch – see her sister's prized possession taken by someone else.

* * *

><p>It was only polite to offer the group somewhere to rest, which Glinda did promptly after they finished their dinner.<p>

Now, having met them, Glinda saw that they were harmless for the most part. An opinion she still held despite her conversation with Nick Chopper. Really, even he seemed reluctant to proceed with their mission, even with his belief that he could gain a heart and regain his love.

Dorothy was the most eager for a rest, and the most trusting of all of them.

"How do we know we will be safe here?" The Scarecrow asked as he scratched at his chin, "Then again, if we were so worried, would we have stopped to eat? Or would we have carried on? Or would it not have crossed our minds?" He hummed as his eyes rose upwards, as if trying to roll backwards to face inside his own empty head.

"You will be safe here, that I can swear to you."

There was still some if-ing and but-ing, until at last they came to their conclusion. Polite acceptance of Glinda's offer. Though it did seem that they only accepted for Dorothy's sake; they truly did care for the girl, and it was easy to see why.

"Thank you for your kindness, Miss Glinda." Dorothy said kindly as Glinda led them up the stairs and to the guestrooms past her own, and further still until she reached the ones she was certain were fairly untouched by her 'raids'.

Dorothy continued thanking her, right until she disappeared into the guestroom Glinda pointed out to her, the dog at her heels.

She certainly hoped that the dog was housetrained… and the Lion for that matter.

"I will help to sort things out with you come morning," Glinda had said at some point, to which they all seemed even more thankful, and even relieved, for.

The Scarecrow insisted that he did not need a room; instead he sat down, back resting against the wall separating the doors of Dorothy's room from that of the Lion and the Tin Woodman's room. He tipped his hat to Glinda as she made her way down the corridor to her own room. She needed her own rest, and time to decide on just what it was she was going to do come morning, for she was as clueless as the Scarecrow was.


	15. Chapter 15

**We're on the final stretch now.**

* * *

><p>Glinda rose early the next day; but not early enough it seemed.<p>

"I was raised on a farm." Dorothy explained, her smile contagious enough that it tugged at Glinda's own lips.

No one yet seemed hungry, and so Glinda felt now was as good a time as any. There were matters they needed to attend to as soon as possible, and Glinda felt now she was certain about what needed to be done. If Elphaba complied, that is.

She would deal with her later, it would seem her message about their guests had not reached her, so Glinda would just leave out the fact the group had arrived the day before. It would make things easier that way.

Dorothy had skipped to the main door, holding it open and waiting for her dog to return from his – if Glinda was remembering correctly – run in the snow. The Scarecrow hovered near to her while the rest stood around awkwardly in the main entrance hall. The servant boy was the most awkward of all, as he stood half in the doorway leading to the kitchen corridor, watching Dorothy with large, wonder filled eyes.

Glinda cleared her throat gently after a long stretch of silence, as she moved to stand in the mostly empty area in between the group.

Dorothy's dog came bounding up the steps to stand before her, tail wagging as he waited for the girl to scoop him up into her arms. The door remained where it was, partly open, though none of them complained about the chill it was letting in – not that it made much of a difference whether it was open or shut.

"You said The Wizard asked one of you to stop The Witch?"

The Lion nodded meekly, but said nothing.

Once again, it was left to The Tin Woodman to answer, "To kill her, yes."

Glinda caught sudden movement to her right, and turned just in time to see Dorothy jerk her head towards them.

"Kill?" Dorothy squeaked, her cheeks puffing out, "The Wizard said to take her broom and magic book."

Broom?

What was important about a broom?

And Magic book? What in Oz? She had never heard of such a thing.

The Scarecrow scratched at his head, looking as lost as a man made of fabric could. The Tin Woodman looked to the Lion, who surprisingly was the one to expand on the matter at hand.

"That is, well, that is what he…m-meant when he said it would 'dispose' of the threat."

Dorothy's dog growled low – though with his size it still sounded high pitched – Dorothy herself looked less than pleased, her anger more visible and her eyes shining with emotion.

"We can't _kill_ someone, that goes against everything taught in the bible!" Her dog was squirming in her arms, trying to face the stairs, "That's what I said to that mean Miss Gulch when she threatened Toto. It's what my aunt and uncle taught me."

"I don't want anyone else hurt." Nick Chopper stated as Dorothy dusted snow of her dog's dark fur, her brow drawn low in her annoyance at the others.

"The W-Wizard saw us all separately." Glinda turned to the Lion who had moved closer, his eyes darting about the area as if he expected someone to pounce on him, "I guess we all assumed he told us the same thing."

"Well," the Scarecrow said, his face creased into a concern he soon shred, "You know what they say about people who think too much, or assume too much, or anything too much."

"No." The Lion replied morosely, "I do not."

"The Wizard asked you for her broom and book?" Glinda finally said, interrupting the voices of the confused group. She hoped they did not notice how she fumbled on the items they needed.

"That is what he said to me."

The mention of a book did make her think of her own, but that could not be what The Wizard was referring to, could it? But what if the book he believed Elphaba had in her possession was similar? Her own could be devastating in the wrong hands, and if Elphaba's was similar than that to could cause almost identical damage and harm. To give it to The Wizard could lead to the situation in Oz worsening, if he had access to the information on anyone he wanted – if he could discover what caused the book to work, something she had failed in, but something he may be able to do, being far more experienced than her – he could blackmail and control. Even more than he already was. He could find out who and what was important to individuals and use that to his advantage. As well as their secrets.

But she had _his_. And she would use that to _her_ advantage if she could.

That is why she had a folded pile of papers in the pocket in the lining of her cloak, and that is why she was going to ensure it was given to the correct party.

"I will see if I can get them for you, well, the broom at least. The book is dangerous in the wrong hands. But I will see for you," Glinda said to Dorothy, and she meant it, before she turned to the group as a whole, "That way no one else will be hurt."

She did not know who, exactly, had been hurt during their journey, nor – as Nick Chopper had suggested – who had died. Save dear Nessie, though that had been an unfortunate accident, and one she would mourn properly once things were no longer as hectic.

"You have sway over her?" The Scarecrow asked, "How does that work? I don't quite understand."

"If she says she does, then she does." The Tin Woodman said, his mostly frozen features twitching into his attempt at a smile.

"Ah, yes!" Replied the Scarecrow, "If she says so then it must be so, for that is the way of the world and the word."

Dorothy was still pouting, though her lips were trembling in her attempt not to smile either at her friend's antics or Glinda's words.

Liir's face flushed red at that.

That is until Nanny appeared, grabbing him by his collar and demanding help in the kitchen before waddling back from where ever it was she had suddenly appeared – presumably the aforementioned kitchen. Glinda did not see if he followed after her, her attention caught by a heavy and familiar footfall.

One that had the pit of her stomach dropping.

"Ah!" The group as a whole whirled around, some with more ease than others, "We have _guests_."

Oh… this was most definitely, positively not good.

But… Glinda swallowed thickly… she could still save the situation, could she not? Elphaba was more herself now, and surely she would listen to reason – which in this case was Glinda – and understand why she had not informed her immediately, or rather how she had tried, but her attempt had failed. She didn't need to know that they had arrived the day before. She didn't need to know she had been kept unintentionally unaware.

"We have been here since yesterday."

The Scarecrow was lucky Glinda was not prone to physical violence or she would most definitely have her hands around his far too long neck.

Unsurprisingly Elphaba's reaction was seen in the tight line of her lips and, even from the bottom of the stairs Glinda could detect the darkening of her eyes.

"Really…" She said slowly, as if calculating her words, or carefully controlling her temper – which was a good sign, or so Glinda hoped it was. "I was not informed."

"I was just coming to tell you." Glinda moved forward just as Elphaba did, the taller woman moving down a few steps while Glinda stood before the bottom step. Perhaps it was a lie, partially, for she _had_ sent Liir to tell her the day before.

Her words fell on death ears however, as Elphaba whipped her gaze over the group, her face still impassive.

"So…" The word left her lips slowly as she scrutinised them all, ignoring Glinda as she did so, "You are the ones who are here to kill me."

The group, as if all connected, shook their heads at once.

"Not if we do not need to, no one else need die," The Tin Woodman said, his voice seeming to creak rather than waver in mild fear.

Glinda stepped to her right, trying to put herself between Elphaba and the others, to attempt to capture the woman's attention, "They have been asked to retrieve something, that is all. If you give it to them then they will leave." Glinda's hands moved as she spoke, she was never one to talk with her hands, but there were apparently exceptions to the rules in times of stress, "They will say you have died and you will be left in peace."

Okay, that was what Glinda had decided herself, and she had yet to run it by the others, but she was sure they would agree with her. They wanted no conflict just as she did not. She forced her gaze from Elphaba's and turned to the group behind her, they all looked more relieved than they had moments before.

So, it appeared they did agree with her decision after all. She just wished she could have approached the topic with them under better circumstances, that way they could have decided on what to do, and she could have ensured that they said nothing to trigger Elphaba's anger, for her fuse was even shorter than it once was.

"He wants a 'broom'?" Perhaps that would be enough to state The Wizard, if she could convince the group to claim the book could not be found he might just accept what they _could_ get rather than what they _should_ have gotten.

Elphaba's gaze fixed on Dorothy, her eyes narrowed, and dropped –

"They belonged to my sister!" The Witch's voice rose to a pitch Glinda had never heard before, Elphaba's still bandaged hands curling into fists, tight enough that Glinda was certain that the action must be pulling painfully on her healing skin, "My dead sister."

She should have blocked her view of Dorothy. Why had she not moved those few steps more to the right?

"I – I didn't know, miss," Dorothy replied, as polite as ever.

A weight plummeted in Glinda's stomach again, setting heavily there and making her feel ill as her stomach churned in retaliation.

"She was given them," the Scarecrow added, turning to face Dorothy, "Weren't you Dorothy?"

Dorothy jerked he head in a nod, her dog still wrapped in her arms, "Locasta gave them to me, to keep me safe."

The Witch stepped down further, her lips curling in distaste, "Take them off. They belong to _me_."

No words came to Glinda, instead she found herself standing there, helpless. Like a person watching a play, wanting to interact with the events but being completely unable to. Unable to change the course of events, let alone influence them in any significant way at all. A completely powerless bystander.

Dorothy's face creased in a frown, "I was given them," she repeated, "And I can't take them off." Despite those words, she seemed to comply, crouching down to tug at one of the shoes, before looking up, her cheeks puffing out, "See."

"Don't be so ridiculous." Elphaba strode down the last few steps, her intention clear enough that the Scarecrow and Lion moved in front of Dorothy – though the latter stood partially behind the former.

Glinda still stood between them, not that it seemed to matter all that much to any party in the room.

"If she says she cannot remove them, then it means she cannot remove them," the Scarecrow said sagely, his voice calm despite the clear tension that Glinda could feel building in the large entrance hall.

"You're lucky I don't burn you to ash."

"Elphie!" Glinda's scolding went unheard by the group, too focused on one another as they were.

Creaking signified that The Tin Woodman was moving forward to join his comrades, the light that shone from outside glinting off his axe.

She needed to do something.

"Dorothy?" Glinda asked in a louder voice than she would ever dare to use in polite company. She took the few steps to the girl's side quickly.

The girl's hold on her dog tightened, her wide eyes turning towards her, away from the confrontation Glinda could feel about to explode.

"Yes, Miss Glinda?"

"May I?" Glinda gestured to the girl's shoes – or rather the shoes that once belonged to Nessarose – a lump forming in her throat at the sight of them, though she of course did not let it show.

Dorothy nodded, her brow wrinkling. Glinda knelt beside her, the stone hard on her knees and cold immediately seeping through her skirts to her skin. The action was enough to capture the attention of the others in the room. Glinda paid them no mind, her attention on a more important matter.

She hovered her hands over the shoes, closing her eyes and reached out with her senses. It was there, a trickle, barely detectable at first, but as soon as she felt it, she grasped onto it. Stretching it tightly until it grew and encompassed her mind.

A spell, most definitely, but far more complex than Dorothy had claimed. It was not just there to keep the shoes on her feet, that was only a small part of a much larger construction. She let the trickle fall from her grasp, slipping back to wrap around the object they enchanted.

When she came to, the buzzing in her ears dying to a hush,  
>she found the room not only silent, but also feeling empty – the tension that had made it feel so claustrophobic having evaporated into nothing.<p>

Glinda, surprised at that, felt her cheeks flush which she covered well – or so she hoped.

"There is a spell upon the shoes." She said once she had risen to her feet and she was certain she had the attention of all present, "So…" She directed these words at Elphaba, whose face had reverted to the hardened expression that so marked the days before Glinda's breakthrough with her, "She is telling the truth. They cannot be removed."

Elphaba's face twisted in anger, something that sent the Lion cowering, but had no effect on Glinda, "Then remove the spell. You know Sorcery, do something and give them to me!"

She could attempt to break the spell; it was complex in its construction but not too secure a spell, for who would wish to, let alone be able to, break it. Who was likely to know Sorcery in Munchkinland? That must have been what Locasta thought when she enchanted the shoes.

Of course, Locasta was an Adept, it was entirely possible that the spell was more than Glinda could detect. It could backfire onto her, a failsafe in the core of the spell. All of that, before she reached the main part of the equation. Elphaba.

Just seeing the shoes seemed to revert her back, returning to the behaviour of The Witch. To give her the shoes may quench her anger for the moment, but for how long? She was beginning to obsess of the shoes, her eyes watching them intensely. Or so Glinda felt. Perhaps it was best to not even attempt to break the spell, not just for her safety and Dorothy's, but also Elphaba's sanity.

But was that the right thing to do? Would that only worsen the situation?

Glinda wiped her clammy hands on her skirts as subtly as she could, clearing her throat and meeting Elphaba's dark eyes with as steady and serious gaze as she could manage.

"I cannot."

Elphaba snarled, "This is _not_ over," before stalking back up the stairs.

* * *

><p>"Have you experienced any other effects?" Glinda inquired as they sat in the kitchen, any words to break the overbearing silence. Those that actually ate picked at their food rather than eating – save Nanny, and surprisingly Liir, who apparently had decided to eat the breakfast meal with them for the first time since Glinda had arrived. No doubt to their young, new guest.<p>

"My feet haven't hurt once on the journey, no matter how far we have travelled. I think it also kept my clothes and myself clean." Dorothy explained after a few thoughtful moments, "At least that is how it seems to me. I still find it awfully strange that magic is real."

Glinda nodded despite that strange word re-emerging.

Well that would be an advantageous spell to learn. It most definitely would have made the trip there more pleasant for her.

Focus Glinda…

"Do not worry." Glinda placed her hand over Dorothy's own, where it lay unmoving besides her spoon, "I will speak to her, everything will be fine, I just need time to speak to her."

The repetitive sentence fell oddly from her lips, and while Dorothy looked unsure, there was still a sense of trusting in her eyes. So it seemed she had succeeded at one thing at least.

The mood seemed lifted then, and steadily a conversation began amongst the occupants of the table, something that helped ease Glinda's internal anxiety. She, herself, had little faith in her own words, she just prayed that things would turn out well. That she could fix things.

She waited, stirring the 'porridge' in her bowl aimlessly with her spoon, until the conversation rose to its loudest point. It was then she leaned closer to Dorothy, lowering her voice when she spoke;

"May I speak with you in private after?"

The girl looked taken aback at the sudden voice to her left, but calmed quickly.

"Of course, Miss."

Not used to people obeying her without questioning her first, Glinda's eyes widened, before a smile settled across her face. She had never gotten on with the young particularly well, nor had she been all that fond of them, perhaps in part due to knowing she would never have a child of her own. But this girl was actually changing her mind, and rather swiftly at that.

"Good."

Dorothy scooped some of her breakfast on to her finger before presenting it to her dog. An action that cause Glinda to scrunch up her nose in disgust, even if the girl's care for the animal was sweet in a way.

For now, Glinda needed to settle her stomach, and as such she forced herself to spoon her breakfast into her mouth. Tasteless or not, the food would hopefully help stop the churning in the pit of her belly.

First she would speak with Dorothy, then she needed to sort things out with Elphaba.

Lurline help her, that was going to be a challenge. Wasn't it?

* * *

><p>Glinda lit the fire in a small side room, letting the heat of the fire warm the room before she went to collect Dorothy, stressing that the meeting would be quick and that she needn't worry.<p>

Perhaps it would be better to speak to the group as a whole, as she was sure Dorothy would tell them what she told her later (though considering they had apparently failed to properly discuss their separate meetings with The Wizard, maybe that would not be the case at all).

In the end she decided to stay true to her original plan, rather than doubting herself at every turn as she had been doing rather often as of late.

She idly brushed her fingers against the documents still housed in the inside pocket of her cloak, biting at her bottom lip as she did. Maybe this would turn out to be a mistake, but as long as she remembered that she _had_ tried, that would hopefully soften the blow if the worst did happen.

"Miss Glinda?"

Pulled from her thoughts, Glinda turned her attention to the sofa in the room where Dorothy sat primly, her dog's head bent low as he investigated the room.

"My apologies." And Glinda _was_ sorry. For many reasons. Not to mention her embarrassment, she had never been one to drift off when partaking in a conversation where she was an actual participant. Even if this particular discussion had yet to truly begin.

Gripping the papers more firmly, she pulled them from under her cloak.

She had written the notes in Ozian, for that was far likely  
>to be understood by many. If she wished to keep it secret she would have written it in Gillikinese, then who ever found it would either be clueless or have to take time to find a translator or native speaker.<p>

She held them out to Dorothy, ensuring the front page was held in a way that the girl could see the words easily.

"Can you read this?"

"Err…" Dorothy tilted her head this way and that, squinting in thought, "You've got nice handwriting, Miss." She complimented before nodding quickly, and adding, "I can read it, though some of the words are mighty odd."

That was good enough for Glinda. Genfee had a copy, and now this girl here. One who according to her friends was loved almost immediately by all who met her. Glinda could definitely see the truth in that statement.

Feeling something brush against her legs, Glinda glanced down to see the dog looking up at her with almost inquisitive eyes, before he bounded over to Dorothy to be scooped up and placed in her lap.

Now that was a stroke of luck, though now she thought about it, despite claiming to be from a distant land, Dorothy could speak almost perfect Ozian. Glinda altered her grip, Dorothy quickly understood what she wanted of her and as such she took the notes and held them awkwardly due to the dog in her lap.

"This contains information on The Wizard," Glinda explained, "You can use it to stop him from controlling us all as he has been."

Glinda could do it herself, but coming from her, even if the words were the truth, could be brushed away as lies intended to spread discontent if anyone else was to catch wind of it. But coming from a neutral party, and one who had already garnered respect, they would have a stronger impact. It was just an inkling really, but Glinda had the feeling that The Wizard would take heed of Dorothy's words.

Besides, she had Locasta on her side.

"Share the words with Locasta when you reunite, tell her about me if you wish, but ensure you tell her the words are from a book of Sorcery, one that only holds truth. And if she ever wishes to check, than tell her to find me."

"You… you want to trust me with this?" Dorothy held the papers in one hand now, the other running over her dog's head in an almost unconscious effort to calm herself, "I've never been trusted with anything that important."

"There is another I trust, he has a copy of what you hold." Glinda pressed her hands together, interlocking and sliding her fingers apart repeatedly.

Perhaps this would all fail in the end, but at least she _tried_. Just as her Ama had wanted; she had tried to make a change, tried to show that she could make a difference in the world.

"Trust your friends, and trust Locasta." She may not know the group, nor Locasta well, but she now knew enough about people to be able to tell who had good intentions and who did not. In the past she would have doubted her instincts, ignored them even, but now?

…Well, now she knew that sometimes a person had to have faith in themselves, in what they felt and believed. And sometimes it took true strength to trust _yourself_, especially when others doubted your or your ideas.

Her trust in herself was shaky, but it was still there. And that _was_ something.

* * *

><p>"Elphaba?" Glinda sighed out, resting a hand on the door before her, soon followed by her forehead. After all the events of the morning, plus the addition of knocking on this door and calling for the other woman for who knows how long, she was thoroughly exhausted. "Elphie, please?"<p>

Her eyes closed, her hands which were once tense against the wood, nails digging into the grain, relaxed in her hopelessness. Her palms sliding against the wood as she fought to remain upright, when all she wanted to do was collapse onto the step below her in distress.

"Just answer me," she pleaded, "I thought I was getting through to you before, I thought we were getting back to the way we used to be. Please don't let your anger blind you."

Her shoulders dropped as she sighed again.

"You were always the smart one out of the two of us. _I_ am supposed to be the one to jump to conclusions and rage, _you_ are meant to be the rational one. The one who listens to all points of view before coming to a conclusion."

If it weren't for the fact the door was locked she would have doubted that Elphaba was even behind the thick door.

Then again, she may have locked it when she came down…

"I understand, what you heard and believe is justified in making you angry, but please just _listen_ to me."

She waited, for far longer than she would for anyone else, before finally giving up.

Her whole body was numb from standing in the freezing tower, motionless for so long. It made even the simple act of turning around and stepping down to the next step difficult.

"She killed my sister."

Glinda froze, a hand pressed to the stone wall to her right to steady her intended journey down the stairs.

The voice was muffled, but still audible through the door. Worried her own voice would not carry as well with how her previous words had trembled, Glinda returned to her previous position by the door.

It took a moment for Glinda to understand why Elphaba could possible believe Dorothy was responsible for Nessarose's death. She felt a fool when her memories of the events leading up to Nessie's death and what had occurred afterwards came back to her in a flash.

"You can't possibly believe that?"

"She could have used Sorcery." Came the reply, stern as ever.

"Elphie…" Glinda exhaled softly, "If she had any ounce of ability I would have been able to tell, wouldn't I?"

There was no reply for a few tense moments, long enough that Glinda feared Elphaba had decided to return to ignoring her.

"The spell on my sister's shoes –

"By Locasta, just as she said." In truth, Glinda had no idea what Locasta's magic signature felt like, but she had enough faith in Dorothy to believe what she had told her.

"You can't remove it?"

Glinda hesitated, licking at her dry lips, "You know the answer."

"They cannot have that book."

How did she know they also wanted the book?

She raised her hand, laying it against the wood again as if she could reach through it and hold one of Elphaba's bandaged hands in her own.

"I know they cannot, but they can take the broom, as I said before, they are more than happy to claim you have died." Through the wood she could detect the faint scuffling of feet, that or a mouse had just scampered past, "You can live in peace again… you can rest easy again."

Glinda waited, helpless to do anything but press her forehead to the door, praying that Elphaba would hear her words, understand how desperately she wanted her to believe her. And just how far she would go to protect Elphaba, help her heal in any way that she could.

"They were Nessie's."

The words were barely audible, and Glinda felt a weight return to her chest, compressing the air there until her breath fell short. There was no doubting that those words were not directed at her, not at all.

She gasped for breath, trying to keep her eyes free of the stinging feeling building in them.

She had failed, hadn't she?


	16. Chapter 16

"Miss Glinda?"

The woman in question stopped in her tracks, so lost in thought the voice from behind her was a surprise. She turned to the girl who stood behind her, Dorothy's shoulders were hunched, her dog, as always, cradled lovingly in her arms.

"Yes Dorothy?"

"I… I know you are heading to the kitchen for breakfast, but can we talk first? There others are at breakfast already, so –

The girl's words stopped abruptly, her teeth digging into her bottom lip in her clear anxiety.

"Of course," Glinda replied, already turning to head to the room they had spoken in the day before. She was exhausted; emotional and physically – the latter due to a night of disturbed sleep. She couldn't remember what disturbed her so; she simply hoped it was from her emotional exhaustion and not from any nightmares, though a part of her doubted the validity of that belief.

Tired and stressed as she may be; she would not brush of the girl.

The day before she had, once again, stressed that they were all safe there. That Elphaba would do them no harm.

A lie. For she now doubted those words herself. She found herself far more fearful than the group now was. And to think – only the day before she was talking to herself about how much she now trusted herself, how she had grown in confidence over her capability. And now, a day later, she had returned to doubting everything. Especially herself.

Once again, a small spark shot from her palm, lighting the contents of the grate (they needed more wood she noted), causing a fire to spring to life. It would take a while to heat the room, but if they scooted closer to the fire, they could keep warm while that happened.

"What is it you wish to speak to me about?"

There were no chairs in the room, and she had little chance of moving the sofa, so instead she stood before the fire, mindful of her skirts and cloak.

Dorothy joined her, placing her dog on the ground between them. He quickly shuffled closer to the fire, before curling into a ball. Dorothy watched him, her wide eyes open even further than Glinda had become used to.

"What has you so concerned?" Glinda prompted again.

The girl looked up then, her cheeks pink from something other than the heat of the flames to her right.

"I…" She tugged at her dress, which as Dorothy had suggested from their discussion on the effects of Locasta's spell, was spotless and pressed neatly despite never changing out of it, "I am worried, Miss."

Dorothy's blush spread, "That is to say," she began, noticing all she had done was repeat Glinda's own assumption back to her, "The Wizard wants us to being back the broom _and_ the book, if we don't have the book, he might not believe us. I know you said it is dangerous and so I – I don't know what to do."

That was a possibility, though she prayed it was somewhat slim even as she knew it would not be.

"You have those notes to use against him."

"Well, yes, Miss." Dorothy nodded nervously, "But the Scarecrow says that perhaps it would work better if we have his trust first. Then we can get closer to the person he actually is, instead of what he pretended to be."

Glinda's brow furrowed, "Pretended?"

"Oh!" Dorothy exclaimed, pressing a hand to her mouth, "Sorry, I forgot. When we met him, he appeared to each us as something different. To me he looked like a giant head, and the notes say he is just a person."

The Glinda of old would have assumed that The Wizard was a great Sorcerer. The Glinda of now knew much, much better. Elphaba's confusing words from so long ago returning to her in a sudden burst of memory.

Glinda made no mention of The Wizard's trickery, her mind replying Dorothy's other words. The Scarecrow, the fool that he appeared, actually had a good idea. It would indeed be for the best if he revealed his true self to them as a group, which would make the events Glinda hoped to invoke far more likely to actually occur.

Her vague – for she had been focused on other things – recollections of Elphaba's tower was a room filled with many things. Most had appeared to be rubbish, useless trinkets and junk. But what if there were some genuinely unusual items there? Rare things that could, potentially, act as 'proof' The Witch was no more and her belongings could be taken with ease.

Glinda pulled her cloak tighter around her, not to stave off a chill, but in thought, her brow still creased.

"Perhaps," she began slowly, catching Dorothy's full, wide-eyed attention, "You can take some other rare item instead?"

The girl seemed to mull over the words, her own brow creasing in a mimic of Glinda's own expression. She chewed at her bottom lip, and looked to her dog as if he could offer her an answer or was a silent sounding board for the idea.

"I think…" Dorothy said at long last, lifting her head as the tension of her body faded away into nothingness, "I think that could work, Miss."

Glinda found a smile crossing her face despite the internal panic she had buried deep within her form, "Then I will see what I can do. Elphaba can be a stubborn one, but I will get through to her."

The words were enough to bring a pleased smile to Dorothy's face, even though to Glinda's own ears they sounded hollow, more a worthless attempt to convince _herself_ that she could do the impossible.

Still, she held herself strong, not wanting Dorothy to grow fearful. She was young, she deserved better.

What a hypocrite she was. To say she meant well by the girl, yet giving her such a task merely a day prior.

But she was doing her best to ensure Dorothy would be safe. The shoes must have effects besides what Dorothy had claimed; she doubted Locasta would send a child on a long journey, by herself, with no protection.

"When you reached the City," Glinda found herself saying, the words coming to and leaving her as if she were a puppet, as if someone else was commanding her to speak on their behalf, "Do as I said, and ensure you find Locasta. Take her with you, if you can."

"Oh, I can do that. She said that if she is nearby I only need to 'focus on the shoes and think of her'. She said she should be in the City, waiting for us."

"Did she know you were coming here?"

"Um," Dorothy stretched the sound out, her gaze dropping to her dog, "No." She looked up, guilt written across her face, "Should I have?"

It would certainly have helped, but it was far too late for what-ifs, "It may have helped, but it no longer matters."

"The past is the past," Dorothy replied, and Glinda was genuinely surprised the girl knew that turn of phrase, "I wish Miss Gulch believed that, then Toto would be fine."

Used to the girl muttering such sentences which only she could understand, Glinda paid it no mind, her thoughts on other matters.

The dog had rolled onto his back at some point, now he flopped to his side before pulling himself to his feet and bounding in his small steps towards the door. She hoped he hadn't dirtied the rugs too much.

Wait… why should she care? This wasn't her home after all, and –

"Miss?"

Glinda snapped back to the present moment, her eyebrows raising high – she had almost forgotten where she was for a second.

"Yes?"

"I read some of them notes, like I said before. It says, well…" Dorothy scratched at her neck, her gaze following after her dog before returning to Glinda's, "That The Witch is his daughter? I think, I haven't read much yet, but I think it used the same name you did when speaking of her."

Dorothy was certainly a keener observer than Glinda had assumed her to be, a thought that did make her feel guilty. Of all people Glinda should know not to jump to such conclusions on these types of matters. She had been a victim of such often enough.

"You are correct. Though she does not know," she added quickly, "And neither does he."

"He sent us to, err, 'dispose' of his own child? Whether he knew or not is wrong." Dorothy said, her cheeks puffing out in that familiar way of hers.

"Any man, or rather any person, would be horrified to know as much."

Precisely why Glinda made a point of putting such information on the very first page of her notes. If he had any care or heart at all, he would be devastated by what he had done. He may not care for what his actions have done to innocents, nor that he was using a whole country as a scapegoat, but to know he vilified and ordered the assassination of his very own daughter? Why, that would crush even the hardest of hearts, would it not?

Dorothy nodded at her words, understanding the implication Glinda hoped.

Truly a remarkable child.

"I think Liir might have taken a fancy to me."

Glinda blinked hopelessly at the sudden change of topic, before it came to her that Dorothy was simply trying to lighten the mood.

"Yes, I rather think he has."

"I'm not su – Toto! No!" Dorothy scolded, as her dog scratched at the wooden door, making an awful snuffling sound with his nose.

He jumped back, though Glinda was not certain if it was due to Dorothy's words, or the door opening with enough force that it slammed against the wall beside it.

Once the shock the sound caused in her died down, Glinda could not say she was pleased to see Elphaba. Especially not with the look in her eyes as dark as it was.

"Elph –

"Leave." That single word was said slowly, which only served to emphasis the steel behind it. All The Witch. Her gaze narrowed on Dorothy, watching her intensely.

This might not be happening on Glinda's own actions but even so, the chance to finally talk to Elphaba face to face was enough to lift her spirits. Perhaps now she could get through to Elphaba, finally get her to see what Glinda saw so clearly.

Maybe… maybe she had not failed Elphaba after all.

She turned to Dorothy, her own comforting smile true for the first time in quite a while, "It is alright, we can continue our discussion later if you want?"

Dorothy nodded, already looking about for her dog, she seemed more than relieved to be given permission to leave the presence of The Witch and go and find her friends.

"I was talking to you."

"What?" Glinda blurted out as if she had been thrown back to the impoliteness of youth.

"Leave." The Witch repeated, her gaze having remained firm on Dorothy from the very moment the door had opened. Not even a flicker of her eyes elsewhere.

And it _frightened_ Glinda. Just the thought of leaving Dorothy and this person she could not rightly call Elphaba any longer, together, alone.

No… She thought to herself, Elphaba would never harm a child, she knew that. But then, she had once believed she would never harm an animal, and yet the monkey that resided there bore marks and scars that evoked thoughts of the opposite in her.

She did not want to believed it, could not – but then she could not rightly leave either.

She bit at her bottom lip, hard enough she feared it would bleed as she strengthened her resolve, put as much strength in her forthcoming words as she could.

"No."

Finally, The Witch's eyes turned to her, the warm earthy tones of her irises now almost as black as her pupils. Her lip curled down in her anger, an action Glinda found herself fighting not to mimic.

"I asked you to go, and so you _should_."

Glinda shook her head gently, fixing her gaze on The Witch's own, that simple action enough of a refusal to obey that The Witch's anger spiked. The taller woman turned then, her intention clear in her action as it reminded Glinda of their short time together so many years before – she was going to act as if she was not there.

To be ignored… well, that rose Glinda's own temper to an understandable degree of intensity.

"Take the shoes from your feet and I will let you be."

Confusion washed over the anger than, masking it however briefly. They had been over this the very previous day, had they not?

"I can't," Dorothy stressed, "The Good Witch – Locasta, she put a spell on them. We told you."

"And I checked," Glinda said gently, hoping a softer approach would get through to the other woman, yet knowing it would be futile in the end, "They cannot be removed."

The Witch snarled, her teeth flashing in the light of the fire, "Then I will cut them from your feet."

Toto couched low, growling at the woman with the overconfidence only a small dog could process.

"Elphaba!"

"This does not concern you _Glinda_." She barked out in her rage. It was enough to stun Glinda, if only for a moment.

"They can't be removed," Dorothy pleaded, tears building up in the corners of her eyes despite her obvious effort to remain strong. The poor girl was terrified inside – where were her friends? Surely someone would hear what was going on?

Thoughts flew wildly through Glinda's mind now, rebounding with such speed, colliding with such force, that she struggled to decode even the simplest of memories.

Wait!

Her breath was short, her chest heaving despite partaking in no physical exertion.

Had Elphaba not said their Father made those shoes for Nessie? Perhaps…perhaps her continued, almost about to become violent, obsession had a deeper meaning. Something that hadn't been that apparent back then. During their younger years.

"They won't change anything." Glinda said cryptically, her voice wavering ever so slightly. As vague as those words may be, she knew that Elphaba – the woman she prayed was still before her, no matter how hidden she may be – would understand with ease. She was always the smarter one, "You are the one who thinks he doesn't…"

A flicker. Short, weak in its intensity, and yet still there.

"I told you about the bird, did I not?" Glinda pressed, oh how she needed to see that flicker again.

But it did not come.

The Witch turned away again, clearly not wishing to see nor hear the truth Glinda had to offer. And when she spoke her rage was apparent, her voice rose louder than Glinda had ever heard.

"Give them to me!"

"But –

"I have had enough of your pathetic excuses, if you won't give them…" The Witch approached, her shoulders high and motions clearly aggressive, "Then I will take them."

The girl's dog stopped his growling; now he was full out barking before The Witch.

She looked down, as if only noticing the animal between her and her target then, and there was no joy at the sight of an animal. Not even one so clearly loved by its owner.

But there was a glint. A fearsome, menacing glint in The Witch's eyes.

Another step forward.

The dog jumped at her, teeth gnashing.

The Witch was unfazed. Her arm shot out, catching the animal by the scruff of his neck.

A gasp, either Glinda's or Dorothy's, she was unsure.

The Witch's lips pulled back into a sneer that showed teeth as she lifted her arm, presenting the dog like a prize, "Then I will drown your little dog. Then we will see how stubborn you are."

And the Witch was gone. Dorothy crying out as she hastened after her.

Her greatest fear confirmed.

Glinda froze to the spot.


	17. Chapter 17

**There will either be two slightly shorter chapters left, or one longer one. I'm not sure if I will cut the chapter up or not yet. I thought it best to give you all a "heads up". Thank you to all those who have reviewed and the others who I know have been reading.**

* * *

><p>Her mind flew back into her like a slap to the face; her breath hitched painfully in her chest, sending her gasping and lurching into motion.<p>

She hastened through rooms and corridors, until she was running up curving, narrow steps; her heels hitting the stonework so hard it was wonder they did not snap from the pressure.

Her chest heaving, her eyes wide.

The door gave a _crack_ as she rushed through it with all her force, her shoulder throbbing from the impact.

Just in time to see flames doused with a torrent of water.

Glinda let out a choked cry. Horrific sounds of a being in agony filling the stuffy room.

She stumbled, her form wavering as horror crashed over her. Watching helplessly as the dark figure crumpled to the ground, curled into themselves in the throes of pain.

"I didn't mean to! I was trying to help!"

A sodden dog, fur plastered to skin, barking madly.

Glinda rushed to the fallen woman's side, her vision consumed with damaged flesh and red.

So much red.

No amount of wraps or alcohol or oil would help treat these wounds.

But…

But maybe…

A spell! She knew sorcery; she had a degree in it for Lurline's sake! She could do something surely!

Her head whipped around; trying her best to drown out the sounds of crying, barking and pain.

Her eyes caught sight of something.

Something that might just help.

The book of spells, she could care less as to where it came from now, brought to mind her own book found by chance.

Perhaps it could help?

She retrieved it from the overcrowded table and returned to Elphaba's side before she could register herself moving.

She dropped to her knees; the book fell to the ground as if it had wriggled out of her grasp, escaping her fingers. It fell open, baring its illegible contents. The lines swam before her eyes, bringing forth memories of her own book.

Or perhaps it only seemed to shift due her tears.

Something tugged at her mind and she found herself reading the words before her before, though she could understand none of it. Her hand trembled upon the opened page, the words seeming to move around her hand like dancing couples in a ballroom. Odd to think of such comparisons now, especially as that was not something she was wont to do.

It felt as if actions were beyond her control; as if she were a mere puppet and something else, something greater than her, her puppeteer.

The page blurred in front of her eyes, the letters bleeding into one unintelligible mess of silver and purple, and yet her tears had dried. Her sorrow replaced by a determination that felt foreign to her, as if she had taken it from someone else. Drawn their strength and channelled it as her own.

Even the sounds echoing in the room seemed to fall silent in her ears, and yet they were still ongoing. She knew that logically and yet physically…

She felt and saw nothing.

Completely unaware.

That was until red seeped into the jumbled mess that enveloped her vision.

She blinked and everything seemed cleared, crisper; the sounds, the smell, the sights. The words tumbling from her lips trailed off. She wasn't aware she was still speaking.

Panic once more seized her heart in its icy grip.

She could not look away from her hand.

It no longer shook; instead it rested on the page steadily, confidently. Yet the fair skin of her hand no longer stretched from finger to cuff.

Her breath caught in her throat. Eyes wide as she took in the awful sight.

The skin had fallen away, giving way to a large lesion. Blood seeped from the mess of skin, yet did not stain the pages of the spell book. Her dress was not so lucky.

As if hypnotised she stared at the damage, her lips parted and throat tight.

It did not hurt, not yet.

It should, but it didn't?

But it would.

She knew that.

A groan filtered into the air.

"Elphaba!" Glinda's voice sounded weak even as her head immediately snapped up, her gaze finding the other woman's face.

Elphaba's eyes rolled and stared blindly past Glinda's ear. Her skin was blistered and sore to look at, but nowhere near to the level it was prior. Similar to the damage to Glinda's own hands.

She will be alright with some treatment, Glinda hoped.

"Your face," Elphaba reached out to touch her cheek; she pulled back her green fingers stained red.

Elphaba looked up at her with clear, though pained eyes.

The meeting of their eyes was short-lived, however, as Elphaba's closed in moments. If it was not for the rise and fall of her chest, Glinda would surely have flown into full panic. The repetitive movement was enough to calm her nerves, to sooth her anxiety for the current moment.

Who knew how long it would last?

She looked up, her heart beating an odd tempo at the silence in the room. The rafters were bare.

Who knew how long the calm would truly last.

The sound of movement behind her brought her back to the present, and to who else was in the room.

Dorothy squeaked as she spoke, "I didn't mean –

"I know," Glinda interrupted, not unkindly, "Go downstairs and find Nanny." A child should not have to witness this. Any of this.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the small dark furred dog, its fur still damp, rush forward to pick up some metallic item in his jaws. A key?

"Miss Glinda…" She forced herself to look away, to show Dorothy had her attention. She was crouched down, taking the key from her dog, her eyes wide and fearful. Glinda smiled bittersweetly, how was the girl to know? She had not intended to do _this_. If such an allergy was beyond rare in Oz then it was likely even more so in the place Dorothy was from.

"Dorothy."

The girl shook, scooping her dog in her arms like a shield, something to defend her from her own fears and panic, "You weren't to know. You have nothing to fear."

Dorothy's trembling lessened as she pressed her face to the top of the dog's head, hugging the beast to her.

"I promise you."

Dorothy nodded slowly, her eyes still watering though her face was no longer as pained.

"Go find your friends. We'll talk later, okay?"

There was no time to see if Dorothy had registered her words, for the door into the tower burst open for a second time, revealing the girl's odd friends.

They stood crowded in the small room, eyes roaming over everything in their attempt to understand.

"What has happened?" The Scarecrow asked, the material that made up his forehead folding in his bafflement.

The others said nothing, and he too was soon distracted by Dorothy, rushing over to her as best as his lanky, unstable legs could manage.

"Gawr?"

Glinda turned, her brow furrowed at the unexpected sound. For a short moment she thought Elphaba had woken again, but she was soon corrected by movement behind the table edge. A glint of white fur and a pink face as the monkey poked his head around the thick table leg.

Had the monkey been there the whole time? The poor thing was shaking, the force enough to be visible in both his body and those sinisterly gained wings.

Wings…

"Chistery?" She asked, hoping she remembered his name correctly. She must have for his head perked up, "Can you fly to the village? Fetch a doctor?"

What choice was there? If she left Elphaba as she was, or attempted to treat her on her own, she would likely… not live. If a doctor came and either refused treatment or betrayed them, then the result would be the same.

Still, there was a slim chance a doctor would help, and Elphaba would be fine – for the most part.

"Do you understand?" He had understood her a few times before, surely he could understand this.

She _needed_ him to understand.

"Lion?"

Glinda turned her head as best she could to see the Tin Woodman standing just behind her. How he had approached so silently, she did not know.

The Lion crept forward, his body low to the ground and his mane shaking much as Chistery was, showing his nerves.

Nick Chopper seemed unfazed by his behaviour, or perhaps that was the metal hiding his emotions, "Go to the village, fetch a doctor. One who will be suitable…"

"I – I don't… The snow, I –

"Lion." Nick Chopper stressed, though his voice was pleasant as always, "You will be far quicker than anyone else."

"R-right." The Animal responded, standing a little straighter.

"We trust you."

At those words the Lion's chest puffed out, his head lifting high. For the first time Glinda saw him as the prideful animal that he was supposed to be.

In the background she saw Dorothy, still visibly shaken by what had occurred, being comforted by the straw man. His thin 'arms' wrapped around her as his partly stitched mouth moved with inaudible, reassuring words.

Chistery wobbled forward in a hurry, a blur of white as he headed towards the Lion, reaching out one of his hands to tug ever so slightly on the Lion's tail.

Glinda watched, concerned that another individual would end up hurt, while also willing the Lion to _just hurry up!_

Instead, the beast turned to the monkey, seeming to have a silent exchange before he crouched lower to the floor, allowing Chistery to clamber up onto his back.

And then they were gone.

Praying to Lurline that their journey would be swift, Glinda turned her attention back to the unconscious woman beside her. Words failing her.

"Scarecrow, take Dorothy back downstairs. Get the old woman to make her a warm drink, I hear they do wonders for the nerves."

"But what about you?" The Scarecrow inquired.

The Tin Woodman merely looked at him for a long moment.

At last, the brainless man seemed to understand the Tin Woodman's meaning, that Dorothy should not have to witness all of this, or rather any more than she already had – as Glinda herself had attempted to do before the trio arrived in the room.

She heard him shuffling out of the room, followed by dainty steps, the girl's sniffling growing more distant as they travelled down the spiralling stairs of the tower.

"We…" Glinda began, her voice cracking on the first word, "We need to get her somewhere else. Open wounds in this environment…"

"I remember," The metal man responded good naturedly, in an effort to lift her mood she assumed. It didn't have much of an impact.

He laid his hand on her shoulder, coaxing her to slide further back across the floor. She did so automatically, unthinkingly, watching as he crouched down, effortlessly picking up Elphaba's limp body.

Glinda choked on a sob, pressing her fingers to her mouth, as the sight of the once strong woman's limbs hanging limp struck her hard. Her skin so painful to even look at.

"I'll be gentle."

Her eyes jumped up to the Tin Woodman's eyes as if desperate for something else to look at – anything but that. His eyes shone with kindness, soothing her frayed nerves if only subtly.

He smiled, and she found herself returning a watery one of her own.

Motioning with his head, he moved towards the door, slowly enough that Glinda found herself returning to some semblance of normality as her words returned to her – if only temporarily.

"You are a kind soul Nick Chopper," Glinda said as she pushed herself to her feet, wincing at the pain that shot through her arms at the action, "You truly have a big heart. I will repay you some day, I swear."

The metal man slowed, pausing on the top step of the staircase; his head bowed to watch his step, or keep an eye on the woman they were sent to dispose of.

"It is I who should repay you, your Eminence." His words were soft, Glinda having to strain to catch them. She could not be certain she had heard correctly, not when he creaked as he resumed his movement down the stairs.

She sucked in a breath, her head spinning momentarily.

She calmed herself as best as she could.

She was soon chasing after them.

* * *

><p>Nick Chopper had fought to get Glinda to sit once they reached her room, his eyes shining with concern.<p>

He had placed Elphaba on her bed, after removing the many layers that had been placed there. Glinda had paced and bit her thumbnail at that. Yes, she understood that it was best that as little as possible touched Elphaba's damaged skin, but that did not mean she would not fret over how cold Elphaba would no doubt be with only the sheet at her back to keep her warm. So she lit the fire and willed it to heat the room swiftly and effectively while they waited.

She could not sit for long, and soon found herself back on her feet, walking back and forth despite the pain in her heels and her hands.

The Tin Woodman hovered at the door, like a silent guardian watching over them.

She watched the rise and fall of Elphaba's chest, the sign of her breathing. The sign of continued life. If she watched that, then perhaps it would lessen her anxiety, ease the tension that seemed to seep right to her very bones. Perhaps if she were not so weak, she could attempt to heal her again. The damage had lessened considerably, but it was still there. Still a risk.

It took all her effort not to cry, so much so her head began to pound. A constant beat that grew and grew, that clawed at the back of her eyes.

Eventually the distant sound of a door slamming somehow reached them. The Tin Woodman opened the door for her, though she hesitated on the threshold, and in the end choose to return to her chair at Elphaba's side. He remained holding the door open until the returning group arrived at the room, all staying outside the door save one large figure who wandered in, bag in hand.

"Ah, I see." He said, directing his words at the group behind him. As he spoke, Glinda recognised his accent. How could she not? It was identical to her own. She had no idea there were Animal doctors in Gillikin, no idea at all.

He turned his gaze to her, his eyes so human like it brought a level of unexplainable discomfort to Glinda.

"Good day," He greeted politely, she had never seen an Ape in person before – there was a teacher back at university, but she had never met him – they were far larger than she had ever realised.

The door shut behind him.

She pushed back the voice in the back of her mind, the one insisting that Elphaba be treated by a _person_, rather than an Animal. It would seem she would always be troubled by her old bigotry, for that had been how she had been raised, and even if the thoughts of how she once behaved disgusted her, and even if she had grown so much; that little voice would likely be forever there in the background, ignored but always present.

"You need not worry, I will keep this to myself." He grinned in what Glinda was sure was supposed to be a comforting manner, but the show of prominent canines was anything but a comfort, "I would not have anyone to tell even if I did wish to tell someone."

His laugh was slightly more soothing, clearly there only to ease tension and stress. The good humour soon turning serious once she had calmed somewhat, he surveyed the damage with a keen eye.

She wanted to stay by Elphaba's side, wanted to be there for her; both to calm herself and Elphaba if – when she wakes. But she couldn't! She could not sit there and watch the doctor treat her. Even the mere thought of observing what was about to occur caused bile to rise in her throat. She had never had the strongest of stomachs, and this only proved it.

She wanted to remain there, but she was too weak.

She would wait outside, until all was done.

She shifted in her seat, intent on doing just that when the doctor spoke again.

"Stay still, you don't want to strain them too much," the Ape said, his too human eyes focused on Glinda, "I will help this one first. Her wounds need much more treatment, then I will deal with yours."

Glinda found herself shaking with the need to see herself in a mirror – just how bad was the damage to herself? She had not thought it to be too severe; she could barely feel any pain besides the low throb of her hands and her forehead.

"How did this happen?"

Glinda snapped out of her thoughts at the question, her eyes wide, "She is allergic to water."

"Really?" The Ape scratched at his chin with a single finger, his expression showing his interest over that particular fact, "Fascinating."

He placed his bag on the bedside table and immediately began to search through it. The clinking of bottles did not help Glinda's head any, in order to distract herself she quickly repositioned the chair so if she wanted to look away, she could do so easily.

The Ape doctor did not look up until he finished placing bottles containing various coloured liquids on the table, the bag having been moved to the floor.

He scrubbed his hands and forearms with some strong smelling substance, before he tugged on some long, thick gloves. It was a relief, for Glinda had feared about the risk of hair getting into the partially healed wounds.

Silly really, he was a doctor and though her instincts told her not to trust one that was not human (or rather a Gillikinese human) she had enough good sense now to realise how bigoted her thought was. A victim of where she had grown up, she hoped, rather than a discriminatory attitude developed later on in life.

Just the thought…

Blinking sluggishly she wobbled on her seat, her chin dropping to her chest as everything seemed in that moment to lose its colour, become blocky and not quite distinguishable.

Her stomach churned and throat ached.

A groan broke the silence.

It took her far longer than it should for her to realise the sound had come from her.

"When did you last eat?"

Head spinning, and wanting nothing more than to lie down until the feeling left, she forced her head up to see the doctor before her. He pressed a bottle into her hand, motioned for her to drink before returning to his work, pulling his glove back on.

Uncorking the bottle, she took a large gulp.

Water. Refreshing. The coldness that she had been trying so hard to avoid in the past few weeks now helped her, steading her head and clearing the fog.

With a clearer mind now, she returned to the Ape's question. Which was a good one. When had she last eaten? She had been on her way to breakfast when Dorothy had taken her aside, then they had been interrupted and the current, terrible events had occurred.

"Last night."

"You need to eat, something to balance your stomach and stop you from fainting. It'll help you heal faster."

She had turned away at some point, likely while she had felt faint, and now found herself staring at the dancing flames of the fire before her.

"Silly me, I told you to stay still didn't I?" The rug beneath his feet rustled before he spoke again, his voice lowered but directed behind him towards the door, "Lion?"

There was a muffled sound that the doctor took as acknowledgement – of course the Lion would have good hearing.

"Could you or one of your friends fetch some food? And more water if possible?" His next words brought an odd sense of comfort to Glinda, made her feel calm enough to close her eyes and rest – not that she would, but she could if she really wanted to, "Enough for both patients."

The fire spat, she took another drink her heart calming at long last.


	18. Chapter 18

"Will she be okay?"

She hadn't dared to ask before, for fear of what the answer might be. But now, with the Doctor kneeling before her and the furrows of his forehead lessened, she knew it was safe to ask.

"That depends." Was the simple reply, the doctor's attention on Glinda's hands. He had already used some strange mildly stinging concoction on them, and was now wrapping in a similar – though far more professional manner – as she had done for Elphaba only a few days prior.

"Depends?" Her voice was soft, the words barely whispered.

Whispered not just due to the returning pain of concern for the other woman, but also due to whatever it was the Ape had put on her hands – he had insisted it would help in the long term, though that did not help her cope with it as it was supposed to.

"Damage comes in many forms, and the physical may not always heal to the point people would prefer."

Glinda nodded, not entirely understanding his words, she put that down to just how tired she was. With the windows still covered she had no idea as to just what time it was, let alone anything else of little importance.

"There," he said as he leant back, "Try not to strain them, they will heal better that way."

He dropped his head in an attempt to meet her eyes.

"And do remember to rest and eat."

Glinda parted her lips to comment on how exactly she was expected to eat if she had to be careful with her hands, when he gestured to the half full plate to her side containing buttered crackers.

After he had finished treating Elphaba he had insisted on her eating before he would look at her hands. She had required help, which she was not prepared to ask for, let alone allow; but he had offered so kindly, and it would be impolite for her to refuse.

Being fed by another had made her feel like an infant again, it was not something she was keen to repeat. Ever again.

"I am fine, thank you."

He looked to her left, his eyes squinting at the pile of sheets and furs they had pulled of the bed and dumped in the corner.

"Rest," he gestured aimlessly, "Go find a bed and have a good rest. I will monitor things here and come get you if anything… happens, not that I think it will."

Glinda's head dropped forward, her chin low. She _was_ tired, the impact of the events of the day rested heavily on her shoulders, pushing her down.

She needed to stay there, but she also needed to rest.

She was no fool; she knew what a lack of sleep could do to a person's mind. Look at… well, look at how Elphaba was – had been behaving, she claimed she could not sleep, had not done so for a long while.

"I… I can't just leave her," she mumbled more into her chest than to the Animal knelt before her.

"I will be watching over her," he stressed gently, repeating what he had said before in his effort to get her to rest.

She shook her head slowly, both due to the lack of her energy and in an effort to avoid worsening the pain in her head.

"Well…" He said with a long, drawn out hum, "I cannot force you, though I should advise that resting here will no doubt cause an ache in your back, among other things."

"I need to stay here," she confirmed, pressing the tips of her fingers lightly to her forehead, scrunching her eyes up in her exhaustion.

The doctor nodded, patting her softly on her upper arm, before pushing himself up to his feet. She was unsure how he could have stayed on his knees, hunched forward for so long. Not just with her, but when he had been treating Elphaba, which naturally had taken much longer.

The rug muffled his heavy footsteps as he headed towards the door, "I will be back shortly, I am just going to update the others and get a bite to eat – to bring back here of course."

Glinda's response was sluggish, her head still hanging low. It occurred to her now that the doctor had worked for a long time with no rest, nor a break for food or water. He would likely need a rest to, but he was sacrificing it to keep an eye on both of them. She would need to thank him, properly, somehow.

He had, after all, quite likely saved Elphaba's life.

Yes. She needed to find some way to thank him, she just did not know how at that moment.

She fought against a large yawn, blinking slowly.

Soon sleep found her.

* * *

><p>"Dorothy has brought you breakfast."<p>

Glinda, for once in her life, did not care that she was not presentable – nor even what image she was putting across. Instead she snuggled deeper into the blankets she had draped over herself to get her through her rest. She stayed buried beneath them for a short moment, before she sighed, pushing them off her, allowing the air that felt chilled to her skin to fully wake her. She knew it was only the blankets upon her and the warmth they absorbed that had made the room feel cool, the fire was still roaring, she could only assume the doctor had stoked it and added some more wood during her sleep.

"She, umm…" The Scarecrow scratched at his chin, his eyes shooting up and focusing as if he were trying to see his own forehead, "Doesn't want to come in though, but she still wanted to bring it to you, but as such you will have to go out to fetch it, of course."

Glinda rubbed at the corner of her left eye with her knuckle, it was too early to deal with the Scarecrow's jumbled manner of speaking. She stood to retrieve the food she did not want to eat even as she said, "Why did you not bring it?"

"Oh…" The Scarecrow replied, his painted on, yet moving eyes, dropping to her face, "I didn't think."

The throb in her hands was enough of a distraction that she did not give in and mutter about the man's (or whatever he was) stupidity.

She stopped before the door, turning to check Elphaba who still slept soundly. She did not wish to leave her side and had to tell herself, over and over, that it would be only for a moment. Then she would be back. Nothing truly dreadful could happen in such a short space of time, could it?

Well, considering how things had been going lately, she could not be entirely certain of that particular thought.

Still, she had to be brave. She opened the door, exiting into the corridor with the Scarecrow following. Upon seeing Dorothy he immediately closed the door behind him.

The girl stood there, a tray clutched between her hands, she straightened her arms, gesturing for Glinda to take it. Glinda did so, hiding a wince of pain, surprised when she saw that the food on there was cooked meat and eggs. She had no idea where that had come from.

"Thank you," Glinda said with a smile, assuming that the girl had cooked the food herself. Glinda turned to return to her room, only to be stopped in her tracks when Dorothy spoke.

"The others have been talking, and they think it best we return to the Emerald City as quickly as possible. Just in case anything..."Dorothy's brow furrowed, looking so much like the child she was rather than the mature young woman she tried to act like, "… happens." She finished, looking rather lost at just what those words could mean.

In truth, Glinda was not sure what the girl's friends meant either. What she _did_ know however, where the words reminded her of her abandoned duties.

They were not the only ones that needed to return to the City.

Who knows what had occurred during her time away? For all she was aware there could be a large pile of letters demanding her urgent attention, regardless of her telling Genfee she had default her duties to him while she was away on 'other business'. The conflict she had seen in the library square may have spread and grown while she was away, or perhaps the Wizard had repressed all such behaviour with severity.

The group would no doubt walk, as they had to arrive there, despite the snow that still lay thickly on the ground. The caravan Glinda had taken there would not return until long after the winter had passed, so there was no way to return that way.

For some reason her mind flickered back to Dorothy's mention of the spell on her shoes. Glinda had thought of it as a travelling spell of sorts, perhaps there was a spell that _could_ aid in travel. That could help her return to the City quickly, for she needed to return before the group did so that she could see as much of the events that were to take place as possible. To ensure her plan came to the needed conclusion.

She would have to look into her idea later on, when her mind was calm and she had more time, even if time _was_ of the essence.

"Have you retrieved the required objects yet?" They could not forget them; if they did it could possible make what was to occur far more difficult.

Dorothy looked to her shoes for a moment, her teeth peeking out to bite at her bottom lip, "I did not want to go back into that room, not again."

Glinda shifted the tray in her hands, not caring that the contents were cooling rapidly or that the action caused twin shootings of pain up her arms, "I can understand that." She tilted her head to meet Dorothy's gaze, encouraging her to raise her head, "Do not blame yourself Dorothy."

The girl gave a little nod of her head, her lips curling into the soft smile that always seemed to be in place, "I will go see what I can find now, but… well I do not know what is unusual here or what is not. And I rather not be on my own in there."

Ah, that was right wasn't it? Dorothy claimed to be from a land outside of Oz.

"I will help." The Scarecrow walked to Dorothy's side with long, unnecessary strides if he were a man, "I am sure I could tell what is unique and what is not, and being there will mean you are not alone, even more so when you get Toto."

"Bring me the book though, I will ensure it does not fall into the wrong hands."

Dorothy jerked her head in a nod, her expression determined, "Of course, Miss."

Glinda shifted again, risking balancing her tray on one arm and intensifying the pain it caused, so she could place her free hand on Dorothy's shoulder, giving her a brief, comforting squeeze before retreating swiftly.

"Remember to find Locasta, and if I do not see you again in my right mind, in case I forget to say it, know that you. All of you." She directed her words to the Scarecrow for he was the only one of the group present, "Are good people, and you already have what you seek. And Dorothy…" The girl perked up, a tapping sound catching their attention as they turned to see Toto making his way to Dorothy's side. Glinda waited for her to scoop the dog up in her arms before finishing her sentence, "You will find your way home, I promise you."

The girl's eyes shone as she smiled and moved past Glinda with the Scarecrow at her side and dog in her arms.

It was a bit of a challenge to open the door, one she managed to conquer after a few short moments. The least she could do was to attempt to eat the by now cold food on the tray.

* * *

><p>It was only as she sat down in her chair and began to eat, that she was aware of just how much she had strained her healing hands, whimpering as she attempted to eat with cutlery. It had not occurred to her that the light, though burdensome, tray would cause such a significant impact.<p>

It did not take her too long to eat her breakfast, though of course it took much longer than it would have if she was in the best of health.

Finished, she set the tray down on the dresser near the fire, casting her eye over Elphaba while worrying her bottom lip.

Clearly, from what the Scarecrow had said and the faint sunlight that filtered through the windows in the corridor, it was the morning. She should not be _that_ concerned Elphaba had yet to wake, yes she was an early riser, but she had been through a traumatic experience.

Well… they all had, but still, her point remained, even if it only existed in her effort to control herself and prevent tears from falling.

She neared the bed, hesitating there in her attempt to stop herself from touching the damaged face of the woman she loved. Instead, she reached into the gap between dresser and bed, retrieving the bag from there with a barely concealed whoosh of pain from her lips. She had grown used to the weight of the book, but now with the wounds on her hands still fresh, it felt so much heavier and tugged painfully at her healing skin.

It was foolish really, she had never truly been a believer in old legends or religions as a whole, but even so she retrieved the Pfenix figure from in the bag. A smile found its way to her face as she looked at the gift from the Whittler, pressing the exposed tips of her fingers to her lips and then to its head. She placed it on the now clear bedside table, shifting it slightly so it faced the bed, as if it were looking over the occupant. Satisfied with the placement, she bowed her head and uttered some long, almost forgotten words from her youth.

A silly belief perhaps, but one she was willing to open her mind to in such a troublesome time.

There she remained and it remained, two silent guardians.

* * *

><p>Elphaba had still not woken by the time the Scarecrow knocked on the door again, beckoning Glinda outside to retrieve the other book. Dorothy's cheeks were flushed as she handed it over. The Scarecrow clutched the scorched broom in one hand and a foreign bottle with a minimal amount of liquid contained within in the other.<p>

Their goodbyes were short, but not tense, Glinda clutching the book to her chest much as she often did with her own. All that she had wished to tell the group she had already said, though she did wish to say her goodbyes to them all. Unfortunately, she could not afford to wander too far from the room, nor could they truly afford to waste any more time moving about the castle saying their own goodbyes.

She insisted they take as much as they could possibly need, with far fewer people in the castle they could chance giving away a good portion of food, and really out of the group only three required food. And one of those three was a dog surely used to scraps.

She also told them that if they required extra clothing for warmth through the snow in the mountains, that they could take any spare clothes that they could find.

Naturally, Dorothy politely declined, but upon Glinda's repeated insistence she gave in. Or so Glinda hoped. She had grown rather fond of the group, and she would truly hate for anything to happen to any of them. And not just because that would affect her plan.

She could have tried to reverse the spell and taken the shoes from Dorothy, given them to Elphaba and ended her obsession. But that would have been feeding the madness wouldn't it? Rewarding the time she spent being harassed by the insanity that had seized her in a choking grip.

No, Glinda had decided, that would be a terrible mistake.

Now, it would be best for them to disappear entirely, never to be seen again. And with that in mind she had hatched a plan of sorts and informed Dorothy of it. If she was to return home she would take them with her, or dispose of them on the way.

One day, she hoped to repay the members of the group that remained in Oz. For if Dorothy left she would sadly never be able to repay her. All of them had aided in some way, she owed them a large debt. One she could not be certain she could ever truly repay.

They left when the hulking form of the doctor approached. The Ape opening the door and ushering her in.

She stood a few steps behind him, after placing the book in the bag with her own. She fidgeted with her fingers as he ran through what she assumed to be the usual checks required in such situations.

"There is not much more I can do until she wakes now," he said finally, standing back to his feet and turning to face her, "There may be permanent damage to her eye, possible blindness and scarring."

"Blindness in just that eye?" She asked, not sure if she could cope with such a change. Not sure if _Elphaba_ could cope with being unable to read, that was one of the activities that calmed her the most so long ago.

The doctor – who she only now realised she did not know the name of – nodded, "Your hands may also be permanently marred."

The Glinda of old would have broken then, balling her fists and screaming with horror. The Glinda that existed now merely nodded her acceptance. It was a small price to pay if her actions had indeed saved Elphaba's life. Gloves existed for a reason.

"Why did you help? Not that I am not thankful," she stressed the addition to her sentence, her eyes widening before she added, "There are many who would refuse."

"I do not mean to sound like I have a large ego," the doctor began, rubbing at his hairy chin with a large hand, "but I am a logical person, I believe in observing all sides of an argument before coming to my conclusion. And logical I have been in this case. Both sides have appeared to have done wrong, and so I have chosen no side, though I display a preference for one. The one who has done more 'good' though their methods may have been extreme. A preference, but not a side." He finished with another tooth bearing smile, the dark skin besides his eyes crinkling, "Something I am sure you have done also."

Glinda was not entirely sure she understood what he was suggesting, but perhaps that was only due to the exhaustion of her mind.

"She will be fine, in health, that is, she will live." He said as he walked forward, knuckles brushing the floor as he hunched over for a moment, "I will be back when she wakes."

He straightened up, pressing a supportive hand on her shoulder, naturally she was dwarfed by it, the sight of which was more than a little frightening. He gave a surprisingly light squeeze before leaving the room.

* * *

><p>Considering how much of a gossip she was, it was shocking that Nanny only arrived to see what was happening much later on.<p>

She tutted at the sight of Elphaba, shaking her head as if she expected this very thing to happen. She stood there as Glinda shifted in her chair, idly wondering if she should move for Nanny to sit.

At long last, after much staring and head shaking, Nanny spoke, "That monkey got in the pantry."

"What?" Glinda exclaimed, of all the things she expected the woman to say, _that_ was most definitely not one of them.

"The small one, not the big one," Nanny supplied unhelpfully.

Gritting her teeth at the old woman, Glinda busied herself looking over the bandages on her hands, trying to not let the woman's apparent lack of care bother her.

Nanny huffed in annoyance at her, making Glinda raise her eyes, her irritation apparent. Glinda spared a glance to the still slumbering Elphaba before fully acknowledging Nanny.

"Where were you when it all happened?"

It was an obvious question, and yet one she had not asked of Dorothy's group when really she should have. It was only an assumption on her part, but the group had been at breakfast with Nanny, it was only logical they had all been together when whatever had happened had, well, happened.

"Got locked in the kitchen, didn't we?" She motioned with her head to Elphaba, the sight of which caused Glinda's heart to clench painfully, "Nanny guesses it was this one's doing."

Glinda lifted her shoulders in an undignified shrug, "I can only assume so."

Nanny caught sight of some of the few remaining crackers from the day before, eyeing them greedily as she subtly moved towards them.

"I assume the others have gone?"

Nanny hummed her confirmation, plucking at the edge of a cracker. Glinda rolled her eyes.

"Where's the servant boy?" She asked, he was the only member of the household she had not seen since the whole event had happened.

"Oh him? He went off with that girl and her odd friends, I suspect he'll be back some day, they always come back."

Well, that was rather foolish of him, not that she said that out loud. A young boy left to his own devices in the City, with no money or means of support would not end well. She could only hope the remainder of Dorothy's group looked after him.

Nanny grabbed another cracker.

"You can have them," Glinda said, finishing of her sentence with a sigh.

Nanny grinned gummily, seizing the plate and charging towards the door without so much as a thank you.

"Thank you, Nanny."

The old woman grunted, disappearing out the door with a muttered goodbye.

Glinda stood, dusting at her skirts lightly with her hands, before crouching before the fire. She risked her hand to grab the nearby poker to stoke the fire until it crackled and spat with heat.

But there was something beneath the sounds.

Her head shot up.

A groan.

Yes, she had definitely heard a…

"Elphie?" She asked hopefully, jumping to her feet far too quickly causing her head to spin.

"What…"

Hearing that word, and now seeing the fluttering of the woman's eyelashes brought a smile to Glinda's face. A broad smile, which tugged too hard at her cheeks, but one she would not let fall no matter how awkwardly it made her face and wounds ache.

"You're awake." Glinda's voice was filled to the brim with relief. She made her way to the side of the bed swiftly, seizing a bottle containing water as she did so.

It was not a shock when Elphaba attempted to push herself up, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"You should be resting," Glinda insisted, risking pressing her hand lightly against Elphaba's shoulder in order to get her to lie down again, or at least only have her head raised, something Elphaba clearly wanted. So naturally, Glinda shifted the pillows beneath the woman's head until she could do just that.

Elphaba's eyes were far wider than Glinda had ever seen them, almost childlike in a way. It was concerning, but a concern that soon vanished as Elphaba's fogged eyes seemed to focus. The woman blinking slowly before turning to look at Glinda head on.

"Do you remember…" Glinda trailed off, prompting Elphaba to say something. Anything.

"Of course." Elphaba growled out, not out of anger, but due to the dryness of her throat.

Glinda offered the bottle in her hand to Elphaba, stopping at the last moment when she remembered just what was in it. She would have to get her some tea, or something – she could drink that, if she remembered correctly, despite the water content.

"Stay there." Glinda levelled her gaze at Elphaba, putting as much authority in to her tone and her form as possible. Judging from Elphaba's expression, one of reluctant obedience, she knew she would not move. It was a relief in a way, for that was such an Elphaba expression, one she had not seen for so long that it made her heart soar, "I'll be back as quickly as possible."

And she was, somehow managing to make the run to the kitchen in her heels and skirts and pained limbs. She saw no one on the way, made a pot of tea and carried it and a cup in her hands despite the pain it caused, and returned in a matter of moments.

She presented a full cup to Elphaba, placing the teapot on the dresser, and the other woman grabbed the cup none too gently from her hands, drinking from it greedily even though it was surely too hot.

Glinda waited, pouring Elphaba another drink when she finished the contents of the cup.

"Can you see properly?" Was Glinda's tentative question once Elphaba was no longer drinking, but rather looking at her hands, taking in the scarred skin there.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"The doctor said that you may lose sight in the eye that took more, um, damage."

Elphaba squinted at her words, visibly wincing when the motion pulled painfully at the aforementioned eye.

"I am not wearing an eye patch."

It was Glinda's turn to look baffled, "What?"

"Covering the eye can help it heal," Elphaba explained like it were something ever one should know. It would seem that the events were enough to distract Elphaba from what had incited her rage the day before. Or perhaps she was simply confused. Which, honestly, was expected.

"The Wizard won't bother you again; you don't have to worry any more about that."

This was quite likely Elphaba's first decent rest in a long time, and quite likely (and hopefully) the explanation for the clarity in the other woman's eyes, and the sense she was making. Now if only Glinda could get her to sleep regularly, then perhaps the Witch would be a long forgotten memory – or nightmare.

It was wrong of her, she knew, to think of The Witch and Elphaba as separate entities, but if it helped her to cope with things than she would continue to do so.

"They have gone?" Elphaba's lips curled down, showing a glint of teeth, surely not comfortable for her considering the damage to her face, "Taken what is rightfully mine?"

Glinda bit back her disheartened sigh, instead trying to steer away from the exact source of Elphaba's rising anger, "They do not take the book, that is somewhere untouchable."

The woman's face remained unmoving, but the annoyance bubbling beneath her skin was rolling off her in waves.

"Elphie…" Glinda knelt by the side of the bed, no longer hesitating, instead out rightly pressing her hand over Elphaba's lightly, "Look what the obsession did to you…"

It was a plea, more than anything, for Elphaba to see what had become of her, to understand that her fixation was caused by insanity, that there was no logic in it. Yes, the shoes had belonged to Nessarose, but she had so many other belongings too. Could not another suffice?

So, naturally, Glinda could only press the point further, "The doctor says that the worst of the… damage, will likely leave scarring." Elphaba's eyes flickered down to their hands, something changing in her gaze for a split second, "It would have been a lot worse if I hadn't… well, if I hadn't done what I did."

The other woman's gaze grew distant then, her jaw tight. All signs Glinda recognised, Elphaba was remembering, thinking back to the events of the day before no doubt.

"How?" She began with a twitch to her brow, "How did you heal me? You Sorcery was never that skilled, or so you lead me to believe."

Rather than rolling her eyes at the 'insult', or rising to the bait, Glinda's smile widen before wavering ever so slightly.

How _had_ she done it? When that book fell open before her, the healing spell in front of her eyes, she had seemed possessed by something far beyond her. The words tumbling from her lips as if she were merely a puppet, a figure for someone else to speak through. Perhaps she only felt that way due to the memories of that moment being shrouded in panic and anxiety, she had been running on adrenaline and naturally her recollection was clouded. Muddled. Perhaps it was only the vagueness that made it all feel so beyond her control.

"I used the book. Your book," she corrected. As close to the truth as she would venture with Elphaba in the state she was in presently, "I do need to return to the City, however briefly. I was thinking, perhaps, that there may be some traveling spell in that book of yours."

The healing spell had left her wounded, but maybe something else had caused the damage. The strain for example.

But, in all, perhaps it was not a good idea using the book again.

Elphaba's eyes hardened, her brown irises darkening with a sudden surge of emotion, "That book is nothing but trouble, full of ways to kill and torture. It's a curse. A blight."

"I saw nothing like that when I looked at it."

"You were, I imagine, in a rush."

"Yes, well, anyone would have been in my place."

"You said the book is gone." Elphaba glared at her, suspicion written over her features, "Yet you will look in it for a spell."

It was not a question, mere a statement of Glinda's own mistake. She thought she had gotten past such easily made errors long ago, but then again, with Elphaba all her long learnt lessons seemed to be forgotten in seconds. As if she had not spent most of her life learning them.

"Actually, I said it was somewhere safe, untouchable by anyone – well, except for myself."

"Don't you dare use it Glinda," Elphaba snarled, not with anger at Glinda, but rather at the idea of the book. Of ever using it again, "Never. Do you understand?"

Glinda nodded her understanding, but not her compliance. Elphaba was being perhaps a tad overzealous, or perhaps there was something to her claims, not that Glinda could necessarily know what that was. The book had seemed perfectly useful when she had ever so briefly looked at it herself, there had truly been nothing even remotely like what Elphaba had said the book contained.

Elphaba calmed at Glinda's apparent acceptance and obedience of her order, glancing back to their joined hands.

"They have all gone?"

"Yes, even the servant boy left with them. Now there is only Nanny and the doctor."

Elphaba's gaze grew distant, her pupils growing in size. Glinda wondered if the other woman had even heard her, then Elphaba blinked, her eyes focusing on Glinda once more, "He is not a servant."

"I know."

Elphaba's expression remained blank, though her gaze shook for a moment, or so Glinda thought.

The silence that settled over them was heavy, and to Glinda it felt awkward as she struggled with her thoughts and just what to say.

She moved her hand away, resting it on her upper leg. Her knees were beginning to ache from the extended length of time that she had been kneeling.

Throughout this exchange, Glinda feared she would see the madness resurface in Elphaba's eyes, but it hadn't, not yet. There had been moments when she thought it would return in force, but so far… so far it had gone well.

She needed to return to the City; the doctor would no doubt remain there to monitor his patient, that knowledge was just enough to keep her calm. To know that nothing terrible would happen while she was gone.

Yes, _while_ she was gone, for she needed to return there because…

She just _needed_ to.

And there was one thing she wanted to be known before she left, something she hoped Elphaba would absorb and take on board. To see the truth in Glinda's words that she wanted her to know, if only in her own attempt to help Elphaba heal. To help her return to the woman she once was, which Glinda knew deep in her heart, buried though it may be, that would never happen.

"Your Father is still alive, there's still time." She had said it many times before; all of these things. That was the definition of insanity wasn't it? Redoing the same actions again and again in the hope the results would be different.

She recalled the words in her book, that Frex was not truly Elphaba's father, but they both believed it to be so. Why should she be the one to destroy their connection, even if it was already strained and damaged? Frayed, perhaps, almost beyond repair.

No. She would help repair it, for she was sure it would help both father and daughter if she did.

It was only a suspicion, but perhaps she thought the shoes were so important not because of what they were or who they belonged to, but rather what they represented.

Love.

"You remember what I once said, correct? About the bird figure?"

There was no verbal response, but Elphaba's eyes dropped to her hands, surveying the fresh bandages there which did not hide all of the damage; her eyes narrowed.

There was so much else that Glinda wanted to say; _needed _to say, yet her tongue remained unmoving, stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her hands fisted the material of her skirt, her own eyes falling to the rug she rested on.

So much to say, yet she couldn't. Before, when she had first arrived here, the words fell from her lips as if they had hung there on the edge, waiting for that little push. Now all that came out were bland, unemotional words, descriptions of what happened, rather than what circled beneath her breast, pushing and pushing, yet unable to break through some invisible, unmoveable barrier.

"I will tell the doctor you are awake, and that you need subsistence."

Glinda stood, picking up her bag with some effort, and sliding it onto her shoulder. It hurt, even made her learn slightly to the right, but it was less painful than carrying it in her hands.

"Then I must go, but I'll be back."

By the door now, she peered over her shoulder to see Elphaba's eyes had closed, though whether she was falling asleep or not, Glinda did not know.

"I'll be back. I promise."

She had held out, however in vain that action had been, and she would continue to do so until, perhaps, she could do so no longer. Not out of choice, never out of choice. No matter what happened.

She would never stop.

* * *

><p>Flicking through Elphaba's book, her previous thoughts were confirmed, there was nothing she saw that matched Elphaba's claims. No spells that could cause intentional pain, something she had never heard Sorcery skills being capable of. No torture devices, nothing.<p>

What she did find, surprisingly quickly, was a spell that claimed to be for emergency transportation. She had never heard of such spells, but she had also never seen a healing spell capable of doing what she had done the day before. Perhaps there was more to Sorcery than she, and many others, had ever been taught.

To create such a book, filled as it was with pages upon pages of spells, would take a true master of the art. Of which there were so few the only ones that knowingly existed were nothing more than legends, long dead and nothing more than faded words in dusty, mouldy books.

So what was to say the book did not contain a spell that would make traveling such a long distance swifter? Besides everything she had ever been taught, that is.

She did not need to take much with her, for she had brought little with her and most of what she had been using belonged to the previous occupants. So naturally most of her belongings were at her home.

She had informed the doctor that she would be leaving, and to her relief he had said that he would indeed need to remain there for a significant length of time to ensure his patient was fully healed – or as much as she ever would be. Nanny barely responded to her temporary farewell, choosing instead to complain about how little variety the food they had left had.

Glinda had rolled her eyes at that, before going to the large, empty dining room to pour over the book. Premature, perhaps, to have said her goodbyes before she had actually found how she was going to travel, but even so it had worked out in the end.

She had found a spell.

She stood there now, reading over it, wondering just how a travelling spell worked at all. For as she had already noted, to her knowledge there were no spells for transport, only those that could aid with a journey. And she only knew that due to the spell Locasta cast on Dorothy's shoes. Perhaps she _was_ mistaken, especially as she saw the words before her.

She rested her hands lightly on either side of the book, leaning forward slightly to take in the book before her. She had no idea what would happen when she used the spell, but really what choice did she have? Besides waiting until the caravan returned long after the winter ended.

She needed to do this. She had brushed off her duties, chosen her heart over her brain. Now she needed to focus on the latter, balancing the two later if she possibly could. For she could not abandon Elphaba, not entirely, even if it were for the greater benefit of many if she did focus solely on her duties. But did she not deserve some sort of happiness? Both of them?

A quick nod to herself, she set about her task with determination. This was something she _had_ to do after all.

She cleared her mind, calmed her breathing, and focused on the energy that existed deep inside of her as she began to speak the words before her aloud. The edges of her vision darkened as she concentrated entirely on what was in front of her, until all she had was that thread connecting her and the words. The thread building and strengthening until it was stronger, thicker, steel now rather than string. Pulling and pulling and pulling –

She stumbled forward, her legs crumpling beneath her. She caught herself on a tree, the rough bark pushing into her tender palms even through the bandages there, hunching over as she relieved herself of her small breakfast.

The bark broke beneath her nails, the grit of it becoming trapped beneath them. The gentle breeze lapping at her heated skin.

Her heaving chest calmed, her breathing returning close to normal.

She was outside?

Where was the book, she whirled about, eyes wide and head spinning.

Her stomach churned uncomfortably.

With unsteady steps she moved away from the tree, her hand reaching blindly into the bag at her side for the bottle of water she had placed in there.

Her fingers hesitated on the glass bottle, her eyes dropping to her bag.

The book was in her bag, safe alongside her own, but how? She had not put it back in there, the last she saw of it was on the table as she read the spell.

She pressed her other hand to her forehead, her head clogged and fogged.

She fumbled, but was finally able to uncork the bottle, she drunk hungrily both due to an actual thirst she had not realised until she began drinking, and due to the unpleasant taste that clung to her tongue and the roof of her mouth.

She took in the surroundings, while surprisingly free of people, she knew where she was. The outskirts of the City.

Instantaneous transportation? But such a thing was impossible!

Yet there she stood, with the familiar lights of the City before her, her stomach flipping and knotting.

It was late in the afternoon, she noted as she looked to the west, not that she paid it much attention, she was unsure what the time difference was between central Oz and the Vinkus, but a few hours seemed about right.

The houses nearby were in darkness.

Glinda replaced the cork in the bottle and placed it back in her bag.

Right, queasy or not. Confused or not, she needed to return home. See what was happening and wait for Dorothy and her group to arrive, which she was certain would be greeted with some fanfare. Thankfully, it would make it easier for her to know when they did arrive there.

She retrieved a pair of gloves from her bag and pulled them on, readjusting them once to ensure they covered her hands well, before she made her way to the City.

* * *

><p>Thankfully she had ended up near the main entryway to the City, a brightly lit place with many people of high respectability. Moving on her own through the City was an oddity, as was travelling on foot, but she knew full well she would be safe in that area. However, as an extra precaution she stuck to the main roads, partly due to the safety it brought as well as the fact she only knew how to reach her home this way, as it was the path she observed from her carriage window.<p>

As always, excluding a few rare occurrences, the winter snow had not reached the City. And the chill was significantly lessened than where she had just been.

Nothing really seemed all that different than when she was last here, perhaps her worries had been unfounded after all. Or perhaps the problems were only blatantly apparent in the areas were more people would be affected, namely the poorer areas of the City. Areas she had never been near let alone seen, she might be doing what she was to help such people, but that did not mean she would be foolish enough to wander into such areas. Especially not on her own and with her wealth apparent.

The City was a large place, and if she had any of her money left she would most definitely have ordered a cab to take her home, especially considering how out of sorts and unwell she felt, but of course she had none left. So she walked.

And walked.

Darkness encroaching swiftly.

Perhaps she could catch a cab and pay them once she returned home, she had funds there she could easily retrieve to do so.

Still she walked.

She kept her head down, ignoring the questioning looks sent her way. The eyes of those strangers making her unease grow, surely they did not recognise her – she was not a big name after all – so why were they looking. Was it perhaps her plainer clothes that drew confusion, or was there something about her that she had not realised?

She paused beneath a streetlight, the flame flickering slightly, and gazed into the window of a closed shop besides her, trying to discern if there was something wrong with her appearance. There was nothing she could detect, the wound on her forehead covered by her hair and scavenged makeup, but even so she straightened her clothes, not that they required it, and fussed with her hair.

"Glinda!" She froze at the sudden voice, one she recognised but could not place. She turned to see a blonde woman rushing to her side, a relieved smile stretched across her face, "Sorry. I mean Your Eminence."

As the woman came to stop beneath the gaslight, her face came into clear view. Despite only meeting briefly, Glinda recognised her instantly.

"Locasta?" Glinda tried to hide her surprise, for out of all the people that she could possibly have bumped into on her return home, The Adept of The North was not one of them. "You do not have to use my title."

"Ah yes, if you say so." The woman smiled, her chest rising faster than normal, showing she had rushed after her, "I was just on my way to see you actually."

The taller Gillikinese woman's smile turned softer then, as if she were concerned, "You look tired." Uncaring for convention, she placed her hand on Glinda's arm, guiding her ever so gently, "There is a café nearby that should still be open, how about we get you a drink and perhaps something to eat? Have a bit of a chat."

"I have only just eaten," Glinda protested even as she obediently followed after the other woman, in truth her shoulder was aching fiercely, a chance to relieve it sounded more than pleasant. Even if it would only make the pain more apparent when she continued her journey home.

"Just a drink then," Locasta supplied cheerfully as they skirted around a couple blocking the pavement, "I am surprised you are not travelling by cab, walking is not always the easiest mode of transport here. And you are rather far from your home, I had to hop out of my carriage to catch up to you."

"Are they waiting for you?" Glinda asked suddenly panicked, but soon calmed when Locasta shook her head.

The mention of transport had Glinda think back to how she was there in the first place. Locasta was an Adept, an individual who was truly skilled more than any other in Sorcery, if anyone could answer her query it would be her.

"Locasta?" She asked as they turned a corner, pausing in the middle of her question as a carriage rolled noisily past, "Do you know of any spells for trans

transportation. To move from one place to another almost instantaneously?"

The Adept stopped, and Glinda noticed they were outside of a café, surely the one Locasta had mentioned.

"That is simply not possible."

Glinda bit her lip, wondering if perhaps she should mentioned the book at her side, or perhaps even show the other woman.

"There are spells that can _aid_ in travel, but none that can _make_ you travel. One of the many limits of Sorcery."

"I thought so, for that is what I was taught," Glinda responded, turning away to hide her face, just in case it showed something she did not want it to.

Locasta moved past her, holding the door of the café open and ushering her in.

"Did you study Sorcery?" They sat at a table in a secluded corner, despite the fact the café was near empty, "What a silly question, you all but stated you did." Locasta leant forward, her face brightening even further – she reminded Glinda of her dear old Ama in a way, "I have never met another Sorcery student since I graduated, too many drop out or are removed because they do not house the innate ability."

Locasta cut of her rapidly building rant, one Glinda was actually in truth rather interested in, if only due to her being in a rather similar position herself. Glinda turned to her right to see the sole worker in the café approaching their table.

Glinda refused to order anything, not out of not wanting a drink, the prospect of drinking something actually decent for the first time in a while was very appealing, but because she had no money to pay for anything.

Locasta ordered for both of them, despite Glinda's protests, which naturally made the worker shuffle awkwardly on her feet.

"I'll pay for us both, don't you worry."

Glinda wondered if she knew she had no money on her, but knew just how ridiculous that thought was. Then again, considering what she was wearing…

Feeling uncomfortable, Glinda loosened her cloak, but kept it around her shoulders.

The worker headed back to the counter to fulfil their drinks order, prompting Locasta to speak once more – though in a lower than normal tone.

"You will be pleased to know Dorothy shared your information with me. I see no reason not to believe her, may I see this book she mentioned though? The one that contained the information."

Glinda blinked, her eyes falling shut shortly afterwards as she pressed two fingers to her uninjured temple.

How could Dorothy have told Locasta about the book? How could she have given her the information when they had not returned yet?

She opened her eye to be greeted by the concerned expression of the other woman, Glinda spoke before she could inquire after what was wrong.

"A communication spell?"

Was there even such a thing?

Locasta's concerned expression grew stronger, her lips parting and brow lowering, "No. They returned this morning."

What?!

They had only left that morning, how could they have arrived so fast? It was impossible!

Glinda's eyes widened. She struggled to swallow as she looked down at the bag resting beside her feet. The book.

Her brow twitched, something the other woman noted, but thankfully said nothing about.

The healing spell had healed Elphaba, for the most part, but had apparently also harmed her. The transportation spell had brought her here, yet apparently took time away from her?

She pressed a hand to her head, which had resumed swimming at her realisation.

"Glinda?" Locasta's voice was distant, as if far away and muffled beneath layers upon layers of material.

Glinda's breathing had grown rapid, her chest rising and falling far too quickly. It did not help her head any.

She heard the far away sound of scraping, then a comforting arm was wrapped around her shoulders, something just the right side of hot pressed to her lips and forehead.

The confusion and pain faded, the warmth seeping from the contact points slowly through her body, until she could feel it tingling in her toes and fingers.

She blinked sluggishly, the contact and warmth fading as she turned to face bright blue eyes.

"Are you alright now?"

"I…" Glinda looked around, the worker appeared with two cups seemingly not having witnessed whatever had happened, while the few other customers had vanished, "I… think so."

Locasta's worried expression lessened, her smile returning in its stead as she returned to her seat; Glinda only then having realised the other woman's arm had remained around her after the warmth had gone.

She was unsure what the other woman had done, but she knew it could not have been something terrible, and as it had made her feel much better and far calmer. She was not worried about that.

No. What caused her anxiety to remain, however buried she managed to force it down in that moment, was what that spell had done. The one _she_ had used. What _that_ book had done. Elphaba had been right yet again. Even if her comments on the contents of the book were wrong, there was something most definitely amiss about it.

Her book, however… she had already thought over its potential for good and its potential for harm. In the wrong hands it could be dangerous. But Locasta, well, Glinda felt instinctively that she could and should trust her.

The worker placed the cups in front of them before returning to her spot at the counter.

"You can see it, though I worry about what could happen if it fell into the wrong hands…"

"In private then. Perfectly understandable, beneficial too, as we have much to discuss." The worry rolling of Locasta seemed lessened, for which Glinda was thankful for.

"We do?"

"He departed in such a rush that he left behind most of his belongings." Locasta began, Glinda quickly filled in the gaps, understanding just who it was she was taking about.

So, The Wizard was gone? What happened now?

"I found letters from you, inquiring after meeting regarding reunification of Oz. There were multiple letters from you on the topic, and as I saw none on other topics I could only assume that you received no response. Why else ask of the same thing time and time again?"

It was perhaps wrong of Glinda to feel surprise that Locasta had managed to come to such a conclusion by herself. Though perhaps the pull of guilt in her chest had more to do with her selfish thoughts that, at one stage, people would likely have thought much the same of her. Maybe they still did.

Locasta lifted her cup to her lips, sipping daintily, an action Glinda copied. She savoured the taste of the liquid, a Gillikinese drink of roasted beans. She distinctly remembered many nights and days at University survived only due to it.

Placing the cup back down, she picked up two sugar cubes from the bowl on the table and dropped them into her cup, stirring slowly with her spoon.

"You would be correct."

Locasta's generally cheerful expression fell again, her smooth brow furrowing, "He could have lessened our problems, and yet he chose not to."

"Problems?"

"Oh!" Locasta's eyebrows shot up, her eyes growing wide, "You were unaware."

Locasta pressed a hand to her forehead, shaking her head subtly.

"I am to lead Oz. Even if only temporary."

Locasta was to be their new ruler? That did not fill her with dread as she feared it may if it were anyone else.

"Do not be so hard on yourself." Glinda waited until the other woman met her gaze, smiling as supportively as she could manage in her current state of being.

Locasta looked away, sweeping her gaze over the near empty café, before returning her eyes to Glinda, "I suppose you weren't told. Munchkinland produces most of Oz's food and has the largest supply of water. If Oz remained separated in the long-term then there could be shortages. If Munchkinland were to withhold their supplies the rest of Oz could be in serious trouble. There were plans I found detailing invasion plans if Munchkinland were to try to charge a premium on the supplies or –

"If they held them."

"Yes." Locasta nodded, worrying her lip with her teeth for a brief moment, "I wished to give The Wizard the benefit of the doubt, but with your confirmation about the letters and what else I have been told and seen. I see he was behind it all. To think, The Witch was right, and died before we realised."

Glinda swallowed her panic with another sip of her drink.

"He was a _wicked_ man."

"How…" Glinda asked as she placed her cup down, deciding she had finished with it now, "How many people know the truth?"

"Including you. Very few. We are presently deciding whether to spread the word or not. Both sides of the argument have valid points."

Glinda nodded, seeing even with her very brief thoughts on that matter why that would be a conflicted issue.

"And so, back to the topic at hand." Locasta folded her hands neatly on the edge of the table, straightening her back in a stern position even as she smiled, "We have a reunification to organise."

Through her weariness and exhaustion, Glinda found herself smiling gratefully. Perhaps if she weren't so lacking in energy her reaction would be more pronounced, but as it was, she still had concerns. She likely always would be second guessing things, both in her control and out of it.

"Are you sure there will not be opposition to your decision? That perhaps it should be put to a vote?"

"Were you planning on a vote?" Locasta asked not unkindly.

"No…" Glinda sighed, "I wasn't. Nessarose made the decision on her own, and so I believed I should too. There was a lot of opposition to her action, but now there is a lot against my decision. I believe that is the way of most political decisions."

"Munchkin's don't like change." Locasta followed her words with a laugh, not an unkind one, but bright and knowing. Of course, the Munchkins in general adored her, and she them, "You are correct by the way. No matter what either of us decides to do, there will be people who are against us. I do not like going against people's wishes, but if, in the end, it is what is best for them and their future, then I see no other way to proceed."

Glinda found her worries easing with Locasta's words, for the moment at least, she felt a little lighter. Perhaps there was more in common between the two of them than she original believed. Locasta was more intelligent than her naivety seemed to indicate. Though, if Glinda was being truthful, see saw little of the woman's naivety in these discussions.

_Perhaps,_ Glinda mused to herself, _she has grown as I have. Or perhaps people were wrong._

"We shall have a proper meeting shortly, if you wish."

Glinda nodded her assent, "Of course. Should I contact you or…?"

"I am rather overrun with meetings and the like. I will be around soon, I promise you. I will try to delay the less important meetings for now, so we can begin the reunification process." Locasta reached into her bag and retrieved more than enough to pay for the drinks and a healthy tip, "And that book."

"Of course."

Locasta smiled, rising to her feet and checking that Glinda could do so easily, still concerned, perhaps, about her turn before. She helped Glinda shoulder her bag, her brows quirking at the weight but her lips remaining sealed on the matter.

"Let me get you a cab home, you appear to need your rest so the discussion I was planning on having tonight can wait." Locasta linked their arms as if they were old school friends, something Glinda surprisingly took comfort in rather than shrinking away from, "I will come with you."

Glinda knew the woman was still worried for her beneath her casualness, and that was the true reason she was escorting her, but she did not mind. No one had really cared, nor worried for her that much since dear Ama Clutch. It was welcomed, for once, to be the one cared for rather than the one doing the caring.

"Come along," Locasta said gently, "time for you to get some rest."

* * *

><p>It was only as the cab rolled away, Locasta waving from the window, that Glinda allowed her form to sag ever so slightly. The weight of what she had done over her time away settling on her as heavily as her exhaustion did.<p>

Not once had it crossed her mind what he would think, how he would react. Nor Ella, her maid.

If there was even a reaction.

She retrieved her key from her bag and entered her home as silently as possible.

He had long ago grown bored of her, something she was greatly thankful for, and while they had an… amiable relationship now – one that hung on a thin line, one she managed and maintained carefully to ensure it would not lose grip and plummet. She truly did not care what he thought, her anxiety was more drawn from her knowledge of how she _should_ react, but not how she actually felt.

It simply was not a normal reaction for her to not care. To have no feelings about what she had done, how she had lifted roots and disappeared into the night on a whim, with not even a letter or word to anyone about where she was going and what she was doing – well, all except her maid.

For all they knew she could have been kidnapped or murdered.

Luckily for her, there were few people genuinely invested in her living in her close proximity.

"And where have you been?"

Glinda looked up from where her gaze had dropped to a nearby end table, finding Shell gazing down at her from the landing banister. He rested his folded arms on the wood, his lips curled up into his usual easy smile.

"You didn't even leave a note."

There was an edge to his words she was too tired to decipher, instead she answered softly and truthfully, "I did not think to."

"Why does that not surprise me?" The tinge of amusement in his words would have irritated her on any other day, but not that one. She simple lacked the energy.

"I would almost think you were concerned for me."

He disappeared as he pushed back from the railing, re-emerging as he made his way down the stairs.

"No reason other than I wanting to shake the hand of the man that thawed that icy lump you call a heart."

His words should have hurt, but she could sense there was something beneath them even in her weary state, and so she merely shook her head as he walked past her.

Shell grabbed his coat from the stand beside the door, pulling it on before Glinda could fully absorb what was happening. And when she did, her exclaim was edged with a hint of outrage, "Where are you going?"

"I have people to see and plans to finalise." He replied, as if it were the most obvious thing, as he placed his hat on his head.

"I'm surprised there are still woman stupid enough to spread their legs for you."

"Oh, he loosened your tongue too? I like that." He laughed in his usual boisterous manner.

She felt no anger at his words, beneath them was a knowing tone. He knew full well where she truly had been, or at least had an inkling, but he would not bring it up. Nor would she to him. In fact, there was a hint of relief in his tone. Perhaps he was pleased that she had come back visibly unharmed, or so he believed.

Briefly she wondered if Ella was still there, no doubt the girl still believed she was on some task to stop the terrorists. Something that she could never truly do. Well… no The Wizard was gone and someone else, someone who truly wanted Oz to reform and cared about the people, the fighting would stop.

Glinda had hope.

But she could not leave Elphaba there, the madness would return.

But what could she do?

She had other duties; she had so many other people to help.

But she couldn't just leave her.

Shell stopped before the door, his back to her so she could not see his expression.

Seemingly coming to a decision he nodded to himself and turned, his eyes uncharacteristically serious and demanding, and when he spoke there the return of that edge to his voice she had never detected before.

"You found her, didn't you?"

So much for Glinda's belief that he would not bring it up.

She tried to keep her expression neutral, but her lips remained parted, her fingers pressing into each other as she tried to fold them neatly before her, "I do not know –

"Of course you do." The sharpness to his tone caused her heart to jump, her skin pricking with frigid fear, "Now tell me, is it true that the child killed her?"

The edges of her teeth cut into the inside of her cheek as her jaw tensed, a response she could not hide no matter how much effort she put into doing so.

"Either way…" she said, her voice cracking painfully partway through her sentence, "Elphaba is dead."

A flicker of emotion crossed Shell's face, a small furrow forming between his brows which quickly smoothed as he turned on his heel, "So you're not going to give me a straight answer then."

He shrugged his shoulders, as if throwing away her words or her reaction to his words as he opened the door, "Oh well."

The door shut behind him securely, the sound of it hitting the door frame seemingly echoing through the entranceway, despite her knowledge that it had, in fact, not done that. It was all her imagination and emotions enhancing the sounds around her, the words and feelings.

Glinda drew in her breath slowly, as if calming herself, though it had no effect in calming the heavy patter of her heartbeat or the stampeding of her thoughts through her head. For what should she do now?

She could not remain with Elphaba, not indefinitely, nor could she leave her there. A victim of her own morals and the insanity forced upon her. The public may now believe her to be dead, but one brief glance of her would insight a panic once more, so bringing her back to the city, even to hide her away until well, was out of the realm of possibility – and morally wrong. Elphaba was a person, a living thing, not something that should be locked away and hidden like something to be ashamed of.

Now, with her faster form of transport, the distance between the City and Kiamo Ko was lessened dramatically, and so, until she could think of another way for her to mend and fix things, she would have to split her time as subtly as she could between there and the City. Though did she truly wish to use that spell again?

No. But if she had to, well then she would have no choice but to do so.

She would have to trust Nanny to care for Elphaba properly while she was not there, or find someone else trustworthy and capable. It was a risk, but it was all that was possible. She would have to pray that her infrequent visits would be enough to coax Elphaba back from the brink of utter madness, to be enough to help her on the path of recovery.

Perhaps she was putting too much faith in herself, but that was all she had.

It would have been so much easier – she mused as she made her way slowly up the stairs, her hand trailing along the banister – if she could have been capable of forgetting their time together, been able to put aside her feelings. To forget Elphaba and let her carry along her path in life as she travelled down her own. It would have been so much easier.

But her stubbornness, or perhaps inability to lose what she truly cared for, prevented that, and perhaps always would do so, even if in the end it made her suffer and wore her down. It was quite likely she was being self-destructive, her feelings and actions unhealthy and dangerous, but it was like a rope tied around her middle, pulling her in and her allowing it to do so. A willing participant to her own future downfall into pain, for could this every truly end well? Was Elphaba damaged permanently with no hope of recovery?

Glinda struggled to breathe as she reached the landing, her thoughts cutting her breath short.

No. She had to hope she could help, that the woman she loved could be brought back. She had seen it, had she not, that even while in the deepest grip of lunacy, Elphaba still resided in The Witch. And, perhaps, even if Elphaba returned fully, The Witch would still reside in her. Somewhere deep inside.

With steps that grew ever more certain, Glinda approached her room, the need for sleep great after she had spent so long awake, after she had exhausted so much of her energy both physically and with her use of Sorcery.

Maybe it was selfish of her to cling to Elphaba so, or weak of her, but she would still do so. Even if it was a lost cause, even if it harmed her more in the end; she would remain dedicated to her decision. She would do everything in her power to help Elphaba, because, at the end of the day, the other woman deserved it. She deserved so much more than life had given to her, and if Elphaba could not help the people… the animals and the humans and the Animals, that she desired to, then Glinda would.

Because, even if Elphaba could not be brought back, Glinda would ensure that she lived on. One way or the other.

**End**

* * *

><p><strong>And that is that.<strong>

**Thank you to all my readers, those that favourited and alerted this fic, and you special few who reviewed. It means a lot to me to know what you thought of this story. I just hope you all enjoyed it and that this end isn't too disappointing to you.**

**I was originally going to make this a trilogy, but have decided against that in the end. Partly due to not wanting to stretch things out and due to this story (despite being far better written than the previous one – in my opinion) has been far less well received.**

**The third one would have been a mixture of _Out of Oz _and a few of the original _Oz_ books, but obviously following Glinda again.**

**I think my decision is for the best. This seems the best place to end in my opinion.**

**My next story will likely be one of my Swan Queen (_Once Upon a Time_) ones, but I have a few Gelphie WIPs and drabbles on my computer, so even if it takes a while please don't assume I've "jumped ship".**

**Once again, I would like to thank you all for reading.**


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