Author's Note: I'm currently in a production of "The Hunchback of Notre Dame", and I got this idea while listening to the (amazing) soundtrack. I felt like the crossover just wrote itself. If you are familiar with the story, then you know why it's rated T (Sexual innuendos, violence, major character death). Enjoy!
Chapter 1: Out there
"But father, I want to go to the festival!"
The young woman crossed her arms, her face formed into a pout. She glared at the robed man with fierceness sparking in her sapphire blue eyes. She huffed, blonde curls bouncing against the sides of her face. She was five foot two and maybe ninety pounds soaking wet, but the force of her glare struck a small amount of fear into the older man. Though she was little, she was quite fierce.
"Absolutely not!"
"But I'm 19 now. I'm no longer a child."
"Glinda, we've had this discussion before." The older man also crossed his arms, standing up straighter. He puffed his chest, attempting to make his short and round stature seem more menacing. He tilted his head, his glasses resting on his nose. He could feel the sweat start to drip from his balding head, the standoff raising his temper. Although he was the Wizard, the most powerful man in Oz, he had to use all of his might to go against the tiny tornado that was his daughter.
"It is not safe out there for you. I won't let you around…those people."
"But they are your people," argued Glinda. "You are beloved by the people, and the servants claim that I am just as beloved. Why am I not able to be with them and walk among them?"
The Wizard relaxed his arms, placing a hand on the blonde's shoulder.
"Yes, child, they are my people and I rule over them, but just because we are beloved does not mean that we are beloved by all. No ruler is without enemies, and no country exists without vermin, criminals, and…gypsies." The Wizard spat out the last word. "We normally can keep these animals out of the Emerald City, but during the Festival of Fools, everyone is allowed to roam free and commit all forms of debauchery."
Glinda sighed. "But it looks like so much fun!"
"Can't you see the entire festival from the balcony outside your room?"
"I can, but that's not enough," Glinda whined, not fully outgrown the vocalizations prevalent in her youth. "It's not enough for me just to watch. I want to be there! I've been cooped up in this castle my entire life. I've spent enough years staring at the city, I want to actually explore it and be part of it!"
"Glinda, try to understand," continued the Wizard, softening his voice. "You are my daughter, which makes you a target for anyone who is rebelling against the realm. You could be kidnapped and held for ransom just to get to me."
The Wizard ran his hand over his daughter's face, tucking a curl behind her ear.
"You're also very beautiful, my love. Your beauty and innocence also make you a target. There are many unsavory characters lurking in the streets, especially during this festival. If one of those dirty gypsy men spotted you, who knows what could happen. They are capable of the most vile of deeds. They could take you away and make you their slave, forced to sell yourself on the street for coins. Is that what you want, Glinda? Is that the life you wish to live?"
Glinda stiffened, horrified at the thought of being kidnapped and forced into prostitution.
"No father, of course not."
The Wizard smiled. "Good, then you do understand why you must stay in here. Madame Morrible will be coming by for your daily lessons, and then you will be able to spend the rest of the evening watching the festival. It's supposed to be a beautiful night; you'll be able to sit outside as long as you'd like."
Glinda reached out her arms, and her father pulled her into his embrace.
"Okay, father. I won't mention it again."
"That's a good girl. Now hurry along. Madame doesn't like to be kept waiting."
Glinda strode down the hall, her shoes clacking on the marble floor, echoing across the arched ceilings of the castle. She lived in the castle, the largest building of the Emerald City, for her entire life. The castle was Emerald green, the building that inspired the city's name, tall enough to be seen from many of the surrounding lands. She was told that it was the first thing you could see from the train, the green spires piercing the sky, taller even than the mountains surrounding it. Glinda would love to see that view in person, but she had never left the city. In fact, she had never even left the castle.
She knew why she was never able to leave; at least, she knew what her father told her. She was her father's pride and joy. He loved to tell her the tale about how he always wished to be a father, but he was never able to make that dream come true. That is, until one day, a baby appeared on the steps of the castle, as if an answer to a silent prayer. She knew nothing of her birth parents or where they came from. There was a note left with her, saying that her parents were dead and hopefully someone in the castle could care for the baby. The Wizard took her in and raised her as his own. Glinda didn't think of him as her adopted father, but solely just her father. He loved her, he said, and that's why he had to keep her safe.
At first, she had to stay in the castle because she was sickly. The nurses and the maids told many stories about the illnesses that inflicted her as child, many leaving her inches from death. They praised her tiny spirit, saying she was a survivor. When she hit puberty, the reasoning turned into her burgeoning womanhood. The Wizard didn't want her to leave, for he believed that she would not be able to escape the torments of men. As she grew older, she grew more argumentative and rebellious. Once, she had tried to sneak out, but was caught by a member of the Gale Force, the army that protected the Emerald City. Her father, furious with her disobedience, decided to tell her a myriad of graphic stories he heard from the soldiers, tales of kidnappings, beatings, rapes, sexual slavery, and murder. He threw out every horrid detail until she was in tears and couldn't sleep for weeks, plagued by vivid nightmares. She stopped her rebellious interests, choosing to focus on learning magic with Madame Morrible.
But that was a long time ago, and Glinda was no longer a teenager. The rebelliousness was starting to rear its head again.
Glinda ascended the spiral staircase, slowly walking up the many flights of windy steps that led into what used to be the bell tower of the castle. The bells used to ring multiple times a day, signaling morning, worship for the Unnamed God, nighttime, and festivities. The following of the Unnamed God was waning in the city, and the modern citizens complained about the archaic tolling that interrupted their day. When Glinda arrived, the Wizard had the tower converted into her bedroom, giving her a place to live that was secure and far away from the other goings-on of the castle.
Glinda finally reached the top steps, pausing to catch her breath. It didn't matter how many times she climbed those steps; it still was enough to tire her out. After a few moments, she took a few steps forward, her hand grasping around the brass handle of the only door that stood in that part of the castle. She twisted, the handle clicking and the door swinging open. Glinda stepped into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. Her room was swathed in bright pink, her favorite color. Her four-poster bed was covered in magenta blankets and a matching canopy, covered with a mountain of fluffy pillows. She had a stand beside her bed, holding a lamp and a book, a red ribbon marking where she had stopped reading earlier that day. She had a large wooden dresser, carved from mahogany, that held almost an entire store's worth of clothes. It stood next to a matching vanity, the oval mirror surrounded in gold, with more gold inlay creating filigree over the base and legs. She had a desk, also mahogany, where she did her studies, and a bookshelf that was so tall that it almost touched ceiling. Glinda was thankful that Morrible had not arrived yet. She was too annoyed to concentrate.
Glinda jumped, hearing a tap-tap on the outside of the door. The person knocking didn't wait for an answer, choosing to just barge right in. Glinda was greeted by the familiar faces of the maids, the ones who were specially assigned to her and to her room. Because of them, Glinda had lived in the lap of luxury, never having to lift a finger her entire life. Despite her spoiled upbringing, Glinda was not vain, nor conceited, nor rude. She was very kind to her maids, mostly because they were the closest things she ever had in her life to friends.
"Where have you been, Miss Glinda?" Laverne, a short, round woman, almost in her sixties, asked. She was Glinda's wet nurse, and had been caring for her as long as she could remember.
"I was talking to my father," the blonde replied.
"More like arguing with him," interjected Victoria, a much younger servant, closer to Glinda's age. She had fiery red hair and freckles, and almost always had a smile on her face. "We could hear it the entire way into the kitchen."
Glinda felt her face get hot. "Sorry. I didn't mean to cause such a ruckus."
"What were you two even arguing about anyway?" Azra smoothed the wrinkles out of Glinda's comforter. Azra was an Arjiki, from the land of Vinkus. She had dark skin, with hair that matched, and blue tattoos on the side of her neck.
Glinda sighed. "I figured with me being nineteen and a fully grown adult that I could maybe, finally go to the festival."
"The festival?" said Laverne. "You mean the Festival of Fools?"
"Do you know of any other festival going on?"
"You know, they call it the Festival of Fools for a reason," said Azra. "All of the fools come out."
"Exactly!" exclaimed Glinda. "That's why I want to go! I want to experience everything! I'm so tired of sitting up here every year and watching it happen. I want to see the lights reflected on the houses. I want to eat whatever that vendor that sits by the river sells—I can always smell it, even from up here. I want to dance with the villagers. I want to feel….free."
The women gave Glinda sympathetic glances. The blonde had zoned out, her mind somewhere else, deep into a fantasy land. She was imagining what it was like; the sounds, the smells, the music, the freedom to go wherever she wanted, the freedom to be an ordinary person. Many people envied her position, but Glinda felt trapped. She loved her father very much, but if she had the opportunity to give it up, to live as a regular person, she would take it.
"I just…I want to be out there. I spent too much time hiding behind these windows and these parapets of stone. I want to stroll along the river…feel the sun on my skin…I don't want to be above them, but part of them."
"Well child," Laverne's voice broke Glinda from her dreamings. "If you really want to go that badly, then go."
Glinda was taken aback. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," the older woman continued, "if you want to go to the festival, then you should go to the festival. No one is stopping you."
"Did you forget about my father?" snapped Glinda. "There's no way he would ever give me permission."
"And who says you need permission?" Victoria added herself to the conversation. "You said it yourself; you're an adult. You are past the age for curfew. You have your own rights now. If you just decide to walk out that door, no one can stop you."
Glinda raised an eyebrow. "But can't you three stop me?"
"Honey, we're servants, remember?" snarked Azra. "We can't make you do anything, nor can we stop you from doing anything. We're lowly maids; You're the Wizard's daughter."
Glinda thought for a moment, the idea too tempting to ignore. She was a bit mad at herself for not realizing this earlier.
"So… I can just go out my door, down the stairs, walk out the door, and walk to the festival, and that's it? I just…do it?"
Laverne laughed. "You seem trepidatious. If you're too afraid…"
"No," interrupted Glinda. "I'm not afraid…I just…"
Glinda stared at the wall, her eyes locked upon a painting of her father, twenty years younger, holding her as a baby in his arms. He held her as if she was made of glass, his eyes focused on nothing but her, not even the one creating the image. The artist did a wonderful job; he had even captured the mist in the Wizard's eyes as he cradled the infant.
"I've just never done anything rebellious before."
"Well, maybe it's time to start," said Azra. "A little bit of bad never hurt anyone. We've always thought that getting some fresh air would do you some good."
"What will happen when Morrible arrives for my magic lessons?"
"We'll cover for you," said Victoria. "I'm sure the three of us could think up something."
"We'll say you've gone to the chapel to pray to the Unnamed god. You're praying for all of the unclean souls that are rampaging through our fair city," said Azra dramatically. "You know how religious Morrible is. She'll be so happy for you that she won't even think twice about it."
"Oh Azra," Glinda held her hand to her chest, resting over her heart. "You're the best."
"I know."
"I really needed this," said the blonde. "I always wanted to, but I just never had the confidence to try. I needed some reassurance."
"In my opinion, what you really need," added Victoria, "is some friends, friends your own age with similar interests."
"And maybe…" Azra was grinning wickedly, "…maybe you could meet a boy!"
"A boy!" squeaked Glinda, her hands covering her mouth. "Oh goodness, what would I even say to a boy?"
"Well you say hello, first," said Laverne. "Manners are most important."
"Well….maybe…" Glinda looked at the women, then down at herself, then at the picture on the wall, and back at the servants. She was terrified at the idea, terrified of what would happen if she was caught, but she was also very, very excited.
Glinda took a deep breath.
"Maybe I should change into a nicer dress first!"
The women let out a cheer, Azra clapping her hands in celebration.
"Let's get you all dolled up." Laverne grabbed Glinda's hands, pulling her towards her dresser. She pulled out a few options, while Azra and Victoria coordinated her makeup and shoes. Within an hour, Glinda had transformed into a little lady, her outfit worthy of a princess. She wore a yellow dress, one that matched the color of sunflowers, with thin straps and a floaty skirt that came to her knees. Her curls had been pinned behind her head into a loose updo, and her eyes sparkled with eye shadow one shade lighter than her irises. She added a coat of iridescent lip gloss to complete the look. She rubbed her lips together, staring at the mirror, taking in her own reflection. She grinned, her white teeth taking over the bottom half of her face. She let out a small squeak, and almost bounced out of her chair.
"Yes! This is it! I'm ready!"
Laverne pulled out a cloak, sapphire blue and made of velvet. She curled it around Glinda's shoulders, clasping it at the neck. She pulled the hood over Glinda's head, hiding her face from view.
"Now, you be careful." Laverne gave the blonde's shoulders a squeeze. "Use your instincts and trust your gut. If anything feels wrong, then it probably is wrong. If you have to, use one of the spells Morrible taught you." She pulled Glinda into a hug, almost pressing the air out of her. "Have fun. We'll be here when you get back."
"And we better get some good stories," said Victoria.
"Don't do anything we wouldn't do!" said Azra.
Laverne chuckled. "Well, with you, that doesn't leave a lot."
Azra glared, and the other women laughed. Glinda grabbed her bag, threw it over her shoulder, and with one final glance to the three women in her bedroom, she took off out the door. Her heartbeat thudded against her chest as she made her way down the spiral staircase. When she reached the main hallway, she was relieved to find that it was empty. Everyone was gone, out enjoying themselves. There was no one there to spot her, or to stop her. Glinda rushed down the hallway, but found herself freeze when she placed her hand on the large metal handle that connected to the main doors. For a split second she felt nervousness, a twinge of fear in her chest, but she let it pass. She took a deep breath, and, not being able to wipe the grin off of her face, she opened the door.