As a disclaimer, I do not own these characters or any other details that are property of their respectful owners. Where necessary I have provided the proper citation in MLA format. This is merely my interpretation of things that could have happened from flexible plot points in the story. Enjoy!

"Surely you don't spend the entire autumn season in the Emerald City?" she asked one evening when the cold was drawing in.

"I've send word to Sarima that business is keeping me here indefinitely. She doesn't care. How could she care? Plucked out of a filthy caravansary and married as a small child to an Arjiki prince? Her family wasn't stupid. She's got food, servants, and the solid stone walls of Kiamo Ko for defense against the other tribes. She's going a little fat after her third child. She doesn't really notice whether I'm home or not - well, she has five sisters, and they all moved in. I married a harem."

"No!" Elphaba sounded intrigued and a little embarrassed at the idea.

"You're right, no, not really. Sarima has proposed once or twice that her younger sisters could and would happily occupy my energies at nighttime. Once you pass over the Great Kells, that taboo against such an exercise isn't as strong as it seems to be in the rest of Oz, so stop looking so shocked."

"I can't help it. Did you do it?"

"Did I 'do it'?" He was teasing her.

"Did you sleep with your sisters-in-law?"

"No," he said. "Not out of lofty moral standards, or a lack of interest, either. It's just that Sarima is a shrewd wife, and everything in marriage is a campaign. I would have been in her thrall even more than I am."

"Such a bad thing?"

"You're not married, you don't know: Yes, a bad thing."

"I am married," she said, "just not to a man."

He raised his eyebrows. She put her hands to her face. He'd never seen her look like that - her words had shocked herself. She had to turn her head away for an instant, clear her throat, blow her nose. "Oh damn, tears, they burn like fire," she cried, suddenly in a fury, and ran for an old blanket to dab her eyes before the salty wetness could run down her cheeks.

Maguire, Gregory. "City of Emeralds." Wicked: The Life and times of the Wicked Witch of the West : A Novel. New York, NY: Harper, 2007. 244-245. Print.

Her words had shocked her, yes. It had been years since she had thought of Glinda and the time they shared at Shiz. She had denied herself this pleasure out of necessity for her work. And now, as Fiyero had elbowed his way back into her life, so now did Glinda. The kiss they had shared at their last parting, as Elphaba disappeared from her life forever had been a bitter sweet goodbye that left a pang in her heart still. It seemed she could no longer run from these thoughts. She couldn't deny it to herself, she loved Glinda still. Being with Fiyero felt different. It filled a space inside her. A different space.

She let Fiyero love her. The passion felt almost primal with him, the diamond tattoos that covered his body danced and squirmed in the throes in an exotic display. With him as with only one before, Elphaba did not feel green. She let herself find solace in this, though, when all had died down and she lay awake in bed with Fiyero's arm draped across her body, her mind was still racing. It brought her back to that day when, for all intents and purposes, things might have turned out differently.