"Hold out my sweet, hold out if you can."

Glinda never forgot those words. They comforted her, those words and the memories of too short days huddled in a cramped carriage and narrow hostel beds. The kiss, or was it two? The kisses that accompanied those words.

Dizzying, frightening days where she held all the strings of the Emerald City, of the Land of Oz in her grasp were succeeded by duller days, where she was a respected society madam, encased in ruffles. Dark days followed those dull ones, dark days when the critical voice in her head whispered disconcerting things. Like did she ever really have any power? Was any good done by Glinda the Good?

Galinda smiled beatifically as her guests were seated by a servant in Upland livery. Now was not the time for maudlin thoughts, and so she banished them with a toss of her finely coifed head. Galinda sat at the head of the table, with the new Headmaster of Shiz at her right. To her left sat Avaric, the Margreave who she'd gone to school with so long ago. He was handsome as ever, and gossip whispered that his doing were no less scandalous now he was a married man. Galinda leaned forward to speak to the lady on Avaric's right, aware in a dizzy way that both men were watching her. Bubble, bubble, giggle and smile.


This worked well through the first and second courses, and Galinda was listening politely to Avaric as he explained in a bored tone how the grape press was going that season, when abruptly, her more sensible self was forced to the surface. The Headmaster (what was his name again? Arnold? Arthur? Albert?)Had begun a side conversation with his dinner partner about Munchkin land politics, and the familiar names spoken rang like alarm bells.

"Thankfully Shell has no interest in the Eminency, or it could make life difficult indeed."

"Surely the actions of his older sisters mean any such interest would be unwise to say the least"

Glinda groaned inwardly. You mean the instant he tried he'd be floating facedown in a swamp somewhere. Like Fiyero.

Now Glinda blinked, forcing back tears that still came too easily at the memory of the girl who once would have said what Glinda contented herself with merely thinking.

She rose, in a sibilant rustle of skirts, and excused herself, leaving the noise of the party behind, avoiding the sharp eyes of Avaric. The Margreave had a thoughtful, piercing expression as he watched her go.

Panting slightly, Glinda sank into a cozy chair in an antechamber.

Go away Elphie! She wailed inside her head. Leave me alone you horrible green girl!


The socialite wrestled with tears for a few moments longer, then looked up at the noise of a footfall.

Avaric stood in the doorway, a smirk on his handsome face. "Dearest Ga-linda," he smarmed, "whatever are you doing? Does something trouble you?"

"Not at all my Lord," Galinda smiled coquettishly. "I simply needed a moment away from the warmth of the dining room."

Avaric came closer, sat beside her. His face was an expressionless mask. "I see," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Galinda smiled weakly.

She was suddenly aware of his leg against her own.

"How is the Marquess? She didn't feel up to joining us for dinner tonight?" she asked hastily.

Avaric laughed. "My wife is a frail woman. Two dinner parties in a week is really asking too much of her."

The room seemed close and airless suddenly. Glinda found her heart was racing.

Without warning Avaric shot out his hands, placing them hard upon the small woman's shoulders, he drew her to him and kissed her fiercely. Glinda squealed, trying to force him off to no avail. Avaric was lean and muscle-bound, his face still deeply enigmatic. The kiss went on and on, until eventually Glinda stopped fighting, passively allowing him to kiss her and hoping that he'd stop.

At last he pulled back and looked at her in disgust. "You know Galinda, Glinda, whichever I am speaking to; I find it hard to believe the Wicked Witch of the West put up with kisses like that!"

The words struck the silence between them like a hammer blow.

"I don't know what you mean!" Glinda protested guilty, the title piercing like a sword to her chest.

Avaric scowled, real emotion on his face for the first time.

"Don't lie to me Miss Good Witch of the North! Tibbett picked you two the first time we saw you sit side by side- silly old queen that he was. Poor little Boq was heartbroken and the prickly pear nearly bit my head off when I even hinted at it." Avaric smiled. "I only desisted for fear her next target would be my other head" he leered.

Glinda was dazed, confused by the rapid changing of events. She'd risen from the depths of depression only with her Galinda mask, and the way Avaric had ripped it from her had opened a raw wound. Now he was teasing, making vulgar jokes of her private pain and loss.

He's a disgrace. A pretty boy with more money and titles than sense. An acid tongue hides a small brain. He's…why…he's baiting me. He's testing me. He's pushing me.

Glinda sniffed. "That is unseemly talk my Lord Margreave. Perhaps your breeding isn't quite as impeccable as once thought."

Avaric grinned, his eyes full of cautious hope. "My bloodlines are impeccable. Not a trace of…callousness in them. Unlike perhaps, your own?"

Glinda rose, and stared Avaric down with her best Elphie inspired glare.

"I must return to my guests. Please refrain from this vulgar speculation in my presence."

Now his smile was real, and he laughed softly as he watched Glinda the Good exit the chamber and return to the dining room.

"Miss Elphaba," he laughed softly, bowing to the air around him. "Your lady is awake once more."

Then he left the room, and rejoined the party, satisfied in a night's mischief.