Author's Note: Hey guys! Just a foreword; I only wirte in moments of inspiration, I actually have no desire to become a professional author, unless of course you're talking about an academic journal - don't judge :P. Anyways, as I only write in moments of inspiration my work is always sporadic, I actually cannot force myself to write, this piece was written months ago just after seeing Rachel Tucker and Louise Dearme at the West End version of Wicked. (They were amazing by the way!) I didn't upload it because it wasn't finished and actually I had to write a paragrph or two today, so if some parts of this story are not as good as others, that's why. I'm sorry if anything is incoherant, I suspect this Author's Note is though. O.K, I'll shut up now. Hehe.
It was that time of year again, preparations were already underway; streets were being decorated, yellow bricks being polished, the shopping rush had already started and her heart had already begun sinking. The 'celebration' was only a week away and once again she'd be centre stage. She'd have to put on her smile, wave to her audience and sing about the death of a wicked, green, witch but she didn't – no - she couldn't do it anymore. Two years, that's how long she had been pretending, two years since she had been wearing her mask, two years since happiness had been erased from her life – two long years.
"Glinda the Good" that's what they all called her, oh how she laughed with spite at her title now. She was not 'good', she was far from it! How could she even fool herself into thinking she was anything near 'good' knowing what she knew? How could she be good when all she did was lie, lie and act her way through life? This farcical life she led was the bane of her existence and it had been since she first made that promise.
Glinda had come to the castle, Elphaba's castle to plead with her. That strange, little, cry-baby, girl, the one she had given Nessarose's shoes to was being held hostage. Glinda didn't understand all too well why exactly she had told Dorothy that she could have Nessa's shoes but she knew it was petty, a sort of if-I-can't-have-Fiyero-then-you-can't-have-these-shoes kind of thing. And now the girl from Kansas was it? And her little dog Dodo were enslaved, she had to stop it.
"They're just shoes, let it go! You can't go on like this!" She had screamed at her green friend.
"I can do whatever I want – I'm the Wicked Witch of the West, remember," That line had stung her deep through the heart, Elphaba, though angry sounded so hurt. Over the years she had grown into this notorious, ruthless, evil character but Glinda had never once believed in the rumours that were told. She would never think Elphaba to be such a person, it hurt her to think that her friend would ever think that even she would believe in Elphaba's public image, but then why wouldn't she? Had she done anything, said anything to make her believe otherwise? Glinda just sat there with her mouth shut playing along with the Wizard's evil plans; she hadn't done anything to make Elphaba believe any differently-not like Fiyero.
A monkey, one of the ones Elphaba had accidently cast her first spell on, interrupted them by bringing her a note. Something about Elphaba's face gave the contents away. That was when she realised that the love of her life had died.
"What is it? What's wrong? It's Fiyero, isn't it? Is he..."
"We've seen his face for the last time," Elphaba's confirmation went straight through her like a dagger.
"Oh no!" Was all she could muster.
After that everything became a blur but Elphaba began saying something about giving herself up and for Glinda to promise her not to clear her name. Glinda remembered pleading with Elphaba to see reason but she was hushed away and told not to let herself be seen.
Hiding away in a dark, corner of her castle, Glinda's most important friend had come to a life-changing decision, one that she had so selfishly made all by herself. Elphaba in all her green glory stood there with a resoluteness Glinda had not seen in her friend since they first travelled to the Emerald City. She was slightly jealous, though she'd never admit it of course, to see her counterpart so sure of herself but no sooner had that feeling surfaced did another more dreadful feeling bubble inside of her. This feeling was altogether more dangerous, a feeling that something deadly was impending, that something truly hideodious was about to happen, and then it did…
All in one night Glinda's only, true, friend and the love of her life had been taken from her. She had tried to forget, she had tried to put the memory away, lock it somewhere deep inside her mind but she couldn't. The guilt, the agonising pain, they were not going to ever go away, but at least, at least now Glinda could do her friend justice. Promises were not supposed to have expiry dates but two years on, the lies, the rumours they just would not stop, if anything they became more numerous, and Glinda just could not handle it anymore.
And who cared if they didn't believe her? And who cared if they laughed? Who cared if they told her to stop joking around? She would tell her story, she would let them know, she would let them all know just how important a-friend this Wicked Witch was, just how much she had changed her life and just how much she missed and loved her. Elphaba's name would be cleared, even if it were to take 100 years for it to happen, she would be known for who she truly was and finally her death would not be celebrated, finally the 'Wicked' would be mourned, Glinda would make sure of it.
"Elphie, I'm sorry but please at least let your spirit continue to defy gravity, please let your selfless self become truly unlimited."
Glinda had never been more certain about a decision in her life. Elphaba's legacy would reign free – this was one promise Glinda just could not keep.
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