AN: this didn't turn out the way I intended—the story progressed faster than I planned—so I hope it doesn't feel rushed.
"It's white, and it's sleeveless," Elphaba hissed, glaring at her bubbly friend.
"Of course it's white Elphie! It's a wedding, not a funeral!"
"Glin, I do. not. wear. white. and I will not wear that."
Elphaba rummaged through her trunk—the only one she'd brought, to Galinda's horror—and produced a dress of midnight blue silk.
"This was my mother's. I'll wear this."
"Elphaba—"
"Don't tell me I can't! It's my wedding, and I wear this or I don't go out there."
"Fiyero's waiting," Galinda tried.
"Yes, and he'll hate me as soon as he sees me in white. I'm 'phosphorescent' in pale colors."
"Aw, Elphie! Don't bring up horrificified memories like that! People didn't know you yet."
"Like that made a difference," Elphaba muttered, "Anyway, I won't wear white."
An hour later, Elphaba strode up the aisle on her father's arm. It was the first time she remembered him touching her, gently. He had reprimanded her, dragged her away before she could make a spectacle, but never touched her like this. They were both stiff and uncomfortable.
Elphaba wore her mother's dress with a white, Galindafied veil draped across her face.
The guests looked confused. Brides wore white. No one in the Vinkus had ever defied that tradition before. What kind of wife had their rulers selected for Prince Fiyero?
Fiyero's parents looked horrified. The girl was green and outspoken—they'd known that—but she was wearing blue. It simply wasn't done.
"Sweet Oz," Fiyero's mother whispered "what have we done?"
The queen did not make a spectacle of herself; years ruling the Vinkus had taught her to bide her time and make her wishes known at the perfect moment.
"If any present object to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace," the minister droned.
Fiyero's mother stood.
"I object," she announced.
Elphaba whirled to run, tears running through her makeup and mascara dripping onto her veil. Fiyero wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest, as he had done once before. He rested his forehead on her hair and listened to his mother address the crowd:
"Someone strongly suggested that we choose Miss Elphaba as our son's future consort. That particular person failed to mention Miss Elphaba's unique coloring, but I speak for my husband and myself when I say we were prepared to accept an untraditional Princess. Prince Fiyero seemed content with our choice, as you see—he is fond of the girl. Since she arrived, however, Miss Elphaba has been outspoken and defied our traditions. We cannot accept a Princess with no respect for the Vinkus."
"Mother—" Fiyero interjected.
"Shh," Elphaba whispered, "it'll be alright. Don't fight this. I'm not made for happily-ever-after. I didn't really expect us to last."
Elphaba had intended her words for Fiyero alone, but Galinda heard. She squared her shoulders and stepped forward.
"Madame," Galinda said, curtsying to Fiyero's mother "may I speak?"
The queen nodded.
Galinda turned to face the guests. "I am proud to introduce myself as Elphaba's best friend and roommate. When Prince Fiyero first came to Shiz, Elphaba was hated for something over which she has no control: her skin. I was in love with Prince Fiyero's title. We kept company together, and I foolishly assumed he would marry me. I was hurt and angry when his engagement was announced. I felt betrayed. But it didn't take much to realize Elphie and Fiyero adore each other. I recently told Elphie that, though I'm a little sad, this marriage will change everything for the better. If you stop this you may gain a conventional Princess—but you will not gain the happiness of your Prince. You will sentence him to misery with a woman he does not love, and I fail to see how a miserable someday-King will benefit the Vinkus."
Elphaba wrapped her arms around her best friend.
"Thank you," she whispered, "and that was really good, by the way. You should speak more often."
"Thanks," Galinda replied with a shaky smile.
Fiyero's arms felt oddly empty without Elphaba in them.
"Mother," he said, "Galinda is right. I'm sorry to say that, if she hadn't spoken up, I probably wouldn't have. But Elphaba means everything to me. I will marry her. If you don't like it, you can disown me."
"Sweet Oz," Elphaba breathed, "everyone is standing up for me today."
"See," Galinda murmured, "I told you that you deserved a happy ending."
"Fine, marry her if you must," the queen told her son, "We'll discuss this later."
"Shall we?" Fiyero asked, wrapping his strong fingers around Elphaba's green ones.
They stood before the minister with their fingers twined together and Elphaba's head resting on Fiyero's shoulder.
Galinda wrapped her arm around Elphaba's waist and Elphaba draped her free arm around Galinda. It was the least traditional wedding the Vinkus had ever seen: a bride in blue, an objection from the queen defied, and three best friends supporting each other through it all.
"I love you," Fiyero told his bride before he kissed her.
"This is the stuff of fairytales," Elphaba whispered, twisting the ring on her finger.
"This is a real happy ending," Galinda added.
The girls hugged and the happy couple slipped away—leaving confusified guests and a horrificified queen. It was Galinda who toasted the absent bride and groom, who bounced through the celebration, bringing life and laughter to the hesitant guests. She hid her own uncertainty beneath a bright smile. Galinda knew she had done the right thing, giving Elphaba her happy ending, but the blonde understood that she had turned her back on the girl she used to be: her flighty, Society self had melted and left only a façade for a reluctantly maturing woman to hide behind.