Elphaba swore never to return. But when the carriage stopped, the footman opened the door, and Galinda and the King descended, Elphaba followed. She crossed the threshold, the line that had marked her decent into depravity more than a year ago, dissolving any semblance of the familial. She hadn't a choice. One did not disobey the King of Runcible and live. But at that moment, curiosity it was, not fear, that made her follow.
It was Glinda's hair, noticeably shorter than the Princess's, that gave Elphaba a curious hope. A small detail that meant that Glinda had not completely evaporated. Could there be a chance that she survived and not Galinda? The Princess sat across from her but refused to look anywhere but out the window. Elphaba starred, trying to discern the briefest of twitches. But she couldn't tell. Not for certain. What could be surmised was that the King had beaten his daughter. His abuse far worse than Elphaba remembered. At the sight of the Princess's bruises, swollen eye, and cracked lip, Elphaba felt a sudden desire to tattoo the king's face with her nails.
The longer they rode, the more Elphaba felt certain that Glinda was still alive. But, now, inside the Castle, the Princess ascending to her room, Elphaba realized her mistake. For how would she survive here if Glinda wasn't? Following Crope down the stone steps toward the servants' quarters, she remembered the extent of Galinda's cruelty. Memories half buried in the cabin came back to her in a gale: Galinda starved her, humiliated her, groped her, slapped her, fucked her, and, of course—that night. What would Elphaba suffer this time? What malevolent plot had Galinda schemed? Elphaba had no shame left, but shamelessness was no shield against terror. By the time Nanny bumped into her, wide-eyed and exuberant, a bounce in her toes, Elphaba's mouth brimmed with sour bile.
For two whole days, she rested in the servants quarters before being summoned to resume her post. Elphaba followed Nanny to the same closet. The closet where she once abandoned her black mourning dress. She remembered her recent letter to Avaric, placed on the kitchen window sill, announcing her suicide, and smirked cynically. Her return to the castle was indeed a suicide, not the quiet plunge into silence like she planned but an annihilation nonetheless. Nanny handed her a maid's dress—thankfully not that familiar old yellow dress but a dark violet one. As she stripped and dressed herself, a steady panic twisted in her chest. What type of sadism would Galinda prefer now? She imagined gruesome possibilities. Until Nanny announced her assignment: Elphaba would wait on Milla. Questions flooded. Did the Princess not want to see her? Would she never speak to her again? Did Milla know what happened between them?
Leaving Nanny to tidy the closet, Elphaba headed to the royal quarters. She should feel relieved, spared from some grotesque parade, but she felt leery, wary that an unexpected and aggressive torture waited just out of sight. As she ascended the familiar stairs to the royal bedrooms, its architecture brought back feeling after feeling, her jaw tight, her fingers tingling, her head airy.
At the far east end, she remembered the Princess's old suite. The suite that felled her spirit. Now which one was Milla's door? She placed her hand on the door knob in front of her and opened it. The vision before her hit her fast. She teetered backward. The Princess stood there, her back to her, in only a thin white slip, bruises like a colored sash visible on her back and neck, deep reads had shifted to dark violets.
"Good morning, Nanny," the Princess said without turning around. "I trust you slept well. I know my father wanted Elphaba to act as my handmaiden, but I hope we can keep our new arrangement a secret. I think it would be best for Elphaba if she waited on Milla. And do you know, how Elphaba is getting on? Does she need anything? Is she all right with everything downstairs? Are they good to her?"
Galinda would never ask such things! It must be Glinda! Elphaba smiled until the Princess, feeling unsettled with how long she prattled and how silent Nanny remained, turned.
"Elphaba!" The Princess blurted, her cheeks growing red, her arms pulling a fur off the bed to cover her thinly veiled form. "Why are you here unannounced and unsolicited?"
The pompous Gillikinese tone swung Elphaba in motion. In seconds, her hands were around Galinda's throat, squeezing, her thumbs pressing, trying to close the abyss of her horror. She could end it, the way she should have.
Galinda went stiff. Surprise glazing her eyes. Her bruised face grew red, redder, marooning. Her knees gave out.
"Why? Why did you do it?" Elphaba hissed.
The Princess's body softened into a pliant repentance, tears welling in her eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Elphie," she croaked.
Elphie? Elphaba released her as if her hands were touched by fire. The Princess clutched her neck and Elphaba drew by her side.
"Glinda, is it you?"
The Princess shook her head violently.
"Finish what you started. Do it quickly. Just, Oz forbid, don't call me that. I can't bear to hear it."
"Can't bear to hear your name?"
The Princess rolled her eyes, but the tremor in her lower lip betrayed her bravado.
"Is that why you've come? To witness a confession?" she whispered, her voice growing louder "Fine, fine—I, Galinda Upland of the Upper Uplands, Princess of Runcible, fell in love with you in the forest. Nessa, Shell, and you tricked me. And now here before you lies a fool, a fool who deserved every bit of her treatment. Now can we stop with this amusement."
"Glinda, wait—"
"Didn't you hear me? I am Galinda, the woman you hate, and I remember every-thing between us," her voice breaking. "So, if you won't kill me, just leave me be."
The Princess's words sounded a death knell. Glinda's reappearance and swift departure shattered the Munchkinlander. She was the real fool. No, "fool," barely captured the weight of her idiocy. Unlike Glinda, Elphaba had fallen in love with the woman she hated, knowingly. Her face went dark with icy embarrassment.
"Leave you be?" Elphaba asked. It was unendurable, completely unlivable. Why should the Princess survive their past, Elphaba's wish, Glinda's life and death, only to return to the castle unscathed while Elphaba remained obliterated. "LEAVE YOU BE?" Elphaba shouted, scaring the Princess into posture. "It is you who plague me! Why did you bring me here?"
"I didn't bring you! You came to me!"
"Came to you? Came to YOU?!"
"Why else would be outside Runcible's gate?"
"Your egocentricity knows no bounds. Does you honestly think that I—oh!" Elphaba groaned in frustration "Shell was right! We should have drowned you in a bog!"
A look of shock flashed in the Princess's eyes. The door opened with Nanny. Galinda stood, her expression hollowing.
"Elphaba, dearie,—have you forgotten Milla's room is across the hall?"
"Get out!" Galinda hissed, "Just leave!"
Elphaba took one last stare, but Galinda wouldn't meet her gaze. Holding the blanket around her, she looked out the window. Elphaba rushed past a confused Nanny.
Out in the hallway, Elphaba gasped for breath. Her knees buckled, her heart bottomed out. Her grief at Glinda's sudden and certain death rose up like an unexpected iceberg. Her spirit flung across a frigid lake. She was alone now, really alone. Bereft of a hope she hadn't even realized she kept, she sobbed, her shrieks suppressed into her forearm, as she sat crumpled in the hallway.
"Elphaba?" she heard a voice call. The Munchinlander looked up and saw Milla across from her. "Why don't you come to my room, Elphaba?"
Before she could answer, Milla escorted her up.
"It is splendid to see you again. You came to us at just the right time," the girl said, shutting the bedroom door behind them.
Elphaba smiled, or thought she did, until Milla nodded with apparent understanding.
"She's been quite cruel to you, I see."
"What?"
"Galinda never wants anyone to see her hurt—but the bruises this time…well, I suppose that's why she's assigned you to me. She doesn't think I notice. But I do. I notice quite a bit. She's ashamed of something. I don't know what's happened to her, but I can tell. I just don't know why she doesn't trust me."
Ashamed? Galinda's words started to come back to her. Elphaba had been so angry by Galinda's reappearance, she hadn't listened. The Princess said she remembered. She must have remembered for she remembered the name Glinda. But the Princess didn't remember as Galinda. The old Princess would never admit to deserving what happened. This new Princess was a strange alchemy between the two. Galinda wasn't gone. Not entirely. But neither was Glinda.
"But you care for her don't you?" Milla asked.
Elphaba raised an eyebrow.
"You wouldn't have come back if you didn't."
Elphaba didn't know how to answer. It was as if Milla was pulling back embarrassing layer after layer of the lies she told herself.
"She's with child," Milla admitted.
Elphaba stilled. Galinda wasn't so unscathed after all.
"If the King finds out—" Milla said.
"He'll kill the Princess," Elphaba whispered and Milla nodded.
To be a mother out of wedlock was a death sentence for Gillikinese women. For the Princess of Gillikin, its sentence extended to the child, lest there be any unwanted competition for the throne. Half a moment before, Elphaba wanted to kill the Princess herself. But if Glinda lived, even if just a spark of her, Elphaba couldn't abandon her. But would that mean she would never be free of Galinda?
"I need your help." Milla continued, "Nanny knows of Galinda's condition, I'm sure of it. I wish to join hands with her when the time comes. I know she'll need help to deliver the child, and I don't trust Madame Morrible or any of the other servants. Tell Nanny that I'm here for Galinda. And will you listen to what the other servants are saying and make sure none of them discern her condition?"
Elphaba didn't remember what she said, perhaps she only nodded. Hours later she was downstairs in her servant's cell piecing together the remnants.
Glinda and Galinda were in the same body.
A body that was with child.
Shell's child.
And the Princess assumed Elphaba planned it so.
Of course she would.
How could she assume that Elphaba had actually fallen in love with her?
The Princess knew their past and regretted it.
Elphaba pressed a pillow to her mouth and screamed. She couldn't forgive Galinda. That woman had done what an entire Gillikinese war could not—destroy the royal family of Munchkinland. And, yet, she couldn't stop her affection for Glinda. How terrified Glinda must be. To have Shell's child, here? What would she do afterward? And the child. Would it not be a constant reminder?
It wasn't until high morning that Elphaba had fallen asleep. An hour or two passed before she was roused for her work. Her body moved as if caught in a spell. She committed her duties without emotion, without thought, without seeing Galinda.
On laundry day, Elphaba went outside with Nanny to bring in the clothes.
"Be careful of the lye. It burns terribly," Nanny said, pointing to a rinse basin as they walked past a copper boiler. If only Nanny knew that water hurt in its own way. Nanny took a stack of dried linens from a laundry maid and halved her portion with Elphaba.
"Haven't seen any blood stains in months," said one of the laundry maids under her breath.
"The Princess has been using blood moss instead of fabric," Nanny said.
How quickly Nanny lied. Had the woman been prepared? Was she already lying for Galinda? The maid curled up her nose at the Munchkin custom but made no further remarks on the Princess's cycles. Who else suspected? Who else knew that the Princess was with child?
The two Munchkinlanders ascended the castle stairs when Nanny asked, "Did I ever tell you about my son?"
Her words sounded more like a memory than a question. "He was born with a full head of hair. Not like these Gillikinese babies, all baldness and wrinkles."
Nanny said, sinking into memory.
"Where is he now?" Elphaba asked.
"They didn't tell me. I look and look, but I can never find his hair anywhere."
Nanny quickened her step, leaving the conversation behind her.
Day after day, month after month, after her tasks, Elphaba collapsed on her tiny servant's bed and the feelings would well up. Anger first, then grief. Strong, blinding grief. Elphaba realized it. The hopelessness of the cabin had been a defense. Her planned suicide in the lake, her last goodbye to Nessa…all attempts to escape her feelings for Glinda. And, yet, her fear for Glinda made her face them.
Glinda saved her once. Elphaba couldn't leave with debts. She would make sure Glinda safely survived the birth and—then what? It mattered not. An entire life was unnecessary. She just needed a few moments, a few moments to feel beyond guilt.
That morning came much like the rest with Nanny's knock on her door. The Munchkinlander rose, bleary-eyed, dressing in the dark. In the kitchen, she grabbed Milla's breakfast tray while servants bustled around her. But entering Milla's suit, everything shifted.
Milla held Galinda's dress as the two stared at the floor between Galinda's feet. A trickle of water ran between the Princess's legs. This was Elphaba's first glance at Galinda in months. Galinda's predicament was laid bare. Her face like her first day in the cabin, a mix of fright and grit. The Princess looked up and Elphaba jumped, mid-peep.
"Bring Nanny. She's in my suite," Galinda said, as if asking Elphaba to pass the potatoes.
Elphaba returned with the older woman who brought sheets from Galinda's bed. "Elphaba," Nanny said, "Grab a bowl and stool from the bath room, a rope, my tools for childbirth, and the knives for bloodletting."
At the word "bloodletting," the Princess paled.
"We have to tell them it's sickness," Nanny soothed.
Elphaba sailed from task to task, arriving back at Milla's room with only a few beads of sweat. Nanny positioned Galinda on the stool and tied a rope around the bed post for Galinda to pull when the baby came near. Milla stood in the corner, shaky yet upright.
"Cousin?" Milla called, but Galinda appeared not to hear the question. "Cousin!"
Without turning, Galinda said,
"Milla—it's not what it appears to be."
"Will you tell me that I'm imagining this?"
"I—I'm fine. It's fine."
"It's not! It's not fine at all!" Milla said. "Why won't you tell me what's happened? Who's done this to you?"
Disgust flooded Elphaba. She knew that it wasn't mistrust that made Galinda quiet. It was shame. And, perhaps, a desire to protect Milla from a past once said could never be taken back. It was Elphaba's fault. She let this happen. She made Glinda return with child.
The Princess shivered. Was she remembering how she got here? How Shell had touched her? A touching that Elphaba couldn't even bare to listen to. "Elphaba, ready the hot water!" Nanny broke in.
"She can't touch it!" The Princess blurted.
"Why not?" Nanny asked.
Galinda kept silent, looking down at her thighs. "I can prepare the water," Milla said, with a sigh. Galinda nodded, looking relieved.
Elphaba was useless. Why did she think she could help? It must be unbearable for Glinda to be seen in this position by the person who put you there. She should leave. But what if this was the last time she saw Glinda? Births were as much departures as they were arrivals. And even if Glinda delivered well, there was no use for Elphaba to stay much beyond that. Either way, theirs was a parting. Elphaba gazed at Glinda, feeling more helpless than she had in a long while. She would leave. She would privilege Glinda's needs over her own. She turned toward the door when Nanny seized her arm.
"Your Eminence is thinking about leaving now? I can't deliver this baby alone!"
Elphaba could not refuse. So she stood incompetent next to Nanny, armed with only towels and fear. The absurdity of it. She hadn't seen Glinda in months and now she was to assist Glinda through the most intimate and vulnerable of acts.
"-phaba! Are you listening to me?!"
"Yes, Nanny!"
The requests came in piles.
"A pillow, Your Eminence."
"Under her bottom, Your Eminence."
"A towel, Your Eminence."
"Wipe Her Royal Highness's brow, Your Eminence."
"Another towel, Your Eminence, for Her Royal Highness' mouth when she starts to scream."
"The birthing prayer scroll, Your Eminence. Read it before the baby descends."
"Cradle her from behind, Your Eminence."
"Breathe with her, Your Eminence, When the pain starts, breathe in through your nose, Your Royal Highness. Now breathe the pain from your mouth, slowly. Help her keep a rhythm, Your Eminence."
"It's time, Your Eminence."
Milla kept guard in the hallway; Galinda practiced her breaths; and Elphaba stood behind and kept rhythm. Her fears climbed unimaginable heights. Every sound of footsteps in the hallway made her start. Please let Milla be convincing. Please let the baby come swiftly. Please let Glinda live through this.
Holding the rope, the Princess spasmed, clenching, pushing, releasing, starting again. At first her body had pulled away when Elphaba wrapped her arm around her, but now Glinda gripped her forearm tightly, desperately. When she started to scream from pain, Elphaba gagged her. Glinda's eyes rolling up before clenching tight. She was pushing again. How Elphaba wished she could take her place. Instead she could only massage Glinda's back as she bit down, beads of sweat pouring off her.
"I see its head, Your Royal Highness! It has a comely head of hair."
Elphaba felt the Princess tense again as she pushed. Suddenly, Nanny gasped. She teetered back a step and then pitched forward to keep a hand under the baby's head. Her gaze shot to Elphaba. The terror unmistakable and contagious.
"What is it?" Galinda asked. "Is the baby all right? Have I pushed too hard?"
Nanny shook her head.
"N-No, it's just it's color—it's—it's—fine," Nanny managed. "Just a wee bit more."
Galinda nodded, tears falling down her cheeks. Elphaba thought it would never end and then she heard its cry.
"It's a boy," Nanny said, wrapping the child and requesting shears. A boy. How disappointing. Would it look like Shell? Would his very appearance pain Glinda?
Nanny trimmed the cord and hissed for Elphaba to come meet her in the corner of the room. Elphaba walked over and Galinda called out.
"Can I see him, Nanny?"
"In a moment, Your Royal Highness. There's still the afterbirth to go," said the old woman over her shoulder.
Elphaba tried to peer at the baby, but Nanny had covered its face.
"How did you manage it? I don't understand," Nanny whispered. "Isn't Your Eminence a lady?"
"What?" Elphaba asked, bewildered. "I barely did anything. Her Royal Highness did all the work."
"Not the birth! The child!"
"Nanny, be plain about it!"
Nanny pulled the blanket away, and Elphaba inhaled, sharply. The resemblance was unmistakable. The boy had Shell's thick black hair. He had Galinda's soft roundness. And he had Elphaba's dark green skin. How could this be?! She had been intimate with Galinda on many occasions but never in such a way that would produce this. Then she remembered her own mother's words long ago. A traveling merchant. His potions. A green potion she drank months before her birth. Glinda's mouth after the carnival. Was is it the same one? Had the Wizard done this? Looking into the baby's green face, his eyes still pressed closed, his mouth open. He didn't look like Shell's child but hers. What would Galinda say? Surely she would detest the child once she saw his "putrid discoloration." Galinda grunted once again, the birth continuing. Nanny pushed the baby into Elphaba's arms.
"Hold him while I see to the Princess."
Elphaba nodded, cradling the weight of her three wishes. The shape of his jaw looked like Glinda's. His face covered in light white hair. The tips of nails transparent and long.
"We're almost done, Your Royal Highness," Nanny encouraged.
Then what seemed unending, in a blink, was over.
"Bring him, Your Eminence."
Elphaba stood shivering. She didn't want to. She didn't want Galinda to treat her nephew, which looked more like her son, the way Galinda treated Elphaba all those months ago in the ballroom.
At Elphaba's pause, Galinda's eyebrows rose, worried.
"Is he all right?" she asked, sweat-soaked and vulnerable.
The boy started to cry, forcing Elphaba forward. "It's not his fault," she mumbled as she lowered him into Galinda's arms. Galinda didn't seem to hear. Her eyes widened in shock. Elphaba prepared to catch him if Galinda should fling him away. She didn't. Instead her eyes traveled his face, looking intently. She touched his hands and his feet.
"He's beautiful," Galinda whispered, startling both Nanny and Elphaba.
"Will you give the young prince a name?" Nanny asked.
A prince. Elphaba has so long thought of the baby as a curse she hasn't considered he was a royal. In both kingdoms, nonetheless.
"Liir. His name shall be Liir," the Princess said and Elphaba remembered—the name of a Munchkin Prince in the book of old fables that Avaric had lent them. Glinda, not Galinda, had named him.
"You must feed him, Your Royal Highness." Nanny said and Galinda nodded, until Nanny continued, "I shall take him after he's done."
"Take him where?" Galinda asked.
"To a wet-nurse."
"But I can feed him."
"Not if Your Royal Highness wants him to live. If the King were to find him, His Majesty would order him to the hill."
Galinda stilled, hit by the magnitude of her loss.
"I can't say goodbye, not yet," she whispered, her head shaking, as if there was still a way out of this.
"I'll make sure he lives, Your Royal Highness. Trust me with this task."
Galinda pressed her baby to chest and started to rock, mute, with tears falling. There was no release for Glinda, no end to Elphaba's harm.
Nanny disappeared with Liir that day. She slid a short note under Elphaba's door at night that read,
Your Eminence:
I am returning home and shall be there if you ever need to find us.
x. Nanny
The next morning Elphaba wondered where "home" was and why Nanny thought she would look for Galinda's son. Perhaps Nanny still thought she was the child's father? Nanny's guess was not too far afield.
"Elphaba," Morrible called out, bringing Elphaba back to the present moment.
"Yes, Madame?" Elphaba answered, preparing to take Milla's tray.
"It appears Nanny's abandoned us. We're better off I say. The less of your kind the better. But, until her replacement is found, you'll need to shoulder her tasks in her absence. Now, take the Princess's breakfast tray. Shenshen will take Milla's."
"But I—"
"Don't talk back," Shenshen hissed under breath, thrusting Galinda's tray into Elphaba's arms, eager to return to being Milla's lady's maid and leave the drudgery of the kitchen behind her.
...
Galinda's breasts jostled with pins and needles. Her morning garment drenched in milk. Too embarrassed to let Nanny find her in that state, she tossed off the bed sheets, removed her undergarments, and searched her closet for a shift. She had refused to believe she was pregnant, even as her belly grew, as her breasts filled. She couldn't sit with the shame of it, and now with Liir gone, she regretted every moment of her willful unknowing. She would never know him now. She remembered his delicate fingers. The clean smell of his skin. His face that looked like Elphaba's. She had abandoned him, sent him away as a mother-less child, without clothing, without money, without a history. The sobs hit her like coughs. She couldn't breathe, she didn't deserve to.
The door opened.
"Nanny!" Galinda swallowed, keeping her back to the woman while clearing her throat. "Is-is he safe?"
"It seems she intends to hide him herself," a voice said.
Galinda's cheeks flamed. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Elphaba standing beside the closed door, breakfast tray in hand. Galinda shivered in naked wretchedness.
"Look away!" Galinda shouted, and Elphaba turned to face the door.
Would this torment never end? Every time she saw the Munchkinlander, her heart leapt, as if they still lived merrily in their cabin. Galinda flung on a shift. It tugged and rubbed, accentuating as much as hiding her awkward lumps.
Galinda turned around, and try as she might to see a stranger, she could only see her Elphie. The woman whom she tortured and been tortured by. How did Elphaba's mouth taste now? A pinch of salt and…Which of her thought that? Galinda or Glinda? Stop! She would sooner fall headfirst out a window than let Galinda even think about touching Elphaba again. Lust or love, carnality or sensuality, obsession or devotion, Galinda could not recognize the boundaries of herself, and it terrified her.
"Why didn't you leave with them?" Galinda asked.
Elphaba kept silent.
"Elphaba?" Galinda said, embarrassed it sounded like begging.
Elphaba turned, her eyes soft but distant.
What are you doing, Elphaba? Why not dig a grave where Galinda's breasts should be? Why not use her mouth like an inkwell? Why not carve holes in either eye to plant Chrysanthemums? Why not hurl her skull into a wall? Anything but this icy kindness that Galinda could not face nor turn away from.
"Is Your Royal Highness all right?" Elphaba asked.
How could she be? Elphaba had held Glinda together and since abandoning her, she kept crumbling, just as Elphaba planned it.
SIZZLE-ZAP!
Galinda grimaced, the burn in her breasts searing any thoughts from her head. Her hands rose to grope them, a useless attempt to soothe.
"Your Royal Highness is hurt," Elphaba said.
Irreparably.
"It's just a sti—Ahh!" Galinda gasped.
"The milk," Elphaba said and Galinda hoped it was just a guess, but, then, she felt it—wetness. It soaked through her fingers.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
"Galinda!" a voice shouted outside her door. "Enough of this feigned illness. You will leave this room at once!" the King bellowed. What would her father say when he saw her? Would he beat her dead? Would he sentence her to hang? Or leave her to rot in the oubliette?
Elphaba pulled Galinda behind her back, bracing herself. Galinda's cheek rested against Elphaba's boney frame. In the hollow of Elphaba's shoulder blades, Galinda inhaled Elphaba's oils, realizing she had remembered them, even as Glinda.
The tiny memory burst as the King flew through the door, making Galinda jump. Here it was. The end to their story and she was not ready. After all that happened, how pathetic of her. To be afraid, shivering, cowering, hiding behind the one woman she tormented.
"Come out now, Galinda!" her father yelled.
Just one step to meet her end. That's all she needed, not confidence, but only a falter. But as she moved to face her punishment, the Munchkinlander pushed her back, forcefully, and said,
"Whip me instead, Your Majesty!"
"What?" the King and Galinda asked.
"Whip me if I do not have Her Royal Highness prepared to meet Your Majesty within two candlemarks."
"No!" Galinda hissed, seizing the Munchkinlander's arm, trying to push past it.
"Hah! Your confidence inspires, Elphaba. If you can make my daughter presentable, I'll even let you sing for us at supper, but if you can't, I shall do as you say and have you whipped publicly at noon. Perhaps that will motivate Galinda to behave."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Father, you mustn't!" Galinda shouted.
The King flicked his wrist and said,
"Your maid's fate is in your hands."
He departed and Galinda cursed, pulling away from her lady's maid who turned to look at her.
"Do you think my father won't do it?" Galinda shouted. Why in Oz did Elphaba wager herself? Didn't she know what a whipping in Gillikin meant? The King would humiliate her. Strip her. Tie her to a post. While a guard cut her back, breasts, arms, and legs mercilessly with bone wrapped leather. Galinda went dizzy with nausea. How could she fit into her clothes with these treacherous breasts? Too big to be fastened normally and too leaky when bound. As if reading her mind, Elphaba said,
"We'll need to release the tightness for you to fit in your corsets,"
Yes, the tightness, Galinda nodded. Elphaba looked at her breasts, her tongue flicking across her green lips.
What?!
"You don't mean to suggest—" Galinda stumbled.
"I can't think of another way."
"By Oz! This is your great plan?!"
"If it is unbearable, I'll take the beatings for Your Royal Highness."
"I forbid it!" Galinda said and Elphaba raised an eyebrow. "Oh, why did you meddle? I didn't ask for your help. And wasn't this your plan for me all along?" Galinda felt pitiful, like the destitute girl who hung from her hands in Nessa's barn.
"If only I was as strong and as cruel as Your Royal Highness thinks I am. I'm afraid there is no greater depth to me. I am as plain and pathetic as I seem," Elphaba answered.
No greater depth? Plain and pathetic? What was Elphaba playing at? Was the Munchkinlander professing care—for her? Elphaba kidnapped her, lied to her, hid her, touched her, in every way, and let Shell touch her, in so many ways. That was not care. Both of her knew that. It was all a great performance, at Galinda's expense. But, then, why was Elphaba still performing, at her own expense? It didn't make any sense. What greater joy for Elphaba than to witness Galinda's death? Why profess to not want it when Elphaba had every right to gloat?
"Why do you insist on your lie?" Galinda asked.
"Because, unfortunately, not all of it was."
Did Elphaba still take her for a fool? As she had for months. One could not sympathize with, let alone love, a devil like Galinda.
"Exactly what wasn't a lie?" Galinda challenged.
Elphaba crossed her arms.
"Did you not know who I was? Or perhaps there were jewels I stole? Or, will you say that you loved me?"
"I never loved Your Royal Highness," Elphaba said, rather smugly Galinda felt, "but I loved her."
Impossible! If Galinda hadn't found a way to forgive herself, how could Elphaba? But her heart stirred anyway. No. Don't hope. It can't be. Elphaba couldn't have. It wasn't real.
"I'll get you medicine for your sister, a pouch of gold for the weavers, any jewels you want. I'll write you a traveler's permit. Just promise to leave Runcible before noon," Galinda said.
"And what will you do?" Elphaba asked.
"Why does it matter what happens to me?"
"It matters what happens to her," Elphaba said, too desperate to be lying.
"She's not real!" Galinda said.
"If she's not real, then send me to be whipped instead."
Galinda couldn't. She shook her head and let a pause pass between them.
"Only Glinda would place my safety above her own," Elphaba pressed.
"But I'm more than Glinda—or less of her. I'm not sure. What Galinda did to you was beyond unforgivable, and what what you and Shell did to me…It was…It was…" deserved, excruciating, clever, called for—Galinda had no right to state her injuries, and yet, she clearly had no capacity to move beyond them.
"Wicked?" Elphaba offered, her demeanor softening while Galinda felt her walls rising. "I would exchange my life to take back what Shell did to her—"
"But not to me," Galinda said, refusing to hear what was sure to be an unsatisfying apology.
Elphaba kept silent, confirming Galinda's fears.
"There is no Glinda here to receive your apology. There is only me." Galinda said, "Nothing for you to stay for or protect."
"Once Glinda's safe," Elphaba said and Galinda opened her mouth to protest. "Whatever piece of her is left in you, I mean. Then I shall leave Gillikin for good," Galinda scarcely registered what Elphaba had said but was already nodding, anything to get away from these feelings.
Peeled raw, there was only one shameful act left.
"Now, hurry, remove your shift and lay on the bed for me," Elphaba said and the Princess of Gillikin obeyed.
Less than two candlemarks later, the King looked impressed when Galinda stood at the entrance to his study. If only his assessment would finish before her smile faded. When Elphaba sucked her loose a moment prior, she held back sobs. It was as if Elphaba was devouring them, consuming their love, until there was nothing left. She needed to be held, comforted, but Elphaba's touch was stiff, closed off, a velvet-wrapped cruelty. Was this how Elphaba planned their long-drawn out goodbye? After which, Elphaba would grant her wish and leave her to rot alone in the Castle?
"That wasn't so hard, was it now?" Her father asked as Galinda stood in his doorway, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes.
"No, father," she answered and he dismissed her, telling her to prepare to meet their guest tonight.
Instead, Galinda prepared to give Elphaba what she once stole from her.
...
As she took Galinda's milk from her stiff nipples moments before, Galinda bit her lip so hard, blood ran down her chin. Elphaba hated it. She hated hurting Glinda. She tried to remain orderly and unaffected. To keep her distance. That was what this act required, wasn't it? Distance would help the Princess keep her dignity as Elphaba uncorked her. Distance would allow them to let go, as they must. For Glinda could never believe that Elphaba loved her, and Elphaba could never love Glinda like this, not when she was scattered in pieces among the mannerisms and memories of Galinda.
"His Majesty demands your singing this evening," Morrible said, bringing Elphaba out of her memories. She stood in the kitchen, receiving her evening orders. "When you finish with the Princess, come at once and I shall hood you," Morrible said.
Elphaba gripped her tea tray, hard. The last time she sang in Runcible was for Sir Chuffrey. Would they make her sing the same Gillikinese anthem? The ones that played while the Runcible army ransacked her country.
"Well, don't just stand there, you pock. Go ready the Princess!" Morrible barked. "We'll need the royal family dressed before the guests arrive."
"Guests?" Elphaba asked, but Morrible was already shouting orders at other servants.
"She's been going on about it for days," Shenshen hissed after Morrible headed into the scullery.
"Madame Morrible discussed guests?" Elphaba asked as the two ascended the stone steps.
"Yes, woman, yes! Where's your head been at? The Winkie Prince from the Vinkus is returning to the castle for a visit."
Elphaba tripped, bracing herself against the wall in time to spill only a splash of tea.
"Prince Fiyero?" she asked, her stomach fluttering against her will as she remembered their talks and his lips. Fiyero's visit seemed like a lifetime ago. Was he the still same careless, beguiling man she met before?
"Yes," Shenshen said, searching her face for a second. What was she hoping to find? "Anyway, it's best we hurry with our chores. Madame Morrible will forego our supper if we dally."
As Elphaba climbed the stairs to the Princess, she remembered her last conversation with Fiyero, their talk cut short by the belt Galinda forced on her. Her cheeks were hot with angry embarrassment. When she opened the door to Galinda's room and half expected to see the Princess's haughty glare. Instead, she saw a tangle of cloth, limbs, and breasts. Galinda was attempting to dress herself. The garments for Gillikinese royalty seemed more complicated than the simple threads Glinda wore in the cabin. Her anger abated at the thought of Glinda hurt. "Would you like assistance?" Elphaba asked, setting the tray down on a nightstand. The Princess gave a defeated sigh.
Seeing the side of one swollen breast hanging over Galinda's corset, Elphaba asked, "Shouldn't I…before you…"
The Princess only motioned to the chamber pot. Elphaba looked over to see that Galinda had milked herself this time. Was it painful? Was it as humiliating as when Galinda had forced Elphaba to milk herself? The memory should have kept Elphaba safe from empathy but memory had another face: scenes of Glinda milking the goats and nursing her back to health even while Nessa beat her. With more tenderness than Elphaba intended, she fastened and buttoned, tied and tucked, until Glinda looked just like Galinda.
"Your Royal Highness is ready," Elphaba said.
"Thank you," Galinda whispered and Elphaba waited for her dismissal, but Galinda asked, "After supper, will you please wait in the Green Gallery in the West Wing. I wish to give you—"
"As I said before, I do not need your jewels or gold; I plan to leave as soon as Glinda's safe."
Galinda tried to smile, but the gesture came out in stutters.
"I-I wish to give you what's yours. What she—I took from you."
Galinda did not clarify what she was returning. What they would be meeting about was left to Elphaba's imagination.
In a few hours, Elphaba was hooded and escorted to that dining hall and heard that familiar voice ask,
"May we have Elphaba Thropp sing for us unveiled? I believe we can hear her better."
"Can your guests stomach the sight?"
"Yes, I believe we Winkies shall find it all quite pleasing," Fiyero said.
Crope unveiled her, and Elphaba saw the Winkie Prince, handsome as she remembered, eyes confident, his admiration bordering on lustful. Clearly, he still wanted her, and to her surprise, the thought made Elphaba blush.
The hall was well decorated and filled with a scent that Elphaba would always associate with Gillikin—cooked meat. White candles stood throughout the table, illuminating with flickers wild chanterelles and wine-soaked pheasant, butter-braised hog, lamb stew, plates of boiled veal, as well as pomegranate salad, bread, cheeses, heavy silver cutlery, and goblets filled with wine for the men and perrie for the women. Large white lanterns hung above the table, bringing the guests' noses, lips, and eyes into dim-lit view while hiding their details.
Galinda sat beside Fiyero, her gaze resting firmly on her plate. Milla sat beside her cousin, smiling at Elphaba. Officials of both countries sat across from them. Conversations and laughter floated between the clinking of cutlery and the King's voice, rising above the rest, asked the Winkie Prince for a song.
"Let us hear Munchkinland's national anthem. It is one of most beautiful songs I can remember from my youth," Fiyero answered. The cutlery had stilled to a low hush of murmers and Elphaba's stomach dropped at the strange repetition. How did this man manage to risk her life twice, in this same hall? Did the Winkie Prince not know that Munkinland songs were forbidden in Gillikin? The Princess's hand clutched her chest. Was she offended by the request? Battling both terror and annoyance, Elphaba weighed the punishment of symphonic treason to royal impudence. But then something unexpected happened. Galinda called the hounds to herself.
"Prince Fiyero, Elphaba would be honored to fulfill your request, but she cannot in Gillikin. You see, the Gillikinese have stolen Munchkinland, and some of us think we can make Munchkinlanders forget about our crimes if we do not let them sing about their homeland."
Had the Princess gone mad? Defending Munchkinlanders while criticizing the Gillikinese war. Elphaba's heart dropped to her feet. How Elphaba had misjudged the woman. The Princess had not been offended at the mention of Munchkinland's anthem but angry that Fiyero would request it here.
"Galinda!" Her father shouted amid the sounds of gasps and whispering.
Fiyero was grinning, the only guest seemingly pleased by Galinda's answer. The Princess looked back at her plate, either resigned or unflappable. The Princess was indeed an alchemy between Galinda and Glinda, but why had Elphaba never considered it? Never considered that Glinda's adulteration might be agreeable. The Princess had Glinda's conscience but Galinda's poise, a poise that placed her beyond the reach of anyone's reproach and thrust Elphaba into the throes of temporary admiration.
But I'm more than Glinda—or less of her. I'm not sure.
More. Certainly more. But just what would more cost the Princess here? Elphaba glanced at the King to see his cheeks a shade of deep violet and shuddered, remembering Galinda's bruises when she first came back to the castle.
"Then shall we have her sing us a famous Ozian ballad?" Fiyero asked, breaking the tension.
The King agreed, seemingly content to forgive Galinda's outburst and play gracious host. As Elphaba sang, Fiyero asked the Princess for a dance and Elphaba saw Galinda bite her lip. After more begging on Fiyero's part, she gave a nod. Galinda's body moved so gracefully she appeared to be a leaf blown and cradled by the air. Only Elphaba noticed the restraint in Galinda's movements, the tiny grimaces she held back. Her body must be exhausted after having just given birth. Would the stitches tear with her movements? More than once, Fiyero tried to pull her close and whisper something in her ear. But Galinda would only smile, shake her head, and keep her form, neck long, shoulders spread. As Fiyero's hands held Galinda's and his eyes roamed over her, Elphaba's stomach churned. She recognized the sensations immediately—jealousy. Why did her feelings not match her station? As a royal servant in Runcible, Elphaba's desires had no power. She could no sooner protect Galinda from her father than she could profess these feelings for her. She delivered her littleness into the song, closing her eyes, thrusting the last notes up like a prayer.
Applause greeted her, and when Elphaba opened her eyes, she saw the two dancers bowing in her direction. Before she could see the how the night would end, however, Crope escorted her out while Fiyero exclaimed,
"She's really quite remarkable!"
With extra expediency, Elphaba cleaned and readied Galinda's room and prepped the Princess's morning's meal while her mind returned to Galinda again and again. Were her breasts full of milk? Would her body give out with all the dancing? Would her father punish her after the dancing was done? She scurried to the Green Gallery in nothing short of a dash, but right as she was about to the open the door, she heard Fiyero's voice say,
"I thought you would ask to see me outside in the gardens, in a slightly more private place."
"My father does not wish me to leave the grounds after dark," Galinda said.
"I don't imagine he wished you to insult Gillikin over supper, but, yet, you managed it,"
"His fears for my health will calm if not provoked, but his fears of Paltos only seem to be growing. I only wished to demonstrate one could live otherwise."
"Can Runcible afford such bravery?"
"Better to brave the darkness than to live in constant fear of the light."
"You have changed, my dearest Galinda."
"Have I?"
"The Galinda I met more than a year ago had only taste and no convictions."
"You, Prince Fiyero, remain unchanged, freely insulting Gillikinese royalty at whim. Promise to be kinder to Elphaba than you are to me."
Fiyero chuckled.
"Worried for her, are you?"
"I'm serious. Promise not to be careless with her."
"Come now. Are you Elphaba's mother or her mistress?"
"I'm someone who cares for her, and I was under the impression that you might as well."
"You still haven't told me why are you arranging this time for your servant and I? When you asked to meet me after supper, I assumed it was to continue where we left off last time," Fiyero said. Where exactly did Fiyero and Galinda leave off?
"The last time you visited, did you not say Elphaba was popular in the Vinkus? Do you not wish to see her?" Galinda asked.
Fiyero sighed and finally said,
"I would be honored, but, alas, it is she who does not wish to see me."
"What do you mean? I thought she was fond of your company."
"I reached out to her before I left, but she turned me away."
There was a long pause, and Elphaba wondered if they had lowered their voices, but Galinda spoke again.
"I am to blame for that."
"You?"
"Last time you visited, I kept Elphaba quite…occupied." Occupied in more ways than Elphaba cared to remember. "But she will have time tonight, as much time as you both shall please, and more tomorrow if you wish." Galinda said.
The Princess was giving her back her meeting with Fiyero. It would have delighted the old Elphaba to be allowed this freedom, perhaps even thrilled. But why did a heaviness settle in her chest? Why did speaking with Fiyero seem less of a reward than a night with Glinda? She was being silly. It's not as if Galinda was Glinda. And if Galinda could give her away so easily, why should she stop herself from enjoying her time off with a flattering Winkie distraction. But what would happen to the Princess if the King didn't pass out before the evening was through? Would he visit her chambers? Would he punish her? She shook her head. Galinda would be fine. She must learn to be fine without her. Elphaba couldn't stay nor protect her as a servant. Elphaba had to practice indifference, less to Galinda than to her own heart. Elphaba inhaled and opened the door.
The two royals standing by the fireplace turned toward her. The small room, dimly lit, was filled with oil portraits on the walls. The fireplace flickered, it's light distorting their faces and casting shadows.
"Elphaba, come. I have arranged a meeting for you and Prince Fiyero. He would like to spend some time with you." Galinda called.
As Elphaba approached, she saw the tiredness behind Galinda's smile, the effort behind her stance. Had they been in the cabin, Elphaba would have whisked her off her feet and swiftly carried her to bed. Instead, the only kindness the Munchkinlander could offer the Princess was to pretend not to notice.
"I shall take my leave" Galinda said, nodding a goodbye to Fiyero, her gait stilted, her lips strained. As Galinda walked past, a pain shot through the Munchkinlander's chest, and Elphaba resisted the urge to reach for the Princess's hand. She's not Glinda. Forget the girl. Forget how to feel. Forget how to live. Elphaba heard the door close softly behind her. Galinda was gone.
"Good evening," the Prince greeted her, in a red velvet suit. Elphaba looked him over and noticed the exaggerated gold codpiece hanging between his legs. A new Winkie fashion? Suddenly she remembered Shell's large rising member hanging between his legs. Her cheeks flamed with shame, and she averted her gaze but not before Fiyero spotted her focus and giggled.
"Good evening," she croaked.
"It seems Princess Galinda's aware of my admiration for you and my luxury of boredom." He remembered her words. "I tried to tell her you wouldn't want to see me, but she insisted."
"In Gillikin, I don't have a separate self that wants or doesn't want. I receive whatever I am given."
"Hah! You are the most separate, the most distinct, the most individual—"
"You are referring to my looks and are making fun of them."
"I adore your looks and I acknowledge them."
Her skin tingled at the open coquetting and not knowing what to say she asked, rather stupidly,
"So have you been well?"
"Will you continue to be coy?" He asked and took a step closer, the scent of fresh pine filling her nostrils. He reached for her hand and kissed it. "Have you not thought of me at all while I've been away?"
She hadn't, Elphaba realized. Not even a little. Glinda had filled her so completely, even now she felt guilty for not pushing away his hands. She was betraying Glinda. But this is what Galinda wanted for her wasn't it? For Elphaba to forget and leave as quickly as possible. Could Fiyero be her way out? In a flash, she saw herself marrying him and move Nessa to safety in the Vinkus.
At her silence, Fiyero sighed and answered her question, with more vulnerability than Elphaba imagined possible.
"I've been lonely without you, Elphaba."
"You do not know me. How can you miss me?" she asked.
"I miss how it feels to be with you."
"We cannot do this," Elphaba said.
"Talk?"
"Court."
Fiyero laughed.
"I agree. There's no need to be old-fashioned, Elphaba. I have no desire to officially "court" you. I am a Winkie Prince, who is married to a Winkie woman, with two daughters and another child on the way. I have no need of wives."
The revelation stung.
"You would cheat on your wife?"
"I am married to Sarima, not in love with her. I never have been. Nor she with me. You can't cheat someone out of something they've never wanted. I live a happy but dull life with her. With you, I know it could be different."
"And what do you think it is that I want? To become your kept woman?"
"To share an independent romance."
Elphaba felt low, detestable. How had she let herself feel flattered by this man? How did she imagine marrying him, even for a moment? She was mere entertainment. He loved her when it cost him nothing.
"We should say goodbye," she said.
"We don't have to," Fiyero said, tightening his grip on her hands. "We have Galinda on our side. I could visit twice or more a year. Perhaps have Galinda send you to the Vinkus for a visit. Sarima wouldn't mind. We could make it work."
Elphaba left Fiyero in the Green Gallery, feeling sick, her chest and head numb. She stumbled toward Galinda's room, when she heard Galinda's cries down a dimly lit hallway.
"Stop, father! Please don't do this. Let me go."
The vision before her woke her from her stupor. Down the corridor, she saw King Upland sitting on a bench, holding his daughter fast on his lap, as he rocked back and forth against her, fondling the softness of her bottom, Galinda's dress ripped, her lip bleeding, her cheek stained with tears as he kept her in place, trying to find a release in her.
Hold out, my sweet. I shall put an end to this. Shock and fury propelled Elphaba toward them.
A/N: Here's a winter treat for all of you who asked for an update. Apologies for the long long wait.
