AN:
Hello, lovelies!
I'm terribly sorry for the delay! This one was tough to edit somehow... Still, I hope you'll enjoy this final proper chapter! I will post an epilogue sooish, but the story as such concludes now. Happy reading!
Please NOTE:
This is the final chapter of the A Ending--that's the tragic one, though the really tragic stuff is over now. At any rate, if this is not the ending you're looking for, please skip forward one chapter to Chapter Fifteen B! Thank you :)
Now enjoy!
xoxo MLE
(=^_^=)
Chapter Fifteen A
Already the following day she half regretted giving away the broom. With her arrival at the city imminent, she needed to make a decision she'd repeatedly postponed. Would it be safe for her to reveal herself immediately, to strut through the palace gates as though she believed she still owned the place and all its inhabitants; or would it be wiser to lie low, to slip in unseen, and assess the situation first? The latter would prove terribly difficult if she were to travel by bubble. Was going by foot her only alternative? Oz knew, she was not cut out for this.
Deferring the matter once again, she decided to take a slight detour via her country estate of Mockbeggar Hall, Munchkinland, in hopes that she could conduct her reconnaissance from there. Choosing to travel in the late evening and throughout the night, she crossed Lake Restwater minutes before sunrise, and descended in the gardens of the stately house with the first golden light of a new dawn shimmering upon the calm waters behind her. It was a poetic, idyllic picture, yet as so often was the case, appearances were deceptive.
Instead of the butler, a soldier stepped out through the multi panelled glass doors to greet her. His expression was anything but welcoming, irrespective of the fact that this was her domain, and he was the true trespasser.
"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded at once, her eyes darting towards the house, expecting to find an entire troop of his comrades to rush forth any moment.
The soldier—a captain, judging by his uniform—inclined his head in a dismissive gesture of curtesy. When recognition set in at last, she was not in the least surprised. Copper hair, green eyes: he was one of Cherrystone's pets. She'd met him at several occasions for sure, but most of all, she remembered him from her anniversary ball.
'Traitor,' she growled under her breath, her hand flexing agitatedly, while her lips remained sealed.
"Where are my staff?" she enquired next, taking one step forward to test the waters before pushing right past him to see for herself.
The man adjusted his position, signalling for her to stay where she was. Beneath her cool façade, Glinda began to steam. Mere days ago, she'd been through hell and back, and this fool had chosen the wrong woman to mess with.
"This is my home," she shrieked at the top of her lungs. "Step aside Captain, or you will regret it."
Though this unusual outburst did seem to startle him, in the end, he held his ground, just as he'd been trained to do.
"I'm sorry, my lady," he replied, though evidently, he was not. "I've been instructed to secure this estate. The Governor's orders."
Glinda exhaled. In spite of everything else, it came as somewhat of a relief to know that Cherrystone had not yet elevated himself to anything grander—a possible indication that he might still lack the support to do so. She certainly hoped so.
"I understand you have your orders, but as you can without a doubt see, I have returned from my mission. As your superior's superior, I am in the uniquely convenient position to supersede his instructions, and my new instructions are that you and whatever men you have under your own command vacate these premises this very instant. I'm exceedingly weary from my long journey and shall not tolerate a moment's delay."
To her horror, the man didn't shift as much as an inch.
"Apologies, my lady. But it was the Grand Council's decision, under the Governor's guidance, that military rule should be implemented. The office of Throne Minister is therefore set aside for the interim."
That sneaky, little bastard.
Glinda considered her options. Whether the young captain was alone or with a dozen of soldiers under his control, she was more than capable of clearing her way into the house and banishing these insolent men from her property. The only question was, whether this move would benefit her cause in the long run. If she wished to rule, she herself had to abide by the rules first and foremost, in which case rash, forceful actions may not be her best choice.
"Well, that is a conundrum, isn't it?" she retorted coolly. "Alas, I regretfully fail to understand what this has to do with my private residence that I bought with my own, personal funds, long before I so much as entertained any notion of taking office."
Giving an indifferent shrug, the man indicated that he did not know the exact reasons himself.
"Something about appropriation by Animal rebels?"
She scoffed.
"Now that's plain absurd. That rebellion stopped the moment the Wizard left Oz. All Animals currently residing in Oz are peaceful and merely seeing to return to their former homes."
"That's not how Governor Cherrystone portrayed it."
Averting her face and briefly closing her eyes, she quelled her fury, this utter exasperation that made her want to magick the captain to the desert of Ev whence she'd hailed from. She'd not set out on this impossible assignment, only to return and find her government in shambles.
And yet; had she really expected otherwise? No, she had not. Not after she'd seen herself compelled to put Cherrystone up as her deputy. While she'd absolutely hoped to be wrong in this one regard, she'd clearly foreseen complications from the very start. Complications, she would never had accepted if not for the chance of a reunion with her Elphie. And how had that worked out for her? Well, at least she'd seen her, talked to her. Kissed her. Said her goodbyes…
Her hands shook, and she balled them into fists, expelling all sentimental thoughts from her mind. This weakness was the last thing she needed in a situation like this.
"What if we strike a compromise then?" she suggested, forcing herself to look the insolent intruder straight into the eyes. "You and your men remain here for the present, but you allow me to move into my private apartments so I may rest and recuperate before I return to the palace and sort this mess out, hm?"
He hesitated.
"Unfortunately, that's also against our orders."
Glinda cocked her head, her gaze intensifying.
"Listen carefully. In all likelihood, I will shortly be re-installed as the head of state. You do know that, don't you? Do you really wish to be difficult and make yourself unpopular with your Throne Minister?"
"Governor Cherrystone could end my career long before that comes to pass," he replied hoarsely. "And with much more certainty. Respectfully, I might have to take my chances on this."
"In which case I also shall take my chances right now."
Thoroughly fed up with this conversation, she sidestepped the soldier and made straight for the door. Dumbfounded, he remained paralysed for a clock tick or two, until he came running after her, begging her to stop and leave, as he did not wish to lay hands on her.
"Well, too bad. Lay your hands on me then if you think you must. But don't say I didn't warn you."
He stopped following her and remained at the bottom of the grand staircase as she climbed step by step on her way to her rooms.
"Are any of the servants present?" she called down to him from the gallery.
Wordlessly, the man shook his head.
A deep groan escaped her as soon as she'd firmly closed the door behind her. Leaning against the ornately carved wood, she struggled to catch her breath. Her heart raced, and her hand flew up to her belly, which rumbled in protest. She was hungry, but above everything else, she was outraged.
And anxious. And scared. What if she'd ended up gambling away all her tremendous efforts, her years of hard negotiations in the span of just over two months? What if Oz was done with her and would not allow her to resume her work?
Suddenly, she detected the unmistakable sound of a key being pushed into a lock, followed by the soft click of the latch. He wouldn't dare!
She spun around to try the door handle, but with no success. She slammed her fist against the door.
"You imbecile! Let me out! I command you!"
Another growl, another blow against the door. She couldn't believe this. Or perhaps she could. He was Cherrystone's creature after all.
The most ridiculous part was that he believed for even one second that a locked door would be able to contain her. She could burn it down if needs must, but before that, she could certainly try to manipulate the mechanism and open the latch itself. Perhaps more obviously, nothing stopped her from opening a window so that she could simply fly away. How ridiculous.
Yet she decided to play along for a while, to sit and wait and bide her time. Not inactively, of course. Sitting down at her desk, she whipped out a piece of paper and a quill and began to pen the first of several letters.
Her confinement did not last long. In fact, the very next day, Cherrystone himself turned up at her doorstep with a small contingent of men in tow to request an audience.
"But Governor, why so formal?" she questioned with a coy smile as they both sat down in her drawing room to enjoy a cup of tea and, most importantly, a little chat. "As I have been informed, I've been set aside as Throne Minister. You don't owe me any deference."
"Only temporarily," Cherrystone stressed, albeit rather begrudgingly. "And I am rather sorry for the inconvenience my man caused. I'm here to inform you, that you are free to go."
She gave him a pointed look at that, and he cleared his throat.
"Or stay, of course. However you please. Without restrictions."
A that she clapped her hands.
"Splendid news. Oh, and because it sounds like you are keen to make it up to me: could you please see to it that my staff are rounded up and returned to this estate? As this poorly set up table surely demonstrates, I'm useless at domestic chores."
While he nodded, she took a sip of the lukewarm brew she'd cobbled together. With some difficulty, she suppressed the urge to call out and scold her maid, who unfortunately was not to blame for this bland disaster.
"And then what?" she wondered, putting both cup and saucer back onto the low table before her. "Say, how do you picture the future of my political life?"
He wisely ignored his tea, as well as the biscuits that she'd found in a jar under the sink, and fixed her with stern, ice blue eyes.
"That will be decided next week. At a special council meeting."
"Interesting. Am I permitted to attend?"
At that, his expression truly darkened.
"Is there anything you would like to discuss prior to bringing it before the council?"
Her lips curled into a gentle smile. Oh, how she liked to see him squirm.
"Not in particular, no."
She made sure to make herself sound nonchalant and undecided. If he had any sense at all, he ought to know that her answer should best be taken with a healthy pinch of salt.
To sleep in a decent bed again was the grandest among the many comforts she'd so sorely missed. In the end, however, it was utterly disappointing, too, for all the plushest cushions in the world, the silkiest sheets, and the most perfectly constructed mattress could not compare to that lousy, narrow cot, shared with her beloved. Clinging to the lifeless pillow next to her, Glinda tried to envision herself holding Elphaba one more time, burying her nose in her tangled hair and inhaling her unique scent. Her imagination fell desperately short, and instead of comfort, all she found was more tears, more loneliness. Night after night, after night.
Rising on the morning of the council meeting, she found herself in a strange state. Having slept plenty as of late—out of sheer boredom at times—she felt reasonably restored. Physically speaking, that was; in contrast to that, her head felt dull and empty, as if she hadn't slept at all in several years. How her body and mind could be in such plain discord was difficult to fathom, which didn't mean, that she was entirely ignorant of the underlying cause.
Elphie. Oh, her darling Elphie. Would she ever recover from this loss and become the woman Oz needed her to be, or should she be glad if the Grand Council rejected her today?
Naturally, she had no choice but to go through the motions regardless, to allow her maids to style and dress her, to nibble on the few morsels of soft bread and sliced luncheon meat that they served her. It would be an act of pure selfishness to allow herself to succumb to grief, and this day remained of great import, even if she wished there were an easy way out of this responsibility.
What she wanted didn't matter, what she feared didn't matter. She still had to do all in her powers to win back the councillors' favour, along with her country. Elphie would have agreed, and she knew it. This knowledge alone was her strongest motivator in a time when nothing else seemed to affect her much. The greater good. She had to keep working towards that for as long as she could, to honour Elphie and herself.
Besides, she had already spent all those days putting every effort into restoring herself to former glory, to erase the marks that the past two months had left on her body. Because this was what her instinct had led her to do, even in a situation where others would have made many an excuse to hide themselves away and mourn in solitude. Her damaged nails remained rather short, which vexed her, and when she spent a little too much time staring into the mirror, she found that her eyes had not yet regained their brilliant sparkle. Neither had her legendary grace and charm, she was convinced, though those in her employ contested this assertion whenever she vented her frustration.
Would the councillors be able to tell the difference between the ruler who'd left behind the throne then, and the damaged girl who'd returned to claim it back? Would the other courtiers, or the people? She wouldn't be surprised if they rejected her now, considering how hollow and spiritless she felt inside. How could her emotional turmoil, caused by her grave loss, not seep through and betray how unremarkably common she'd become. She'd always carried her load, just like everyone else. Only now, she could no longer hide it. How was she meant to inspire Oz like this?
"My lady?" Her butler, cleared his voice. "It is nine o'clock."
The hand that stirred her tea stalled. When her unseeing eyes focused, and she cast a fleeting look at the cup, there was a thick, dark circle at the bottom of it. Annoyed, she removed the spoon and lifted the tea to her lips. It was cold and unpalatable.
"Thank you, Puggles. I shall go upstairs and implement a few more finishing touches before my departure."
A dab of perfume, a touch of rouge; there was not much else she had left in her repertoire to make herself feel more confidant. It might be enough, used to be enough to wrap these self-important men that surrounded her around her little finger. And if it wasn't anymore? Well. What could she possibly do about that?
It was high time she left. While she would have preferred to disappear clandestinely via the balcony, she did harbour some residual hope that she might not return to her estate at the end of this spectacle. If that were to be the case, she wouldn't see her staff for quite a while and would feel remiss for not taking her leave the proper way.
"While it's been wonderful to see you all, I shall endeavour not to lay eyes on you again until spring," she told them as she stood in the courtyard, surrounded by at least a score of maids and footmen. It felt like a rehearsal of sorts, and she expectantly surveyed the small crowd to gauge their reaction.
Her words were met with general chuckling, and although she couldn't be entirely sure about the authenticity of her paid audience's affection, this did lift her spirit a notch. A hint of genuineness crept its way into her smile as she gave a small wave.
Lifting her hand, Glinda prepared herself to summon her bubble, when the wind freshened, tugging at her voluminous skirt. The tiny, shimmering sphere in her palm popped, and her breath hitched.
"Elphie?" she whispered, then shook her head. It was only the wind.
Upon her arrival at the palace, she was escorted to the throne room. Fashionably late, she was the last to enter and was greeted by rows upon rows of stony faces. Courtiers. Landowners. Military men. While not openly hostile, they appeared wary enough to make her doubt her chances at securing their approval.
"It's good to see me, isn't it?" she asked brightly, determined not to let her insecurity show. They stood in response, some more eagerly than others.
Her gaze scanned the lines of gilded chairs for an empty seat, then moved to the front. The throne itself was empty. Beside it, a tall chair had been set up. It was occupied by Cherrystone, who had not risen and observed the scene carefully, knowing fully well that his future hung in the balance just as much as hers. His thinly veiled discomfiture gave her a measure of satisfaction, yet the problem of her place in this gathering persisted.
"How lovely that you could join us, Lady Glinda," he boomed, leaning forward in his seat and gripping the armrests with grim resolve. "Come, and stand beside me while we determine what honour should be bestowed upon you henceforth."
For but a moment, her eyes narrowed as she levelled him with a frosty glare. However, before anyone could be sure that they had indeed seen her glowering, her features evened out again, and her smile fixed itself back in place.
"Thank you, Governor," she began, putting subtle emphasis on his current, purely provisional title. "Alas, from where I stand, I'm not your retainer in any shape or form; neither as Throne Minister—retired or otherwise—nor as a lady of the Upland clan. It would therefore be highly improper for me to stand beside your own, humble throne as though I were. I hope you see my point?"
The room was dead silent. Cherrystone's hand came up to rub at his moustache.
"Well, then. Let us hasten our verdict, so you may either resume your former seat, or leave the room. Would you like that? Lady Upland."
Her teeth clenched, but her expression didn't waver.
"Absolutely. Please, by all means, go ahead. It would be a relief not having to stand here all day like a criminal on trial."
His laughter caught her slightly off guard.
"I would't dream of accusing you of being a criminal, my lady. Nevertheless, this is a trial of sorts, isn't it?"
Smirking, he lifted himself off his chair. He took to pacing the small dais in a thoughtful manner, stroking the beard at his chin, his impressive brows pinched in concentration. Finally, he stood and turned to address Glinda, as well as the council.
"Lady Upland. I'm sure the Grand Council will agree, if I say that we are very—no—extraordinarily grateful, for your long years of service," he acknowledged magnanimously. "Circumstances, however, have changed. Great challenges have arrived with trouble brewing at our borders, trade grinding to a halt. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of exiles arrived from across the desert, wreaking havoc on their quest for land to make their own.
"Using the powers invested in me carefully, conscientiously throughout our Throne Minister's prolonged absence, I was not able to address most of these issues. More wide-ranging adjustments will have to be made to many of the government's policies. I was going to leave that particular task up to Oz's next ruler. Whether you, Lady Upland, should be this ruler is"—he clicked his tongue—"questionable in my opinion. With all due respect, the situation might very well be beyond your expertise."
The council members exchanged hushed murmurs and serious looks. A few cast furtive glances her way, or his. Several seemed to be in favour of neither. Dragging Cherrystone down along with her was a consoling prospect if that was where this session was headed.
"It is certainly interesting to hear what you believe may or may not be within my expertise."
The whispering stopped abruptly.
"But if I may elucidate my side of the story?"
Her demure request was met with no objections, and she nodded her thanks to the council. Her hands clasped in front of her, she took one step forward, then another. Her head slowly, gracefully moved from one side of the room to the other as her eyes seemingly met and greeted each member individually. After four steps, she began to speak.
"A little less than a decade ago, I inherited a nation in turmoil. I found a way to unite its people, and so the provinces of Oz began to flourish as they once had. I won't deny that much work lies ahead of us still, but I believe that to be all the more reason for me to see this task through to the very end.
"As far as these new challenges are concerned—"
She'd reached the dais then, but didn't climb the three steps to join Cherrystone. Instead, she moved around to face the council, turning her back to the Governor.
"What if I told you that, perhaps against all your expectations, I already have dealt with at least two of them."
That suggestion earned her a collective gasp, and the corners of her lips curled in something akin to pride. She had guessed correctly. Few, if any of the congregated men had assumed her mission complete. They had thought her return a sign of capitulation, not victory. How fortunate, that they were wrong.
"The storm has passed. Trade will be able to resume between Oz and Ev. I believe that much should suffice to assuage Governor Cherrystone's concerns?"
The silence that ensued yet again caught Glinda in torn anticipation. She'd been sure, so sure that this declaration would win her their love and support. She still was rather sure, but how could she not also doubt? Their reticence was unusual. Not one of them had readily jumped up to congratulate her and exult over her grand achievement. What was she to do with such an unimpressionable crowd?
Finally, after what felt like hours, an old man, the Lord of Tenmeadows in Gillikin, pulled himself to his feet with a laboured grunt. Though his knees were shaky, and his back bent, his voice was surprisingly steady and carried well across the hall.
"You bring most welcome news, my lady," he said, awkwardly bowing his head in recognition. "And I suppose, in light of this new information, the council will be more than willing to consider reinstating—"
"Reinstate her?" bellowed Cherrystone. "Just like that, in the absence of any proof! Who of you is going to travel to Ev to see if it's true? It was an impossible task. The mere fact that she returned alive and very much unharmed should be evidence enough that she never attempted it in earnest."
"Are you calling me a liar then?"
Glinda wanted to be offended, yet couldn't help but feel delight at the sight of her adversary digging himself deeper and deeper into this hole of his own creation.
"Pardon me for not coming before you in the same state in which I first arrived back here in Oz. However, contrary to men, we women do not get to parade around our battle scars, since they would be considered blemishes rather than badges of honour. For that very reason, every effort has been made to heal and conceal mine. Though I assure you, they do exist."
Realising what she'd just said, she snapped her mouth shut, lest she reveal even more intimate details. Setting aside Cherrystone's accusations was all good and well, yet that final remark had turned out far too candid for her liking. While it might have underscored her point, exposing her own vulnerability like this simply couldn't be in her best interest. Softly clearing her voice, she mustered a humble smile and prepared to brush past her misstep as smoothly as possible.
"But it matters not," she continued with a deliberate excess of confidence and optimism. "Proof shall be yours very soon. In the meantime, won't you trust the word of someone you have followed faithfully for so many years, though times of crisis, as well as peace? Someone who has no interest in lying to achieve some short-term gain? For the truth certainly will come out. You know that, I know that. Only a fool would try to deceive you."
To that, they could all agree. Nevertheless, on insistence by a few exceedingly cautious—or perhaps secretly dissenting—individuals, it was decided that a scout would be sent out to verify the state of facts before any changes to the current order be made. Until then, Glinda was invited to reside at her palace in her usual compartments, but nothing more. Though thoroughly disappointed in the outcome, she acquiesced, but asked for permission to host a small function for the Grand Council members, at her own cost. It was an offer they could not refuse.
A feast such as this took some preparing, of course, and so it was ten further days until the highly anticipated event could go ahead. Though Glinda was rather impatient, this did ultimately play out in her favour. While the council had decreed that no news of their former Throne Minister's alleged victory should reach the ordinary citizens at this time—lest popular opinion may sway them to protest and rebel until Glinda the Good be awarded the highest honour once more and without any possible means to revoke her powers—word about the upcoming celebration did filter through to the masses fairly swiftly, owing at least in part to the hundreds of entertainers she'd decided to audition before choosing her favourites to play before her honoured guests.
"Is it true, my lady, that you magicked the storm to protect the Ozian border from enemies instead?" one man wished to know. He had arrived calling himself a bard, but his playing, and even more so his singing, led Glinda to believe that that had been barely more than a pretext.
She smiled mysteriously, and nodded for her manservant to step forward and offer the phony performer a refreshment.
"I have been kindly asked by Oz's most cherished Grand Council not to disclose any information pertaining my journey to Ev just yet. However, just so you and your family may sleep soundly at night, let me promise to you that we shall expect no further trouble hailing from the desert."
Consequently, when Glinda went into town with her lady's maid for the final fitting of a dress she had commissioned for the illustrious occasion, she could hardly set one foot in front of the other without being accosted by the one or the other well-wisher, admirer, or hopeful petitioner. There was simply no end to the press of people, just like in the good old days. Or perhaps even more chaotic still, which was by no means a bad sign.
Though it was tiresome for sure, she remembered to remain patient, to accept or reject each interaction with the gentlest of smiles, and so she gradually made her way to the seamstress' shop. Once inside, she received a calming tea, a piece of cake that she regretfully had to turn down, and a few moments of peace and quiet before the real work began.
To her great satisfaction, the feast proceeded without incident. Most everyone was having a grand time, and the one or the other lord went so far as to take her aside and tell her—in strict confidence—how delighted they would be to support her claim to the throne if the matter were to be brought up for vote.
It seemed then, that the generals alone were unanimously on Cherrystone's side. Military rule must have brought them plenty of potential to benefit, and who would want to give those up willingly? She could sympathise with that, but above all, she knew that making the military her enemy would be a terrible oversight. Instead, she would have to work all the harder to bring them into the fold, to woo and charm them even more thoroughly than the others. Except, maybe, the one whom she knew to be impossible to convince. She would have to weed him out at the earliest opportunity. But cleverly, so as not to spook his comrades.
The evening was drawing to a close. Endeavouring to ensure that none of her guests would leave without a few final words of her gratitude, Glinda rose from her chair at the end of the table. She raised her cup while the footmen made their round, refilling the remaining goblets with the best vintage on offer. A master of her trade, she had set this special delicacy aside for this very moment.
"Honoured guests. Dear friends.
"Let me begin by saying how wonderful it was to enjoy this evening with you in such a relaxed manner. Let me thank you all for largely setting aside politics, and economics, and military strive for one night to simply celebrate."
"Hear, hear!" Lord Tenmeadows interjected merrily, clearly in no need of another glass of wine.
Equally grateful and amused, she took a moment to regard him warmly and nod before moving on.
In as far as such speeches usually went, Glinda's speech wasn't long by any standard, however towards the end of it, a certain cluster of guest began to murmur among themselves, and one voice could be heard above all others. Displeased, she set her cup down and honed in on the insolent scoundrel.
"Governor Cherrystone," she said cooly, "do you have something to say that might benefit all of us to hear?"
Until then, the remainder of the party had ignored the man and his friends pointedly, but now, all eyes were upon him, glinting with the promise of a juicy confrontation.
Lazily, he pushed himself to his feet.
"My lady."
A mocking dip if his head followed. Disapproving grunts could be heard from several directions.
"Thank you for the plentiful food, as well as the delectable wine."
He brought his drink to his lips and emptied it in one, big gulp, then put it back down so forcefully that the table shook. One lady gasped audibly, while everyone else pretended not to have noticed.
"Nevertheless. I will not be taken for a fool, nor will my brothers in arms." His gaze drifted from her towards the men gathered at the table. "Nor will you, esteemed lords. Am I right?"
His voice was quickly increasing in volume. At the doors, the guards shifted, unsure how they should expect the situation to play out.
"It is blatantly obvious what this is!" thundered the Governor. "Enticement. Bribery! It's revolting!
"But I know what your plan is. Believe me, I saw through it the moment you proposed this… pleasant, little gathering. Soon it will become apparent that the scout we sent out will not return. Maybe it was the Vinkuns, maybe he got lost along the way. Regardless, you will try to convince the Grand Council that too much time has been lost already, that you should be named Throne Minister in spite of the absence of evidence.
"Because I have no interest in lying to achieve a short term goal," he imitated her voice deliberately badly.
"You expect that your sweet nature, your winning smile, your generosity will be enough to convince them all. But I will make sure that they all see through your ridiculous charade.
"My lady," he finished, emphasising his final words in a contemptuous tone.
He bowed again, deeper this time, then turned around and made to leave. Speechless, not even Glinda knew how to respond to his display.
Cherrystone was perhaps ten paces away from the door, when it suddenly swung opened, and a soldier stepped into the room.
"The ambassador of Ev wishes to be received," he announced, and then, "The High Arcanist Master Tovo'or of Ev wishes to be received."
Bewildered, Cherrystone stopped in his tracks, unable to grant his permission.
"See them in," Glinda decided in his stead, as was arguably her prerogative as the host of this gathering.
Her command was obeyed without question, and an elderly, bold man in luxurious silken robes entered the room. On one arm, he was supported by the woman Glinda remembered as Fanak, this time clad in Evian travel garb.
The arcanist's eyes immediately found Glinda's, and with a sudden spurt of energy, he rushed forward, his companion abruptly turning into a burden to be dragged along, rather than a valuable aid. He didn't quite fall to his knees, but bowed as low as his aged body would allow. His way of speaking was melodic, almost as though he was singing. Somewhat flustered, Fanak hurriedly translated the gist of what he was saying whenever he took a breath, for he seemed far too exhilarated to stop talking completely for even as briefly as one tick of the clock.
"Greetings, Glinda the Good, ruler of Oz, and Vanquisher of Storms. We travelled here on wings of magick, not to shower you with gifts, but to convey our great Emperor's eternal gratitude and to reiterate his promise of a special bond between our nations for as long as you may reign over these lands. Our realm and our people will be forever in your debt, and our arcanists are deeply awed over the feat you accomplished. Please accept this message as our sincerest intention to live up to our pledge, and do not hesitate to make your needs and wishes known to us so we may begin to repay you for your benevolence, bravery, and sacrifice."
Glinda forced back a small sob. If only they knew that they already had done so much more for her than she could ever have asked for, just by bringing their plea before her. It was thanks to Fanak's visit, that she'd had this precious chance to see her Elphie again, to clear the air between them, and express her feelings. To hold her, for however short a period, and to know that she, too, was loved by her beloved.
Yet she couldn't say any of this to anyone present. She couldn't even admit that it hadn't been her alone who had calmed the tempest. Taking all the credit when it was Elphaba who had made the ultimate sacrifice made her feel no better than the Wonderful Wizard himself, no more deserving than the charlatan she'd personally ousted. Yet this was, without a doubt, for the better. It was just one more of those subtle lies and half-truths, that ultimately would allow her to lead her country to prosperity and safety, rather than being prosecuted as a terrorist collaborator.
"Thank you," she replied, her voice thick. It wasn't too difficult to blame it all on her guests' overwhelming gratitude. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and focused. "I'm overjoyed to hear that catastrophe has been averted in your lands, and am deeply honoured by your prompt visit. While I'm sure that we have a host of diplomatic issues to discuss, why don't you come and sit beside me for now. We are celebrating tonight, and you shall be invited to partake in food and drink. After such a strenuous journey, I'm certain that you must be starving and in dire need of diversion."
Her offer was gladly accepted, and they sat one to each side of her. Master Tavo'or commanded most of the conversation, with Fanak jumping in where she could to interpret. It wasn't until much later, that the old man retired, giving the women a moment to catch up.
"I take it you did receive my letter after all," Glinda began, casting a side glance at the only marginally taller foreigner next to her while keeping a watchful eye on the by now deeply drunken lot around them. "The lack of a reply had me in doubts."
"I'm more eloquent with spoken words than a pen," admitted Fanak. "Besides, I thought you would value my quick actions over empty reassurances."
"Oh, I didn't mean to come across as ungrateful, quite the opposite." In spite of herself, Glinda chuckled before her face took on a more wistful quality. "In fact, I will never be able to thank you adequately, and you will never be able to understand why."
She felt colour rise into her cheeks in response to Fanak's puzzled expression. This was the closest she would ever get to the confession that she so desperately yearned for.
"Say, how would you like to stay here in Oz? A permanent representative of your people."
The Evian's brows shot up, and the corners of her mouth quirked.
"I shall bring your request before my emperor. After what you have done for us, I believe he won't have much of a choice but to honour your wish."
Glinda gave a small scoff.
"Well, I didn't ask him, I asked you," she hissed under her breath, then shook her head and smiled. "Yet I suppose, your ready reply tells me everything I need to know. I'm glad. We shall become fast friends."
"It would be an honour to serve you, my lady."
At that, she only waved her hand dismissively and took another sip of her wine.
"You never did tell me…" she continued after the velvety liquid had soothingly run down her throat and brought fresh warmth to her face.
"Tell you what, my lady?"
Embarrassingly, the blush deepened.
"Your true name," the blonde replied doggedly. "If you stay on, I wish to learn it."
"Very well. We can begin practicing tomorrow if you wish."
Glinda tilted her head just enough to see Fanak's eyes properly. They were soft, but determined, an interesting mix. After a moment, she smiled and turned away again.
"Good. I should like this very much."
Glinda the Good, Throne Minister and leader of Oz stepped out onto her private balcony. It was a balmy, calm night, if slightly overcast. She looked up at the few stars that were not hiding behind the cloud cover and bit her lip. Her heart was heavy, though not quite as much so as it had been the summer before, or the summer before that. She couldn't say exactly if this was the day her Elphie had died in her arms, or whether that day had already recently passed. Time had been more confused in the chaos, in the timelessness of the desolate desert, and she'd never endeavoured to determine the exact date. Nevertheless, the profound sadness crept up on her each anniversary without fail.
"Oh Elphie, I miss you so."
Her eyes welled up with tears as a sigh escaped her lips. She blinked them back and shook her head.
From inside, a voice called her name, and she briefly leaned back to shout over her shoulder in reply.
"I'm coming, darling! Just give me one tick-tock."
A gust of wind flared up, ruffling her hair and thin night slip. No more than a coincidence, she reminded herself. One of so many. There were signs everywhere when one was desperate enough to look out for them. That didn't make them any more real. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little less lonely in her grief, even if this might be for the last time.
"Elphie," she said, then took another shuddering breath, "This is the final time that I come looking for you, I think." A single tear spilt. "I believe… I have found someone I can be happy with, and hopefully you will find it in your heart to be happy for me, too."
She swallowed hard against the thickness in her throat.
"I won't forget you though, not ever. And who knows? Maybe one day, we shall meet again, and then I can tell you that you've been wrong about our existence beyond death. You insufferable know it all."
Laughing quietly, she wiped her cheeks dry.
"Yes, that would be delightful indeed. I'm sure you'd agree.
"Until then, farewell, my friend, my love. My dearest Elphie."