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 B Ending--that's the sort of happy one. At any rate, if this is not the ending you're looking for, please skip back one chapter to Chapter Fifteen A! Thank you :)
Now enjoy!
xoxo MLE
(=^_^=)
Chapter Fifteen B
"But I'm telling you, I'm not a healer," Glinda hissed back urgently at a stern faced Lynx, trying to keep her voice low. "I know hardly anything about conventional medicine, nor am I adept at remedial spells or potions. You must believe me that it's not out of ill will that I must refuse your request. Truly, Sir, if you have your wife's best interests at heart, you wouldn't wish for me to experiment on her and butcher the process. Dire as her situation may be, she is still better off without my help."
Eyes narrowing and long whiskers flexing, the Animal produced a low growl in the back of his throat. And yet, he leaned back the very next moment, assuming a far less threatening stance.
"Then hope is as good as lost," he croaked, eyes longingly sweeping in the direction of the makeshift bed in the opposite corner of the room.
It was well past midnight, and the flickering shine of a sole candle was dim. Glinda would have done something about that at least if she'd thought it necessary, but considering the shadowy outline of the female Serval that lay shivering on the bed, she believed it to be more soothing if they kept the lights low. Belly big and round, breaths coming in heavily, the expecting mother struggled with delivering a set of kittens. No matter how desperate Glinda was to answer the couple's pleas and save her, this was miles beyond her expertise.
"I can send Chistery to find a midwife or a doctor in the city. Better both."
She glanced at her Monkey companion, who sat leaning against the wall, cradling a tired Liir's head in his lap. The boy yawned, and Glinda sighed quietly at the sight of them.
"No one will take such a risk and come to our aid," the Lynx lamented, breaking her out of her brief moment of reverie. "Even those who don't despise us are afraid of the consequences."
The sorceress shook her head.
"It's a shame. I leave this man in charge for just over two months, only to find everything in shambles upon my return. Well, I will see what I can do to rectify this mess, but where your wife is concerned, quicker action must be taken. For goodness' sake, there must be someone left in this place who still has a heart and an ounce of courage!"
Just then, they heard the noise that permeated the inadequate walls and froze, wide eyes staring at each other as they listened out for clues. Whereas the camp had mostly been quiet throughout the night, with most of its inhabitants sound asleep, a fierce din suddenly erupted, with gruff voices bellowing a cascade of unintelligible commands. The fine hairs at the back of Glinda's neck bristled, sensing the upcoming confrontation.
A Boar rushed through the curtained door and into the dilapidated shack—Torg.
"Soldiers have arrived," he announced, panting, his gaze immediately fixed on Glinda. His big, worried eyes beseeched her to do something, anything to avert this catastrophe. "Your Goodness; it's serious. They are ready to clear the camp and herd us away from the EC."
"Marvellous timing," exclaimed Glinda nonchalantly as she rose to her full height.
The attending Animals stared at her as though she'd grown a second head, and a tight smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
"Why, I suppose now is as good a time as any to set things straight. Might as well start with these gentlemen, now that they've already come knocking on our door."
She turned to Chistery then, her expression changing into one of regret and pain.
"But you, dear friend should probably not be revealed tonight. You have my upmost and heartfelt thanks for accompanying me and young Liir all this way, and for helping me to arrange this meeting before my return to the city. Even if it didn't turn out as expected, I think it was useful in its own way. You're free to go wherever you please now. In case you decide to fly to Ev, please convey my love to Elphie. I'd be more than glad to welcome you back here again once it's safe. Right now, I fear, I cannot allow myself such audacity."
"You take care," Chistery replied heavily, understanding, but heartbroken. "Of yourself, of course. And of the boy."
He ruffled the child's messy mop of hair, then wrapped his arms around him in a quick, firm hug. "I will miss you both," he murmured, mostly to Liir.
"Stay safe!" Glinda called after him in a hoarse whisper as he hobbled over to one of the many gaps in between the boards that constituted the hut's walls and squeezed through, disappearing into the night.
A whimper came from the spot where Chistery and Liir had sat dozing mere clock-ticks ago. Liir looked miserable and scared, and Glinda felt her own feelings intensify when her attention lingered just a little too long on him. Fanning herself with her hands, she blinked back the beginning of tears, reprimanding herself. She couldn't allow herself to be so soft, when everything hinged on her very next move.
She'd come here, asking for an opportunity to consult with the Animal refugees and learn about recent developments in the city. Uncertain of what may have happened in her absence, the encampment was her only conceivable starting point. After all, they were her only guaranteed supporters, and she couldn't very well have simply burst through the palace gates unprepared, without a plan and no more than an urchin in tow. All her caution would be for naught, however, if her friend's departure turned out detrimental enough to make her waver and stumble before she'd even taken her deciding step.
The commotion intensified, and Liir gasped before scurrying away to hide under the bed. The Lynx growled, this time in all earnest, and the Antelope that stood by the bedside with a wet rag to make the labouring Serval marginally more comfortable, shook visibly. Atop the cot, the pregnant patient moaned.
A knock against the wood beside the door sent shivers down their spines, including Glinda's. They had all realised that the soldier hadn't used his hand to announce himself.
"Come out now!" a voice bellowed. "Slowly, one by one, and paws in the air!"
Moving closer to his distressed wife, the Lynx gave no indication that he was ready to obey.
"That's all right," Glinda said gently, folding her hands in front of herself. "Let me handle this." She craned her neck, trying in vain to catch a glimpse of her charge. "Liir, you must follow me," she called. "I won't have you get lost in whatever chaos awaits us out there."
But when she stepped forward, she didn't turn again to make sure that her instructions were being followed. She nodded at the Antelope instead.
"The curtain, if you please."
Stiff from fear, the unofficial midwife stalked to the door.
"Come out at once! Governor's orders!"
"Men," scoffed Glinda, straightening the skirt of her dress. "So impatient. Very well, I'm ready to go."
At the woman's subtle sign, the Antelope extended a trembling hoof to draw back the curtain. Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, Glinda stepped forward, paused, then crossed the threshold.
The man closest to the door stumbled back a few paces in utter surprise. His colleagues appeared equally confusified and exchanged baffled looks.
"What kind of greeting is this, I wonder?"
The sound of her voice broke the soldiers stupor and spurred them into action. About every second man now trained his weapon on the unexpected person.
"I—Identify yourself, Miss!" One brave soul barked. "Co—collaboration with Animal pack I—is a serious offence!"
"Certainly not under any law that I ever passed," Glinda huffed, feigning exasperation. "Don't you recognise me, you fools?"
Those words, uttered in the right sort of tone made some of them seriously try and rack their brains—to no particular avail, it would seem.
"Oh, is it the poor lighting? I suppose that can be amended."
Lifting her hand with a graceful twist of her wrist, she described a circle above her head. A crown of golden light materialised amidst her bountiful, blonde locks, illuminating first her face, then her entire person for a few mesmerising clock ticks. The men gasped, some shielding their eyes from the misplaced brightness. It was doubtful whether any of them would have had a chance to discern her features, but the magick, though a simple spell, and hardly more than a parlour trick, impressed them into submission.
"It is I, Glinda, your Throne Minister, returning from my mission in Ev. Listen well: you will defer to me and obey my orders, which are that not a single hair shall be harmed tonight, be it Animal or otherwise. Do you understand?"
One by one, the soldiers fell to their knees, mutely asking for her forgiveness. Except for one.
"How do we know you are who say you are?" demanded the dark-haired man who'd knocked earlier, brandishing his rifle casually. While it was clear that he was not intending to use it just yet, he was ready enough to do so if provoked.
"It is your shortcoming, not mine, if you are incapable of recognising your head of state, young man," Glinda admonished, though the loaded weapon and his careless handling of it unsettled her.
"There has been no communications, not a single word from our so-called ruler in months," the soldier continued smugly. "Two days ago, Governor Cherrystone advised the council that the Throne Minister could very well be lost to us, and suggested that he be made her successor."
"Did he now."
Glinda couldn't help the incredulous laugh that issued forth and into the otherwise quiet darkness. This was too precious, though not entirely unexpected
"Well, I am here now, so his point is moot. My apologies, if that disappoints the one or the other follower he might have gained in my absence."
"How can we be sure she isn't dead? Is there solid proof? You could be an imposter for all we know. My sister is a sorceress, you know? She could sprinkle a dash of sparkle like that, but that doesn't make her the Queen of Quadling Quarter."
"You have guts, my boy. I appreciate that. But this silly game must end now. As it happens, we have an emergency at hand, and I require an escort to the palace. Say, have you come with horses? Have you got a cart of some kind?"
They did, and they had. Without much further ado, Glinda stretched her hand out in the direction of the door and closed her eyes to focus on the cot she knew to be within. A few small shrieks accompanied the bed as it floated through the opening. The Lynx came running out after his wife in sheer panic, the Antelope opted to remain concealed. Liir trudged through the door a short while later, perhaps realising that he would be left behind if he didn't.
There were no further objections when Glinda explained her plan to the Lynx and gave her orders to the soldiers. The bold opposer was left speechless when none of his comrades deigned to listen to him.
The procession arrivedat the palace gates, where Glinda delivered another address in order to gain access. The wardens there were easily enough convinced of her identity, only acted confused as though they had been given contradictory directions. Face to face with the woman herself, however, no one dared to deny her outright, and within minutes, the portcullis was lifted so she may pass through.
Once they had all gathered in the entrance hall, she directed most of the soldiers to report back to the barracks, to catch some sleep, or do whatever their superior had in mind for them. Four of the men she sent out in different directions to find Commander Ilfex of the Palace Guard. When a footman approached, she sent him away, too, to find more staff that may be of help with locating a suitable room for the Animal pair, as well as the resident physician. The man returned swiftly with an entire retinue of maids and servants following close behind, and Glinda picked the most familiar woman of the group to show Liir to her personal compartments.
The echoes of the many footsteps faded in the distance as Glinda remained behind on her own, waiting for one of her most trusted courtiers to make an appearance. Perhaps, it would have been more prudent to tell the soldiers that she would be awaiting him in one parlour or another, or even the throne room. She'd been in a great hurry, however, to get everyone settled and sorted, and overlooking such a small detail was something she could forgive herself for. Although it was admittedly rather vexing to stand alone in the dimly lit entrance hall, like a valise that had been forgotten by its owner. Well, this would serve her as a lesson, she supposed.
Finally, fresh footsteps approached—two sets, if she was any good at telling those sorts of things. The unmistakable clicking of military boots reassured her that her waiting was about to come to an end, and so she turned towards the appropriate corridor with ready eagerness. Already her mouth opened to suggest a cosier place for their inevitably lengthy talk, but then she stopped short. The last of her warmth left her, when her gaze was met by a pair of ice blue eyes.
"Commander."
She regained her footing quickly, steeled herself for the hostilities to come. His disgruntlement over her failure to perish on her journey was palpable and not particularly astonishing in itself. Only, she had hoped to get a snatch of sleep before having to deal with Cherrystone's temper. Her weariness promptly increased at the mere thought of the sweet rest she'd been denied, a throbbing ache settling itself on both sides of her head. Doggedly pulling back her shoulders and fixing a serene smile in place, she took a step forward to greet the military man and the treacherous little scamp who'd evidently run off to tattletale.
"How good to have you back and in good health," Cherrystone said evenly. The omission of any of the many honourifics he could have chosen from did not escape her notice.
"Well, Traper, I'm afraid it couldn't be helped. My pesky sense of responsibility—you know how it is. Simply couldn't allow that silly whirlwind to carry me off to who knows where."
"You forfeited then, in order to return and rule another day?"
Her lips quirked at the trace of doubt in his voice.
"I don't blame you, nor anyone else for being fooled by the frills and satins that adorn more, especially when paired with my delicate physique. It is natural for tall, burly men to underestimate a diminutive woman over and over again, no matter how often she proves herself their equal. I know. It's the way of the world, and perception is a tricky beast to conquer.
"Alas, you are mistaken. While I have returned to resume my rule, I did not have to abandon my task to do so. I vanquished the storm, completed my task. Whether you believe me or not."
Cherrystone's expression darkened. At his sides, she could see his hands flex, resisting the urge to fly to the hilt of his sword.
"The council is about to announce me as the new leader of Oz. I could remove you now, before you cause too many ripples, tell those who have interacted with you tonight that it was an imposter they saw, nothing more."
He jerked his formidable chin to indicate the young man behind him.
"This cadet believed you to be one. I'm sure he would be glad to tell his friends and competitors that he'd been right all along, especially after receiving a nice, shiny badge in recognition of his service, and a small promotion to go with it. Isn't that right, Ovvald?"
"Y—yes, Sir."
Glinda thought she saw the soldier gulp as he straightened, snapping his palms to his legs. Using his position of attention as an excuse, he stared straight ahead, ensuring he would have no reason whatsoever to meet her eyes.
"You truly are a selfish man," Glinda sighed. "Not that I could say with certainty that you wouldn't make a better ruler than me. But don't you remember the promise the Evians gave me? That their emperor would be in my debt? Don't you think that this could be a golden opportunity for Oz? Don't you think that the entirety of the nation we both cherish so ardently would benefit from His Imperial Majesty's generosity? And unfortunately, this offer only extended to me, in case of my success. Now that I succeeded, it's all within our grasp. Without me, however, it would all be null and void. Wouldn't that be a shame, Traper?"
Turning to the younger man, she cocked her head inquisitively, studying him for a moment.
"What do you think, Ovvald? Didn't you allude to your family living in Quadling Quarter? Did they hail from Quadling Country? Were you born there? Have you ever been? Either way, I'm sure you're old enough to be aware of the conditions there. Increased trade and friendlier relations with Ev could breathe new life into the entire province. If I can be of any help in that regard, I will do my upmost. If my dear friend Cherrystone got his will, however… Well. I don't know if he truly has southern interests at heart."
The soldier blinked a number of times, and his mouth tightened. Other than that, there was no readable reaction.
"It is late," Cherrystone pointed out. "I think we're done here, and I for one would like to go back to sleep. Ovvald, take her away."
"No! How dare you!"
But Glinda's protest fell on deaf ears. Already half turned away, Cherrystone raised his hand and gave his man a dismissive sign. None too gently, the soldier took her by the arm and began to pull her in the opposite direction.
"Stop! Let go of me!"
"You would be wise to follow me, my lady," her captor growled, making full use of his superior strength as he relentlessly moved towards a dark archway, beyond which no light was discernible.
"No," Glinda whimpered, more to herself this time, as it was already sufficiently apparent that neither of the men would be swayed.
She watched Cherrystone leave the scene, proudly strutting down the hall while she was dragged and hauled into darkness. Her heart was pounding, and the blood pulsed in her ears. She could hardly hear herself think through the thumping noise.
For whatever reason, they stopped for a clock tick or two. Ovvald ushered the petite woman into a corner behind the column that framed the throughway, pressing his large, rough hand to her mouth. She could still have screamed, she realised, or kicked, or scratched him. She could still have performed some minor trick to first divert his attention, then finish him off after she'd used that chance to free herself. She could have made a scene, woken the entire palace in the midst of night, burnt the building down if she had to. But would that have worked in her favour? Not knowing how many nobles were still on her side, and how many on Cherrystone's, she didn't wish to take this chance, only for her plan to backfire.
At last satisfied that the coast was clear and no one had watched them earlier, the soldier readjusted his grip around her upper arm.
"Let's go," he grunted, shoving her further down the path they had started on.
There truly was no light, not even the smallest candle. His feet, however, found their way without fail and never stumbled over the minor gaps and ledges between the cobbles that made her trip and flounder almost constantly. If not for his secure hold on her, she would have fallen a dozen times before they even reached the stairs.
The stairs. She stubbed her toes when she first came upon them. Admittedly, this startled her. If she'd expected any stairways along their way, she would have thought them to lead down to the dungeons, not up. But what did she know about the palace plans, its hidden tunnels and cells? Most likely, there would be plenty of secret rooms that could hold prisoners should the need arise. And if any of her remaining friends caught wind of this incident, the dungeons would be the most obvious place to start looking for her, making them a terrible choice, actually. At least Cherrystone and his men weren't entirely clueless then. A weak consolation.
Surprisingly even as they were, Glinda had less problems climbing the steps than she'd had with the straight corridor. At the few occasions when her feet did slip, Ovvald was sure to support her, and she came to rely on his help, despite their animosity. That gave her more time to think and consider her next step. Depending on where she would ultimately end up, she could potentially free herself, or request assistance. Her trembling fingers fumbled a bit until they could reach underneath her bodice, feeling for the tiny bag that was tucked away there. It contained half a dozen of Chistery's hairs and three of Elphaba's—for her to use if she needed to send a message that only they could receive. Chistery was still nearby, having only left an hour or so ago. He would be able find help if need be.
The stairways stretched on and on, all the way up to the highest tower, she suspected. But she wouldn't find out, not tonight. For the soldier suddenly jerked her around, making a sharp left turn and leaving the winding stairs behind. After rushing through another long, badly paved tunnel, they finally emerged on the other side, where they were greeted by the flickering shine of oil lamps. Her head snatched this way, then that, up and down in quick succession.
She was dizzy with confusion. This part of the palace was no secret at all, frequented as it was by staff and noble inhabitants alike. She recognised the portrait of Ozma the Bilious, recognised the crooked mount next to it that held her consort Pastorius' blunt ceremonial sword. How many times had she ordered it fixed? Well, at least she knew where they were now.
"Over here, my lady," Ovvald said, his tone strangely mild compared to before. Releasing her arm, he let his hand glide down to her wrist where he tugged only gently. "Your rooms, quick. I'd rather not be seen."
Blinking, her mouth falling open, she followed him through the small gap in between the tall double doors. They slipped into the anteroom of her compartment and closed the entrance shut, both thoroughly relieved.
"I'm… thank you." She shook her head. "Though I don't know if I quite understand."
He grimaced, not entirely at peace with his decisions those past couple of minutes.
"The Commander offers a more tangible reward," he admitted. "With better odds, too. He's all around the better bet."
His mouth contorted into something more akin to a shy smile.
"But realising you're the real deal, and hearing your promises… I felt compelled. This isn't magick, is it? You didn't put me under some sort of spell, did you?"
Glinda smiled with a kindness she did not feel, given their personal track record so far, but knew might be beneficial.
"No. No magick. While it's not entirely impossible to convince other minds of one's own conviction, it is my motto that crossing this line is tantamount to conceding defeat. I'm a politician first and foremost. I sway minds and hearts with words; the fanciful bibbidi bobbidi boo is just a sideshow talent of mine."
While that wasn't entirely accurate, the statement served her purpose. Never had she claimed to sway those hearts with nothing but the naked, unfiltered truth.
The man nodded and removed his hat, all at once aware that he was intruding in her private sphere. Cautiously, he scanned his surroundings, took in the costly furniture and decorations. Sensing that he was preoccupied enough, Glinda herself deemed it safe to take her eyes off him and look around.
At the coffee table by the curtained window, she spotted Liir, munching on a bowl of sweets. Seeing as the dish was nearly empty, he must have started with a ferocious appetite, and she wondered whether he might regret his excess later, nursing a terrible tummy ache. But above all, she was glad to see the little rascal well and safe, and exactly where she had ordered him to be brought. She almost had to stop herself from flying over to him and squashing him in her arms. Biting her lip, she tore her eyes and thoughts away from the child, honing in on her desk instead.
"I need to write a letter, if you don't mind," she said, gracefully floating towards the ornate bureau.
Casting one glance back at the boy, chocolate staining his mouth and crumbs on his shabby shirt, the corners of her lips curled.
"Be a dear, Liir, and leave a biscuit for the poor man. He must have been on his feet all night and deserves a small treat."
She didn't turn around to check whether her instructions were heeded or not, didn't attune her ears to listen out for whether or not the soldier traversed the room to collect his biscuit. Her marble pen glided across the scented page before her in generous swirls and delicate lines, but with great hurry. It wasn't a long letter; only a couple of lines sufficed. She folded the paper neatly and sealed it with wax, adding a single hair before pressing her sigil stamp to it. Pulling out another page, she started a second letter, curter even than the first. After adding her written, as well as a magickal signature, she folded this one too, though she didn't bother with the wax.
"I have a job for you, Ovvald," she announced, and already the man held out both of his hands to receive the letters she held—one in each hand of hers. "No, not this one," she told him impatiently, clutching the first letter to her chest. "Only this. These are instructions for Commander Ilfex. I trust he is still around and in charge?"
Ovvald nodded, and she released a small breath.
"So far so good, but I assume he never received my initial message."
Her guess was confirmed by the soldier's ruefully gritted teeth.
"Very well, you are making up for your mistakes now. But go now, and no further shenanigans, do you hear?"
He nodded, and she dismissed him. The instant the doors closed behind him, she lost her cool and collected posture entirely and rushed to the doors to listen for any sounds of chinking keys, the click of the lock. All she could hear were the fading echoes of the man's footsteps, and a vague hope spread in her chest that the worst was over now.
The girl found her sleeping draped over the couch by the coffee table. Exhausted, she hadn't made it to the bed the night before. Her brief attempt to discuss the most recent events with Liir, who either wouldn't or couldn't understand any of what she said, had left her frustrated and stubbornly fixed in place—until sleep had claimed her, it would seem. Not that she wasn't used to uncomfortable sleeping positions by now. At least her couch was sufficiently cushioned.
"My lady?"
The girl's eyes grew even wider when she stirred and tilted her head to look at her. She, too, looked like she hadn't expected her mistress to return. Glinda's spirits lifted at the sight of her, and the warmth of familiarity.
"It's good to see you, truly."
With a hearty yawn and a stretch of her arms, she readied herself for a speedy morning toilette. With a gasp, she remembered Liir and whipped her head around to search for him.
"Where's the boy?" she demanded as if the girl herself had hidden him away.
But Glinda located him before she could defend herself, curled up on the plush bed in the adjacent room. Slumping back into her seat, she exhaled, bringing her hand up to rub her tired eyes.
"I'm sorry. It's been a long flight home, and I received a rather precarious welcome. It has't been easy on me," she sighed, then shook her head. "But it doesn't matter. Let's get on with it, shall we? There's much to do and very little time. Draw the bath, will you? And ready my gown. The silvery green one with the gold embroidery, I think."
Hair washed and pinned up in the shape of a braided crown, her skin cleaned, moisturised and perfumed, she nearly felt as though she'd left the weeks in the desert behind her, almost as if they had never occurred. Alas, of course they had, and while her body began to feel more like her own again, her heart still ached for her dearest Elphie, whom she'd been forced to leave behind yet again.
Just when she thought the morning was already punishing enough, her mood took another nose dive as she discovered that the dress she'd chosen barely fit her, hung loosely from her shoulders, and didn't cinch enough around her waist. Frowning, she looked in the mirror and bit the inside of her cheek at what she saw. It was nothing a little magick alteration of her gown, along with a silken shawl could not mask, but she worried what the lords—or rather their more observant wives—might think if they were to notice anyway. She'd always been short, much to her dismay; she couldn't allow herself to be seen as frail to boot. No one should have any more than the usual doubts when it came to her ability to lead the nation, least of all today.
"This will have to do," she told her maids, smoothing over her skirt to eliminate creases that weren't there.
Casting another critical look at the mirror, she scowled and turned away, incidentally meeting Liir's eyes. The child sat on a stool, legs dangling, a bunch of grapes in his hand. She looked him up and down and found herself at a loss as to what she ought to do with him.
Elphie and her had never discussed his future beyond the vague notion that he would be safer at the palace. Yet the details of how she was meant to progress with him from thereon, care for him and educate him, had never been mentioned. Elphaba had shown every sign of disinterest, but only superficially. The truth, Glinda guessed, was that the woman who'd birthed him knew nothing more than that she couldn't keep him with her. Her guilt over this sat deeper than she could possibly express.
"When I leave"—she sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth and bent over to put on the bracelets that lay ready for her on the vanity—"please see to my young friend here. He will need a bath, a haircut, and, of course, fresh clothes."
She paused, pretending to inspect the gems that now glistened on her wrist. Swallowing hard against the thickness of her throat, she clenched her jaw for a moment before continuing.
"Treat him as if he were my own. But keep this to yourself. For now. Let me survive this assassination attempt first before I court political suicide."
Ilfex had done well. The throne room was full to the brim with courtiers from all regions of Oz. Although she couldn't tell for certain, she strongly suspected that all members of the grand council were indeed present, along with a number of less familiar faces, who might have tagged along out of pure curiosity. There was only one man who should be present yet wasn't—but that, too, was part of her own design.
A fanfare sounded when she first set foot into the room, and the courtiers fumbled to their feet. Their confusion was palpable, their murmuring not entirely suppressed when she walked down the aisle. She'd rarely been this nervous, and the crowd's anxiety only furthered hers. The distance to the dais felt impossibly long, but she reached it eventually, ascended its short steps and turned regally to face the congregation, look them straight in the eyes as she repossessed the seat that she'd previously occupied.
While straining to remain outwardly calm, she didn't dare to breathe as she awaited their reaction. Would it be joyful cheers and holler, or a chaotic fallout? Strangely, neither materialised.
There was deference for sure; many heads bowed in acknowledgement of her claim. Others were more cautious, or perhaps privately discontent, saying and doing nothing, waiting to gauge how the situation would unfold. She had hoped for more enthusiastic support. Was it worth the sacrifice and pain she had to endure if the people didn't truly love her with all their hearts? But these men and women, these fortunate few, were not the sum of her subjects, she reminded herself, nor an accurate representation. She would never know for sure what every last citizen of Oz thought about her, but as long as she did right by them to the best of her abilities, love was not the be-all and end-all of her reign, was it?
No. That was an immature sentiment she had to rid herself of once and for all. If she had the majority vote, her noble's confidence, that would be more than enough. By the looks of it, she wasn't too far off from that even now, no matter what lies Cherrystone had instilled in them.
"Esteemed lords," she began, then let her gaze roam in an effort to personally acknowledge as many counsel members as was possible within a reasonable amount of time. "I cannot understate how good it is to see each and every one of you."
A practised smile spread across her lips, enhanced by the surprising sincerity of her words. She was glad, she realised, genuinely glad. To see them, to be home and safe. She'd had her adventure and other than Elphaba, she missed none of it. She would't need something new within a handful of months' time, that much was for certain. This was where she belonged after all, and she would defend her right to this spot, come what may.
This resolution emboldened her more than anything. She could breathe freely again, and the uncomfortable coil at the pit of her stomach loosened. Feeling her nerves even out with each subsequent word, she continued her speech, improvising and extending it to more than twice the length she'd prepared.
By the end of it, the crowd that occupied the throne room remained silent—entranced and captivated, she realised belatedly after a moment of resurging alarm. The Lord of Tenmeadows, an old but proud man of Gillikinese stock was the first to stand in order to lead a cheer, and a salute to her health and longevity.
It was thrilling for the whole of about five minutes, until the doors opened, and Cherrystone stepped in. With an audible gasp, the courtiers fell silent.
"How generous of you to honour us with your presence, dear Governor," Glinda welcomed him serenely, already feeling supremely more secure in her position than she had the night before. "We were just in the midst of celebrating my return. Would you care to chime in?"
"I unfortunately wasn't informed of this event," Cherrystone ground out before starting his advance in her direction.
The woman on the emerald and golden throne watched him carefully as he made his way past the rows of chairs that had been put up left and right of the aisle, turning heads and sowing unease with every step. Her eyes flew to the guards that manned the doors, and she sensed their indecision. To rely upon them would be a colossal mistake.
"Consider your next move well, Governor," Glinda warned gently, as if she were cautioning a friend from making some shortsighted error. "You tended my realm and my people well enough in my absence, and I shall reward you with land and a title if you kneel and surrender your interim powers willingly. That would be a nice retirement, wouldn't it? Should you refuse, however, I'm afraid our longstanding friendship will come to a regrettable end."
The man's hollow laughter reverberated from the surrounding walls. The sound was confusing and terrifying, as if at least a dozen of other man had joint in on his derisive tirade. But when she allowed herself a brief look to study their audience's faces, all of them were blank and mute. Even her staunchest opponents among their ranks were still too unsure to give voice to their objections.
"My lady." He bowed deeply, mocking her with the excess of his gesture. "I appreciate your offer. Nevertheless, it would seem dreadfully unjust to strip a fellow noble of their property, solely for the sake of appeasing a political rival." With his arms wide open, he faced the crowd. "Wouldn't you agree, my lords?"
The grumbling of several distinct voices was understandable. It was a challenging notion after all. And yet, Cherrystone had just dug his own hole if that really was the argument he intended to build his case on.
"Dear Governor."
In spite of everything, her tone was so sweet and placid that one might be forgiven for assuming that she was trying to placate him. But far from it; she was about to rid herself of this thorn in her side once and for all.
"Do you recall how many children I have?" she asked, stumping him with her peculiar query.
"Pardon, my lady?"
She scoffed in amusement and made eye contact with some of the council members, acting like they were in on the joke.
"The answer is none, as I am sure you are aware. And so, to return to the question you initially posed: I never intended to rob any of my loyal subjects of what is rightfully theirs, not even to appease a political rival. You seem to forget that I'm still holding on to lands of my own, and a title that is of no use to me while I occupy this fancy chair. With no heirs to speak of, I would be prepared to surrender both if necessary, even knowing that my position here may not last indefinitely. I'm aware, of course, that I'm only Throne Minister at the pleasure of the people. But you see, if and when the day comes that I'm no longer wanted here, I have other plans than simply rotting away in my country manor, wallowing in my wealth."
Satisfied at his stunned expression, she let her lips quirk, and still the smirk did nothing to mar the kind quality of her features. Rather, she appeared sad and remorseful when she next spoke.
"Unfortunately, you have proven yourself no friend of mine, deserving of neither material wealth, nor rank or title. I had resigned myself to sweep our altercation last night under the rug, to ignore the fact that you had the absolute audacity to command one of your subordinates to shut me away."
Astonishment echoed throughout the room, just as she'd foreseen it would.
"In an attempt to preserve peace and to cause no conflict within those who are undecided between the two of us, I had been prepared to bear this insolence with a stalwart grin. But you continue to add insult to injury and therefore I see myself forced to act.
"I herewith propose to the members of the Grand Council—who are so conveniently summoned here—that Traper L. Cherrystone be removed as governor since his role has outlived its purpose after my return. Further, I propose that he be stripped of his rank as commander, and expelled from the Emerald City on grounds of treason. All in favour, please rise."
Many did not need long to think their decision over, others hesitated, as they were wont to do. Another group of men made no move to stand. Glinda surveyed the lords and ladies before her. Amidst the colourful mass of people it was tricky to discern who was of import for this decision and who was not, whether a majority had been reached, or whether her proposition had failed.
Lord Tenmeadows also recognised the predicament and began to count heads.
"That's fifty-eight in favour, Your Goodness," he concluded at last. "Out of a hundred, this is a sufficient margin."
Only fifty-eight out of a hundred, a small voice whispered in her head, causing her hands to tremble. More than enough, she told herself sternly and pushed herself up from her seat.
But Cherrystone, too, had evaluated the numbers. Before she could say anything, he once again raised his arms and barked a cold laugh.
"Fifty-eight, you say, my lord? Well. Nearly half of the council seem reluctant to convict me. And what swayed the others? Immeasurable love and devotion for our gorgeous leading lady? Promises of intensified relations with Ev? Is that what she told you? Do you believe it? Has she brought evidence? She had none for me when I asked last night, and ask was all I did, no matter what she claims."
Focusing on Cherrystone alone, Glinda only vaguely noticed movement out of the corners of her eyes. A number of council members sat back down, and her stomach dropped. How many had withdrawn their agreement just then? Two? Three? A dozen? She swallowed hard. Wonderful. Now it was his word against hers. And of course she had no evidence, how could she? She couldn't very well have chopped off the storm's head and presented it as a trophy.
"I will not answer to accusations of pandering falsehoods. As for proof, the governor his correct: there is none as of yet. Nevertheless, I would like to appeal to the trust you used to have in me, the support you have shown me over so many years. If I were indeed lying, my lie would be short lived. You shall have your proof soon enough, I promise that much.
"In the meantime, I have a suggestion to make. Please hear me out: Cherrystone ought to be removed as governor, and in his stead the council shall preside over only the most urgent rulings and decisions. I, on the other hand, shall act in no official capacity until evidence for my deeds arrives at our doorstep, demonstrating to your satisfaction that I spoke the truth. The wait should not be long, my dear lords. Word has been sent already, and I expect Ev's answer soon. What say you?"
Two weeks passed, then three, and Glinda began to feel uneasy. She'd sent that robin after Chistery so promptly, that it couldn't have taken him long to catch up to the Monkey. Chistery in turn must have understood the urgency of her letter and made greater haste to reach Ev. With the storm no longer barring the faster routes, it couldn't be unreasonable to expect that some sort of message should have made its way back to Oz by now. Unless something was wrong. Unless the Evians had decided to go back on their promise, unless she'd been deceived about their intentions from the start. Unless something had happened to Chistery.
No. She couldn't allow herself to think like this. There must be a better explanation. Perhaps a reply had been sent but had gotten lost or been intercepted. These kinds of things did happen after all, and often they happened when they could cause the greatest havoc. It was frustrating, really, but no reason to despair just yet.
Still, for sanity's sake, she at the very least needed to find out whether Chistery had arrived safe and sound. And really, how long was she supposed to wait until she wrote a letter to Elphaba? A month? A year? It wouldn't be easy to be in contact without seeing each other, but it wasn't like she'd ever managed to stop thinking about her anyway.
Heaving a small sigh, she sat down at her bureau and pulled out a sheet of paper, then went on to select her favourite purple ink. Everything on the ready, her hand poised to make the first stroke, she sat there, staring at the blank page. Now that she was actively trying, she didn't know what to write.
Her head was empty. No, not entirely empty. It was empty of wit, but full of the most vivid memories, flashing by in quick succession. Elphaba's hands in hers, her hands on her body, her lips against her mouth, and all over her neck. Her ears grew hot at the tipsy, blissful sensations that surged through her almost as real as they had felt in Elphaba's presence. Licking her lips, she half expected to taste Elphaba there, but her rose flavoured balm was too overpowering. The disappointment spoilt her reminiscing thoroughly, and a sigh worked itself up from her vacant chest.
She managed several paragraphs in the end, but thought them barely worth of her love's attention. They seemed bland and uninspired, and altogether inadequate at conveying her fervent devotion and longing. If it weren't for the important question of Chistery's wellbeing, she might very well never have sent the letter.
And yet she did, entrusted to a dove she'd enticed closer while standing on her balcony with a handful of crumbs. With a long, black hair attached to the wax seal, she knew that the bird would deliver it safely into the right hands.
Except that it didn't.
The first time the dove returned, Glinda was confused, but justified the result by an error she must have made. While she was not at all known for sloppiness, she supposed her worries over her Monkey friend, combined with her aching for her lover might have caused her to blunder the spell—in which case, she was grateful that the message had been returned to her rather than getting lost without her knowledge.
She'd repeated the procedure carefully then, ensuring not to repeat any mistakes. Sending the bird off again, she was confident that it would work at a second try. She was truly troubled, however, when it returned again to peck against her windowpane within the hour. Her heart missed a beat, and a dreadful feeling settled in her stomach. Something must be terribly wrong.
She commissioned the dove a third time and a fourth, with unchanging results. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes when her feathered messenger came back over and over. With a loud "shoo," she tried to scare it off, hoping against all hope that it was merely too lazy to set out on the lengthy journey to Ev. To no avail; after describing a wide circle, the bird came fluttering back through her bedroom window and landed atop the mirror on her vanity. To her dismay, she knew that the critter was not to blame, as the magick would certainly have compelled it to complete its mission in spite of exhaustion, in spite of hunger, or thirst. This was not the bird's fault, nor hers. The cause was something else entirely, and she feared to learn the answer to this riddle.
"Lady Glinda."
She wheeled around at the deep voice hailing from the door. A man of the palace guard stood there, straight and formal, as if keenly aware of his intrusion. Furrowing her brows, she examined him, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"I did knock, my lady," he said in his defence. "There was no answer, and I was told that the matter was urgent."
Resigned, she let out a breath and nodded.
"Very well. I was distracted, I suppose."
Casting another glance at the bird on the mirror, she forced herself to keep calm and plough through this conversation.
"What business do you have here?"
"To escort you to the throne room, my lady."
That revelation warranted a double take. At his stoic mien, her stomach lurched, and it took her considerable effort not to let her anxiety and pounding heart get the better of her.
"What is the occasion, and what is the hurry?" she demanded, trying hard not to be too obvious when she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat.
"Pardon, my lady, but all I know is that you have been summoned by the Grand Council and that I'm to escort you there as quickly as possible."
"Am I allowed time to change?" she asked pointedly.
"Not if it can be helped. With all due respect, your state of dress seems appropriate. I should urge you to come along immediately."
She looked down at herself, brushed her hands over her voluminous skirt. He was right. There was nothing wrong with the dress she wore, unless she were headed for a ball or other grander function. There would be no point in a wardrobe change, besides sheer procrastination.
Head held high, she followed the man downstairs and to the throne room. The circumstances worried her. Had she lost favour with the council to be cited so suddenly? Had they lost their patience with her at last, or somehow come into possession of evidence—false and fabricated, of course—that proved her earlier statements bluff? Was she to be kicked out? Overthrown? Incarcerated? She had done nothing wrong, but the chance persisted, always, and she would never not be worried about the possibility as long as she was in any position of power.
The huge double doors opened for her, and she made sure to stride through them without showing as much as a hint of hesitation. The guard had been right: the entire council appeared to be in attendance, thought if this was a trial—or mock trial, as it were—this would be the least orderly court she'd ever seen, considering how all the men were standing in the most haphazardly fashion possible, crowding around something, or someone in the front of the room.
The first man noticed her, bowed his head and stood aside. Her brows rose ever so subtly in surprise. Was this not a burgeoning mutiny then?
One by one, then councillors made way for her, forming a narrow aisle leading towards the dais. There, Lord Tenmeadows sat on a humble wooden chair at the foot of the platform, as he had for the past couple of weeks. In his hand, a letter; before him, just slightly off to the right, three foreigners in Evian travel garb.
Glinda stopped, rooted to the spot as she recognised at least one of them. She could hardly contain herself at the familiar sight of the short, stocky woman, but had to bridle her enthusiasm as she did not know exactly who the other two were. The old, bent man in the middle could easily be a master arcanist, her superior by far, and therefore warranting preferential treatment. The third person could be anyone and anything, observed solely from Glinda's unfavourable vantage point.
So she stayed silent and continued on her path until she reached the dais, refraining from looking anywhere, neither to her side, nor back. Lord Tenmeadows stood, bowing to her, then cleared the way for her to ascend the remaining steps to the throne. An incredible weight lifted off her shoulders as she did so, relieved to know that she had, indeed, the Grand Council's permission and approval. They would never let her do this if they hadn't already decided to acknowledge her as Oz's leader. The Evians were unlikely to throw her under the proverbial train either, or they could have saved themselves the trouble of travelling so far.
Finally, reaching the top and the throne, she made an elegant turn and sat, arranging her skirts. Her eyes lowered from where they were trained just above the attendants' heads to formally acknowledge the visitors for the first time. It was a good thing, too, that she was already sitting, as she realised with shock that she was familiar with all three that stood before her. Seeking to steady herself, she gripped the armrests of her gilded chair tightly, taking deliberate breaths in and out while still pretending to examine the small group, riddling out their identities.
"I greet you, Master Tavo'or. How wonderful to welcome you again in these humble halls. I still remember our previous lessons fondly and am looking forward to learn more from you while you stay with us in the Emerald City."
The man's head inclined further before it bobbed up.
"Too generous, Srone Mineesta" he replied in his heavy, difficult to discern accent. "But it would seem like you should be the one to teach me from now on."
With that, he took a step back, allowing Glinda to focus on the members of his party that he outranked. Unable to clearly identify the taller figure's occupation or title, Glinda chose Fanak next, seeing as her courtiers would be more accustomed to the messenger and would assume that the same held true for her.
"I greet you, Fanak. How wonderful to see that you have made it back and forth yet again—unscathed this this time, I trust?"
"I have, my lady," the Evian replied promptly in her habitually pert manner. "It is a pleasure to see you again so soon."
Glinda laughed at her zest, barely holding back a grin when she waved her away. Once Fanak had stepped aside, only one traveller remained.
"Come closer," the Throne Minister commanded them, ensuring that her voice reflected no more than mild interest.
They did as told and bowed their head even lower. Glinda's jaw set as her heart clenched at the sight, anger surging within her. She wanted to bark at her to stop this nonsense, but she couldn't, not in front of all those people. Still she hated, hated to be in this position. It reminded her far too much of another time in the past when she'd been forced to act as though she didn't care, as though she were on the opposing side.
For a moment, she found herself trapped in this past, in that same old pain. Seconds ticked by like hours while her eyes were transfixed on the woman in the long, flowing robes. A scarf covered most of her head and some of her face. But timing was of the essence now, and Glinda forced herself to snap out of her trance.
"And who may you be?" she asked as soon as she'd regained a semblance of composure.
Her ability to do so simultaneously pleased and frustrated her. There was no choice other than playing her part, or she may endanger them both. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but resent the ease with which she accomplished this.
In contrast to the others, the woman did not raise her head after she'd been addressed.
"I'm Master Tavo'or's apprentice," was her short answer, her lack of an accent rather telling as far has her heritage was concerned. Beyond that, it was immediately obvious that she did not intend to introduce herself further, and Glinda let the matter slide.
"I see that we have a lot in common, you and I," she replied in a friendly, yet lofty tone. "We should be friends."
All attempts to hide the small smirk that tugged at the corners of her lips went out of the window then. Fortunately, she could allow herself that much at least, considering that the audience was nearing its end. She stood, casting brief glances at the council members that surrounded them to gauge their mood. Most of them appeared satisfied for the present, and their thirst for confirmation and proof seemed to have dried up somewhat.
"My friends, I'm ever so grateful that you made the long journey from Ev to Oz. Judging by your garb, you have not rested since your arrival, and I will not be so inconsiderate as to make my guest suffer unnecessarily. You will be shown to your rooms shortly, where you will be given ample opportunity to refresh and repose as you please. I shall see to it that a minor banquet be prepared in your honour for the evening. In regards to the purpose of your visit and the associated politics… I believe that we can discuss those tomorrow."
Her decision was met with no objections. Master Tavo'or thanked her profusely in his native tongue, and the travellers gave a few more bows before leaving the throne room with appropriate eagerness, undoubtedly looking forward to the promised peace and quiet. Glinda watched them with a near unbearable desire to chase after them, anguish and excitement pooling at the pit of her stomach, making for an awful blend.
Once the bath was ready, Glinda all but chased away her maids, impatient to get a couple of clock ticks alone. The events of this morning had well and truly stirred her up—how could they not?
Gingerly, she lowered herself into the copper tub. She exhaled as the warmth of the water enveloped her, relaxing her stiff joints and muscles, caressing her tender skin. Her heart was not so easily soothed, but maybe it would be possible to do something about that soon.
The very idea caused her breath to hitch. Could it really be? The not so foreign woman's identity was no mystery to her. However many layers of cloth she swathed herself in, Glinda would never fail to recognise Elphaba's height, posture, and whatever features had been evident in spite of the conservative face covering. Even in spite of that odd skin tone she was sporting.
She shuddered. Besides her ridiculous display of subservience, the lack of green was a close second when it came to the most unsettling aspects of their earlier encounter. She understood the why, if not the how, but that barely helped to take the edge off it.
Suddenly, the latch of the nearby door clicked. Her head spun towards the sound, her eyes narrowing in anticipation of the trespasser. It had been no more than a couple of minutes; her maids clearly needed to hone their hearing if they couldn't listen to the simplest of instructions.
The door cracked open, no more than a hand's width, and a face poked through the gap. Glinda's expression of annoyance changed in a blink of an eye.
"Quick," she whispered hoarsely, rightening herself in the tub.
Silent as a shadow, Elphaba slipped inside.
"Lock the door, then come to me."
The taller woman complied to both of her requests, turned the key in the lock, then rushed over to her side, felling to her knees beside the tub.
"Oh, Elphie!" Glinda murmured breathlessly before craning her body towards her, reaching out with two dripping arms to encircle her neck and hold her in place, just in case she held any idiotic notions of escape.
Their lips met in an uncoordinated, sloppy, soapy mess of a kiss, fuelled by desperation and unfulfilled dreams of togetherness. Glinda's hands moved across Elphaba's back, searching for better purchase and inadvertently drawing them closer together.
"You're about to pull me in," Elphaba told her with a low chuckle, mouth pressed against her cheek.
Glinda stopped her incessant raking and drew her head back just enough to assess the situation. Her gaze went from Elphaba to the little she could see of her arms and hands, then to the water and back to Elphaba's dark eyes, a mischievous smirk forming.
"Maybe that isn't such a bad idea. You're positively filthy, you grub."
Scowling indignantly, Elphaba retracted a hand to wipe at her own forehead.
"Not by wayfarer standards."
As if to make a point, Glinda picked a strand of raven hair and examined it for dust and grease and tangles. After loosening a couple of knots, she reverently wrapped it around her forefinger.
"But you're in my palace now, Novice…"
"Zomorra"
Incredulous, Glinda stared at her for a moment, then snorted, letting her head fall forward and against her shoulder.
"You couldn't be any more obvious, you know that, right?"
"It is what they call me there. I gave up protesting. Most Ozian's Evish isn't as good as yours, and those who speak it well enough won't make the connection, trust me."
Nodding, Glinda turned her head so it could rest against Elphaba, her Emerald, more comfortably.
"My point still stands. You really are in dire need of a bath."
"I didn't bring a change of clothing."
"That can be fixed."
It was Elphaba's turn to scoff now.
"I'm not going to wear one of your gowns."
"That's not what I meant." Glinda's tone was markedly nonchalant. "I can order a simpler garment to be brought to my room."
This suggestion prompted a choked cough from her love.
"No worries, Elphie, my staff are very discreet."
Elphaba blushed, and the mirth stuck in Glinda's throat. She'd never seen Elphaba blush like this, so perfectly pink. Licking her lips, mouth suddenly dry, she moved her hand to cup her jaw.
"Is—is this a permanent thing?"
Elphaba knew exactly what she was referring to.
"It's the result of potions. Expensive potions. I need to take them regularly to keep up the effect. What… do you… is… is this better?"
Tears sprung up in Glinda's eyes, unannounced and unwanted, yet frighteningly sincere. She sniffled and buried her nose in the crook of Elphaba's neck.
"Can you, perchance, just miss the next dose?"
Elphaba laughed.
"You enjoy living dangerously these days, don't you?"
Glinda nuzzled closer still.
"Maybe I recently acquired a certain taste for danger."
They stayed quiet for a moment, simply holding each other. After all that had occurred in those months and weeks past, Glinda, for the first time, felt peaceful and absolutely safe.
"I want you to stay with me," was her inevitable conclusion. "Be my Evian Ambassador, how about this?"
Clumsily pressing a kiss to the side of her temple, Elphaba uttered a shaky, drawn-out sigh.
"You know I can't do this, and not only because I can't continuously take the potions."
She shifted, and Glinda could feel her chin settling atop her head, while her arms drew tightly around her shoulders.
"I… I don't say this lightly, but my staying here would endanger you, maybe risk your life even. Perhaps I can visit, perhaps we can keep a little secret; but your councillors, and especially your people, wouldn't stand for a lie as fundamental as this. I cannot remain in the Emerald City, within the palace walls under a false name and false pretences. I wouldn't even make a good Ambassador, as I'm clearly not Evian. For that I'd suggest Fanak. I think you'd grow to like her."
Glinda didn't care to hear about any of this.
"How often do you think you could come then? For what contrived or actual reasons?" she demanded. "Your frequent visits here would prompt questions just as much as your permanent residence."
"Maybe not so frequently then," Elphaba said woefully. "But that's still better than not at all."
"Unless we're clever about it."
Glinda briskly detached herself from her love, leaned back against the opposite side of the bathtub, taking hold of her hands and squeezing them with all her strength. Biting her lip and giving Elphaba a particular kind of look, she beseeched her to listen, to consider her words seriously, and not to refuse her.
"We must think of other venues, other—other excuses. Meet me when I'm at my vacation home, meet me on the road; meet me whenever I'm away from court and not under strict public scrutiny. Meet me as the Evian novice that you are, meet me as a fisherman's wife if you must, or altogether in secret. Find me wherever you can and be whatever you need to be. Can you promise that? Please promise that you won't abandon me."
That particular word seemed to trigger something in Elphaba.
"I would never abandon you. Never."
At the vehemence of her rebuttal, the fire that ignited in her eyes, Glinda felt herself melt a little, and her vicelike grip on Elphaba's weirdly pale hands loosened. They looked at each other, and Glinda wanted to say something, and she suspected so did Elphaba. Nevertheless, neither of them spoke a word before they both lunged for each other.
Their lips met and parted repeatedly as both women tried in turn to coax the other over to their side. One way or another, it was Glinda who won their playful contest, briefly sacrificing their nearness in order to force Elphaba to take the plunge, clothes and all.
The bathtub easily accommodated them both, and the issue of Elphaba's soaked tunic dress and pantaloons was quickly solved by divesting her of all unnecessary garments. They stayed in the water well until after it had grown cold, seeing as they kept warm enough not to be bothered. When Glinda was at last satisfied, both with Elphaba's improved cleanness, as well as her overall attentiveness, they dried themselves off and relocated to the luxurious bed in the adjacent room.
It was marvellous, and eyeopening, and Glinda almost felt compensated for the excruciating wait ever since Ev. Not for one clock tick did she regret not exploring such pleasures earlier in her life, yet she did regret that it had taken them—her and Elphie—so long to arrive at this point where they were at now.
Lying in bed, Glinda's head on Elphaba's stomach, each with at least one hand tangled in the other's hair, words felt superfluous, almost sacrilegious when the silence between them was so wholesome and perfect. It was a moment that could last forever and never grow old, yet in spite of their hearts' deepest desire, it was nothing but a brief glimpse in the grand scheme of their lives.
"Just this very morning, I thought I'd lost you forever," Glinda confided at length, her lips quivering at the terrifying memory.
Concerned, Elphaba pushed herself up to her elbows so she could see her better.
"What do you mean?"
"I…"
She squeezed her eyes shut and huddled the remainder of her body closer to her lover's in search for comfort. Elphaba's hand quickly moved from her golden locks to her bare back, drawing soothing circles.
"I tried to send you a letter, using the seeking spell. The bird I had chosen to convey the message returned to me over and over again. I could only assume that the spell wasn't able to guide it to you, which could have meant that… that—"
"Shhhh. Hush, my sweet. I'm sorry that you had to go through this and so much more. But I'm here now, and you mustn't worry any longer. We didn't arrive here by foot, nor pony, nor broom. I assume the travel magick we used shielded me from yours. There. Is that good enough an explanation for you?"
"I don't want you to go back!" protested Glinda, curling up beside Elphaba like a vulnerable kitten.
"Don't do this, my love, we've been through this. It isn't safe for me to stay, and besides, I do think that you were right."
"About what?" came the blonde's muffled, wailing voice, making Elphaba chuckle despite herself.
"I'm finally receiving an education and in-depth training in sorcery. I think you will agree that it would be better for me, as well as everyone else, if I understood my own powers better and gained greater control over them. So that's what I'll be doing for the next few years. Beyond that, I'd prefer not to speculate, but who knows what doors may open as a result."
Glinda wiggled herself free, turned around and shimmied upwards so they came to lie facing each other. She watched Elphaba's face for several long minutes, a myriad of emotions coursing through her chest.
"Maybe…" she said reluctantly, "I will retire one day and move to Ev."
She observed Elphaba's lips twitch, her eyes fall to her mouth before she moved in to kiss her gently, fleetingly.
"Maybe," the taller woman echoed.
They both knew that the chances were slim, yet they also knew that what they had now—that little nook that they had carved out for themselves, for their love—was so much more than what they had dared to dream of mere months ago. Maybe it wasn't entirely impossible then, that a proper happily ever after would come to them somehow, someday, somewhere in this chaotic world that they were both working their hardest to change for the better, each in their own way.