AN: I'm going to take some liberties here, don't hurt me.
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"Alone and loveless here, just the girl in the mirror..."
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Morrible watches Glinda leave the room, a sly gleam in her eye. The little blonde thing wouldn't go around spouting stories of the Wicked Witch and the captain of the guard running off together. It would be bad for her pretty little pink image. As soon as she is finished here, she'll find Glinda and make sure she gets her story straight.
After a moment, Morrible turns her gaze to meet the Wizard's, her eyes sharp, the corner of her mouth drawn up in a crooked, conniving smile. "A rumour wouldn't do it. Elphaba is too smart for that." She says in a low, conspiratorial tone. The wheels in her brain are turning. Her cunning mind latches on to Glinda's suggestion, spinning it darker still.
"What can we do?" The Wizard asks. Morrible turns her gaze on the small, white-haired man. The small, powerless man that had seized control of an entire country with carefully chosen, wonderfully ensnaring speeches. The crafty, little man that had taken her into his confidence and was slowly allowing her more and more power.
Morrible smiles. The expression slides catlike across her face. It is a smile of absolute certainty. She knows how to get the Witch. Yes, she knows exactly how to draw out Elphaba. "Perhaps... a change in the weather." She says, her voice echoing off the walls of the chamber. With a flick of her finger, clouds gather in the sky outside. A distant rumble of thunder brings a glitter to her eye. With a gleeful laugh, she claps the Wizard on the shoulder, and hurries to find Glinda.
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Glinda has never felt so numb in her life. A small, detached part of her wonders at it, the complete lack of pain. She had expected to be broken, torn down into little tiny pieces of herself. She had expected to bawl, wail at the sky, at fate for taunting her so. Instead she just feels numb.
She finds herself heading out into a courtyard, and settles herself into a seat on a small, black iron bench. It was not made for comfort, and most certainly isn't her normal choice of resting place. The iron is cold, and hard. The cold seeps through her voluminous dress and into her skin, her bones, and finally comes to settle in her heart, forming a small, frigid ball.
The pain starts then, small sharp stabs that eat at her. She is aware of the tears running down her face. The detached piece of her worries idly about the state of her makeup, but the tears continue, unchecked. Time passes. Glinda isn't sure if it is minutes, or even hours, but eventually, she is aware of a figure striding towards her.
She straightens up, and brings a hand up to wipe her eyes. You'll smear your mascara, the distant piece of her says, but she dries her eyes the best she can, anyway. As the figure draws nearer, she recognizes Madame Morrible. She thinks back to the conversation with Morrible in the palace. About how to catch Elphaba. About using Nessa. She looks at Morrible again, feeling as if she was struck. Maybe it is part of her distress, but she can suddenly see the woman through a new light. She can suddenly see the depth of what this woman is capable of, and it frightens her. She worries for Nessa for a moment, but the remote part of her reminds her of her own distress and she closes her eyes in pain.
When she reopens them, Morrible is standing before her, looking down at her, sternly. Glinda feels like she is back at Shiz, an impressionable schoolgirl being intimidated by the headmistress.
"Now, Glinda." Morrible says, her voice smooth. A hint of sympathy, no matter how manufactured, strikes a chord in Glinda, and she latches on, desperate for some form of comfort. Morrible sits down next to the blonde woman, on the bench. "We'll have a little talk, dear, and then return to the party, hmm?"
As Morrible continues, Glinda hears the distant rumble of thunder. It echoes the rumble of her empty heart.
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AN: I do not own Wicked, Morrible, the Wizard, or Glinda. I sure wish I did, though. This fic is for fun and not for profit, la la la, you know the rest.
Thank you to my sister Heather, for beta-ing and putting up with me messaging her every two minutes to ask if Morrible was evil enough. Thank you also to everyone following/reviewing this fic. Without you guys, it wouldn't be here.
Thanks for reading,
Love,
B