Ten Years

"Take off your shoes!" Elphaba called from the kitchen the moment she heard the door open.

"Yes, Mum," Fiyero replied teasingly as he came walking into the room on his socks, kissing Elphaba's cheek before returning to the living room to stack the logs of wood he'd been cutting next to the fireplace. He got a fire going within minutes and appeared next to his wife in the kitchen, inhaling deeply. "That smells good. What is it?" He reached for a spoon, but she swatted his hand away.

"Pumpkin soup," she said. "And no, you cannot try it before it's finished. Go make yourself useful and set the table."

He pouted. "Aw, Fae…"

She raised one eyebrow.

He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and planted soft kisses on her neck. Feeling her relax, he grinned and nuzzled her temple. "See? I'm not so bad. Now can I try some soup?"

She turned to face him, eyes narrowed. "If you're not careful, you might just end up in the soup," she growled and he sighed and let go of her.

"It was worth a try."

She could hear the door opening again, followed by voices chattering and laughing, and she called once more, "Take off your shoes! Oz," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she returned to stirring the soup, "I hope they won't smear snow all over the living room."

Fiyero chuckled. "They're children."

"I know they're children," she said pointedly, "but who has to clean it all up?"

"Mama, Mama!" Six-year-old Bae came running into the kitchen, his face alight with excitement and with snow still in his hair. "We made a snowman!"

"And snow angels," his older sister added as she followed him, holding little Rosey by the hand. "Even Rosey made one, didn't you, Rosey?"

"I did," the small, sandy-haired girl said proudly.

Fiyero swept her up into his arms. "Did you now, princess? And was it fun?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes!"

"Mama?" Nora asked, standing on her tiptoes in order to peer into the cooking pot. "What are you making?"

"Daddy, I think the fire is going out!" Bae said from the living room. Fiyero hastily put his youngest daughter down and hurried towards his son instead.

"Are we having cake tonight, Mama?" Rosey asked eagerly.

"Or pie?" asked Nora.

"Mama," Bae said, coming back into the kitchen, "when will we do presents?"

A long time ago, three children coming at her like that would have overwhelmed her completely and she'd probably have snapped at them because she didn't know what else to do. Spending years of raising said three children, however, had somehow enabled her to handle these situations quite easily. She'd never envisioned herself as a good mother and she never thought she could get used to small children running around the house, especially not small children that she was responsible for; but somehow, it had happened.

"We're having pumpkin soup, turkey with rosemary potatoes and vegetables, and chocolate cake for dinner," she replied, never stopping the stirring of her soup as she gently steered Rosey away from the hot stove and stopped Bae from stealing a piece of candy from the bowl on the table with a single glare. "We won't open any presents until tomorrow, you know that – we always save them for Lurlinemas morning. Stop that, Bae, I'm not letting you have any candy before dinner," she chided her son without even turning around to look at him.

He froze with his hand above the candy bowl. "How did you –"

"I know everything, honey, you should know that by now." She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Why don't you and Nora be nice and help Daddy set the table now? Dinner will be ready in a few minutes." She ran her hand over Nora's hair before giving her a gentle push. She and Bae both bounded off to find Fiyero.

"Mama?" Rosey asked. "Don't you want to make a snow angel, too?"

Elphaba laughed and stopped stirring the soup for a moment to give her daughter a hug and a kiss.

"Tomorrow," she promised. "Tomorrow, after opening presents, we'll all go out into the snow to make snow angels. You, me, Daddy, Nora, and Bae. Okay?"

"Okay!" Rosey beamed and Elphaba planted a kiss on the top of her head.

"Go play for a little while," she said. Rosey nodded and ran off.

They played board games after dinner and then all settled around the fireplace, where Fiyero told the children one of the stories they loved most: the one about the witch, the scarecrow, and the brave blonde woman who saved an entire land from its downfall all by herself.

Elphaba put them to bed after that and when she returned to the living room and joined Fiyero by the fire, he immediately pulled her into his arms.

"Can you believe now that there was a time when you did not want them?" he asked quietly in her ear and she turned to face him.

"I always wanted them," she said firmly. "From the moment I first found out I was pregnant, I wanted them."

"But if you hadn't accidentally fallen pregnant?" Fiyero asked.

She sighed. "I probably wouldn't have agreed to the idea," she admitted. "I was… scared, I guess. Scared of not being able to give them what they needed, because of… of who we are. Were. Because of our life. And I was scared that I wouldn't be a good mother. But I always wanted them."

"I know." He nuzzled her hair. "I guess that came out a little wrong. All your worries were for nothing, though." He cupped her face and looked down into her eyes. "You're the best mother ever."

She smiled and kissed him, and he happily kissed her back.

Glinda looked around the room, taking in the Lurlinemas decorations, the fire in the fireplace, the candles standing everywhere, and her husband playing with their two children; and she felt incredibly blessed.

Cohvu had been a Gale Force soldier who had worked his way up to become Captain of the Guard eventually; and at some point, during the long, long meetings Glinda had with him about restoring the Animals to their former positions, protecting the citizens of Oz, and bringing peace back into the land, a spark had passed between them. She hadn't even noticed her falling in love with him until it had already been too late. By now they had been together for eight and a half years and married for a little under seven, and she was so incredibly grateful to have him.

She'd recognised a long time ago that what she and Fiyero had had was never really love. Their relationship had been born out of shallowness and comfort, with some friendship mixed in – it had been easy and they were both good-looking and popular, so why not? If she thought about that now, she almost laughed at herself back then. She'd been so vain. So… stupid.

Cohvu was different. What she felt for Cohvu could not be compared to what she had felt for Fiyero, or for any of the other boys she'd dated when she was younger. She loved him. She loved him for real and she hadn't had to think twice when he'd asked her to marry him.

They had started talking about having children together not long thereafter; and barely a year after their wedding, their little boy had been born.

The old Galinda would have been shocked, and possibly a little aghast, at having a boy instead or a girl. The old Galinda, however, was long gone by now; and this Glinda could only cry and laugh at the same time as she first laid eyes on her son. She'd felt like the happiest woman in all of Oz. Cohvu had been so proud of her, and he doted on his son.

Their second child, a girl, was born less than two years later and just like that, their family had been complete. All of Oz loved Glinda the Good's husband and adorable children just as much as they loved their leader herself, and Oz prospered under her guidance. After starting a family, she had left more and more of the actual ruling to her advisors and officials; but she always kept an eye on things, feeling responsible for the land and for her people. Things were going well.

When Cohvu had asked her what she wanted to name their son, she didn't have to think twice. First a boy, then a girl… in her head, it could not be a coincidence. Of course she couldn't blatantly name her children after two of Oz's most prominent criminals, but she had always been adept at making up nicknames; and so far, no-one had questioned Hero and Elphia's names. Instead they praised them, thinking they sounded beautiful and befitted the future ruler of Oz and his little sister.

Glinda always smiled a mysterious smile when people said that, not saying anything. No-one knew the truth and she'd keep it that way, but she knew. That was enough.

Cohvu knew, too. It had taken her a long time to trust him enough to tell him everything, but he'd taken it wonderfully. Even now, he sometimes joined her when she went on a trip to Kiamo Ko, to light a candle for her lost friends. They'd told the children a vague version – they only knew that "Auntie Elphie" and "Uncle Yero" had been good friends of their mother's and that they were named after said friends, but that was all.

"Mummy," Elphia complained, tugging at Glinda's long skirt. "Hero stole my chocolate!"

"I did not!" Hero protested from the other side of the room.

Cohvu gave their son a stern look and Hero grumbled and put the chocolate back on the table, crossing his arms and sulking.

"Kids," Cohvu said, clapping his hands. "Why don't you light your candles now?"

Two little faces lit up and Glinda slipped into her husband's embrace for a moment as they watched their children picking up two candles and placing them carefully on the side table by the Lurlinemas tree. Cohvu let go of his wife for a moment to help Hero with the matches. Together, they lit the first candle.

"Merry Lurlinemas, Auntie Elphie," Hero said.

Cohvu smiled and planted a kiss on his son's head before helping Elphia lighting the other candle, mussing her hair when she chirped, "Merry Lurlinemas, Uncle Yero."

"Mummy," their youngest said as she climbed onto her father's lap, "would you tell us the story again?"

Hero settled on the rug in front of the fireplace and both kids looked up at their mother expectantly as she started telling them about the adventures of a ditzy blonde, a brainless prince, and a magical green girl at a university called Shiz.