AN
Okay guys, so here's the thing: I edited this chapter twice now and know it's still far from perfect in terms of certain word choices and typos, etc. But last time it took me just over 2 1/2 hours for a simple proofread, because this is so ridiculously long lol Unfortunately, time is a bit of a luxury for me at the moment. So this is what you get for now... I'll continue to edit as I go along, but there won't be any major changes any more, so I feel semi comfortable uploading now. I hope you'll still enjoy this.
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Quick shoutout for voidstuff from Tumblr! She listed my fic in a short rec list and I think at least a few of the many, many views I got over the past week are thanks to her! (Funny thing is, she didn't add titles, so when I clicked the link, hoping for a good new story to ready, I almost was disappointed at first! xD Haha, but no, I'm actually really grateful and feel quite flattered. So thank you!)
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Alright... So... Same as usual:
Happy reading! :D
Chapter Eighteen: Glinda the Conscientious
It was raining outside, pouring down as though all the world's oceans were being emptied upon that tiny shred of land that was the Corn Basked of Munchkinland. Thunder struck and Glinda shrieked. What could possibly be worse than being all alone in such a night of black, lashing rain and thunderstorm? Glinda whished she'd never found out, but now she knew the answer: being alone and cold, in a draughty room, without a single source of light - and don't forget the tempest raging outside, making the old, ramshackle tavern quiver in fear of collapsing.
A stupid idea this had been, really! She had been so caught up in her efforts to do good that her goodness had gotten the best of her. Yes, the situation in Munchkinland was devastating, but what did she expect to accomplish with her presence in this area of crisis? She could have sent money, relief supplies, maybe the Wizard would even have dispatched a few soldiers if she had only asked. Well, maybe not. He had still seemed rather disgruntled on the morning of her departure from the Emerald Palace.
He and Morrible had been planning her engagement ball for the third week after her return from the Vinkus, giving all the noble guests, dignitaries, and of course the royal Tiggular family just enough time to arrange their long journeys. But Glinda had resolutely told them no, to Morrible's greatest shock, and much to the Wizard's chagrin. Her reasoning had done nothing to appease them. Not that she had expected it to.
At first it had just been the Emerald City. It was prudent, she had thought, that she made use of this brief period of time before ascending the throne and learned as much as possible about her realm. Once she was Queen, she would hardly be able to leave her desk, let alone her palace. So she had visited schools, orphanages; making sure that the next generation would have a good start had seemed pretty important. She also had discussed the issue of a possible re-integration of Animal staff and students with various headmasters. It was impossible to tell whether they had only been too scared to speak freely about the matter (worried that it might be a trap, perhaps?) or whether they had been absolutely brainwashed into believing that a Goat would make a worse teacher than a man and a Kid a worse student than the average boy or girl next door.
Eventually, she had discovered the deprived districts of the city and, accompanied by a small troop of guards, begun to visit almshouses and workhouses. Not yet in in any position of political consequence, there was little she could offer as far as long-term provisions were concerned, but using the abundant funds from her inheritance, she was able to occasionally hand out food, or blankets and cloaks, when the temperatures had suddenly plummeted mid fall.
It had not taken long, until the poor and needy had taken her into their hearts. As 'Glinda the Good' she was known now. Some even went so far and revered her as the re-incarnation of Saint Glinda, although they all seemed a little fuzzy on the details of what this historical figure had actually done throughout her lifetime to earn such a title. It was all pure desperation, she knew. Try as she might, she had not yet been able to achieve a lasting difference. Though she hoped she would one day, so she kept reminding herself every day that she would soon have to claim her rightful role and accept her true responsibility, with everything it entailed.
The people's fervent adoration, however, had spurred her on to expand her charitable efforts. In the peaceful town of Neverdale by Lake Chorge, a cyclone had rendered dozens of families homeless, so she had travelled there, bringing with her food and helping out in the soup kitchen to boost morale. In Linster, near the Quadling border, Munchkin farmers had repeatedly been robbed by murderous outlaws – as it had turned out, those supposedly dangerous outlaws were merely a small band of starving Animals on the run, never harming anyone, but reverting to scaring tactics to make sure no one would ever catch as much as a glimpse of them. Glinda had dealt with the problem discreetly, providing supplies and promising better times once she donned the Ozian crown.
The list went on and on. Over the past few weeks, she had spent considerably more time in on the road than in within the comforts of the Emerald Palace, more time with Madannie, her maid, than by herself. She always made sure to bring plenty of books along when travelling. They helped bridge the time, and as these excursions were no pleasure trips, it only made sense she utilised her time to expand her horizon, studying history, social sciences and legal documents.
There was one particular book among them she already knew by heart by now, and so there was no longer a real point in reading it for educational purposes. Yet she always checked her bags twice before leaving for one of her little adventures, not willing to set as much as a foot out of the door without it. Browsing it was reserved it for stormy nights, to give her solace when the ghosts of her childhood came back to haunt her. It was the old biology text Elphaba had read with her. In the end, she had never returned it to its owner, and so it had become a much-treasured keepsake. Unfortunately, in the complete darkness she was momentarily surrounded by, she wasn't able to read a single word, and this usually so reliable lifeline helped fairly little to dispel her panic and loneliness. Yet she still held on to it, soaking up every ounce of comfort it could still provide.
It was all Elphaba's fault, Glinda thought grumpily as her trembling free hand desperately clutched the lousy, tattered blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She had been the one to plant those ridiculous ideas in her head and that stupid world improvement fad. Well, not exactly. She had she been the one to teach her that any sort of improvement was even necessary. For which, naturally, Glinda was thankful, but… but… Sweet Lurline, how infuriating! Now she was sitting here in this damp, draughty, dark hole and couldn't even blame that mean, green thing for her dismal situation!
She had travelled to Munchkinland to see how its inhabitants were dealing with that terrible drought that had afflicted the entire region, threatening to cause a food shortage across all counties of Oz. An issue of such magnitude should reasonably fall within the Wizard's remit, but so far he had shown little interest in the matter. Glinda had hardly been surprised anymore when he had explicitly told her that he would not be able to travel to Munchkinland, since with his arrival everyone would expect some sort of miracle, which he was – despite his claims of being the greatest and most powerful magical being in Oz – not able to perform. Then he had jokingly suggested that she should go in his stead, and gone she had. That such a stubborn drought would suddenly decide to convert itself into a deluge, had been absolutely unforeseen, and unlucky as she was, the sudden change in the weather just had to happen while she was still on the road, in the middle of nowhere, the only shelter in a radius of endless miles a decrepit alehouse.
Another clap of thunder made Glinda cry out yet again. She flung herself on her bed, burrowing her face in the poorly stuffed pillow. A muffled noise filtered through to her then. It had almost sounded like someone had knocked, but she couldn't be sure. Feeling a little silly, she replied anyway, permitting the caller who might or might not be standing on the other side of the door to come inside.
She was a tad surprised when the door to her room indeed opened, revealing the outline of a tall, slim person. Not able to recognise her visitor, Glinda's panic grew for a clock-tick, making her heart beat furiously in her chest.
"Is everything all right, Your Highness?" the maid's voice whispered, sounding almost as scared as the Princess was.
"Madannie?"
She still felt the need to make certain she did not mistake a stranger for her loyal servant.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Releasing a long breath, Glinda pushed herself to a sitting position before patting the spot next to her on the bed.
"Come. Sit with me."
The maid hesitated, but finally nodded and stepped closer. She once more paused in front of the bed, indecisive of whether it would be appropriate for her to sit so close to her mistress. When thunder once more rolled through the squally night, however, Glinda jumped at her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her down with her.
"I-I apolo-gise," the blonde stammered after she had recovered slightly and released the other woman from her death grip.
"No, no it's fine," Madannie replied seemingly unfazed, but what else could she possibly have said to the future Queen of Oz?
Glinda sighed.
"I'm terrible. Helpless like a child whenever the sky is angry at the world."
"We all have our fears," was the maid's diplomatic answer, and the Princess nodded.
"So what is yours?" she wondered after a brief moment of silence.
"Mice," Madannie admitted laughing.
"I'm surprised then that I haven't heard you scream yet. This place is full of them!"
"No, those are rats."
Scrunching her nose, Glinda shook her head.
"And that makes a difference to you? Aren't rats nothing but gigantic mice?"
"It's odd, I agree," Madannie admitted, shrugging her shoulders. "It's an irrational fear, but that doesn't make it any less real."
They kept talking for a while then, still starting with fright and shaking at every peal of thunder. But Glinda felt marginally better and the time passed somewhat faster. The two women didn't even notice when the thunder strikes began to become less frequent, and soon altogether stopped. By the time the first light of morning reached the dirty windows of Glinda's room, it was still raining, but in moderation.
Quarter past six, they decided to make themselves presentable and see what sort of breakfast was awaiting them in the adjoined pub.
"Good morning, Your Royal Highness," their driver saluted immediately as soon as they entered the large, grungy room.
He grabbed the stained tablecloth and gave chairs and table a quick wipe - with modest success. While the ladies took their seats, he hurried to the bar to procure something edible.
"I'm deeply sorry, My Princess," he said apologetically as he returned with not much more than half a loaf of stale bread and a shrivelled apple.
The innkeep soon followed with a flagon of wine. He was too wary of offering his important guests water that might be contaminated, and his only cow had dried up weeks earlier.
Glinda looked around, trying to find the palace guard accompanying them.
"Where is Tapper?"
"Still dreaming the morning away, I bet. Well, doesn't seem like he's really missing much though as far as breakfast goes," the driver laughed mirthlessly. "Now, if Your Highness wouldn't mind, I think it would be good to leave right after we finish this meagre meal," the driver suggested, his eyes downcast in humility.
"But Corge, it's still raining pitchforks!" Glinda exclaimed.
"The horses can deal with that as long as there is no more storm and thunder. But we should move on, if for no other reason, then because they have no hay here for the horses."
"What, not a mouth full?"
The man shook his greying head.
"Very well then. Fetch Tapper, pay the bill and we will depart right away."
"As you wish, My Princess. That leaves but one question: since this drought seems to be over, will we proceed as planned, or will we turn around and head back to the capital?"
"Mhm. That is a fair question, indeed," Glinda admitted. "I suppose we should still continue on to Centre Munch to see if there is any assistance we may offer. Otherwise this dreadful journey would have been for naught."
They made slow progress on the muddy road. It took the horses substantially more effort to trudge through the soft soil and pull a carriage whose wheels were prone to miring. Their empty bellies were another problem. All those adversities notwithstanding, when the sun began to set in the west, they were barely another three miles away from Lower Applerue, the first town on their route. Even the horses must have sensed the travel party's relieve. Once more regaining a measure of strength and optimism, they put in their entire weight, pulling the all but immobilised wheels through the thick, slushy mass.
Not much later, the bell tower of the town's chapel came in sight.
"Thirty more minutes, Your Highness, and I'll have you sitting dry and warm in front of a guttering fire," Corge the driver called out to the back of the carriage, evidently excited about the prospect to leave the freezing wetness behind him.
Alas, as soon as he had finished his cheerful announcement, the carriage came to an abrupt halt.
"To hell with those Munchkins!" he raged, "Why can't they built their roads with brick or cobble stone as everyone else does in this day and age!"
He and the guardsman hopped off the coach box. Grumbling and grousing, Corge examined the damage. Fortunately, nothing was broken, however, the wheels had all but disappeared in the doughy, brown sludge. Shaking his head, he walked up to the front, grabbed the noseband of the lead horse's bridle and encouraged his team of four to pull harder. And by Lurline, they tried! Tapper was soon ordered to help and push from behind, but that did not help much either. The animals' hooves trudged in and out of the mud, producing some sort of popping sounds. They had worn horseshoes before, but the suction had made short shrift of them the moment they had set out from the inn.
Corge let go of the bridle and padded the exhausted horse's neck.
"It is no use, Your Highness," he reported to Glinda. "We are positively stuck. Perhaps, it would be best I went ahead and found you another means of transport. Tapper will stay behind for your protection."
The Princess didn't like this plan very much.
"Corge, I would be too worried to have you march through the rain all by yourself. Do not be offended if I say this, but you clearly are not the youngest anymore."
"I am thankful for your concern, Your Highness, but I'm afraid, there is no other way."
"Sure there is," she insisted, chin raised stubbornly. "I will send Tapper in your stead."
"Well, but as Your Highness already pointed out, I'm no spring chicken. I would hardly be able to defend you if worst were to come to worst."
"Don't be silly! Who in their right mind would set a foot outside the door on such a day to plan a mugging?"
"Opportunists, My Princess," the man smiled, still anxious. "Right mind or not, I rather we won't find out."
They might have continued their argument for a good while longer, but the distant neighing of horses suddenly demanded their attention.
"G'day," a farmer – unmistakably of Munchkin stock – greeted them warily once he reached the stranded carriage. He halted his cart, pulled by two (for his standard clearly oversized) draft horses. A young foal followed his mother at foot.
"Good day to you as well, Sir," their own driver echoed the greeting. "It appears we are stuck here. While we don't have enough horses to solve this little problem, we do have money. So, if you would be so kind to lend us a helping hand, we should certainly repay you in more than mere gratitude."
The Munchkin eyed the carriage curiously, squinting his eyes in an effort to see who might be inside.
"Sure, I can help ya," he replied at last.
After that, no more words were spoken. The man detached the piebald stallion from his own cart and hitched him up in front of the four white horses. The mare and her foal stayed behind. He clicked his tongue and jerked his head. The big stallion knew what to do and began to pull. The royal carriage moved, but not by much. Rocking back and forth as though in a tug of war contest with the horses, the stubborn thing refused to detach itself from the mud.
Through her window, Glinda watched the Munchkin returning to his cart and retrieving his whip. Her eyes widened in shock as she heard the loud slapping noises and the stallion's pitiful grunts and whinnies. She looked back to where the mere was waiting agitatedly. The foal seemed rather upset and it almost seemed like he was about to call out for his father. But the mother gave him a quick nudge and motioned for him to turn around, burrowing his head beneath her tail. No horse would act like this, the blonde realised. They were Horses.
"Corge, make him stop!" Glinda ordered her driver as the whipping continued.
"I don't like this either, My Princess, but we need to get out of here."
The man was right, of course, and unable to conceive a better idea, Glinda slumped back in her seat, furious and frustrated.
The Munchkin finally put his whip aside and pulled a few boards of off his cart instead.
"You'll have to pay for those," he declared gruffly.
He placed the boards about where the wheels were supposed to be and dug them into the mud. On his knees and with his bare hands, he moved some of the slush aside. Then he yelled another command. Tapper and Corge hurried to the back of the carriage to push while the horses (and the Horse) pulled again.
Finally, success!
At long last, they carriage came free. Corge paid the Munchkin as promised, and the short man took back his horse. The carriage set into motion, headed towards its goal, the farmer's cart did the same, disappearing in the other direction.
Glinda took a deep breath, wondering how messy things could possibly get once the Animal bans were revoked and the abuse of Animals would once again become an offence against Ozian law.
With each subsequent day, the weather improved slightly. Glinda didn't dare to complain. The rain was much needed and for the many farmers an Ozsend, but it still made travelling a bit more difficult. They reached Centre Munch four days later, and the Princess was immediately received by the Lord Mayor. After plenty of assurance that there was still enough time to sow new crops and that the live stock had not taken all too much damage, Glinda promised to look into options in regards to an irrigations system connecting the Corn Basket to the Restwater.
Not keen on travelling along miry country roads again, they continued northwest instead of turning back south. They passed thorough Upper Applerue and crossed the Glikkun boarder one day later. From there it was not much further until they reached the Great Gillikin Railway. Corge arranged for the horses and the carriage to be stowed away in one of the freight waggons, and so they all enjoyed a couple of days of good rest, until they reached Shiz, the train's terminus.
When Glinda, her maid and their guard disembarked the train, the carriage was already standing by. Corge had changed wagons one stop earlier and harnessed the horses while the train had still been moving.
"My Princess, everything is ready for you," he announced proudly.
"Remind me, Madannie," the blonde said with a weary sigh as she linked her arm with her maid's, "how far is it from Shiz to the Emerald City?"
"About eight days if we take the Yellow Brick Road, Your Highness."
Heaving an even louder sigh, Glinda climbed into the carriage.
Shiz was just as beautiful as she remembered. It was a busy place, but not as crowded as the capital. Like in the Emerald City, there was a lot of green, but of the more natural kind, such as trees and decoratively trimmed hedges and vines conquering ancient, but well preserved buildings of brownstone and bluestone.
The horses trotted past the stately old pile that was Shiz University. It was about lunchtime, and a flock of young, enthusiastic students poured out of the gate on the hunt for a small snack, quick meal, or classy lunch. Shiz offered anything anyone could possibly desire. Watching the farraginous bunch of boys and girls, Glinda wondered what it would have been like to be just like one of them, so blissfully free of responsibility. What would she have learnt at university, and whom would she have met?
As they left the hallowed halls with their vine-draped walls behind them and approached the city gate, Glinda's mood plummeted. They passed underneath the giant green marble arch and the wide landscape rolled itself out before them. Eight more days of this, the Princess recalled her maid's forecast. Eight more days of sitting bodkin. Eight more days of restlessness and feet itching to move.
"Halt," she suddenly called and pushed open the door to her left.
Even before the carriage came to a complete stop, she had already jumped out. She stretched her arms, inhaled deeply and emitted a high-pitched squeal. Absolutely horrified, Madannie scrambled out of the carriage once she was sure it was safe.
"Your Highness, are you all right? Are you hurt? Pardon my boldness, but what in Oz's name did you do that for? Are you feeling ill?"
"Everything is fine," the Princess laughed. "I merely decided that we have had enough of this idle sitting. Why, I believe, if we simply kept going on like this for another eight days, my legs will become altogether useless and wither away. I say we stay in Shiz for a night or two, explore the historic city, have a walk in the park and enjoy some of the local food. Have I ever mentioned how much I miss Gillikinese potato dumplings?"
The maid blinked at her, flabbergasted. Their guardsman was with them about a clock-tick later, also looking rather confused.
"Your Highness?" he asked tentatively.
Rolling back her shoulders and jutting forward her chin, Glinda did her best to affect an air of authority, but the twitching corners of her mouth threatened to betray her. She had made up her mind, however, and no one should even dare disagree.
"Tapper," she said, in a very finite tone of voice, "please tell Corge to turn around the carriage immediately. We are heading back. Madannie and I will walk, and since I know that you will insist, you may join us. I assume at least one of you men knows a decent hotel in town, so make your arrangements and we will rendezvous there."
The young man nodded, not finding the words to reply verbally. He conveyed the Princess' orders to the driver and that was that.
Shiz was one of the bigger towns in the realm and by no means a dead-end village. Still, as the heiress to the Ozian throne had kept a relatively low profile so far, a fine, yet modest travel dress, paired with a plain pashmere mantle was all it took to keep most people from staring. They visited the ancient town hall with its glorious art gallery, toured the almost forgotten, but still beautiful Lurlinist chapels and cloisters, and took a stroll along Suicide Canal, which cut right through the beautiful Shiz University Park.
Tired, yet indefinitely more satisfied than she would have been after an entire day of travelling, Glinda piloted her companions to the small café she had once visited with Avaric and his female entourage. They were allocated a corner booth at the very back and immediately served the finest Glikkun coffee and homemade chiffon cake, with a side of nougat biscuits. 'On the house,' the owner assured them with his widest grin, while the waitresses placed food and drinks on the marble table. Obviously, not everyone was oblivious to Glinda's true identity. For childhood memories' sake, she also ordered a cup of hot Frottican chocolate and Frottican chocolate pralines, which arrived within less than a minute.
Contently sipping her cocoa, the Princess let her eyes wander, observing the other patrons in the shop. An old man occupied the opposite corner. He looked sad and lonely, twisting a golden ring on his finger back and forth. Pondering over the source of his sorrow currently seemed too disheartening to Glinda, although she already had a good idea.
From somewhere in the middle of the room, laughter filtered through to her, and encouraged by the positive sounds, her head shot up almost of its own accord. It was a group of students, chatting and joking. Two of the girls looked awfully comfortable with each other, the slightly more slender brunette sitting on her redheaded friend's lap. The way they had their arms wrapped around each other, giggled and whispered in each other's ears, Glinda couldn't help but wonder whether such rather intimate closeness was customary among young female students, or whether there was something more between the two of them. Their friends certainly seemed to think nothing of it, and the other customers simply paid them no attention. Gillikin as a whole was probably the most Unionist region in all of Oz, and Glinda knew from first hand experience how vehemently Unionist priests preached against such 'unholy' inclinations and desires. But perhaps Shiz was different.
Diverting her focus back to her drink, the Princess caught sight of her guard, who was also watching the girls with rapt attention, blatantly looking over his right shoulder. Well, at least he did not seem appalled by what he saw. Quite the opposite, actually.
"Tapper."
Glinda cleared her voice, and the young man's head whipped around, wide eyes staring at her in horror.
"Would you please enjoy the view in a less obvious manner. Your behaviour is an embarrassment for everyone sharing this table with you."
"Yes, Your Highness," he nearly squeaked, his face bright red in shame.
Shaking her golden curls, Glinda averted her gaze and found another interesting customer sitting two tables away from them. The somewhat corpulent lady must have had the poorest fashion sense Glinda could imagine. The fabric of her dress looked quite nice and expensive, but the colours were a disaster! Too loud, too glary. And then there was that exorbitant feather hat, which also, in it self at least, didn't seem too bad. But combined with the dress, the golden high-heeled shoes and the overdone make-up - it just looked like nothing really fit together. Glinda felt bad for judging her so harshly, but honestly, that woman was asking for it. The most agreeable of all her fashion accessories was the small, white dog that was lying beneath her chair, sleeping.
She was still watching the beautiful dog, when the strange lady moved back her chair. Suddenly wide-awake, the animal crawled out from under the seat to get himself out of harm's way. He caught sight of Glinda and his ears perked up. The lady made her way to the counter to pay her bill, tugging at her pet's leash. The white, furry bundle followed her seemingly unwillingly as they exited the café. When the pair passed the window, he quickly jumped up to catch one more glance of the Princess.
"How droll," the blonde smiled, watching them disappear behind a corner.
Back at the hotel and after Madannie had helped Glinda getting ready for bed, the Princess sat down at the bureau by the open balcony door to jot down a couple of thoughts in a little note book she kept. It was some sort of diary, but mainly reserved for when she was travelling around Oz.
When her thinking process was interrupted buy odd noises coming from the door, she slowly placed down the green and golden fountain pen and turned around in her seat, initially not sure whether it would be a good idea to investigate. When the noise did not stop, her curiosity won the upper hand, like it did oh so often. It simultaneously was one of her greatest weaknesses and strengths. Slowly, she rose to her feet and, as quietly as possible, shuffled towards the door. She risked a look through the spyhole to scan the corridor, but save for an elderly lady on her way to her own room and a busy-looking staff member she couldn't see anyone. Yet the noise continued. Now that she was closer, it almost sounded like scratching. What was this? A ghost or something? Ghosts don't exist, she reminded herself and pressed down the handle to open the door.
Her eyes were staring at thin air at first, but a small howl re-directed her attention to her feet. She immediately recognised the cute, fluffy, white dog from the café. He was just sitting there, looking up to her and wagging his tail.
"Oh, hello. What are you doing here? Did you get lost?" she cooed.
The dog jumped to his feet and rushed past her, into the suite.
"Hey, wait!"
The door noisily fell shut behind them as Glinda ran after the cheeky little fellow. When she next caught sight of him, he was balancing himself on his hind legs, struggling to close the balcony door. The Princess stepped closer and laid her dainty hand over his soft paw.
"Let me help you with this."
Once the task had been accomplished, she cleared her voice.
"Please, have a seat."
"Thank you," the Dog replied, took a few more insecure steps walking upright, but then grudgingly reverted to his quadrupedal gait. He hopped onto one of the stuffed armchairs by the coffee table.
"Excuse my animalistic behaviour. When one spends years upon years pretending, the pretence inadvertently becomes truth. At least to some degree."
Glinda nodded mutely.
"And please excuse me for this intrusion. But I hope you understand that I simply had to see you."
"And why is that? And first of all, how did you find me?"
"I followed your lovely scent, Your Highness," he answered, wiggling his moist, black nose. "Not everything about being born in a beast's body is of disadvantage."
"So you know who I am."
Glinda moved to sit on the sofa opposite the Dog.
"Tea?" she offered, feeling somewhat embarrassed at only being able to serve the beverage cold. But with such a guest present, she could hardly call the room service. Thankfully, the Dog declined.
"So, why did you seek me out?"
"I've heard through the grapevine that Your Royal Highness is an advocate for Animal rights."
"There is little I can do now, but once I wear that burdensome crown upon my head I intend to do all that is in my power to end the suffering your kind has to endure."
The Dog could not help but excitedly wag his tail, while at the same time cursing the treacherous appendage.
"That is very good news indeed, and very benevolent of you, Your Highness. Now, I understand you must hear such proposals quite regularly, but might I most humbly ask Your Highness to consider accepting my services."
"Honestly, you are the first to ask for such a favour. But there is a problem: I do not even know your name."
The Dog's face fell, and if it weren't for the silky, white fur, he surely would have flushed in humiliation.
"How terrible of me. My apologies, but you see, I haven't been asked for my name in years. Usually my mistress would introduce me if she found it at all necessary. My name is Revelon, Your Highness."
"And your surname?"
"Whatever surname my family passed on to me was stripped away by the humans who claimed ownership over this poor, homeless pup."
This time it was Glinda who felt apologetic.
"I realise now how silly and redundant this question was. Please do not be offended. I rarely interact with Animals in your… situation."
"Of course. Most of the Animals you must have seen on your travels wouldn't be recognisable as such. Those of us who didn't do their job well enough were weeded out by the Gale Force a long time ago."
Although spoken quite matter-of-factly, the Dog's statement brought a sombre, thoughtful silence between them. When blindly staring at her folded hands finally proved to help little in changing this gruesome truth, Glinda took a sip of her tea to subtly break the spell of stupor. She placed the cup back down and fixed her guest with a gentle smile.
"So… Revelon. Supposing I might be inclined to take on an Animal servant of some kind; what service it is you offer?"
"I used to study at Shiz University, Your Highness. I was half way through my fifth year when the Animal bans were extended to educational institutions."
"So you were a postgraduate student."
"Yes. My areas of expertise are history and politics. Perhaps it might be helpful once in a while to hear an opinion different than what your advisors at the Emerald Palace keep whispering in your royal ears."
"That is true," the Princess agreed. "I will accept your offer, but please be patient with me. A great change in government lies ahead of us and I will not be able to fulfil all my promises in regards to the Animal laws right away. If you are willing to be me a friend rather than an instructor, I think we can benefit greatly from each other.
"Then that's how it shall be," Revelon promised.
The following morning, Glinda was a tad anxious about how her explanation as to how she had acquired her new pet over night would go down with her travel companions, but she needn't have worried. She was the Princess after all. Other than surprised or confused looks, no one dared to question her.
On the evening of the seventh day, they at last reached the Emerald City. At the city gate, Tapper had reported their arrival to a messenger, who then had hurried to the palace to pass on the notice. As their carriage pulled into the driveway, Madame Morrible was awaiting them.
"Merciful Oz, Child! You will be the death of me one day," she sighed overly dramatically. "Weeks go by and not a single letter, telegraph or note. His Ozness and I were worried sick about you. One night I even dreamed they found your tender, little body in some filthy ditch!"
Glinda once more turned towards the carriage to pick Revelon up, cradling him like a child in her arms. Smiling innocently, she then met her old governess' gaze.
"Oh, dear Madame, that you always have to exaggerate so!" she laughed, her voice light and sweet. "And do not pretend you were not well informed about my wellbeing throughout the entire trip. As far as I know, dutiful Tapper here sent you a report every other day or so."
The man in question stiffened and turned quite red in his face, while Morrible's mouth turned into a thin line, somehow still pressing out an indignant huff.
Upon entering her apartment, the Princess went straight for her bureau. She picked up the pile of letters that had built up there and impatiently flicked through them. Disappointed, she let them drop to the floor, one after the other. She had not written. There was not a single letter from her Elphie.
Glinda bit the inside of her cheek to distract herself from the pang to her heart. She turned towards the window and stared outside into the night sky. Not for long, however. As always, the city's damn lights glowed in vibrant green of various hues. She loved this colour as much as she hated it. She had sent several letters to the Vinkus already and was still waiting for one lumpy reply to find its way back. She knew that there were two basic possibilities: either Elphie did not want to keep in touch, or the letters never had reached their destination in the first place. Although the implications were bad – very bad in fact – Glinda still hoped for the latter.
She could be stubborn when she wanted to. It would take more for her to give up on this. After relieving herself of an irritated outburst, she returned to her desk and serenely sat down in her plush chair. She plucked the quill from its holder and dipped it into the small pot of magenta ink.
'Dearest Elphie'
She would keep the content vague, just in case unfriendly eyes were to read it. But as long as there were parchment and ink in the Emerald City, she would continue her efforts.
Since, for the time being, he was still forced to pose as a pet, Revelon came to share Glinda's apartment. A luxurious bed was put up for him in the drawing room, and right beside it a marble bowl of water. His food he received on a gold-leafed platter. What really excited him though, was having access to the Princess' private library, as well as any other book she would procure at his request. Often the two of them would sit in silence, each studying a different text, and sometimes they would discuss them later. Revelon liked that, as did Glinda.
The Dog was lying comfortably on the couch, his keen eyes pouring over an ancient document, searching for answers to questions he had never even hoped to address ever since the Wizard had robbed him of his university education. Glinda sat but a few paces away from him at her bureau, looking over several scrolls of Ozian legislation she had requested.
"This is ridiculous!" she exclaimed after about two full hours, thoroughly vexed. "Pieces of parchment, dozens of fractions here and there; is that all there is?"
Revelon looked up from his reading.
"I'm afraid so. May I see?"
He trotted over to the desk and shuffled through the papers.
"To tell you the truth, My Princess, this collection seems remarkably complete. As should be expected, I suppose. But Your Highness is correct. This fragmented pile of edicts, treaties, amendments and statutes is not practical. In fact, half of the provincial courts' archives have to make do with terribly inadequate assemblages. Some would venture the provocative guess that that might be on purpose."
Nodding thoughtfully, Glinda flipped through the scrolls again.
"I'll put that right on top of my list. This will have to change."
A knock sounded and both jumped.
"Quick, do something dog-like," the Princess whispered, and the white Dog raced to his bed, fetched a toy and began to wrestle with it.
The knock was repeated and the maid's muffled voice penetrated the door.
"Your Highness, may I come in?"
"Yes, please."
Madannie came in and, finding a path between the piles of books on the floor, made her way to the middle of the room.
"Your Highness," she addressed the Princess and bowed. "The Margreave of Tenmeadows has arrived and the Wizard requests your presence."
Sighing, Glinda pushed the documents away from herself and stood.
"Fine then. Where will I find the gentlemen? The Jade Salon, the Mint Parlour?"
Fiddling with her fingers in mild agitation, she strode towards the door. On one hand, she hoped that it was the old Margreave, not Avaric, for she was in no mood for the self-righteous, young man's antics. Yet on the other hand, meeting Avaric would be a fair deal less awkward as he had already met the Princess of Oz. His grandfather might already know bout her true identity by now, but imagining his flustered face still made her uncomfortable.
"Your Highness, please-"
Glinda paused and turned to cast her maid a questioning look.
"His Ozness expects to meet you in the Grand Parlour. Furthermore, he requested that you come dressed appropriately."
'Appropriately' was code for either 'very formal', or in this case, simply 'exquisite'. The Wizard must be in desperate need of money if he found it necessary to even curry favours with a mere Margreave, Glinda thought and pinched the finger she had last been playing with. Biting back the frustrated retort lying on the tip of her tongue, she exhaled and made a sharp turn for her bedroom. She knew that she would otherwise feel terrible for lashing out at the innocent young woman.
"What is it? Are you coming?" she called over her shoulder, not able to entirely contain her displeasure. Madannie, who had watched her worriedly, started to attention and hurried to follow her.
The maid laid out a wide selection of gowns for the Princess to choose from. Letting her fingertips glide over the silks and brocades and satins, Glinda immediately dismissed all of the green dresses. The Wizard would love to see her in one of those, but she wouldn't do him this favour. This left her with three choices.
"I think this one will do nicely," she said as she lightly tapped her fingers on a salmon coloured silk dress with a richly beaded translucent top layer.
In no time at all her simple day dress was exchanged for the intricate gown, but something didn't seem quite right.
"Oh my," the maid sighed, resting her chin on the palm of her other hand and regarding the result with disapproval. "I'm afraid it has gotten a bit wide around the chest and waist again."
Glinda, critically examining her own shape in the mirror, absolutely hated to agree.
"Then be quick and call master Yomund," she ordered impatiently. "I need him to cinch it in a little."
"But Your Highness, this dress has been altered at least three times already."
Stubbornly chewing the inside of her cheek, the Princess once more let her gaze roam over her reflection. She liked that gown. It somehow made her look like a porcelain doll. But it was all too true – she didn't quite fill it out the way she once had.
"These will all be the same then," she said, dismissively waving at the pile of garments on the bed. She walked over to the huge armoire and selected a layered, pale yellow chiffon dress instead. It was simpler, but sure to fit, as the flowing material was held together around the waist by a purple sash.
"But please send for Yomund later," Glinda instructed her maid. "Make an appointment for tomorrow afternoon. It seems like I have neglected my wardrobe a little recently."
"I'd say you rather neglected yourself," the maid remarked before she could reign in her tongue.
Glinda paused and stared at her in surprise. Madannie herself looked as though she wished the earth would swallow her whole and on the spot. Still, after a long moment of silence, she rolled back her shoulders and crossed her arms, looking right in her Princess' eyes.
"I know it's not my place, but I'm concerned about you, Your Highness. You're overworking herself and leave it to your body to bear the consequences."
"That's quite enough," Glinda interrupted her sharply.
Biting her lip, the woman demurely dipped her head and went back to work, pinning the last few layers of fabric in place.
"Everything lies in the eye of the beholder, Madannie." Glinda said after a while, her voice quiet and resigned. "Considering the progress I have made so far, I would call it fair if some were to complain that I am not working hard enough."
"The truth is that you look ghostly pale, Your Highness."
Smiling weakly, the Princess rested her small hand on her maid's shoulder
"Nothing a little extra blush cannot remedy."
Sometimes Glinda wished she could simply forget about Elphie. Not truly, of course, but particularly in moments of loneliness and despondency such desperate thoughts did cross her mind. She had given the matter a lot of thought recently and come to the conclusion that, all that time, she had been wrong. If it weren't for Elphie, she probably wouldn't have had any problems whatsoever marrying a man she didn't love. Her heart was simply too dutiful and beat too strongly for her realm to be this foolish as to wait for true love to happen sooner or later.
But the way things had played out, true love already had happened, and in the most unexpected way. She could have married Fiyero quite easily if he had never told her about his sister, but ever since that day that the two women had first met, everything had become so much more complicated. She understood now that she must have loved Elphaba for much longer than that short time they had spent together as lovers. It had been a slow burn, the feelings too subtle for her head to discern at first, but her heart had secretly always known what it wanted. That's why it had always ached so terribly whenever she had thought about Fiyero and the future that awaited them. Now the big question was, how could she marry someone while being so madly in love with another? How could she marry a man when her heart belonged to his sister?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a rough paw on her hand. She slowly turned away from the window, until her eyes met Revelon's.
"You're feeling unwell, Your Highness?"
Shaking her head, Glinda averted her gaze again.
"I'm fine," she replied, but her thick voice betrayed her.
"Ah. A matter of the heart," the Dog nodded knowingly.
The Princess sullenly pushed his paw away and rose to her feet, turning her back to the rainy night outside. She poured herself a drink – just a small sip. She had come to appreciate its calming effect before bedtime.
"If I wanted your advise, I would have asked for it."
"Fair enough. Good night then, Your Highness."
The Animal inclined his head, and yawning and wagging his tail, he sauntered into the direction of his bed.
As Glinda watched him, a question suddenly popped into her head, and so she called out to stop him.
"Yes, My Princess?" Revelon responded patiently.
"Has… has there ever been an Ozma who remained unmarried?"
Feeling rather stupid for asking and embarrassed for sounding so hopeful, she was about to tell him to disregard her question, but it was already too late.
"No," was his devastatingly simple answer. He did not turn back around after this, but quietly sat, regarding her expectantly.
She took another swig of the clear, bitter liquid in her glass.
"And no Ozma ever ruled without a king by her side?"
Tilting his head, Revelon took a moment to think on this.
"I'm assuming you're not repeating the same question as before."
Glinda blushed, her face feeling hot. Maybe the liquor hadn't been such a good idea after all.
"Well, you see, Your Highness, the issue is that of a legitimate heir. There are certain… expectations."
"The Ozma line has been in power for centuries. Surely there must have been Ozmas who remained childless or, or… whose children did not live to sit on the throne."
"I know this sounds a little bizarre, but inheritance in the Ozma line has been remarkably regular. Each Ozma has born exactly one child and all of those children were daughters, who succeeded their mothers and became the new Ozma. It almost seems like some sort of reincarnation, don't you think, My Princess?"
Glinda drew a sharp breath.
"I thought those were just silly, exaggerated stories."
"I'm afraid they are not. Indeed, this is what the historical records say. Though I don't know how this was achieved. Magic perhaps?"
The Princess raised her glass once more, but found that it was empty. Annoyed, she cast a glance at the crystal bottle on the table, contemplating on helping herself to another nip.
"Back in the day, word had it that the last Ozma-" Glinda's head snapped up at that and Revelon's voice grew somewhat quieter, somewhat less confident. "-had a mistress."
Blue eyes widened in shock. Could this really be true? If so, who was this woman, and where was she now? She crossed the room in a daze and weakly sunk into one of the winged chairs by the fireplace.
"D-do you think this rumour to be accurate?"
"My apologies. I did not intend to upset you. They are stories, Your Highness. Hearsay. Although… the accounts I have heard of did not imply that much secrecy was involved in this alleged relationship."
Revelon picked up the bottle with the liquor and, tripping over his own feet, carried it over to the small table positioned between the two big chairs. He gently took the empty glass form her hand to refill it. When he offered it to her, she waved him off.
Lost in thoughts, she stared into the flames.
It soon became very clear to her that this was not a path she could ever choose for herself and Elphaba. Neither did she expect her love to agree to such an arrangement. She loved and respected Elphaba too much for this. A relationship of this kind seemed too one-sided to her. She would be the Queen, married to her perfect husband, the King, and at the sidelines, there would be Elphaba, waiting hungrily for whatever scraps of attention she could spare. Of course it would never be like this, but that's what people would see. No, she couldn't possibly humiliate her Elphie like this. She was worth so much more than that.
Shaking her head to clear it from this preposterous notion, she blindly reached for the drink on the side table. It was just out of reach, so Revelon lend a helping paw. When her hand brushed the silky fur, she looked up. Remembering his words as she silently stared at him, she was once again reminded about whom exactly they were talking. The last Ozma was her late mother. She didn't like the way this made her feel. Given her own situation, she could never resent her for wanting to be with the person she loved. However, she also couldn't help but feel betrayed. And she most certainly never wanted her own child to feel the way she did in this very moment. Maybe she had been too young to understand, to truly see what was going on. But she had always been under the impression that her parents had truly loved each other. Finding out after all those years that this most likely had not been the case hurt like a dagger to her heart.
The glass in her hand fell to the floor and the untouched liquor spilled on the expensive carpet.
"I'm not going to be the next Ozma," Glinda whispered absentmindedly. "I'm going to be a queen. Oz never had a queen before."
Revelon exhaled quietly.
"You do what you think is best, Your Highness. Know that no one is going to stop you. The Wizard must have realised by now that you won't be as easily manipulated as he had hoped. Whatever daring move you wish to make, he will allow without protest, hoping that it will be your downfall, an easy way for him to divest himself of his one true competitor for power."
Glinda nodded stiffly. What the Dog said made sense. There it was, the opportunity she had been looking for. But all things considered, how costly would fulfilling her own selfish wish turn out to be for her kingdom?
The clock on the mantle piece chimed three times. Perhaps it was too late for questions of such grave consequences.
"Thank you, Revelon," she said. "That will be all for tonight."
The Dog nodded and went to bed. Glinda, however, did not. She once more walked over to the window overlooking the dark courtyard of the palace. Her engagement ball was set for the coming evening, yet four very important guests were still missing. In fact, without one of these guests, there would be no engagement.
She sat and waited for another few hours. Every now and then she caught herself drifting off, but pinching her skin, she forced herself to stay awake. By the time the first shy rays of the sun began to tint the night sky purple, her arm was red from the rough treatment it continued to receive. Just as her eyes were about to flutter shut again, the sound of a horse's whinny made her jump. She clumsily staggered to her feet and strained to see in the twilight of the dawning day.
It had stopped raining, for which she was thankful. Soon she spotted a richly decorated carriage, drawn by six golden horses, passing through the gate of green painted iron. It stopped close to the main entrance and a servant that seemed vaguely familiar jumped off the back seat to open the doors for his masters.
Fiyero was the first to jump out of the carriage, looking tired, yet excited. His father disembarked next, offering his hand to assist the Vinkun Queen. Glinda's heart sunk. All those weeks she had feared that Elphaba would not accept her invitation, or that her parents would not allow her to accompany them. But she had never given up hope. Perhaps that had been silly, making it so much more disappointing now that her worries seemed confirmed. Angry with herself, she wiped away the tear rolling down her pale cheek. Still staring out of the window, she rose to her feet. Like a small child, she clung to the hope that procrastinating her walking away would change something.
Queen Baxiana and King Marillot already made their way up the stairs and Fiyero was about to follow them, but then turned around. He walked back to the waiting carriage, seemingly talking to someone, perhaps leaving instructions for the accompanying servants. Then a gloved hand was extended and he took it, helping the lady that was attached to said hand out of the vehicle. The woman that emerged was tall, slender and dressed in a simple, midnight blue travel gown. Her head was covered with a black scarf, adorned with what form the distance looked like big, red dots. Glinda's breath hitched and her heart began to race as though she was running a marathon.
She watched the four figures filing through the entrance of the palace, waiting until they were well out of sight. It was time to go back to bed, but the Princess didn't think that it would be possible for her to find any sleep now.