Glinda pressed her foot to the ground, enjoying the crunch of the frost-covered grass. She gave a little push, sending the bench swing she was sitting on back into its gentle sway. The wood frame creaked around her and she shivered, twisting her hands into the blanket and pulling it higher on her shoulders.

The garden around her breathed quietly, bathed in silver light and shadows. Evergreen trees and short bushes spotted the area. Behind her was the grove of apple trees she used to climb as a child. To her left was an empty patch, where the strawberries—which she had picked out and planted herself nearly ten years ago—would resurface in the spring. And all around were rows and rows for flowers to bloom. Glinda could still feel the ground beneath her knees, the sun warming her back, the wet earth sliding through her fingers as she dug, planted, weeded, and watered the plants with Ama. She could hear the tugging of roots, or the trickle of water from the can. She could still picture the glow of the sun, radiating off the bright yellows and pinks and greens.

"Isn't it a bit cold out here?"

And suddenly she was back in the present, the winter night pressing in on her, without the life of the garden in spring to keep her company.

"Not really," she said in reply. She looked up as Ama Clutch came closer. She was dressed in a long, heavy nightgown and holding a thick shawl around her shoulders. The older woman looked at her for a moment, then glanced around the garden. She took in the shadowy trees and empty patches of earth before finally turning her gaze upward. Glinda watched as the stars seemed to reflect on her face.

After a long moment, Ama sighed. She stepped forward and sat down gently. The swing rocked with the added weight, and Glinda brought her foot up from the ground to tuck her leg beneath her.

"Alright, duckie," Ama said quietly. "I think we need to talk."

Glinda shifted the blanket around herself and stared at a pine tree that was around her height. "About what?" she asked innocently.

Ama raised an eyebrow. "You tell me."

The blonde pressed her lips together, but then sighed, her shoulders sagging. "I just…I really miss Elphaba." Her voice caught as she realized it was the first time she'd admitted it out loud. Suddenly her eyes stung and her throat tightened. "I miss her so much, and I'm so afraid that…"

Ama Clutch scooted over, holding out an arm and allowing Glinda to nestle in to her side. She sniffled and rested her head in the crook of Ama's shoulder.

"What are you afraid of?" Ama asked softly, but the blonde just shook her head.

"I don't know. I don't know how to explain it."

"Tell me about her."

Glinda swallowed hard, remembering sitting in her room the day Dillamond had left and wanting nothing more than to hold her roommate again. Instead, she had settled for the words: tell me about him, Elphie.

She shivered again.

"I already have," she whispered, recalling the letters she'd been writing home all semester.

Ama chuckled under her breath. "Yes, well, you were a bit confusing. First she was a 'green terror,' but I don't think that's the Elphaba you miss."

"No," Glinda whispered, lips twitching the slightest bit.

"I'm curious," Ama said, "When did it change? What happened to make you forget about the green?"

Glinda thought about it. "I didn't forget about the green," she said eventually. "I just…opened my eyes and realized it was beautiful."

"Tell me about her," Ama said once more.

This time, there was no hesitation. Once she started, Glinda couldn't stop talking about Elphie—about her passion, her intensity, her mystery, her loyalty, her intelligence, her compassion, her empathy. She described how Elphaba would curl up in the corner or hunch over her desk, how she would scribble answers down in her notebook and wait before raising her hand, how she'd light up when she talked about history, how she could practically spark with fury and rage then turn around and pick Glinda up with all the gentle tenderness in the world.

Even after she finished speaking, her thoughts continued to swirl around Elphaba—the gold flecks in her eyes when she was excited, or the shadows that crossed her face when she put her walls up, and the way her hair flowed in waves over her shoulders on the rare occasions that she let it down, or how her slender body radiated warmth when she hugged Glinda…

"Glinda, honey?"

The blonde blinked, shaking her head slightly. She tilted her head to look up at Ama, who was gazing at her with an odd mix of concern and amusement. "I-I'm sorry. What?"

Ama Clutch smiled. "I mean it, duckie. Why don't you write to her?"

"I…" Glinda's mind reeled, searching for an excuse. "I don't even know to get it to her."

The older woman shrugged. "Don't worry about that. Just do it. You miss her, she misses you. The only logical thing to do would be writing to her."

"I…guess," the blonde said slowly. Could she really miss me? "If it would help."

Ama Clutch pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I think it would. Now come on. I've got a kettle on and these old bones are telling me it's about to snow any minute."

Glinda allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She adjusted the blanket one last time, feeling like a little girl, and snuggled in close to Ama. Together, they walked back inside and to the kitchen, where Ama took the whistling kettle off the fire and made them tea. They sat around the table and talked for a while until Glinda couldn't keep her head up for more than a few seconds at a time. She hugged Ama goodnight and shuffled up to her room, the blanket still draped around her shoulders.

She managed to kick off her shoes before collapsing into bed and curling up, staring out the window. It was snowing, just like Ama had said, and the sight of the snowflakes glowing in the moonlight made her smile.

Goodnight Elphie, Glinda thought, not sure if she had said it out loud or not.

She was asleep the minute her eyes slid shut.

Elphaba stopped pacing and looked out her window one last time. She was worried about Peric. She was dying to know what Dillamond would say. She was getting restless without the research. She missed Glinda more than ever, and she couldn't help but wonder how close Peric was to her in this very instant.

But she couldn't focus on any of that, because at that moment Nessa was waiting for her downstairs. So she pulled on her boots and forced herself to leave the bedroom. She left the window cracked open, even though it was far too early for Peric to return.

He had left only a day and a half ago, but already Elphaba was getting anxious. She was nervous and distracted, and the thought of eating lunch with Nessa only made things worse. Still, she made her way downstairs to the main hall, where her sister was waiting, a picnic basket on her lap.

Elphaba raised an eyebrow as she approached. "Planning a picnic?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Nessa said, rolling her eyes. "There's too much snow. But the back porch is covered. I thought it would be nice to get some fresh air."

Elphaba continued to stare, waiting. Nessa shifted, her cheeks darkening ever so slightly. "And…no one ever goes back there."

"That's my Nessa," the green girl said, moving to push the wheelchair down the hall. "Always planning ahead."

The younger girl huffed, then tilted her head to look up at Elphaba. "Father is feeling better."

"That's good. We wouldn't want him stumbling up to the altar before his sermons, now would we?"

"Elphaba."

The green girl rolled her eyes, but stayed silent. Nessa sighed and tried again.

"Grandfather's supposed to return tomorrow morning."

"How lovely," the older girl said. "His absence has been such an impact on our lives."

"Elphaba!"

She gave a short laugh. "Really, Nessa, you should know better than to try making small talk with me."

Nessa groaned. "How Miss Upland puts up with you at Shiz, I'll never know."

"Neither will I," Elphaba said under her breath.

Nessarose pointed down a side hallway, and Elphaba followed her directions to a back corner that looked like it hadn't been visited in years.

"Grandfather says that with just him and the servants living here, there's no point keeping up with the entire place. Unless he's hosting a huge event, there are many parts of the castle that remain untouched," Nessa said.

"And you always thought travelling around all the time was lonely," Elphaba said. "Imagine growing up here."

"Many things would be different," Nessarose agreed softly, and she sounded so lost in thought that Elphaba didn't want to ask exactly what it was she meant.

They found the back porch. Through the giant planes of glass, they could see the snow starting to fall once more. The room was cold and it was slightly eerie, watching a form of water drift around her, but Elphaba took the basket from Nessa and settled down on the floor next to her. She handed a sandwich to her sister, then took one for herself and began to unwrap it.

"You know what I just don't understand?" Nessa asked eventually.

"What?"

"What exactly you thought was going to happen. You knew you were next in line for the Eminency, and you knew you didn't want it. How did you think all of this was going to unfold?"

"I…don't know," Elphaba admitted. "I never really allowed myself to think about it. I always just thought of our Grandfather as invincible. He'd live forever, and when he was gone, he would choose some other successor, one who had worked with him for years and knew what they were doing. I always thought that, since we had no real connection to him or this place, we'd never be bothered by it."

Nessarose was silent for a moment. "That's…uncharacteristically naïve of you."

Elphaba pursed her lips, still gazing out into the yard. "You know, Mother never wanted this for us."

"Sorry?"

"Mother. She never wanted us to be rulers. I heard her say once that she never wanted daughters. Only sons, so they wouldn't have to deal with the Eminency."

The younger Thropp pressed her fingers into her skirt. "I…never knew that."

Elphaba sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned her."

"No!" Nessa cleared her throat. "I mean, no, I'm glad you did. What…Did you know why she felt that way?"

The green girl glanced up at her, then away again. "My guess is that she simply didn't want it. She grew up here and ended up running away. Maybe she felt stifled. Maybe she just wasn't meant for politics. All I know is she hated it here, and she never wanted us to be a part of it."

"Not meant for politics…" Nessa murmured. "But she grew up around politics. It's all she would have ever known."

"Exactly," Elphaba said with a shrug. "Really, can you blame her? Growing up around meetings and treaties and negotiations. It's all too formal, too stiff. Instead of digging around in farms like the other Munchkinlanders, she was stuck in a life of sophistication."

"You sound so offended by it. We grew up well-educated."

"Yes, by our experiences and our travels! Not by some stuffy old man sitting us down and telling us this is how the world is and this is how we conform to it."

"Is that what you're afraid of?" Nessa asked softly. "Conforming?"

Elphaba shifted. "That's part of it, yes."

"And what else?"

She picked at the sandwich in front of her. "What about you?" she asked. "What are your thoughts?"

"You know my thoughts."

"I know some of them."

"Well, obviously, I want to do it."

"Do you? Or does Father want you to?"

"I can think for myself," Nessa said heatedly.

"I know. I'm just curious how much influence he's had in all of this."

Nessa sighed. "Shortly after you went off to school, he began talking about getting in touch with Grandfather. A few weeks later—and I wrote to you about this—he announced that Grandfather had invited us to move here. There was no talk of the Eminency then, not until we'd arrived and Grandfather asked about you. Father told him you never wanted to be the Eminent Thropp, and that instead you'd gone off to Shiz to study other subjects. That's when Grandfather asked if you wanted to renounce your position. I told him we didn't even know that was possible, and after he told us about it…well, I know Father started thinking about it a lot. And the more he talked about it, the more it made sense." She hesitated, looking at her sister. "You have to admit it makes sense."

Of course it does, Elphaba thought. But what doesn't make sense is Father's sudden interest in politics.

"Why does Father care in the first place?" she wondered aloud.

"He wants what's best for us."

Elphaba snorted. "Sure."

"He does," Nessa argued. "He wants what's best for our family."

"There's more to it than that."

"Oh, don't start that again."

Elphaba pursed her lips, resigning. She mulled over their conversation so far, wondering what to say next. "So you want this. You want, without any doubt or second-guessing, to be the next Eminent Thropp."

Nessa hesitated. Elphaba turned toward her and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, of course," the younger girl said. "Of course I want it."

"But?"

She looked away. "But you obviously don't want me to."

Elphaba rolled her eyes. "Since when has that ever stopped you?"

"You don't approve."

"Technically I never said that. The only thing I've disapproved of is planning on cutting me out without telling me."

"You don't think I can do it." As soon as she said it, Nessa clapped her hands over her mouth, staring wide-eyed at her sister. Elphaba stared back.

"I…Do you really think that?"

Nessa lowered her hands to speak over her fingertips. "Why else would you be so hesitant?"

"I've told you why!" Elphaba threw her arms up. "Mother never wanted us to be a part of this, and Father's sudden interest in the Thropp line is suspicious. But never once have I thought you'd be incapable."

Now Nessa sat up straight, gesturing angrily at herself. "Well why not? What part of me says the word capable?"

Her words hit Elphaba with a pang, and she had to take a deep breath to push away the queasy ache she suddenly felt. She climbed to her knees and knelt in front of her sister, reaching up and placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "Nessarose Thropp," she said quietly. "You are more than capable. You are intelligent and clever. All the travelling in our childhood made you experienced and mature beyond your age. Your devout faith shows your passion and strength. Everything we have been through has helped you grow into someone who would be an extremely powerful ruler of Munchkinland. Do you understand me?"

"And yet," Nessa said, her voice even softer. "You won't give me the position."

"Every instinct I have is telling me not to," Elphaba whispered back. "And if I don't want you to have this position, it's only because I want to protect you, not because I don't think you could handle it."

"You don't have to protect me."

Elphaba smiled a little. "Maybe not, but I always have. And some things just don't change."

Nessa nodded. "I…I need to go pray. I haven't yet today." She wheeled herself around and headed for the door. But just before going back inside, she twisted and looked back. "Fabala?"

"Yes?"

"You wouldn't be cut out. If you renounced your position, I mean. You'd still be my…I mean, I would still need you."

Elphaba's lips twitched up into a smirk. "Ever at your service," she replied, giving a slight bow. Nessa rolled her eyes and turned away, but not before Elphaba caught a glimpse of her smile.