"This production is going very well," Morrible reported, glancing over the multiple papers scattered across her desk. "I had anticipated that this season would be successful."

"I'm glad everything is going according to plan," Elphaba nodded, closing her binder and rubbing her forehead.

"Now we can begin discussing next season."

Elphaba bit back a groan. She hated her one-on-one meetings with the opera director, but it was a necessary part of her job. She didn't have much of a planning mindset; she just relied on Morrible and approved what she needed, trusting her enough to not ask too many questions that would prolong their meeting. "Very well."

Morrible handed her another packet. "I've taken the liberty of selecting the two operas and the ballet, with the investors' backing. First, we'll do 'Li Huteoa', since it showcases Miss Ovrigine's voice the best."

"That would make Miss Ovrigine very happy, which will lead to a drama-free rehearsal process," Elphaba agreed, signing off on it. "What else?"

"'Du Lignes di Margus'. It was done seventy years ago, but hardly anyone remembers it, so it will be fine for our short, fall reprise."

Elphaba nodded, signing the second paper. "And the winter ballet?"

"'Cypila'."

Elphaba read the ballet synopsis, having never heard of this show before. And she knew all the classics. It was the story of an old toymaker's lonely daughter, Cypila, and how one night, the toys her father made her came to life to play with her. They take her on a journey to see the Wonderful Wizard of Oz to ask him to turn them into her real friends. "When was this written?"

"It's a newer ballet; one the Wizard brought over from his world. A new survey shows that our audience is slowly becoming younger. People who once came with their parents are now coming on their own, so an experiment with a newer ballet might be warranted."

She gave it another thoughtful glance. "I agree. But for this ballet, we should hold auditions."

"Auditions?" Morrible blinked. "Public auditions?"

"No. Auditions within our company."

"But we've never held auditions for the main ballet before. We have our principal dancers, and everyone already knows their place. That's the way things are done."

"Just because it's what's done, doesn't mean it's what should be done. You just said an experiment might be warranted. A newer ballet requires a newer casting system."

Morrible made a face. "But –" She cut herself off when Elphaba raised a pointed eyebrow. "Very well, Miss Thropp. I will discuss it with Miss Greyling."

"Good. Thank you, Madame Morrible." She signed the final paper and stood, ending their meeting.

Morrible looked put-out at the last-minute argument, but said nothing as she shook Elphaba's hand and left the office. She hated taking orders from the young owner, but knew that if she wanted to keep her position and perhaps even rise in the world, she had to follow orders, and not just the ones that came from Elphaba.

…

Elphaba rolled up her sleeves as she neared her apartment. She had such a long day, and that meeting took a lot out of her. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and –

She stopped in her tracks when she saw who was sitting on the building stoop. She frowned and turned to leave before she was noticed.

"Elphaba!"

No such luck. She sighed and turned back around. "What are you doing outside my apartment?"

The person on the steps stood; a tall man in his mid-fifties with greying hair that looked like it used to be dark brown, and round glasses that matched his round, slightly wrinkled face. His hands rested on his stomach to keep him from fidgeting with his grey waistcoat. "I wanted to speak to you."

"You promised to respect my privacy."

"And I am. I won't be long. I just really need to speak with you."

Elphaba sighed. She really didn't plan on having an impromptu visit with her father… her real father. But she unlocked the front door and led him upstairs to her apartment. Should she offer him tea or coffee? He said he wasn't staying long, but did that mean she shouldn't be politely hospitable? "Tea?"

"No, thank you."

Her shoulders relaxed in relief as she slid the key into the door and pushed it open. "You could've summoned me."

"I could've. But that wouldn't be 'respecting your privacy'." He closed the door behind him and followed Elphaba to the living room. "I had no problem waiting patiently."

She didn't ask how long he was waiting. Instead, she turned on the lights and unceremoniously tossed her bag on the chair as she sat down, but he declined her offer to join her.

"How is everything at the opera house? Are you enjoying owning it?"

She frowned. He asked that like he was asking if she was enjoying a meal. "Everything is fine. I haven't financially run it into the ground."

He smiled, a bit uneasily. "That's good. I… haven't seen you in months. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Now, what is so important that it warranted you, the Wonderful Wizard of Oz, venturing out without your security?"

"No one knows who I am, so I don't need security."

"A trait I unfortunately inherited from you."

"But speaking of security…" He cleared his throat. "I've come to invite… to offer you the choice… to move into the Emerald City Palace."

"Why? Has Strumpet Square become unsafe?"

"No. This neighborhood is perfectly safe. You're perfectly safe here. I just –"

"Then why would I want to give up my freedom and anonymity?"

He cleared his throat again, and Elphaba considered fetching him a glass of water. "My ministers have been anxious that I still haven't named an heir."

She blinked at the sudden change, then narrowed her eyes. "Are you dying?"

"Not actively at this moment."

"Then why are they anxious?"

"Because they don't want another era of discord and discontent. And neither do I. You are my natural heir and –"

"There is nothing natural about our relationship."

"I want there to be."

"There can't be. If I were to move into the palace, it would cause suspicion and speculation, leading to an inevitable announcement of the unfortunate truth. Broadcasting me as your… daughter would mean coming clean about what happened between you and my mother. And I can't do that. I can't cause that big of a problem back home."

"Elphaba, please. Consider what I'm asking of you before you answer. And consider the future of Oz. I can't trust just anyone."

"And you trust me?"

"You're my daughter. Plus, by your own admission, you haven't run the opera house's financials into the ground."

Elphaba worked her jaw. She was his daughter. Despite Frexspar's clear disdain for her verdigris and her complete disregard for keeping her controversial opinions to herself, she had grown up believing she was his, whether he wanted her or not. Finding out the truth didn't change anything, unfortunately.

"Elphaba –"

"Oscar." She flat-out refused to call him 'Father'. "No one knows your true identity, and no one will know mine." She stood, trying to signal an end to the conversation.

"I want to be a father to you, Elphaba. I wish you'd let me."

She couldn't let him. She couldn't let down her walls and let him in after years of lies. She couldn't even look at him. "That is my final answer. Thank you for stopping by to check on me, but I do not wish to move into the palace or to be your heir. If you don't mind, I must get a good night's rest. I have a busy day tomorrow."

The older man sputtered out a protest, but Elphaba's stone face deflected any requests for a change of heart. He sighed. "Very well. Good night, Elphaba." He saw himself out, leaving Elphaba alone to mull over both their words.

She had accepted the truth about her parentage years ago, and refused to let it affect her life. No one else knew; they could never know. She wondered if her mother knew. She would've had to… unless she wasn't sure. If she figured that either of the men she had sex with could've fathered her firstborn child, then it was easier to pretend it was the man she was married to.

She honestly hadn't expected Oscar to come to her with such a request, and she had a nagging feeling that this wouldn't be the last time he would bring it up. He was asking too much of her. Her family was already complicated enough without this little hiccup always messing with her breathing.

He said he wanted to be her father, but what if she didn't want to be his daughter?

Glinda watched as the first group did the combination across the floor, marking the movements along with them. Greyling was tougher than normal, but it was nothing the girls couldn't handle. Though, they could do without the pianist gradually increasing the tempo.

"Next!" Greyling called, and Glinda hurried to the front, leading her group across the floor. "Straight legs, ladies! Miss Minkos, turn out! Miss Upland, where is your hand going?"

Glinda immediately corrected her wrist position, swept her leg out, and prepared for the fouettés. Her gaze locked on her spot, and she turned. And turned. And turned. And kept turning. She lost count after seven. When she finally did stop and blinked to clear her dizziness, she saw everyone staring at her, mouths all different levels of agape.

"Next!" Greyling called, and Glinda quickly moved out of the way so the next group could go.

The girls' eyes followed her as she rehearsed the combination on the left side.

"Open your shoulder blades, Miss Pfenhall!"

Glinda stretched the back of her leg as she continued to watch the other groups. By the time it was time to start the left side, the pianist had increased the tempo, but Greyling was too busy being a stickler for high leaps to be a stickler about maintaining the original tempo. The blonde was grateful that this was the last exercise of the class. She was exhausted. After the révérence, she did her cool-down stretches at the barre.

"Glinda."

The blonde turned and saw Pfannee, ShenShen, and Milla behind her, practically cornering her. "Hi."

"How did you do sixteen fouettés?" ShenShen asked.

So that's how many she did. "I… don't know. I just… did."

"It was incredible," Milla whispered in awe.

"Practically flawless," Pfannee agreed. "I'm surprised Greyling didn't say anything. That's the best I've ever seen."

Glinda smiled, letting the praise go to her heart and not her head. "Thank you."

Her three friends bid her farewell and left. Glinda sank to the floor and took off her pointe shoes with a loud huff of relief. She closed her eyes and rubbed her feet, humming the combination music under her breath.

"Miss Upland."

She opened her eyes and quickly stood, ignoring the sudden pain shooting up her legs. "Yes, Miss Greyling?"

"A spot has opened in the pas de deux class. It is yours if you choose to accept."

Momentarily speechless, Glinda could only blink at her instructor. The partnering class was only for the principal dancers, since they were the only ones given duets. "I… yes," she finally managed to get out. "Thank you."

"It begins tomorrow morning at ten, with Master Merante. Please be sure to keep your sixteen fouettés just as perfect for him. Make me proud."

"I will. I'll try. I mean... Yes, Miss Greyling."

The ballet head nodded and left the studio, leaving Glinda's mind reeling. This new development was more dizzifying than sixteen fouettés, and she quickly packed her bag and headed out. Ama Clutch was waiting for her outside, and she excitedly blurted out her news.

"That's wonderful, Duckie!" Ama Clutch grinned, pulling her into her arms. "I'm so proud of you."

Glinda couldn't stop grinning as they went home. And she couldn't wait to return the following day and tell Elphaba.

…

Her excited mood was dampened after her first partnering class the following day. It was hard jumping into the class, and the principal dancers were less than welcoming, and Master Merante made Miss Greyling look like an easy-going teacher. She knew she wasn't a perfect dancer, but Merante was so nit-picky that she felt like she wasn't doing anything right.

"Straighten your legs! Bigger leaps! Don't lean against your partner!" Merante called to her over the piano.

Glinda made the corrections, but she wished Crope would raise his hand higher on her back. She wasn't experienced enough to make such a request, so she powered through it as best she could.

After the révérence, Merante dismissed the class and left, but not without casting Glinda a disappointing frown. The blonde felt even smaller than normal. She was sure Merante would report to Greyling that she wasn't ready for this class, and she would be removed.

She hadn't received any messages from Elphaba, and didn't know where to find her, but figured starting back in the library would be her best bet. She made her way up the stairs and slowly pushed the door open. She saw Elphaba sitting at the table, her back facing her, hunched over. Glinda thought she might be sleeping, until she saw her hand furiously scribbling something in a notebook.

"Elphaba."

The green woman jumped and whipped around, relaxing when she saw Glinda. "Glinda, you startled me."

"Sorry."

"What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you, actually. I didn't know where else to look." She sat across from her. "Hi."

"Hello. Sorry, I…"

"Oh, you're busy. Could I… come back later?"

"No, now's fine." She closed her notebook and cleaned up the papers. "You said you were looking for me?"

"I was invited into the pas de deux class for the principal dancers this morning because I did sixteen fouettés for Greyling."

Elphaba smiled. "That's wonderful, Glinda. Congratulations! How was it?"

"Rough. And I thought Greyling was a strict dictator. Merante is far worse. But it's a class with the principal dancers, so I guess that's to be expected. I did sixteen fouettés yesterday in Greyling's class, so I suppose that's why she invited me to fill the open slot. But today didn't go as well as I had hoped."

"You're worried that you'll be pulled from the class?"

"It was my first time, so I don't know how perfect they expected me to be. But yes." She licked her lips. "I want to stay in the class, but I don't know if I'll be able to keep up."

"Do you want me to tell Merante and Greyling to keep you in the class?"

"No," Glinda said quickly. "I mean… I appreciate the offer, but no thank you. I can train harder to remain there. And I'll find a way to balance my energy between the two classes and the performances. It was just… a really tough first class."

Elphaba nodded. "I see."

She rested her elbows on the table. "You really love being in the library."

"I do have an office, but I prefer working here."

"I want to see your office."

The green woman smiled and stood, extending an inviting hand to her companion. Glinda took the offering and allowed Elphaba to lead her out of the library and up a long staircase to the fourth floor. She had to stop halfway up on the landing to catch her breath before continuing. Exhausted, she wondered if she was really as fit as she thought she was. She figured she was still tired from the pas class, because she shouldn't have been that winded going up just one flight.

"Here," Elphaba said, opening her door and leading Glinda inside.

Glinda stepped in and looked around. It was a decently sized room, furnished with a large bookshelf stocked with books, a long desk covered with books and papers, two chairs across from each other, a circular table by the window with ornate chairs by a medium-sized window with thick, brown curtains. The walls were covered with dark red wallpaper with golden leaf stencils, with a matching rug covering most of the hardwood floor. A large, dark brown sofa was across from the window, in the ideal spot for soaking in the sun's rays, right underneath a large clock and a large painting of a young, brunette woman sitting on a staircase. A victrola sat on a small table in the corner, safely tucked away, next to a small crate of records.

"It's nice," Glinda smiled. "You never work in here?"

"I do, but I prefer working in the library because it's more spacious."

"Maybe if you had a smaller bookshelf, you'd have more room for a larger desk," she giggled.

Elphaba's eyebrow quirked, then her lips formed a small smile. "But then I'd have less room for books, and I could never do that to myself."

Glinda sat on the sofa, finding it the perfect balance between firm and soft, and leaned back against the pillows. "The library has better natural light. But up here, you have more privacy. Four flights of stairs is quite a trip."

"You're right. That's why I have a mix of where I choose to spend all my time. Either way, no one will come looking for me." She paused. "No one used to come looking for me," she corrected with a small smile.

Glinda smiled back, thrillified that she had unlocked another Elphaba secret. "Now I will no longer have to wait to be summoned with your mysterious notes."

"I thought that was part of the fun."

"Hmm… maybe it is. But so is having a direct line."

Elphaba looked amused. "And what would you need this direct line for?"

"For whenever I'm tired and want to nap on this sofa that's much more comfortable than the one in the lounge."

She had to agree, that seemed like a decent reason. And she could think of many more.