Chapter Text
Present Day
The guards standing on duty in front of the Emerald Palace saluted when they saw Elphaba, opening the heavy green doors on silent hinges. “Welcome back, Princess Elphaba,” one of them said.
Elphaba barely managed a nod of acknowledgement. She was already looking inside, scanning the foyer for pink and gold trunks. “Has Miss Galinda arrived yet?”
“Yes, she’s in her room--” Elphaba hurried upstairs, her bag of library books hitting against her legs.
Galinda had been given the same guest room she always stayed in, since the first time she’d visited the Emerald Palace when she was only six years old. It was down the hall from Elphaba’s room, wide and spacious, with a balcony overlooking the gardens. One of the walls was still covered in a half finished mural she’d started when she was sixteen, a view of the roaring waterfalls in the Gillikin Peaks. The floors were strewn with half opened trunks, as usual—but today, Galinda wasn’t alone. The room bustled with servants wearing the pink and gold livery of the Arduenna-Uplands. Some of them unpacked Galinda’s things, hanging beautiful pink dresses in the wardrobe and arranging boxes of jewelry on the white and green vanity. But Elphaba noticed that others seemed to hover, with no discernible job: they pretended to straighten pillows and wipe invisible specks of dust off the heavy green duvet, but they never took their eyes off Galinda.
Something was wrong. Elphaba could feel it in the tightness in the air, in the way that no one would meet her eyes. “Galinda?” she asked, knocking softly on the edge of the doorframe.
Galinda was sitting on the window seat, staring listlessly at the frenzy of activity unfolding around her. When she looked up at Elphaba, her eyes were tired but her smile was genuine. “Elphie,” she whispered, but her voice held none of its usual excitement. Just the bone deep exhaustion that Elphaba could see in her eyes. “It’s so nice to see you.”
“You too,” Elphaba said. She hugged her tightly, like her touch alone would be enough to fix everything. They’d known this moment was coming, but she’d hoped they’d have at least a couple more years to themselves. Galinda had just graduated from Shiz a couple of weeks ago. They were supposed to have more time.
But then Fiyero’s older brother had died and he’d found himself first in line to the throne.
“It seems like you brought more servants than usual,” Elphaba continued, glaring at a maid who looked at them for a moment too long. Galinda didn’t say anything. Elphaba slipped her arm through hers. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk in the gardens.”
“Elphie, I really need to get ready for the engagement ball--”
“The engagement ball can wait,” she said in a voice that dared anyone argue with her. She was willing to use her position to her advantage if it was for a good cause. Besides, the engagement ball could hardly start without the bride—or the Princess of Oz. “The green roses have just started to bloom. I want you to see them.”
Galinda followed her down the back stairwell and into the sprawling expanse of the Emerald Palace’s gardens. Elphaba pulled Galinda into the hedge maze, breathing a sigh of relief as the topiary shut out the sounds of the city around them.. They had gotten lost in the maze so many times they knew it by heart. They knew which dark corners were farthest away from the palace and which were closest to flowing fountains, so the ripple of water could cover their voices.. “It’s that bad?” Elphaba asked, as soon as they were alone.
“I tried to run away, earlier in the summer,” Galinda said. “It was stupid. I got to the train station and someone recognized me and notified Father. He caught up with me in Settica and since then he’s been telling the servants he’ll double their pay if they spy on me.”
Elphaba didn’t think she’d ever hated someone as much as she hated Highmuster Arduenna in that moment. “He’s a monster.”
“He’s protecting his investment,” Galinda said, her voice tired. “He knows that if he doesn’t lock me up I’ll run away. I’d do the same thing, if I were him.”
“No you wouldn’t. You would never let things get this far. You would never force your daughter to marry a man she didn’t love, no matter what kind of agreements you’d made.” Elphaba snatched a handful of leaves off of the topiary and started to shred them absentmindedly, the broken pieces fell around their feet. “Does Fiyero know?”
“I’ve tried to tell him, but we haven’t been allowed to be alone together. Last I heard, his father was watching him too.” Galinda watched the leaves flutter to the ground, falling around her feet like the Frottican snow. “He’s in love with a childhood friend. He doesn’t want this either. It’s not his fault, Elphie. He’s still grieving his brother.”
Elphaba started to pace. She felt the wind picking up around her, responding to her foul mood. “The marriage can’t be allowed to go through. You’ll both be miserable.”
Galinda took her hands. Her touch instinctively stilled Elphaba, as it always did, sending a deceptive ribbon of calm through her. “The papers have already been signed. And it won’t be that bad. I don’t love Fiyero—I don’t think I’ll ever love him—but he’s a good man. He’ll treat me well. We’re friends. That’s a good enough foundation for a marriage, don’t you think?”
“I certainly do not think that.” It didn’t matter how kind Fiyero was. Galinda deserved to be blissfully happy in her marriage. She deserved to marry someone she truly loved, not someone her father was forcing her to wed to expand his own networks of power. But her voice sounded so tired, like she’d just accepted that the wedding was going to happen to her. Elphaba couldn’t believe how much she had changed in the last year they’d been apart. The Galinda she knew would have done anything—begged, borrowed, stolen, even killed—to get out of the engagement, because she knew that she deserved to be happy no matter what her father said . “Have you really given up?”
Galinda flinched and Elphaba immediately felt terrible. “I don’t want to, Elphie. But I tried and it…he…” She fell silent, picking at a loose thread in her shirtsleeve. “He doesn’t listen. He doesn’t want to listen.”
“Oz, Galinda. We have to do something.” Galinda was the person she loved most in the world, and Elphaba couldn’t just sit back and let this terrible thing happen to her. Perhaps Galinda didn’t have any fight left in her, but Elphaba had enough fight for both of them.
Father said she’d been a fighter for as long as he’d known her, never content to accept the status quo. She certainly wasn’t going to accept this. She just needed to find a way to fix it. If only she could…
And then the idea came to her. She wondered why she hadn’t thought of it sooner.
She stopped pacing. “What if I married you instead?”
Galinda looked at her like she was sure she hadn’t heard her correctly, or like she worried Elphaba might be coming down with something. “I’m sorry?”
“You heard me.” They’d talked about getting married before. And sure, those had been childish daydreams and yes, they’d both been more interested in planning the reception than thinking about the actual wedding itself…but they didn’t have to just be daydreams. They were both of age now. They loved each other. There were chapels that would marry anyone for the right price. “We elope—tonight, if possible. You can’t marry Fiyero if you’re already married to someone else.”
It was a ridiculous idea, but it might just work.
Galinda didn’t immediately dismiss the idea out of hand, which meant she was at least seriously considering it. “Elphie, this is a big decision to make. What if you regret it?” Elphaba noticed she didn’t say what if we regret it?
“I won’t regret it. Not if it’s you. We’ve loved each other since we were kids, since before we knew what love was.” Galinda didn’t deny it. “Why wouldn’t I want to spend the rest of my life with you, especially when it means you don’t have to spend it with a man you don’t love?”
“Fiyero is kind—”
“But you don’t love him.”
She sighed. “It’s not always about love, Elphie. There are expectations on him since his brother died, just like there are expectations on me since Momsie--”
“But there don’t have to be. Not if we run.” Galinda nibbled at one perfectly manicured fingernail—a nervous tic that she’d had as a child. Elphaba had thought she’d outgrown it. “Please, my sweet. Please let me help you.”
Finally Galinda met her eyes. She placed one hand over Elphaba’s, their fingers twining together. “Are you sure about this?” she whispered.
“As sure as I’ve been about anything.” Instinctively Elphaba’s other hand came to her waist to steady her. If this had been a normal day, she would have already kissed Galinda, already buried her fingers in her long blonde hair, already made Galinda’s breath catch in her chest. Wasn’t this what she’d been wanting since before she could put it into words? Sure, she hadn’t exactly expected this—a midnight flight, a rushed engagement, a secret wedding without any of their friends or family—but Highmuster Arduenna had forced her hand. It was time to act now, before it was too late.
She remembered Lord Upland as she had first known him, when he first came to the Palace to work on a railroad deal with Father. He’d been younger then, and his face wasn’t so lined. His eyes were always sparkling and laughter was never far away. He’d brought her gifts every time he visited-books, fur trimmed winter coats (not that she needed them in the Emerald City, but they matched Galinda’s), watercolors of the view over the Gillikin Peaks. She would never have thought that laughing man would be capable of forcing Galinda to marry a man she didn’t love.
But Elphaba knew a lot had changed in the intervening years. Lord Upland was no longer that smiling man, and he no longer had his smiling wife by his side.
Galinda’s smile was small, but the dimple in her cheek emerged. “That’s not much of a proposal, Princess Elphaba.”
And just like that, Elphaba knew they would be okay. She turned to the hedgerow behind her, carefully plucking off a purple clematis flower. “I’ll find a proper ring when I get to the palace. For now, please accept this flower as a token of my affection.” She gently pressed the delicate bloom into Galinda’s hand and knelt on one knee in the soft, springy grass. “Galinda Arduenna Upland, will you marry me?”
Galinda pulled her to her feet and practically threw herself into her arms. “Yes, Elphie! A thousand times yes!” She tilted her chin up to kiss her and Elphaba met her halfway, her hands traveling up her back to pull her close. But just as Elphaba tried to deepen the kiss, Galinda’s brow furrowed and she took a step back. “But everyone’s watching me so carefully. However are we going to sneak away?”
Elphaba hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. “We’ll sneak away during the engagement ball. There will be so many people coming and going that no one will notice. I’ll make sure there’s a carriage waiting for us. With any luck we’ll be halfway to Gillikin by the time they figure it out. Do you think your aunt will let us stay with her?” It would be the scandal of the decade, maybe even the century: the Princess of Oz running off with her best friend.
Galinda squeezed her hand. “You’re really serious about this,” she murmured, almost disbelievingly.
“Of course I am,” Elphaba replied. “If you don’t want to marry Fiyero, you won’t have to. And that’s a promise.” She didn’t break promises if she could help it.
“I can’t say I’ll mind dancing with you one last time,” Galinda said, pressing a kiss to the back of Elphaba’s hand. “You were always my best dancing partner.”
“It’s only the last time for now, my sweet,” Elphaba said. “Once we’re married we can dance as much as you want to.” Perhaps they wouldn’t be dancing in palaces anymore, or on the neatly polished parquet floor of the Upland manor. Perhaps they would be dancing on a chipped stone floor, or a creaky wooden floor, or a floor made out of dirt. It didn’t matter to Elphaba.
She would be with Galinda. That was the most important thing.
That had always been the most important thing.
16 Years Ago
Elphaba sat on the nursery’s green and white striped window seat and watched the visitors walk up the Emerald Palace’s wide front steps.
Visitors weren’t unusual in and of themselves; Father often had industrialists from Gillikin or politicians from Munchkinland or princes from Quadling Country or chieftains from the Vinkus over to talk about his new engineering projects or to ratify new trade agreements. But it was rare for guests to bring their families, and Highmuster Arduenna Upland had brought his wife and child.
Lady Upland looked like a princess out of one of Nessa’s storybooks, with her elaborate curls piled on top of her head and her large dark eyes. She wore a mauve coat over her lavender dress and matching heels that clicked against the stone stairs with each step she took. She was holding her daughter’s hand. Galinda Upland was six years old and she had a head of blonde curls, just like her mother. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she climbed the stairs, the gap between each step a challenge for her small legs. Father said that Galinda Upland was going to be her playmate, but Elphaba doubted it. Elphaba was almost eight. Father said she needed to meet more people, but she no intention of spending the whole weekend with someone who was practically a baby.
“Surely you get lonely here,” Father had said at dinner the night before. “This palace is a pretty big place to have all to yourself.”
“I don’t have it all to myself,” Elphaba replied, dragging a fork through her mashed potatoes. “You’re here. And Nessa is here, sometimes..”
“But she isn’t here now, is she?” That made Elphaba pout. She loved Nessa, just as much as if they’d had the same father. She wished Nessa could live at the Emerald Palace all the time, not just a few weeks a year when Lord Frexspar let her visit. “Galinda is going to be here all summer, while her father and I work on the railroad plans.” Oz’s railroad was small, but Father said it would grow. He’d already built a branch to Shiz and he was negotiating with the Gillikinese businessmen who owned major stakes in the railroad companies so he could build more. Almost nobody owned more stakes than Highmuster Arduenna.
But Elphaba didn’t want to play with a baby. And other children tended to cry when they saw her. Elphaba didn’t blame them—her verdigris took a little getting used to—but it didn’t make her feel good. But Father wanted her to meet the Uplands, so she would.
“And you remember you’ll both be going to the ball tomorrow night?”
“Of course I remember, Father.” It was going to be the very first ball that Elphaba had ever been allowed to attend, and she suspected Father was allowing her to go as a thank you for entertaining Galinda while her parents were busy in boring industry meetings. Father threw a few major balls throughout the year, with lavish decorations and a full orchestra to accompany the dancers that filled the ballroom until after dawn, but he’d always said Elphaba was too young to go. Until now.
“Galinda is younger than you, so you’ll have to look after her. But Lord Upland tells me she loves to dance.”
“Good. I love dancing too.”
“I know you do, kid.” They shared conspiratorial smiles. Father loved to dance too. He’d taught Elphaba some dances that he’d brought from his world by letting her stand on his shoes while they promenaded around the empty ballroom. “And give Miss Galinda a chance, why don’t you? Who knows-maybe she’ll surprise you.” And Elphaba doubted it, but here she was in her best navy dress with her neatly styled hair and her best patent leather shoes that her nanny said she wasn’t allowed to scuff on pain of death (or at least a week of dinners without dessert).
Nanny knocked on the nursery door and cleared her throat, startling Elphaba out of her reverie. “Your father is ready for you, your Highness.” Elphaba straightened, brushed a nonexistent piece of dirt off of her skirt so that Nanny wouldn’t have to, and then walked downstairs with the even and measured steps she used when she was being a Princess.
Father was waiting for her on the landing. “Ready?” he asked, extending his arm to her.
“Ready,” she said, as they went downstairs to meet their guests. Each of their footsteps echoed off of the high ceilings. The palace was noisy like that; almost every room had an echo.
They were waiting in the foyer when the Uplands finally stepped inside. Lord Upland took his wife’s coat, handing it off to a passing servant. “Your Ozness,” he said, bowing deeply. He smiled at Elphaba. “Princess Elphaba. How nice to see you again.” She liked Highmuster Arduenna. Every time he came to talk with Father he brought her little gifts-oil paintings of the Gillikin peaks, books about Gillikin’s wildlife, horseshoes from the Upland stables.
“Thank you Lord Upland,” she said. She didn’t curtsey, because Father said she was a princess and princesses didn’t curtsey for anyone.
“Allow me to introduce my wife, Larena, and my daughter, Galinda.”
“How lovely to meet you, Your Ozness—and Princess Elphaba.” Lady Upland curtseyed deeply, but Father took her hand and raised her to her feet.
“There’s no need for that kind of ceremony,” he said. “Not when your husband is financing half of the railroads in Gillikin—”
Little Galinda gasped. Her big dark eyes were fixed on Elphaba and Elphaba steeled herself. “You’re green!” she said, as if Elphaba might not have noticed.
“I am,” Elphaba said, her voice clipped. She prepared to launch into the same speech she always gave. No, I am not seasick. No, I didn’t eat grass as a child. Yes, I have always been green. Father said that the best way to deal with uncomfortable truths was to douse them with a little bit of humor.
But before she could say any of that, Galinda said “That’s so cool!” She tore her hand away from her mother’s and hurried across the floor. She almost tripped over a dip in the stone, but she caught herself before she could fall. She came to a stop in front of Elphaba and gave her best approximation of a curtsey. “Can we be best friends?”
Lady Upland finally caught up with her, placing a hand on Galinda’s shoulder and gently but firmly pulling her back a step. “I’m so sorry, your Highness. She’s just excited.” But Galinda wasn’t listening to her and she wasn’t looking at Father. She was staring at Elphaba with an expression that Elphaba had never seen before.
It almost looked like awe.
“Sure, we can be friends if you want to,” Elphaba said. She’d never actually had someone ask to be her friend before. Galinda shrieked with delight and pulled away from her mother, throwing her arms around Elphaba. After a moment, Elphaba hugged her back. She glanced back at Father, bewildered, but he seemed to be trying to stifle a laugh.
“I think they’re going to get along great,” Father said. “Elphaba, do you want to show Miss Galinda to her room? We’ll be downstairs having tea when you’re done.”
And just like that, Elphaba made her first friend.
//
Elphaba had only known Galinda for a few hours, but she was beginning to realize that the younger girl was never still. Everything seemed to interest her, from Father’s huge map of Oz to the green cut crystal lamp shades to the green and white masks that had been a diplomatic gift from Quadling Country. It required all of Elphaba’s focus to keep up with her and make sure she didn’t break anything. Galinda asked her questions the whole time: what was it like living in the Emerald Palace, what was it like having the Wizard for a father, what kinds of toys did she have, did she like to play with dolls, where were her favorite places to visit in the Emerald City? As soon as Elphaba answered one question, she’d immediately ask another. It was exhausting.
Getting ready for the ball was challenging too, because Galinda wouldn’t sit still. She was wearing a pink dress that looked almost identical to what she’d been wearing earlier in the day, except it had a puffier skirt. Instead of letting the maids style her hair she twirled around on the blue carpet in front of the fireplace until she fell to the ground and stared up at the ceiling, laughing. “Do you like to dance too, your Highness?” she asked, looking up at her. In the firelight her dark brown eyes almost seemed liquid, like chocolate.
“I do,” Elphaba said, trying to set a good example by sitting still and not wincing, even when the maid accidentally yanked on one of her braids. She’d just been hired a month before and Father said she was probably nervous; most of the servants were at first, until they realized that he and Elphaba weren’t scary at all. They were just like every other family in Oz, except they were a little bit smaller than normal. Mother had died when Elphaba was three, while giving birth to her younger sister Nessa. Lord Frexspar had never forgiven her for it. Father hadn’t even known Elphaba existed until she was three. Then he’d arrived to take her to the Emerald City, like a magnanimous king out of a storybook. Besides Nessa, Elphaba didn’t have any other brothers or sisters. She didn’t mind the quiet, most of the time. In fact, she was starting to miss it the longer she spent with Miss Galinda. “And you don’t have to call me your Highness. You can call me Elphaba, since we’re friends.”
Galinda sat up and one of the maids approached with the curling iron. “What dances do you like?”
“Any of them,” Elphaba replied. “I love dancing.”
Galinda beamed. Her smile was adorably lopsided; she was missing one of her bottom teeth. “Me too. But I’ve never been to a grown up ball.”
“Me neither. But I know the best place in the palace to watch the guests arrive.”
Galinda’s eyes lit up. “Can you show me, Elphaba?” She tripped over the unfamiliar name a little bit.
“You can call me Fabala, if it’s easier. That’s what my little sister calls me. And yes, I can show you—but only if you sit still while they finish getting you ready.” Galinda obediently sat down in her chair in front of the mirror. The maid with the curling iron shot Elphaba a look of silent thanks. Elphaba tried to give her a nonchalant look, like she watched hyperactive six year olds all the time and knew exactly how to make them sit still.
Somehow Galinda managed to stay still long enough for the maids to finish arranging her hair and smoothing out the creases on her dress. By 7:00 they were ready to go downstairs. Galinda was practically vibrating with excitement. Elphaba had to hold her hand so she wouldn’t pick at her hair after the maids had spent so much time carefully arranging it. They walked down the stairs carefully, so Galinda wouldn’t trip, and then along the long green carpet that led to the open ballroom doors. “Wow,” Galinda whispered as they stepped inside.
For once, Elphaba agreed with her. The ballroom had been entirely transformed, until it felt like they were standing in the middle of a garden even though they were inside. Greenery crawled across the windows and tall potted plants sat in the corners of the room. Ivy trailed along the polished wooden floor, though it stayed well away from the dance floor so no one would trip. There were vases of orchids on every table and the entire room smelled sweet, like the perfume Elphaba could barely remember her mother wearing.
Father saw her and waved her over. He was standing near the windows with the Uplands and a handful of Emerald City bankers. “This place is amazing!” Galinda said when she reached her parents, slipping her hand into her mother’s without a second thought. For just a moment Elphaba felt a pang of loneliness because she didn’t have a mother who could take her hand or admire her dress. Not anymore.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, Father placed his hand on her shoulder. “You look nice, kid. Very grown up.” She beamed and he set his drink down on the table behind him, holding out his hand to her. “May I have this dance?”
She curtseyed just like her dancing instructor had taught her to. “Of course, Father.”
The crush of people parted for them as the band started to play again. For the first few bars Father had to guide her through the steps because she was too busy looking around at everything: the delicate finger sandwiches sitting on the refreshment table, the crystal glasses of sparkling green alcohol behind the bar, the women in their beautiful dresses that spanned the entire spectrum of green. And above them the lights in the chandelier, glittering like stars.
Father was a good dancer, but Elphaba was better. Sometimes she had to remind him to turn the other way, or promenade on his right foot when he was trying to promenade on his left. But he made an effort for her and that was all that mattered. On the other side of the dance floor, she heard Galinda laugh as her father spun her around, pushing her away from him and then pulling her close again. “How is she?” Father asked, following her line of sight. “A nuisance?”
“Yes,” Elphaba said. “But she’s funny too. And sweet. I like her.”
“You don’t think you’ll mind taking her under your wing for the rest of the summer?” She shook her head. “Good.” He squeezed her hands and bowed to her as the song drew to a close. “I knew I could count on you, kid.” She stood up a little straighter, happy to be someone that the Wizard of Oz could count on. “Look—I need to go back and talk to those bores over there.” He gestured back to the bankers. “But you and Galinda should enjoy yourselves. Dance all you want. Have a good time. That’s an order.” He winked, adjusting his green bow tie.
She giggled. “Yes, Father.” As he headed off the dance floor she went to find Galinda. “Do you want to dance?” she asked, while Galinda watched her father retreat into the crowd.
The little girl’s face scrunched up. For a minute Elphaba thought she was going to cry. “I’ve never danced with a girl before,” she said.
“It’s just the same as dancing with a boy. Do you want me to show you?” She held out a hand as the band segued into a new tune, something happy and upbeat. Galinda slipped her hand into hers.
Galinda was a surprisingly good dancer. She was a little bit clumsy sometimes but she recovered quickly, and she seemed to like dancing just as much as Elphaba did. She knew exactly where to put her hands, exactly when to lean closer and when to step back. She giggled as she twirled under Elphaba’s arm, as one dance bled into two and then three, until Elphaba lost count. They danced dance after dance. Other couples rotated around them, men and women exchanging partners or drifting towards the refreshments table or noticing someone on the opposite side of the ballroom that they absolutely had to speak to. Elphaba’s only obligation was to Galinda, and Galinda didn’t want to stop dancing and neither did she.
But eventually Galinda started having to hide her yawns behind her hand and her steps slowed. “Do you want to go see your mother?” Elphaba asked, and she nodded silently.
“You must have had a good time,” Father said when they came over. Lady Upland scooped Galinda into her arms before Galinda could ask; Galinda rested her head against her shoulder and closed her eyes. For just a moment Lord Upland’s eyes narrowed, like he thought it was disrespectful for his daughter to sleep in front of the Wizard of Oz. Elphaba wanted to tell him that Father wouldn’t mind. He wasn’t as stuck up as he pretended to be. “I thought you two were going to dance all night.”
“We almost did,” Elphaba said, hiding her own yawn.
Father chuckled, checking his watch. “Well, it’s far past your bedtime. I think it’s probably time for both of you to get to bed.” Elphaba wanted to protest but he said “You did well, kid. There’ll be plenty of other balls. Don’t worry about this one.” So Elphaba nodded and hugged him and followed Lady Upland upstairs to Galinda’s guest bedroom. She was still carrying Galinda, who was fast asleep in her arms.
“Thank you for looking after her, your Highness,” Lady Upland said. Elphaba hovered in the doorway, watching as she laid Galinda down on the bed and gently worked the bobby pins out of her hair. One of the servants had already set out a snowy white nightgown.
“I didn’t mind,” Elphaba said. “That’s what friends do.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. You’ve been a very good friend to her tonight, your Highness.” Galinda murmured sleepily and Lady Upland knelt down beside her to whisper something, stroking her hair. The moment was almost unbearably tender, and Elphaba suddenly felt like she was intruding. She turned and walked silently back down the hallway to her own room. She let the maids undress her silently too, listening to the faint strains of music and the chatter of guests drifting up from the ballroom.
Maybe if her mother was still alive, she would have taken care of her just like Lady Upland had taken care of Galinda. Maybe she would have helped her out of her dress and tucked her into bed, sending her off to dreamland with a soft kiss on the forehead.
//
When Elphaba woke up her room was dark, and Galinda Upland was frantically trying to worm her way under the covers beside her. “What are you doing?” Elphaba whispered. “How did you get here?” It must have been very late because she could no longer hear any noise coming from the ballroom.
Galinda sniffled. “It was dark. I got scared.” She looked at Elphaba suddenly, her dark eyes wide in the soft light of the lamp that Nanny always left lit in case Elphaba woke up in the middle of the night.
Elphaba pulled down the covers. Galinda wrapped her arms around her, clinging onto her like a particularly determined barnacle. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “When I was your age, I got scared of the dark too.”
Galinda was quiet for so long that Elphaba was beginning to think she’d fallen asleep. Then she said “I had a really good time dancing with you, Elphie.”
“Elphie?”
“It’s my nickname for you. Do you like it?”
Elphaba thought it was a little perky, but she didn’t mind. No one had ever given her a nickname before, except for Nessa, and that didn’t count because she was just a baby and she hadn’t been able to say Elphaba’s name. “I do.”
Galinda nodded, satisfied. “I really liked dancing with you tonight. Can we dance together at the next ball, maybe?”
“Sure. I liked dancing with you too.” She didn’t know when they’d get a chance to dance at the same ball again, but she meant it. Galinda was certainly a better dancer than Father.
“Good,” Galinda said happily, and then she went to sleep. Elphaba lay awake a little longer, stroking her hair like she’d seen Lady Upland do, and then she went to sleep too.
Galinda followed her everywhere that first summer. When Elphaba was reading in the library she had to be in the library too, even though she preferred to color at the heavy wooden tables. When Elphaba was at her lessons she had to be listening in, even though she didn’t know the first thing about Ozian history or politics. When Elphaba went to play outside in the palace gardens Galinda followed her, even when it meant she got dirt on the hem of her nice pink dresses. At first Elphaba found her constant presence annoying, but then she realized she didn’t mind Galinda so much. Galinda could always be counted on for a laugh and it was…well, nice to always have someone’s full and undivided attention.
Even if that someone was six.
Elphaba found Father in his office, looking over the dispatches from Munchkinland. “You can’t let them go through with it. You have to stop this,” she snapped.
“Hello to you too, kid,” he said, not looking up from his paper as she sat down in the green chair on the other side of his desk. When she was younger she used to play on the floor in front of the fireplace while Father worked at the desk, muttering to himself every now and then as he scribbled notes in the margins. The room still smelled comfortingly of polished wood and his sharp cologne. Not much had changed in the intervening years, although she didn’t have cause to come here as often: there was still the huge wooden desk, cluttered with pictures of Elphaba; the worn rug in front of the fireplace where she’d once spread all her dolls and their various accoutrements; and the shelves along the sides of the room covered in books that were gathering a fine layer of dust. Father thought the books made him look distinguished, even though Elphaba was the reader in the family.
Elphaba refused to be distracted, leaning forward on the desk until she nearly knocked over a picture of herself with Nessa at a festival in Munchkinland when she was seven. Father grabbed the frame before it could fall over. “You can stop the marriage from going through. You know neither one of them wants this. Galinda says that Fiyero was seeing a girl at home, before he had to break it off. This isn’t true love.” Father had always had a weakness for a good love story.
He sighed and rubbed the hair at his temples. Elphaba wondered exactly when it had turned fully white. She hadn’t noticed. “I can’t, El. Believe me, I tried to talk some sense into Lord Arduenna. But he wouldn’t hear of it. He says it’s already a done thing. He’s been talking about a match with King Marilott for years now. The contracts are signed and the money has already been exchanged--”
“But you could make the contracts null and void!”
“And what kind of precedent does that set? What kind of ruler would I be if everyone knew I could just alter contracts and trade deals on a whim, just because I don’t like them?”
“What kind of ruler are you if you can’t protect your people?” she shot back.
“I tried to talk to Prince Fiyero, but he says he’s on board with the wedding. With his brother dead…I think he feels he needs to go through with the match, even if it isn’t what he wants. Elphaba, there really isn’t anything I can do.”
“Even if she doesn’t want it?”
“That’s not an uncommon circumstance in families like these. It’s rarely ever about what the woman wants.” He fiddled with an emerald pen. “There’s nothing that I can do without creating a diplomatic incident. Highmuster Arduenna-Upland owns one quarter of Gillikin’s industry. If he starts an economic war against the Emerald City, it will hurt all of us. But that isn’t to say there’s nothing that you can do.” He finally looked up at her with a look that suggested he already knew exactly what she and Galinda had discussed. She opened her mouth, but he raised her hand. “No, don’t tell me. I want plausible deniability. But in case you…need somewhere to go later, remember your mother owned a house in the Glikkus.” Technically it was Elphaba’s now; she’d received the keys for her 21st birthday. “You could always lay low there for a while and wait for everything to blow over.”
She couldn’t help smiling because it was nice to know that, even now, he still had her back. “Thank you, Father.”
He waved her off with a conspiratorial smile. “Don’t thank me yet. Go do whatever you think is best-for you and for her.”
Elphaba certainly didn’t need to be told twice.
Fourteen Years Ago
Elphaba checked to make sure her nurse was still distracted by her embroidery, and then she pulled her legs up underneath her so she could get a better view out of the train window. She wasn’t supposed to put her feet up on the seat—Nanny said it was terribly unladylike—but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to see every bit of Gillikin that she could. This was the place where Galinda lived. She’d learned to swim in its lakes, to ski on its hills, to ride horses in its green and yellow meadows…and Elphaba had never visited, even though Galinda had spent three summers in the Emerald City. It was almost routine by now: at the beginning of the summer Galinda’s parents dropped her off at the Emerald Palace after a week of railroad discussions and they didn’t come to collect her again until the week of the Harvest Festival.
But this year, something new had happened: on the night of the Harvest Festival, Lord and Lady Upland had invited Elphaba to a midwinter ball back in Frottica. Apparently they hosted one every year at their honey colored brick house in the foothills of the Gillikin Peaks. Father had been more than happy to let her go. He wholeheartedly approved of her friendship with Galinda. “You’re a different person when she’s with you,” he’d told her one night, while they worked together in his workshop on one of his new inventions. Father was always building something, usually multiple things at once. That night he’d be working on creating boxes with mechanical wings, so that they would be able to send messages to each other from different parts of the palace.
“That’s a silly thing to say,” she’d said. “Even when I’m with her, I’m still me.”
“That’s true enough, but you’re a…friendlier version of yourself.” He gently tapped one of the box’s wings with a hammer so it would lie flat. “You laugh more often. You talk more easily.”
“Everything’s easier with Galinda.” Sometimes it was hard for Elphaba to talk around strangers, knowing how often they judged her for her skin color. But there was nothing to hold Galinda back, and she was happy to talk enough for both of them. And if she did see somebody glance at Elphaba’s skin for just a little too long, she wasn’t afraid to yell at them for it. Galinda could sound very imperious for an eight year old.
But even though Galinda was younger, there were a lot of things she had done that Elphaba never had, like skiing or skating or riding on a train by herself (at least, without her parents). Now, at last, they were going to be even. Father was staying back in the Emerald City because he said he couldn’t leave his work, and Galinda assured her there would be enough snow on the ground for winter sports. So Elphaba had bought an entirely new wardrobe: insulated clothes, a fluffy green winter coat for being out in the snow, and a warmer coat that wasn’t fluffy for attending social functions in Frottica. All of her new clothes were neatly stored in green trunks in the next train car, stamped with Father’s seal.
Galinda and her parents met her at the train station in Frottica. Elphaba hadn’t taken more than two steps onto the platform before a high pitched voice squealed “Elphie!” and Galinda threw herself at her with the force of a bullet. “You’re finally here!” she cried, wrapping her arms around Elphaba and squeezing tightly. “I thought you were never going to get here!”
Elphaba laughed, hugging her back just as tightly. “Never is a long, long time.”
“Your Highness,” Lord Upland said, extending a hand for Elphaba to shake. He was always stiffly formal, like it was their first time meeting each other. “I trust your train journey went smoothly?”
“It did. Gillikin is so beautiful!” The illustrations in her books and even the paintings Galinda had given her to hang on her walls (“so you can have a little bit of me even when I’m not here,” she’d said) didn’t do the scenery justice: the way the snow covering the fields looked like icing on a cake, the way little clumps of villages seemed to crouch together against the snow; the way the craggy mountains loomed higher and higher the farther north they traveled.
“We’re so glad you like it,” Lady Upland said, hugging her like Elphaba was her own daughter. For just a moment, Elphaba closed her eyes and pretended she was. Then Lady Upland took Elphaba’s gloved hand in hers and said “You must be exhausted. Come, we’ll take the carriage home and I’ll instruct the servants to make you both some hot chocolate.” She took Galinda’s other hand in hers as they headed towards the line of carriages waiting to take noble visitors home, while Lord Upland lingered behind to oversee the delivery of Elphaba’s bags.
Galinda chattered for the entire hour-long carriage ride about all the things they were going to do while Elphaba stayed riveted to the windows, watching the scenery pass by. The roof of the Upland manor was frosted with snow, making it look like something out of a fairy tale. It was even more beautiful than she’d thought it would be. The walled gardens were covered in a blanket of white and the ice on the lake about a mile away from the house glittered in the late afternoon sunlight. Compared to the rugged beauty of the scenery all around them, the manor looked like it had been plucked straight out of Frottica with its warm honey colored stone and yellow shutters. Every light in each of the front windows was ablaze, burning merrily against the gathering dark.
“You’ll have to excuse the mess,” Lady Upland said as a servant dressed in the Uplands’ gold and pink livery opened the front door for them. “Things are always a little frenetic in the run up to the midwinter ball.”
“What does frenetic mean?” Galinda asked.
“Busy. Hectic. Maybe even a little crazy. Like how your nurse gets when you get mud all over your nice skirt.”
Galinda laughed as her mother pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Momsie, you’re babying me in front of Elphie.”
“That’s because you are my baby, my love. And you always will be, no matter how old you get.” Galinda giggled. Elphaba had that odd sinking feeling in her stomach again. Would Mother have kissed her like that if she was still alive? Father said that most of the members of the nobility were stiff and undemonstrative parents, but Lady Upland didn’t seem like that at all.
Elphaba wondered if Galinda knew how lucky she was. But then Galinda pulled her away for hot chocolate, chattering on about ice skating, and she didn’t have time to think about her mother anymore.
//
“It’s very…green.”
“You don’t like it, do you?” Elphaba asked, tugging at her tulle skirt. When Father had said that he’d bought her a new dress for the ball she hadn’t thought to look at it first. She trusted Father’s fashion sense, most of the time. Except the dress he’d picked out was hideous-well, the dress itself wasn’t, but it clashed with Elphaba’s skin color. She felt frustrated tears prick at her eyes. The ball started in two hours; there simply wasn’t time to go out to Frottica and buy a new dress. She couldn’t tell if she was more disappointed with Father, or with herself for not checking the dress sooner. “Oz, I’m hideodeous.” And now all of the guests that the Uplands had invited were going to see her too. She could imagine the things they would say behind her back, once they all saw for themselves that their princess was more of a freak than they’d already thought she was-
“No you’re not!” Galinda huffed, before Elphaba could feel too sorry for herself. “You can’t say those things about yourself, Elphie. You’re beautiful.”
“I appreciate the flattery, but--”
“It’s not flattery!” Galinda stamped her foot, hard, against the carpeted floor of her bedchamber. She was wearing a pale pink dress with a soft white skirt, and little pink ribbons woven into her hair. Elphaba couldn’t help noticing that she’d sat very still when the maids were doing their hair. “You are beautiful, Elphie. You have such pretty eyes, and your skin glows, and you have a nice smile too-when you let people see it.” Galinda was undoubtedly aware that no one in Oz, quite possibly, had seen Elphaba’s smile as much as she had. “That dress is…unfortunate, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re beautiful.”
No one had ever called her that before. Father said she looked nice. Once Nanny had said she cleaned up well, whatever that meant. But no one had ever called her beautiful.
“You’re too young to know what beautiful means,” Elphaba said. She was sure that no one in the Gilikinese nobility, not even Lady Upland, would think that green skin was beautiful.
“Yes I do!” Galinda cried. “I know that the sunset is beautiful. I know that the sea is beautiful. I know that the stars in the sky are beautiful.” The sky above the Upland manor was covered in stars, more stars than Elphaba had ever seen in her life. Sometimes when it wasn’t too cold Lady Upland bundled them up in their coats and took them outside so they could look up at a sky that was practically overflowing with tiny pinpricks of light. “And I know that you’re beautiful too, Elphaba Thropp.” Elphaba felt a strange lump in her throat, but Galinda didn’t seem to notice. “Once the dressmaker made a mistake and brought a dress that was white, but Momsie dyed it pink. Maybe we can dye your dress a different color instead.”
She skipped off to find her Momsie before Elphaba could stop her and tell her that a simple mix up with a dress wasn’t worth bothering Lady Upland with. Elphaba followed tentatively on her heels, absentmindedly playing with the hem of the stupid dress.
They found Lady Upland in front of her vanity, carefully applying a layer of powder to her cheeks. Elphaba didn’t understand why she felt she had to put on makeup, when she already looked flawless without it. “There you are, my darlings!” She immediately spun to catch Galinda as the little girl launched herself at her, somehow managing to hold her without creasing her skirt.
“Momsie, we have an emergency.” Galinda pointed at Elphaba’s dress. Apparently, no other words were necessary. “Can we dye it, like you dyed the white dress pink?”
“I doubt there will be enough time for the dye to set,” Lady Upland said, eyeing Elphaba’s dress appraisingly. “Your Highness--”
“Elphaba, please,” Elphaba said quickly.
“Elphaba, you’re not that much taller than Galinda. I bought her a couple of dresses for Lurlinemas for her to grow into. If we let out the seams a bit, I suspect we can get one of them to fit you.” Both girls followed her into her closet-one big room with a mirror that took up an entire wall and racks and racks of clothes along the other walls. For a moment all Elphaba could do was stare at all those dresses, in every cut and color of the rainbow, for every occasion imaginable. Galinda looked spellbound too; she grabbed Elphaba’s hand and squeezed it, almost instinctively.
But Lady Upland knew exactly where she was going, rummaging through a rack in the far corner of the room until she pulled out a deep blue dress that was the exact shade of the sky just after sunset. The bodice was embroidered with pearls and Elphaba thought it was the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen. “Try this on, your—” She cleared her throat and corrected herself. “Try this on, Elphaba.”
Elphaba changed behind a rack of evening dresses and then carefully examined herself in the mirror. She hadn’t known how the blue would look against her skin, but she realized it made her look older, somehow. Her verdigris seemed deeper and less jarring. Not beautiful, no matter what Galinda might think. But she wouldn’t make a fool of herself in front of half of Frottica.
She didn’t realize she was crying until Lady Upland knelt in front of her, dabbing under her eyes with a handkerchief embroidered with a golden U. “Darling, what is it? Do you not like it? Because we can always find you another one.”
Elphaba didn’t know how to even begin to express the tangle of feelings inside of her chest. She wasn’t sure she could have explained what it all meant even to herself, much less anyone else. “I love it. Thank you,” she managed to say, before Lady Upland could try to take that beautiful dress away.
Galinda immediately threw her arms around her, burying her head in Elphaba’s shoulder. After a moment, Lady Upland’s arms came to encircle them both. Elphaba couldn’t seem to make herself stop crying, but the others didn’t care. They just held her like no matter what happened, they would keep her together. It was like she didn’t have to be the Emerald Princess when she was around them.
She just had to be Elphaba.
Finally, her tears subsided enough that Lady Upland could wipe them away with her handkerchief. “This will never do,” she murmured. “You can’t be in tears at your first ball in Gillikin. I’ve found that dancing is the best medicine when I’m upset.” She turned to Galinda. “Have you been teaching her our traditional dances?”
“Of course I have, Momsie.” Galinda sounded almost offended that she even needed to be asked.
“Why don’t you show me?” Lady Upland stepped into the center of the dressing room, pushing clothing racks against the walls. “We’ll do a line dance.” Some of the Gillikin country dances were surprisingly complicated, with groups of dancers weaving in and out, switching partners and then switching back. Elphaba thought she was a good dancer, but some of the dances were tricky even for her.
By the time they managed to finish the dance they were all flushed and laughing. Galinda’s bows were lopsided and even Lady Upland’s makeup couldn’t quite hide the rosiness of her cheeks. “Come on,” she said, ushering them over to her large white vanity. “We have to make ourselves look presentable before the ball starts.” She carefully redid the ribbons in Galinda’s hair and reapplied her own makeup, while Elphaba sat on the edge of her bed and watched like they were creatures from a fairy tale.
“Would you like me to do your hair too, Elphaba?” Lady Upland asked, as Galinda scrambled down from the chair. Elphaba nodded, sitting down in front of the vanity with careful precision, watching as Lady Upland arranged her braids so they fell neatly over her shoulder like a wash of ink. She pinned a few of them up so they almost looked like a crown, like the crown that Elphaba would wear someday a long, long time in the future when Father died.
“There,” Lady Upland said, squeezing her shoulder. For a moment Elphaba thought she saw tears glittering in her eyes, but it could have been a trick of the light. “Now I think we’re all ready to meet our guests.”
//
By the time they made their way downstairs, the manor was already beginning to fill up. For a moment Elphaba could only stare at the women’s dresses, at their long heavy skirts in every color of the rainbow trailing across the marble floors that had been polished until they shone. Lord Upland was standing at the bottom of the stairwell. “You’re late, dearest,” he said as he reached out to take his wife’s hand.
“It hardly signifies, Highmuster. We see the same people every year.” She winked at Elphaba, who smiled back at her shyly like they were sharing a secret.
The Uplands’ ballroom had been entirely transformed, until it looked like some kind of wintry fairyland. Soft drifts of snow, made from glitter and paper, gathered in the corners of the room. Jeweled snowflakes had been draped across the windowpanes and they glowed softly in the light of the candles resting on the sills. All of the desserts on the refreshment table were covered in a thin layer of glaze that made them look like they were covered in snowdrifts. The lights over the dance floor had been tinted blue, so it looked like they were waltzing on ice. Elphaba thought the room was beautiful, even more so than the Emerald Ballroom when the Wizard was hosting guests.
“Meeting people is so boring!” Galinda grabbed Elphaba’s hand and yanked her towards the dance floor, as if she’d seen the decorations a hundred times before. “Come on, Elphie! They’re playing a reel!” It went without speaking now: Galinda and Elphaba were and always would be dancing partners. There were other children at the midwinter ball, the children of Galinda’s parents’ friends and acquaintances. A few of them worked up the courage to ask Elphaba to dance and a couple of them were rather good, but none of them were Galinda. She and Galinda had shared so many dances over the years and taken so many of the same dancing lessons that Elphaba could partner her almost without thinking about it. She could anticipate almost every move Galinda would make: when she would step back, when she would turn in, when she would nearly step on Elphaba’s foot. Whenever they danced, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. Elphaba didn’t have to worry about impressing her, because she knew that Galinda would like her anyway. There would always be another summer and there would always be another ball.
While Galinda danced with a boy whose glasses made his wide dark eyes look even larger than they already were, Elphaba went to get them glasses of lemonade from the refreshments table. She heard quiet voices drifting around the edge of the doorframe, but she didn't pay much attention to them—she was used to ignoring boring adult conversation—until she recognized Lady Upland’s voice.
“Oz, Highmuster,” she was saying. “Galinda is a child. She isn’t even ten years old.”
Lord Upland’s voice was so quiet that Elphaba had to lean forward slightly to hear it. “But that’s old enough for an engagement, before some other princess can snap him up.”
“We don’t even know the Tigelaar family—”
“King Marilott is rich and the Arjiki are powerful. What else is there to know?”
“That sounds quite mercenary, dearest. How is Galinda supposed to know if she likes Prince Fiyero, if she’s never even met him before?”
“She doesn’t need to meet him. We’d only met a handful of times before our wedding night, and look how that turned out.” No one said anything for a minute and Elphaba assumed they were kissing.
“She’s a child, Highmuster,” Lady Upland said. “Just let her enjoy growing up. Perhaps, when she’s older, she’ll fall in love with this prince for herself. But until then…let her have her fun. Let her laugh and play and dance and discover exactly who she is when she’s by herself, before she ties herself to anyone else.”
Elphaba didn’t hear what Lord Upland said next because Galinda came running over to her, her blonde curls flying, begging Elphaba to dance with her again and again until they were both exhausted and Galinda’s nurse had to bundle them back up to bed.
They slept in the same bed, the way they always did after balls. Galinda fell asleep first, as usual, clinging to Elphaba like a barnacle, wrapped up in her light pink duvet. The warmth of Galinda’s body made Elphaba feel sleepy, and the pillows and blankets were soft and warm. She could hear the murmur of voices downstairs drifting in under the cracked door, since Galinda had insisted they keep it open. Snow softly drifted down outside, settling in silent drifts, while a fire crackled merrily in the grate.
Elphaba felt her eyelids slip closed until she was on the edge of sleep, until the last thing she thought about was the conversation she’d overheard between the Uplands, about the mysterious Prince Fiyero and the marriage contract that Lady Upland had dismissed out of hand.
Elphaba had no idea then just how that nebulous marriage contract would come to dominate their entire lives, how it would hang over them like a piece of glass that could shatter at any moment.
Elphaba found Fiyero in the room that Father had appointed as his study. His desk was covered with telegrams and letters, presumably congratulating him on his upcoming nuptials. But he was only looking at one letter-a single page, front and back, covered in a girl’s small and neat handwriting. “You don’t want to do this, do you?” she asked flatly.
He looked up in surprise, like he’d been so absorbed in the letter that he hadn’t heard her come in. “Your Highness,” he said, in a way that wasn’t quite a question. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk to you.” She sat down on the edge of the desk and snatched the letter out of his hand, ignoring his attempt to snatch it back. She flipped the paper and looked at the signature at the bottom of the page: Sarima Arquezza. She remembered a pretty girl on Fiyero’s arm at the ball where Elphaba had been proclaimed Crown Princess: long dark hair, soft brown skin, brown eyes that were almost as big as Glinda’s, a smile that shone like stardust. And Fiyero had looked at her like he couldn’t imagine a more perfect girl. He’d hung on her every word and danced almost every dance with her. “Is she the girl you love?”
“Princess Elphaba--”
“Because you don’t love Galinda.” It wasn’t a question. They both knew she was right. He liked Galinda. They were friends. And Elphaba knew that if the marriage did go through, he would do everything he could to love her. But he would never love her the way he loved Sarima.
“It’s not that simple, Princess,” Fiyero said. “I wish it was. I wish I could marry Sarima. But…there’s no room for love in my life. Not anymore. My older brother is dead and I’m next in line to inherit. My country is proud, but small. We need powerful allies. Sarima’s family won’t bring us allies, not the way that marrying one of the richest girls in Gillikin will.” She must have had an incredulous look on her face because he hurried to continue. “Galinda’s a very sweet girl. We get along well, and I want her to be happy. I want to be the best husband that I can be for her--”
“But you don’t love her.”
Fiyero thought for a moment. “Love is a complicated word,” he said diplomatically. “But just because it’s not instantaneous, that doesn’t mean it can’t grow. My parents always say they didn’t really fall in love with each other until they’d been married for two years.”
Elphaba wanted to hate him, but she was the heir to a kingdom in her own right. She knew that she was expected to put her people’s wellbeing first, even when it went against what she wanted. In his situation, with a sibling dead and a kingdom vulnerable, she might have made the same considerations. “What if there was another way?” she asked him. “What if you could save your kingdom and marry Miss Sarima?”
He bit his lip. “Princess, I know you mean well--”
“It’s Elphaba to you,” she replied. “You’re engaged to my best friend. Hear me out. What if you ally with the Emerald City, instead of Gillikin?”
He smirked. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were proposing.”
“You’re not my type. But if I asked my father nicely, I’m sure I could get him to sign a defensive treaty—and give Miss Sarima a sizable dowry.”
Fiyero sat up a little straighter in his chair. “You wouldn’t…”
“Oh, I very much would if the happiness of my best friend is at stake.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “And what would I need to do in return?”
“Go along with what happens tonight.”
He raised one eyebrow. “I hope that doesn’t involve assassinating Highmuster Arduenna.”
“I’m still thinking about it. But no. I have a…more permanent solution in mind.” A midnight carriage ride. A dimly lit church, with only a priest as witness. Galinda as her wife, to have and to hold for better and worse and richer and poorer and sickness and health for the rest of her days.
Even though she didn’t say anything, she knew he understood. Perhaps he’d had similar thoughts himself. “It’s a crazy idea.” But a smile tugged at his lips. “You really like her, don’t you?”
“More than anything.”
A smile broke across his face, as precious and pure as sunlight. “In that case, far be it for me to stand in the way of true love.”
Eleven Years Ago
It was supposed to be another winter like any other: days spent skiing and ice skating with Galinda and drinking hot chocolate while they watched the snow fall, curled up on the pink overstuffed chairs in Larena’s (as Lady Upland now insisted Elphaba call her) study that had the best views out over the grounds; another Midwinter Ball, when the manor would transform itself into a winter wonderland; another set of dances with Galinda.
Instead, two nights after Elphaba arrived and a month after her thirteenth birthday, her trip turned into a nightmare.
Galinda had been coughing since she and her parents had come to pick Elphaba up at the train station, but Elphaba hadn’t thought anything of it. Perhaps her greeting hadn’t been quite as exuberant as normal, but maybe she was tired from the carriage ride over or she hadn’t slept well the night before. Galinda’s parents didn’t seem to think anything of it. They’d ordered the cook to make all of Elphaba’s favorites for dinner and they stayed up late into the night talking—well, Elphaba and Galinda and Lady Upland had talked. Lord Upland had retreated to his study after the dessert course to look over some of his correspondence.
“We’re going to have the best winter ever,” Galinda said as they lay together under the pale pink canopy that hovered over her bed, just like she always did on Elphaba’s first night. She turned her head into her pillow to hide a sneeze. Normally they would stay up late into the night talking, even though they exchanged letters every week so they already knew everything that was happening in each other’s lives. But that night Galinda fell asleep early, complaining of a headache.
The next morning, she couldn’t even get out of bed. She stared at Elphaba blankly when she tried to rouse her, her sheets were sticky with sweat, and her forehead was hot. Elphaba called for Larena, who called for a doctor. “Why don’t you wait downstairs, darling?” she asked, squeezing Elphaba’s hand. “We wouldn’t want you to catch whatever she has.” But Elphaba didn’t want to go downstairs. She wanted to stay with Galinda.
The doctor saw the trail of red spots on Galinda’s throat and immediately diagnosed her with pox, and then everything changed.
Elphaba was hustled back to her room, relegated to sitting on her bed as she watched the Upland servants repack her things. The doctor examined her too, checking her throat and asking if she had a fever, chills, or cough. She didn’t. “Is Galinda going to be okay?” she asked, but the doctor didn’t answer. Elphaba knew that the pox was a very contagious illness and could be fatal—especially in small children. But she and Galinda weren’t small children anymore. Galinda was eleven and she was almost thirteen.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to stay elsewhere until the illness has moved through the house,” the doctor told her. He didn’t say that it might already be too late, since she’d spent most of the previous day with Galinda and even slept in the same bed as her. Arrangements were made for Elphaba to stay with Galinda’s uncle and aunt on the other side of the valley. Elphaba tried to find Larena and tell her that she wanted to stay with the Uplands, but the door to her guest room was barred until the carriage arrived to pick her up. Then the servants escorted her downstairs and right out the front door. Elphaba looked back once, up the staircase toward Galinda’s room, as if she would be able to catch a glimpse of her. She looked around at the foyer, still covered in the detritus of the preparations for the Midwinter Ball: cut trees and shrubbery scattered here and there, jeweled snowflakes spread out on a table, garlands of holly thrown in a pile.
Galinda’s Uncle Albion and his wife Elieza were kind enough, if a bit formal. They took Elphaba on a sleigh ride along their property and Elieza taught her to do a particularly tricky kind of jump on skates. They didn’t mention Galinda or the other Uplands, except for the odd platitude that they would be fine and Elphaba would be back with them before she knew it, even as the days passed and her return kept getting delayed. Three days turned into a week which turned into ten days.
And then on the eleventh day, Elieza pulled her aside after breakfast. She squeezed Elphaba’s hand and opened her mouth, then shut it again. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, darling,” she said finally, and Elphaba’s heart dropped. “The rest of the family caught the pox. Galinda and her father are recovering well. But…” Her eyes welled with tears and she had to stop talking to wipe her eyes with a handkerchief that had been sitting on a side table. “Lady Upland didn’t recover. She insisted on nursing Galinda herself and by the time the disease reached her heart, it was too late for her to fight it off.”
Elphaba couldn’t believe it at first.. She’d just seen Larena last week and she’d been so vibrant and full of life, planning the holiday ball. She couldn’t just be gone. And what about Galinda? How could she lose her mother? “She can’t be…there has to be some kind of mistake.”
“I’m afraid there isn’t,” Elieza said, dabbing at her eyes again. “It’s terrible what happened to her, simply terrible. Her poor husband.” And her poor daughter, Elphaba thought.
“I want to see Galinda,” she said. “Does she know her mother is…gone?” She simply couldn’t bring herself to say dead. It sounded so horrifically final.
“Darling, I’m not sure that’s the best idea. She was ill recently--”
“I don’t care if I get sick,” Elphaba said. “Galinda is my best friend. She needs me.” She didn’t mention that Galinda was her only friend too. She made her voice as imperious as she could. Nanny would have scolded her if she’d heard, but Elphaba didn’t care. If using her princess voice meant that she would get back to Galinda faster, she was certainly going to use it. “Take me back.” And because she was the Emerald Princess and people weren’t used to saying no to her, she was returned to the Upland manor by the time the sun set. Albion and Elieza came with her, to help the family in their time of grief.
Elphaba didn’t see Lord Upland, who had locked himself in his study. The walls were so thick that she could barely hear the murmur of Albion’s voice on the other side of the wall. She found Galinda in her bedroom, wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets and pillows. Her skin was still pale and her eyes were watery and bloodshot. “Elphie,” she whispered, her voice crackling like dried paper.
Elphaba crawled onto the mattress next to her, wrapping her arms around her. “I’m here, my sweet. I’m so sorry.”
“Father says that Momsie’s…Momsie’s…” She couldn’t seem to say the word either, trying to say it and then faltering.
“I know. I’m so sorry,” Elphaba whispered. She pressed Galinda’s hot, sweaty forehead against her shoulder, stroking her hair. Galinda let out a noise that wasn’t quite a sigh or a whimper-a soft, defeated sound that made Elphaba’s heart twist.
“Nobody was talking about her dying last night,” Galinda sniffled. “They said she was going to be just fine.”
Elphaba stroked her hair, wishing there was something, anything, she could do to ease the grief on her face. “My mother died too. It’s not really the same, because she died before I could really get to know her. But I know how it feels.”
“What do I do now?” Galinda asked, her cheek soft against Elphaba’s shoulder.
Elphaba knew what she should tell her: that everything was going to get better and she would heal and someday she maybe wouldn’t miss her mother quite so much. But that hadn’t been her experience. There had always been a hole in her heart, no matter how many years passed, searching for a person who could never be there for her again. And she had only been chasing a ghost; she didn’t remember the smell of her mother’s perfume, or the way she used to wear her hair, or the sound of her laughter. She couldn’t remember her mother ever tucking her into bed, or singing her to sleep, or comforting her when she skinned her knee. She couldn’t imagine what the pain would have been like if she’d actually remembered her. She didn’t want to give Galinda hope that things would go back to normal, when her world had changed irrevocably and it would never, ever be the way it had been two days ago. So all she said was “You’ll have me, no matter what,” as if that could make things better. She held Galinda until she cried herself to sleep, wrapped up in tear stained blankets. Once she was sure Galinda was asleep, she let herself cry too. Nobody would ever replace Mother, but Larena had tried. Why hadn’t Elphaba ever told her how much she appreciated it?
They cried themselves to sleep for weeks afterwards.
//
Albion and Elieza were sitting at the breakfast table when Elphaba and Galinda came downstairs the next morning. The chair at the head of the table, where Lord Upland sat, and the chair at the other side, where Larena sat, were conspicuously empty. Elphaba and Galinda sat down across from them, as silent servants set their plates down in front of them.
Albion placed a hand over Elieza’s. “We were talking yesterday and…it’s just such a tragedy, Galinda, what happened to your mother--”
“I know,” Galinda snapped.
The adults exchanged a look before they continued. “We thought we could host a mourning ball,” Elieza said. “Larena loved to dance. I believe it’s what she would have wanted.” She looked at Galinda, who was dragging a knife through her porridge. “But of course, if you and your father think otherwise…”
“What’s a mourning ball?” Elphaba asked.
“It’s an old Gilikinese custom,” Galinda said. “The traditional mourning period is twelve days. On the twelfth night there’s a ball, to celebrate the person’s life and dance them into the afterlife. It’s supposed to be a happy occasion. Not a sad one.”
“What do you think, Galinda?” Albion asked, pouring himself more coffee. His eyes were red and puffy, like he’d been crying too and he wasn’t afraid to hide it. “Your father says he’ll consider it, as long as you’re amenable.”
Galinda picked at a crack in the long wooden table. Elphaba squeezed her hand. “I don’t know if I can pretend to be happy right now.”
“No one expects you to pretend, darling,” Elieza said. “That isn’t what a mourning ball is about. It’s about grieving through dance and through music, while you have the people you love around you to hold you up. We had one for my cousin. She died very young, even younger than you. And I was devastated. But it helped to dance with the people that knew her best and were hurting just as much as I was.”
“I do love to dance, and so did Momsie,” Galinda said, dragging her knife through her porridge again. “Would you be able to stay, Elphie? I know you’re supposed to go back soon—”
“I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” Elphaba said. If she explained the situation, Father would let her stay for as long as she needed to. Being here with Galinda right now was more important than her lessons in the Emerald Palace. He would know that.
“Then I’ll dance,” Galinda said, squeezing her hand. “As long as you dance with me.”
“Of course I will, Galinda.”
//
Lord Upland was harder to convince. Albion spent almost two full days locked in his study before he finally came out and announced that they would be hosting a mourning ball in nine days’ time. In the meantime, the household went into mourning. Swags of black crepe were draped everywhere: on the bannisters, the windowsills, even over the portraits of stern faced Upland ancestors. All of Galinda’s pretty pink dresses were packed away in chests and she had to wear starchy black dresses that pinched at her elbows and scratched at her wrists. No more music or laughter drifted in from the servants’ hall. A pall lay over the house, like everyone else had died too and they were just ghosts going through the motions of daily life.
On the night of the ball the guests began to trickle in. There were many members of the Arduenna-Upland extended family that Elphaba had never met before, along with as much of Frottican society as could fill the Upland ballroom. Everyone wore deepest black, sometimes embroidered with diamonds or pearls or jet to show their wealth. They kept their voices low, whispering in small clumps as they moved around the ballroom. Several women were crying.
Galinda made the rounds with her aunt, accepting condolences and hugs from sobbing elderly women. Elphaba hovered at her other elbow like a shadow, until Galinda slipped an arm through hers. “Please don’t leave me,” she whispered.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Elphaba whispered back.
Eventually Lord Upland found them. There was a young man with him, perhaps a year older than Elphaba. He had light hair that kept falling into his eyes; he kept pushing it back nervously. He had bright blue eyes and a soft, almost tentative smile. “This is Prince Fiyero Tigelaar, of the Arjiki. Your Highness, this is my sister-in-law, Alieza; my daughter, Galinda; and Princess Elphaba, of the Emerald City.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Fiyero said, bowing to each of them in turn and bowing a little more deeply to Elphaba. He surreptitiously tugged at his collar, like his suit jacket was a little tight. It looked a little threadbare too; perhaps his family didn’t have the money to buy him another one. “Miss Galinda, I was sorry to hear about your mother’s death.”
“Thank you, your Highness,” Galinda said, sending a quick glance down at the floor.
Elphaba saw Lord Upland notice. His jaw tightened. “Galinda, why don’t you dance the first dance with him?”
Galinda’s big brown eyes flickered towards Elphaba. Her hand tightened around hers. “But I was going to—”
“We had already planned on dancing the first dance together,” Elphaba said quickly.
“The second dance then,” Lord Upland replied.
“Of course.” Galinda gave Fiyero a tentative smile. “I’d be honored to dance the second dance with you, your Highness.” The band started to play and she practically pulled Elphaba onto the dance floor. “I believe that’s our cue!”
“The prince seems nice,” Elphaba said as they took their place among the swirling couples.
“I know,” Galinda said, placing Elphaba’s hand at her waist. “But I don’t want to dance with him. I want to dance with you.” And Elphaba didn’t say anything else, because she would much rather dance with Galinda than with some distant Upland cousins.
Elphaba had wondered if there would be anything different about the dances. Perhaps the musicians would only play dirges. Instead, the dances weren’t any different from the ones she would have at the midwinter ball. It was comforting to know the steps like muscle memory, so all the crying didn’t distract her. Perhaps that was the point: even if everything else had changed, even if she felt unmoored and off kilter, the dances were still the same.
When the first song was finished Galinda hesitated in Elphaba’s arms. Elphaba could hear her heartbeat against her, fast and quick like a rabbit’s. “If I go and dance with Fiyero now, will you dance every other dance with me?” she whispered.
“Of course,” Elphaba said. “You know that there’s no one I’d rather dance with here than you.”
Elphaba took the opportunity to pour herself a drink while Galinda danced with Fiyero, her dark skirt spinning across the dance floor. She leaned against the wall, watching them—and watching Lord Upland, on the other side of the room, as he drained most of his drink in one long gulp. She could see his Adams apple bobbing in his throat, the way his fingertips tightened around the neck of his glass.
Once Fiyero bowed to Galinda and the music finished, Elphaba was all too glad to nudge her way back in. “How was he?” she asked as she took Galinda’s hands and led her into a turn. “Is he a good dancer?”
“He’s okay,” Galinda said. “But he’s not as good as you, Elphie.”
Elphaba felt her cheeks heat from the closeness of the dance floor and the warmth of the overhead lights. “You’ll always be my favorite dancing partner.”
Galinda’s smile was small, but it seemed genuine—perhaps the first real smile she’d given Elphaba since her mother died. “And you’ll always be my favorite too.”
And for a night at least, as they led each other through dance after dance, never stopping in case Fiyero or anyone else got ideas about cutting in, Elphaba thought that things could somehow turn out all right. She could help Galinda through her grief, far better than any prince who barely knew her.
Hopefully, she could make her smile a little bit more. Maybe not today, maybe not in a month…but she simply couldn’t conceive of a world without Galinda. They would always be in each other’s lives. They would always share the best and worst moments of each other’s lives.
And no matter what happened they would always, always, be each other’s dancing partner.