Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1: 5 YEARS LATER
The citizens of Oz had been living in a state of fear for the last several years. Rumours and horror stories of the wicked witches had been circling around the citizens like hornets. People locked their doors at night, children were instructed to always keep some sort of defense on them at all times. There were only two glimmers of hope for the citizens of Oz: Glinda the Good and The Wizard. Glinda was a good witch, and anyone looking to find comfort in their nightmares would think of her. For every tale of the Wicked Witch of the West’s evil, there was an equally intense story of Glinda the Good’s saintliness.
Today was an exciting day. For the first time in a long time, the citizens of Oz would be treated to a celebration. People’s typical wear designed for hiding and running was exchanged for their, now dusty, formal attire and beautiful jewels. The celebration was to be held in the emerald palace, and not an expense was spared. If you threw a rock anywhere in Oz it would hit a poster of invitation to the citizens, the event had tables and tables of foods and drinks, and Ozians who did not have attire for the event were gifted formals. Outfits with green jewels, furs died green of all varieties: green mink, green rabbit, green goat, even.
Glinda the Good herself was getting ready for the momentous occasion. Humming with nervousness and excitement. Impressed by her own vibrato, she opened her mouth and began singing the highest notes she could hit. She reached for the pinkest blush she owned and dunked her brush in its pigment. She put on her lashes that were even longer than her usual ones. This particular set of false lashes included specs of blue glitter throughout them. She continued singing as she picked out a blue dress, silver shoes, and her shiny tights. She gently took her hair out of her rollers. She checked herself out in the mirror. She hoped Fiyero would think she looked beautiful. Better yet, she hoped Fiyero would tell her she looked beautiful. Just as she felt herself on the verge of spiraling as to what Fiyero thought of her, Pfanee and Shenshen burst into her room. Pfanee had his hair styled into neat finger waves and Shenshen was wearing a dress with massive puff sleeves.
“Oh my goodness, Glinda,” Shenshen said, like the supportive friend she was.
“You are the most flamboisterous little flower in this beautiful dress.” Pfanee said.
“Do you think Fiyero will like it?” Glinda asked, still a little self-conscious.
“If Fiyero has any sense at all he’ll actually propose to you immediately upon laying eyes on you in this dress,” Pfanee said.
“And if he doesn’t, I will.” Shenshen added. Glinda giggled. She looked in the mirror. She was slightly more confident, but she still felt jitters. So many people were going to be at the celebration. She wished she had the vote of confidence from friends who were less fickle than Pfanee and Shenshen. She almost thought “if only Elphaba was here” to herself. Almost.
To take her mind off of things, Glinda began singing the highest pitches in her range again.
Fiyero couldn’t take it anymore. His room was across the hall from Glinda’s, per her request. This had to have been the 8th or 9th time today Glinda had broken out in loud, highly pitched, operatic song. He really did like Glinda, but the shrill notes were doing nothing for his nerves. He couldn’t even remember what the day’s celebration was even about. He knew that Glinda had told him at one point, but his mind had been elsewhere at the time. In fact, his mind had been elsewhere for a long time now.
Fiyero’s life had gotten significantly harder ever since he started actually having thoughts and feelings instead of pushing them away the second they got near. He hated feeling these knots in his stomach. He wished he could just not have a brain for a while so as to go back to how things used to be. His heart ached as it wrestled with his head. It was torture to be in a building that was entirely made of green stones, in a city so green it makes everything else look red when you leave while being so obsessed with a girl who could only ever be associated with the color.
Fiyero spent so much time thinking about every second he had spent with her that it had practically become a full time job. Every moment and interaction he’d shared with her became something of a prized possession, while somehow still serving a torture device. He of course still had an appreciation for Glinda, but he couldn’t understand her. Elphaba had been her friend too but Glinda never talked about her. In fact, every time Fiyero had tried to bring her up it would either instantly put Glinda in a horrendable mood or she would quickly and clumsily change the topic. He didn’t know how Glinda could not only tolerate the terrible lies being spread about Elphaba, but also actively play a part in the perpetuation of them. The way people talked about the two of them, there was no Wicked Witch of the West without a Glinda the Good.
Over the past five years, Fiyero had gotten to understand Glinda well enough to know that Glinda wasn’t actually stupid. She was far more calculated than people gave her credit for, in fact. Still, the way she pretended like Elphaba didn’t exist or something made his skin crawl. For the gazillionth time, Fiyero’s mind went back to the day where he and Elphaba rescued that lion cub. He remembered her outstretching her hand to contact the cut on his face. He had winced at first before allowing her hand to rest on his face. He felt the warmth of her touch. He remembered it so vividly. He remembered thinking that no matter what people said about her, nothing could take away the fact that Elphaba was a human being. No one could take away that warmth of her finger tips. At the time, the younger and more stupid version of Fiyero had felt feelings begin to well up inside of him, so he very quickly removed himself from her, taking the cub further into the forest. Fiyero rewound his memory to right before his departure. Her hand still on his face. He imagined a different ending. He imagined instead putting one hand on hers and the other on her face. He imagined pulling her head towards him. He imagined closing his eyes and getting so close to her he could feel her breath. And beyond that he couldn’t imagine. He didn’t know what kissing Elphaba would have been like because he never got the chance to.
That younger version of Fiyero would have never believed that in five years he would still be dreaming about the same girl that he hadn’t even kissed yet. Fiyero was a prince. Despite not being nearly as shallow as he used to be, he wasn’t blind either. He knew what he looked like, and so did everyone else. He could have any man or woman in Oz. He could have Glinda. And yet the memory of Elphaba would not allow him to. She was intoxicating. Another high pitched whistle note from Glinda temporarily snapped Fiyero out of his trance. He had to get ready for whatever the hell this celebration was. He had been appointed Captain of the Guard since all the lies had been flying around about Elphaba. The people had to feel protected. Fiyero only wished he could tell them that there wasn’t anything they really needed to be protected from. Well, nothing except for the Wicked Witch of the East, he thought to himself. He snuffed that thought out like a candle and began to get dressed.