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This was it.
This was their goodbye, and they both knew it.
But were they ready to lose one another? No, not yet, but all good things, well, they all must come to an end.
They had their last dance, there in the shimmering cavern of the Wizard, happy, even for one second, so perfectly happy, reliving their school days, that golden era that seemed so so far away now, glimmering distantly in their memory.
Once their dance had brought forth a new love, a new spark that they both tried to delude themselves was friendship, but deep down they knew.
Of course they did, they might have tried to resist the pull they both felt towards one another, but god did that not work.
And now this final dance was cruel.
One marrying off for duty, to become the face of hope, of light, of Good.
Marrying to provide herself with stability and backing, to fulfill all she had ever wanted, all she thought she could want,
She could not leave her child self’s ambitions behind.
And the other, wanting desperately to cling to her side, to stay and promise never to leave again. To propose once again, to leave together.
But she could not, for once rejected, by the one she loved.
And by having been hurt too many a time.
She had a duty to herself and her ideals.
As did the other.
Could they leave what they had grown to believe behind?
That would be too big of a break to cause for each other.
Yes.
They danced, blinded by the rays of multicoloured lights, aching hearts and tears pricking their eyes, back to that old choreography.
Thinking back to that first day, that first instance of curiosity towards one another.
Their initial rift.
Diffidence, and confusion.
Chalked up to loathing, bitter on the tongue, nothing like the warmth they both felt deep in their hearts.
And that dance, acceptance of that newfound interest.
An apology, and tenderness.
Growing emotions, a prince, the need to distance each other for studies and opportunities, gilded promises tantalisingly waved in front of their faces.
A broken illusion of what they each thought was their destiny.
Running away, the desperate clash of an embrace, charged with so much meaning, a cloak thrown unto the other, a question, turned down.
Strained relationship, and even more so later, once the wedding had been interrupted.
But not because of it being ruined.
That didn’t matter, what mattered was the manner it had been.
She had not asked, once more for her to leave, they could’ve flown off, stayed together, been happy.
Because, if Elphie had asked again, well, of course she would have accepted.
She was no fool.
She knew that what she felt was love, harboured deep inside her chest since that very first day, a candle’s flame fanned into a forest fire, a desperate want and yearning clawing at her mind every day they spent away from each other.
How could Glinda ever say no.
She did not have to.
She was never asked.
And now she stood, backed in a small cramped and dim closet, sworn to silence by her love, as she watched her die in front of her very eyes.
A scream clawed at her throat, desperate and raw, but she had no more to give, no more to say.
How could she.
Her one true love, her Elphie, had died before she could properly profess her love.