Chapter Text
The Wizard is Dead. Long live Glinda the Good! Long live Captain Fiyero the Sanguine! Long live the Emerald Empire! Death to the Wicked Witch of the West!
When is home no longer home?
Elphaba stared at her wall of newspaper clippings, of the several oaths she'd sworn to herself to make her once-home thrive. She had fought for nearly a decade to reveal Oz’s terrible truths to the Ozians. She tried for so long, lost so much, worked so hard, and yet…
Her hands trembled around the crumpled pamphlet that the Western Winds had blown into her forest house. The Wizard, her goal, her purpose, her raison d'etre, had died.
Who was she now that he was gone? She'd devoted decades of her life to first admiring him and then despising all that he stood for. And now, there was nothing left. No Ozian would ever see him as anything less than the Great Protector of Oz. Death had a funny way of making valiant Heroes out of the truly Wicked.
Elphaba was very tired.
There were no more Animals left in Oz. Not even the Flying Monkeys. Elphaba had smuggled out the last one ages ago. That same poor Lion she'd once rescued all those years ago had been reduced to a hysterical mess, sobbing and flinching wordlessly at every movement she made. The only reason they had escaped was because she had spelled the guards asleep. Otherwise, his caterwauling would have had them both clapped in irons again. Despite all of her efforts and coaxing, Elphaba had still had to drag the Lion under the Yellow Brick Road using a net. The Fox in charge of the Exodus thanked her profusely before disappearing into the Deadly Desert with the unfortunate wretch.
They didn't tell her where the animals went.
She didn't ask.
Champion but not kin. Protector in the skin of a collaborator. There would be no room for Elphaba in whitherwhich settlement the Animals had founded.
Elphaba's causes had all disappeared to dust. What did she have now save for her cursed epithets? Witch. Wicked. Savage Beast. Violator of Oz's Homes and Firesides. The Green Grotesque.
All her work, all her sorrows, all her pain, everything she had worked so hard for had come to naught.
She was all alone. Just as she had always been.
Elphaba was very tired.
There were no more tears left to cry. Elphaba had stopped crying four years into her campaign. There were only so many silenced Animals and dead bodies her heart could take before it all went numb. When was the last time Oz had felt like home? When was the last time Elphaba had felt like a human being? When was the last time she had slept?
It didn't matter anymore.
Elphaba let the pamphlet in her hands drop.
Nothing mattered anymore.
She staggered to her room. Her hands went through the now slow motions of dressing herself in her full regalia. The scratch of her neglected nails didn't bother her anymore. She couldn't remember the last time she had had the strength to make them look nice.
Elphaba was very tired.
Every empire needs a founding mythology, a Good hero and a Wicked villain. But to truly claim the right to rule over the disparate lands of Oz, Good must triumph over Wickedness.
After all, what better way to hide the slow smothering of the beautiful cultures of Munchkin Land and Gilikin and the Kingdom of Vinkus than to kill their greatest enemy?
Glinda the Good Witch and Captain Fiyero the Sanguine would be so pleasified at Elphaba's death. Glinda had thrived as she continued the brainwashing of Ozians against Animals. "For Glinda and for Goodness's sake!" became the rallying cry of the Gale Force as they ripped weeping Eagles from their screaming Chicks and beat down frightened Leopards as beasts of burden. And Fiyero earned his epithet as the Animal raids he orchestrated ran red with the blood of his innocent victims. Sanguine of heart with sanguine hands.
Governor Thropp mirrored their Goodness as only a faithful friend could, a heartbroken dead-eyed Boq serving silently at her side. Munchkin Land lived in constant fear of both the Witch wicked enough to abandon her sickly sister, as well as the Governor that would do anything to see said Witch burnt at the stake. Secret police listened under every eave and door to root out traitors to both Governor and Wizard.
Elphaba was very tired.
Too tired to even put on shoes.
She took a final look at herself in the mirror. Elphaba was no more. All that stared back was the Wicked Witch of the West. A Witch so wicked it turned her skin green. A Witch so impure that she could be melted by good clean water. A Witch so evil she couldn't stop those she loved the most from becoming hollow shells of their former selves.
The Wicked Witch of the West crowned herself with her signature hat. If the Witch-hunters wanted to hunt a Witch, she would bring their final hunt to them.
And then the Wicked Witch of the West would finally, blessedly, be no more.
"Let this day be one of annual mourning." Madam Morrible's voice rang out over the throng of weeping Ozians. All wore a verdant rainbow to pay tribute to their great Wizard. Even Glinda sported a dress of a green so dark it was almost black. She and and a uniformed Fiyero led the funerary procession in her bubble, hand-in-hand. The elaborate veil over her face and the low brim of his cap hid that not a single tear fell from their eyes.
The sky joined Glinda and Fiyero in their lack of grief. The sun shimmered down, making the Yellow Brick Road glow with warmth as most of Oz followed the ornate coffin.
Even in death, the Wizard was nothing short of impeccably styled. He looked to be merely sleeping, wrapped in a suit of fine emerald silk. Crushed black velvet cradled his corpse from touching the heavy wood of his coffin, painted a dour deep pine to express the solemnity of the occasion.
Glinda thought he looked rather small like this. Like a child that had fallen asleep wearing his father's old clothing. Whatever charm or cunning he once had, whatever power that had bound her and Fiyero to his cause had gone. She had no room in her heart to grieve for him. The past decade had soured her to the shallow glitz and glam he had once sold her.
"Our Great Wizard has gone to the Lands Beyond. But fear not! He shall still watch us from above. His mysterious and wonderful powers will protect us evermore from that Wicked Witch!" Morrible droned, the only other dry eye in the procession. The rest of the Ozians mourned louder, wailing into each other's arms.
Glinda pursed her lips, masking her ire as a quivering mouth of grief. What a foolish display.
The Wizard's death could not have come soon enough.
Many a painful lesson had come at the hands of this endless decade. First and foremost that Glinda could never have changed things from the inside. She had tried so many times. She spoke up for the sparing use of Cages, for the animals to have clean housing and bedding after their labor, for free travel between the provinces for all Ozians. But the Wizard and Morrible had some excuse every time.
Cages kept Ozians safe from the dangerous and unpredictable animals. Why would animals need housing? They could sleep in the open just like their ancestors once did. Free travel between the provinces was dangerous. It could encourage sedition, even rebellion!
Glinda had always thought she could change hearts and minds with just a flick of her hair and the right words uttered in the right ears. Instead she found her true voice growing smaller and quieter. Constantly compromising and adjusting until it disappeared into thin air.
But what else could she do? She was popular and well-loved, just as she had always wanted. Oz clung on to her every word as though it contained the essence of life itself. Yet those weren't her words, weren’t Glinda's words. Not anymore.
Fiyero shuffled slightly, straightening his shoulders. Glinda could barely look him in the eyes these days.
Wasn't marriage the logiciferous conclusion for a couple such as they? Glinda didn't love him, not in the way that she thought she should. But that was alright! Wasn't it? Someone like Fiyero was supposed to be with someone like her. That's what all the storybooks said. That's what everyone around her said.
But something broke in Fiyero on their wedding day.
That frivolous spirit disguising the raw cynicism and political acumen disappeared overnight. All of it. Glinda had always known that Fiyero's joviality was an act. She could recognize a reflection of herself in a heartbeat. But at least there had been some light behind his eyes. Even if his flippancy was false, he enjoyed parts of it. The dancing, the games, the teasing.
That light had faded from him permanently the next morning, when Glinda awoke from her wedding night alone and untouched. Fiyero still joked, still laughed, still whirled Glinda around ballroom floors. But the brilliance of his smile belied the darkness in his eyes. The Animal raids under his command grew crueler and bloodier. The Gale Force held the Emerald City in an ever-tightening chokehold.
Glinda had begged for a year straight for him to open up to her. Beat his chest with her fists. Demanded that he look at her with a real expression. Cursed him up, down, right, and center. Cried for him to be her husband in more than name. But all he did was smile that empty smile and say, "I'm sorry, Glinda."
She did not know this strange Captain Fiyero the Sanguine, who wore her Fiyero's face and slept in her bed.
Just like she did not know the exhausted face that stared back at her in the mirror.
It had been ten years of this absolute hell of her own making. At least one of her tormentors could no longer continue his reign of terror.
The procession came to a crawling stop as it reached its destination, a sprawling field of scarlet poppies. Glinda guided her bubble to a raised pavilion that had been constructed days earlier. Establishing the burial site had been a fight and a half with Morrible. She had wanted the Wizard interred in the Emerald City for all to see and venerate as the Greatest and Most Powerfulest Magician Who Had Ever Lived.
Glinda wanted to fling his naked corpse into the Deadly Desert to rot.
But her sweet stupid Ozians needed their moment to grieve. So Glinda had found this poppy field outside of the City so "that everyone from the most Wealthified to the lowliest pooruns could find peace in this secluded place". She would never have to see his bastard face again.
Glinda waved her wand, popping the bubble with a careless flick of her wrist. Fiyero dropped her hand. It had been the first time he had touched her in months.
She did not miss it.
Glinda stepped to the microphone, painting a flawlessly sorrowful expression upon her brow. Fiyero stood at attention behind her with a sufficiently doleful look. She took a deep breath. Once her speech was over and that bastard was moldering in the ground as he should have done decades ago, Glinda would be finally free of this nonsense.
"Fellow Ozians, we have gathered here today to mourn our most belovified Wizard, a man who has touched all of our hearts and kept our Empire safe from her enemies."
A chorus of sobs rose anew from the crowd of Ozians. Glinda barely kept herself from rolling her eyes.
"I know that we are all deeply hurt and worried that we no longer have the protection that we once did. But rest assured that I and my most darlingest husband Captain Fiyero will shield you just as the Wizard has always done—”
"WITCH!"
Glinda whipped her head to the Western Skies to see a sight she had given up on witnessing years ago. A blessedly familiar figure flew through the clouds, midnight cloak fluttering in the wind. Gods above, her Elphie was still here. Still alive.
Glinda would have known if the Gale Force had murdered her dearest friend. But that did not mean that Elphaba was safe. Oz’s wildernesses could be dangerous, even without the animals. And all of her experimenting with the Grimmerie couldn’t protect Elphie from everything.
Seeing the glorious sight of Miss Elphaba Thropp soaring through the skies as free as a bird made Glinda's heart leap. Elphaba could do anything she put her mind to. Between her mastery of the Grimmerie and her own incredible magic, Elphie could save Oz, save Glinda, from the terrible fate on her shoulders. She would go this time. Endure all manner of horrors and strife if it meant leaving this wretched place and making a home with Elphaba.
For the first time in a very long time, Glinda felt a genuine spark of hope.
Elphaba landed before the pavilion with a quiet thud. The Ozians cowered away. Desperate calls for the Gale Force abounded, despite the fact that most remained in the City to protect against Elphie's supposed retaliation post-Wizard death. Elphaba flicked her dress back. She stood tall, her dark dress iridescent in the shining sun.
She was magnificent...
Elphaba should be magnificent. And yet...
Glinda spotted her bare feet beneath the dress's hem. Curious. Elphaba hated being barefoot in public. She claimed people would aim for her naked toes with their shoes if she left them exposed. Something wasn't right.
Glinda snapped her eyes up to Elphaba's face. Her heart lurched in her chest. Elphaba looked... Elphaba looked... For Goodness's sake, Glinda couldn't get the thoughts out. The bags under Elphaba's eyes demanded Glinda's attention, ugly bruises that spoke of many a sleepless night. Hunger hollowed her cheeks and weathered her skin.
The microbraids Elphaba took so much pride in maintaining had disappeared, leaving only knotted tangles. Nessarose had once shown Glinda a rare picture of little Elphaba sporting a crown of gorgeous natural coils during those faraway days in Shiz. Neither past nor present Elphaba would have ever allowed herself to become this disheveled.
What had happened?
Elphaba stared ahead blankly, no grand words or gestures to plead the plight of the animals. The frightened noise of the crowd did not change the frightening emptiness in her gaze.
All the hairs on Glinda's neck stood up. Somehow, Elphaba looked like she was about to melt away, never to be seen again. Glinda opened her mouth to say something, anything, but Elphaba spoke first.
Just as she always had.
"All hail Oz's Most Fantabulicious Couple. You've won. The Animals are no more and the Wizard is dead. Now Oz will never know what a lying monster he was. The great Emerald Empire is now free to ruin all that made each different region of Oz beautiful and precious in the name of unity."
The Wicked Witch of the West unbuckled the belt the Grimmerie hung on and lifted it into the air.
"My Oz is dead. There's no reason for me to keep her trinkets any longer."
The Wicked Witch of the West dropped the book to the ground, ignoring the dismayed cries from the crowd and Madame Morrible's sharp inhale. She didn't stop there. She threw her broom down and pulled off both cloak and dress, leaving her in a threadbare shift. Her hat fell neglected in the shuffle.
She didn't want to play the Wicked Witch anymore. How embarrassing. Her resolve to allow Elphaba to die last only as long as it took to be in the presence of those she'd loved once upon a time.
Elphaba looked up at the podium. She could barely see anything but the shimmer of Glinda's dress and the gleam of the golden ornaments on Fiyero's jacket. Were they happy? Stunned? Angry? The lack of sleep made it too hard to see clearly anymore. She fell to her knees, staring at the hazy figures of her once friends.
Would they even mourn her?
"The Wicked Witch of the West dies today! For Glinda and for Goodness's sake!" came a familiar tenor. Cold water splashed Elphaba's body. Scattered cheers filled the air.
"Well done, Sir Boq!"
"That'll be finally an end to all this!"
"All hail the Emerald Empi—"
Hysterical laughter sliced through the eager chatter. All eyes turned to see a very alive Witch cackling into her hands. Before long, they twisted into deep, gut-wrenching, wailing.
"Even you, Boq? You who saw me get pushed into Shiz's canal? You who flicked water at me to make Nessa laugh? Did you really think I became that much of a monster?"
Sounds of a scuffle echoed against the cobblestone but Elphaba pressed her hands against her ears. She didn't want to hear the sound of her own end, coward as she was.
"Just end me properly! I'm sick of being Wicked! I'm sick of being called a monster. I'm sick of trying to be Good! I just want to die. Won't someone please end this stupid farce and kill me?!"
Cool hands smelling of sugared lavender and jasmine cupped Elphaba's face. She would know that scent anywhere. She opened her eyes to see Glinda kneeling in front of her, mascara and eyeliner running down her face in rivulets from the force of her tears. Her gentle thumbs traced the near-permanent black circles under Elphaba's eyes.
"What have we done to you?" Glinda whispered, voice trembling with pain.
"Nothing I didn't bring upon my own head," Elphaba confessed.
A doubt.
A fear.
A sin.
Glinda's makeup-streaked face held no absolution, only deep, unwavering guilt.
The world went dark with a velvety forest thump that smelled of cedarwood. Kind hands, larger and more calloused than Glinda's, snatched Elphaba from the ground and held her tenderly to a warm chest.
This would be a gentle place to die.
Muffled cries slipped in from the outside. The body Elphaba was held to began moving. "Back off! Back! I'll shoot every last one of you before I let anyone lay a hand on her!"
Fiyero... Was he... protecting her?
"Fiyero, don't be foolish."
A soft click. "I'm not above shooting you either, Galinda."
A high heel slammed into the ground. "You aren't going anywhere with her! Not without me."
The heels clattered into a run and Fiyero followed suit. Bedlam erupted with panicked screams, angry shouts, Morrible's awful words trying to spin a tale. But Elphaba couldn't care.
All she knew was that the chaos had grown even quieter, her stomach swooping just as it did when she took flight on her broom. But then, she'd thrown away her own broom, hadn't she.
She felt... well, wasn't she supposed to die? Instead she was here, listening to every snotty hitch of Glinda's breath and feeling the soft pressure of Fiyero's chin atop her head.
"Elphie's gotten so thin."
"She thought we were going to kill her. Gods above and below, she thought we were going to kill her."
"How could we have let this happen, Fee?"
"We? You've been doing nothing but fawn over Morrible and that bastard Wizard. I've been doing all the work of trying to find her and help the Animals escape from this nightmare."
"What do you mean you've been smuggling Animals this entire time? I thought you've been killing them on those damned raids!"
"Oz help me, Glinda! Do you really think I'm that much of a monster that I'd actually kill those defenseless Animals? What sort of monster do you take me for?"
"You never said anything, Fiyero! You just refused to let me know anything that was going on!"
"Why would I tell you anything? You've done nothing but let the Wizard do whatever the fuck he wanted for years! You've never anything that's changed Oz for the better!"
"Oh fuck off! I've done something now! Isn't that enough?"
"No, Glinda. It's not enough. It's never been enough. I've got blood on my hands for all the Animals and Ozians that I couldn't save but at least I own my sins. Do you even know your own?"
Silence filled the air. The argument felt as alien as a foreign language to Elphaba's ears. Fiyero... He hadn't changed? He'd been looking for her? No, that couldn't be. After all, Elphaba was irrevocably Wicked. Her sins filled the earth like an endless field of poppies. Fiyero couldn't still want her. Not after she'd failed everyone. He still had Glinda and the Gale Force and the Emerald Empire roaring his name and epithet to the skies. What would he, or anyone else for that matter, want with such a pitiful wrech such as herself?
The warm green thing covering her face was slid off and around her shoulders with a tenderness that would have once made Elphaba cry real tears. She blinked owlishly at the sudden burst of light. Apparently, they were flying through the air, kept aloft by Glinda's magic bubble. Glinda met Elphaba's gaze, face still smeared with the remnants of her makeup.
Elphaba looked away. She no longer had to right to look her once-friend in the eyes. She spied the thing that had draped over her head. It was Fiyero's uniform jacket.
There was so much she wanted to say. So many apologies that she needed to make. But the words had scattered like so much chaff blown away in the wind. So she just sat and stared off into the distance.
Elphaba felt so very tired. Too tired to respond.
Glinda's hands returned to her face, as though there was some spell demanding that she keep touching Elphaba.
"The bruises under your eyes are so deep. When was the last time you slept?"
"I don't remember." The words scraped out of Elphaba's throat. Even her speech had begun to abandon her too. But such a thing wouldn't matter anymore.
Fiyero tightened his arms around her. Elphaba barely resisted the urge to groan. Oh, how she'd missed being touched. Glinda's hands, Fiyero's arms and warm lap. She soaked up their pretend affection like poisoned wine. Intoxicating and heady yet oh so lethal.
It would be lovely to die like this.
"Then you should go to sleep, El. We'll be here when you wake up." Fiyero rasped, the strange threat of tears deforming his voice.
Elphaba smiled. What a beautiful lie. They were being so Good to her.
Elphaba was to die in her sleep at the hands of the two people she loved more than anyone else in the world. What a kind end. What a Good end. There was nothing more to say, only to allow her exhausted mind to rest forever.
And so she did.
If only her eyes stayed open long enough to see the agonized horror on Fiyero and Glinda's faces at her final words. If only her ears could have heard the tortured wail that tore from Glinda's mouth as she spewed thousands of apologies for ever allowing Elphaba to believe that Glinda wanted her dead. If only her skin could have felt the frantic kisses pressed upon them by a wordless Fiyero desperate to prove his love still lasted somehow.
Elphaba simply slept through it all.
Unaware that she would see another sunrise.
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