And Now For Something Wicked
“What have you got there, Elphaba dearest?” Glinda inquired lazily, executing a graceful swoon into her friend’s lap. Elphaba darted a vague smile down at her and carried on with her reading, fingers of her free hand absently weaving into Glinda’s curls.
“A letter from Papa, is all.”
“Oh! So the great and holy Frexspar has deigned to correspond with his terrorist, carnally deviant daughter?” the blonde remarked archly, her mouth working itself into a fierce frown, as it always did when Elphaba’s father was mentioned.
“Not precisely the way I would choose to phrase it, but yes. He has written. Cordially, even fondly. He asks of Liir, and of you.”
“Fire and eternal torment coupled liberally with both our names, I’m sure.”
“Behave. He’s not so bad as he was before. I think he’s mellowed some, in his autumn years.”
“The old goat was in his autumn years when we tried to show him his only grandchild, and there was a distinct lack of mellowness or affection during that little debacle, if I recall rightly.” Glinda retorted, her lip curling at the memory. No, she held no love at all for Frexspar. She did not take kindly to anyone who made Elphaba unhappy.
“True enough. But ever since his knees went rotten last year and he was forced to keep off his preaching tours, Papa has become more accommodating. Besides, he probably has softened his zealousness to balance out Nessa’s fanaticism. He writes that she has become more and more focused on faith rather than the needs of the Munchkinlanders. She’s set up a sort of theocracy, and the people are starting to demonstrate against her.”
Elphaba spoke softly, her worry for her little sister evident. Glinda knew that Elphaba hated oppressive governments of any kind, but theocracies were the worst of the lot. If the dictator had been anyone else save for Nessa, her Elphie would be marching merrily off down the road to another impassioned rant. But it was Nessa. Her baby sister, her helpless little girl. Elphaba could no more raise a physical or metaphorical hand against her sister than she could against Liir.
Sighing, Glinda sat up and leaned against Elphaba, her head resting upon her thin shoulder.
“What else does your father talk of? He can’t possibly be writing for the pleasure of it.”
Elphaba shifted slightly, her eyes fixed on the page, lips pursed. Blue eyes narrowed at her.
“He wants me to come to Munchkinland, to help Nessarose govern the people more efficiently.”
There was a long moment of silence between the two women, broken only by the distant sounds of Liir romping with young Arali and Willamund Dillamond. Glinda grit her teeth together, her face slowly flushing a rather alarming shade of red.
“Oh, yes, perfectly lovely. Of course you’ll just throw down everything in your own life to pull Nessarose out of whatever muck hole she’s made for herself. It doesn’t matter that you are helping me rule Oz. It doesn’t matter that you have a young son to look after. It certainly doesn’t matter that you have work and interests outside of his precious little pedant! Oh, Lurline, no! Nothing in the whole damn world matters if Nessa needs someone to prop her up and act as whipping girl! I will fly down to Colwen Grounds and beat the blessed pitch out of him myself if he thinks that he can just haul you out there for fresh abuse, away from your wife and child-."
"Wait just a clock tick! When did I marry you?" Elphaba demanded, brows quirked high over eyes bright with amusement. Glinda waved her hand impatiently, as if Elphaba were asking an irrelevant question.
"Soon. I'll push a law through Counsel this week, make it legal for all of us deviants to be forever entrapped in wedded bliss. You'll marry me, won't you?"
"How can I not, when you make it sound so utterly appealing?" Elphaba said dryly. A lull settled between the two women, during which time the Empress of Oz seized the other by the collar and jerked her sideways to sprawl in her lap. Small manicured fingers slid hairpins from their positions and worked into the newly unbound waves of sleek black hair. Calming, Glinda smiled down into Elphaba's face.
"Mrs. Elphaba Upland. I rather like the sound of it."
Elphaba hesitated for a heartbeat, then,
"Yes. So do I."
***
Glinda disapproves of Frexspar's disapproval. No one hurts her Elphie without facing her bedazzled, rose-scented wrath.
“A letter from Papa, is all.”
“Oh! So the great and holy Frexspar has deigned to correspond with his terrorist, carnally deviant daughter?” the blonde remarked archly, her mouth working itself into a fierce frown, as it always did when Elphaba’s father was mentioned.
“Not precisely the way I would choose to phrase it, but yes. He has written. Cordially, even fondly. He asks of Liir, and of you.”
“Fire and eternal torment coupled liberally with both our names, I’m sure.”
“Behave. He’s not so bad as he was before. I think he’s mellowed some, in his autumn years.”
“The old goat was in his autumn years when we tried to show him his only grandchild, and there was a distinct lack of mellowness or affection during that little debacle, if I recall rightly.” Glinda retorted, her lip curling at the memory. No, she held no love at all for Frexspar. She did not take kindly to anyone who made Elphaba unhappy.
“True enough. But ever since his knees went rotten last year and he was forced to keep off his preaching tours, Papa has become more accommodating. Besides, he probably has softened his zealousness to balance out Nessa’s fanaticism. He writes that she has become more and more focused on faith rather than the needs of the Munchkinlanders. She’s set up a sort of theocracy, and the people are starting to demonstrate against her.”
Elphaba spoke softly, her worry for her little sister evident. Glinda knew that Elphaba hated oppressive governments of any kind, but theocracies were the worst of the lot. If the dictator had been anyone else save for Nessa, her Elphie would be marching merrily off down the road to another impassioned rant. But it was Nessa. Her baby sister, her helpless little girl. Elphaba could no more raise a physical or metaphorical hand against her sister than she could against Liir.
Sighing, Glinda sat up and leaned against Elphaba, her head resting upon her thin shoulder.
“What else does your father talk of? He can’t possibly be writing for the pleasure of it.”
Elphaba shifted slightly, her eyes fixed on the page, lips pursed. Blue eyes narrowed at her.
“He wants me to come to Munchkinland, to help Nessarose govern the people more efficiently.”
There was a long moment of silence between the two women, broken only by the distant sounds of Liir romping with young Arali and Willamund Dillamond. Glinda grit her teeth together, her face slowly flushing a rather alarming shade of red.
“Oh, yes, perfectly lovely. Of course you’ll just throw down everything in your own life to pull Nessarose out of whatever muck hole she’s made for herself. It doesn’t matter that you are helping me rule Oz. It doesn’t matter that you have a young son to look after. It certainly doesn’t matter that you have work and interests outside of his precious little pedant! Oh, Lurline, no! Nothing in the whole damn world matters if Nessa needs someone to prop her up and act as whipping girl! I will fly down to Colwen Grounds and beat the blessed pitch out of him myself if he thinks that he can just haul you out there for fresh abuse, away from your wife and child-."
"Wait just a clock tick! When did I marry you?" Elphaba demanded, brows quirked high over eyes bright with amusement. Glinda waved her hand impatiently, as if Elphaba were asking an irrelevant question.
"Soon. I'll push a law through Counsel this week, make it legal for all of us deviants to be forever entrapped in wedded bliss. You'll marry me, won't you?"
"How can I not, when you make it sound so utterly appealing?" Elphaba said dryly. A lull settled between the two women, during which time the Empress of Oz seized the other by the collar and jerked her sideways to sprawl in her lap. Small manicured fingers slid hairpins from their positions and worked into the newly unbound waves of sleek black hair. Calming, Glinda smiled down into Elphaba's face.
"Mrs. Elphaba Upland. I rather like the sound of it."
Elphaba hesitated for a heartbeat, then,
"Yes. So do I."
***
Glinda disapproves of Frexspar's disapproval. No one hurts her Elphie without facing her bedazzled, rose-scented wrath.