dissolve (i give you fair warning) (glinda)
Title: Dissolve (I give you fair warning)
Fandom: Wicked: The Musical (and a little Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire)
Characters: Glinda, with appearances by various others
Word Count: 2,500
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: There are various spoilers for both the musical and the book, so be warned.
Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me. Title and summary line comes from the poem “More and More” by Margaret Atwood.
Summary: I become a wish to assimilate the world. Glinda is used to being defined by other people’s words.
Author’s Notes: Written for madamedarque on the occasion of her birthday. Happy (*cough* really late *cough*) birthday! I hope you enjoy your (really late) present! :)
This is a companion piece to A Distant Echo (the sky now is begging for notice), so it’s set in the same hybrid canon ‘verse. Glinda is basically unchanged, but the circumstances are a blend of musical and book.
Dissolve
(I give you fair warning)
She is born Galinda of the Arduennas of the Uplands. She would like to believe that all of Gillikin wept for joy upon the event of her birth, though that is extremely doubtful. It’s best not to mention that to her.
She is smart enough to get into Shiz University, but one would almost never know it by the way she acts. Only a few people get to know the Galinda underneath, and they should consider themselves honored.
*
At Shiz, she becomes Glinda because a Goat who couldn’t pronounce her name was murdered. It is the one title she chooses for herself in her entire titled life. The school still prefers to think of her as Galinda of the Arduennas, but everyone knows to address her as Miss Glinda, or they will be (kindly) reprimanded.
The only people who refuse is Madame Morrible and her parents. It takes several conversations (each less civil than the last) and pointed ignoring when her “real” name is used before Madame Morrible bends. Her parents are a lost cause, but she supposes they always were.
*
Elphie leaves her all alone, with the knowledge of a fraudulent Wizard and a year left to go at university.
She really doesn’t think she’s prepared for this. Elphie was the one who knew what to do about all of this… stuff, and now she’s gone, and Boq is trying to console Nessarose who hasn’t stopped crying since Glinda returned from the Emerald City and news reached Shiz that Elphie was “wicked”.
“It’s okay,” she says to the younger girl, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder, because even her usual bright-eyed optimism is failing her. “Everything’s going to turn out right, you’ll see. Elphie will come back and apologize.”
“When has Elphaba ever apologized?” Nessa snaps through her tears, and Glinda has no response.
Boq catches her eyes with a look that clearly asks where do we go from here, and she has to look away because she doesn’t want him to see that she does not know.
*
Madame Morrible, under the guise of needing to talk about her future, calls her into her parlor. Today she is wearing a sickly shade of yellow that doesn’t look good on anything, much less a person, and her hair is swept in an elaborate, gravity-defying (oh, and now she’s thinking of Elphie again) up-do that puts any of the high society women in the Emerald City to shame. Glinda would ask for tips if she wasn’t too busy trying to go over her rehearsed answers in her head, already having an idea of what she would be asked from Boq and Nessarose.
It occurs to her that Morrible might be trying to look like a ray of light, but in the gloomy dark of the parlor, she only looks false and misplaced. Playing at goodness, Glinda thinks, and figuratively claps herself on the back for what is truly an Elphie turn of phrase. She would be so proud, if she were here. (And now she’s wondering where Elphie is, because there’s been no news of her since she disappeared, as if she vanished in a puff of smoke.)
“Miss Glinda,” Madame Morrible says in greeting, voice as sweet as her dress is sickening. “Please, take a seat. We have a lot to discuss. Tea?”
She accepts the cup brought to her by Grommetik, but she never raises it to her lips.
“You have come a long way from when you first started here, Miss Glinda,” she says. “Why, I will admit I wasn’t too sure you would be any good at sorcery,” she laughs here, as if that will disguise the insult, and she must truly think Glinda is an idiot if she thinks that chortle would hide anything, “but here you are, poised to be as good a sorceress as myself.”
She doesn’t want to dignify any of that with a response, but she grits out, “Oh, thank you, Madame Morrible,” and she does it with a beatific smile.
“I think once you’ve graduated from here, you’ll do great things in Gillikin,” Morrible continues, as if she hadn’t spoken, “as an Ambassador for the Wizard.”
“Ambassador?” Glinda sits up straighter.
“Yes. Our Great Wizard has felt for many years that he needed someone to represent him in other parts of Oz, so he could have a better understanding of the citizens’ needs. He has asked me to recommend to him a few graduates for the posts, and I think you would be ideal for the Ambassador of the North.”
If anyone were to ask, she would deny any excitement over the prospect.
“Oh my,” she says, eyes wide. “I’m not sure that I am up for such a monumental task…”
“Nonsense, my dear,” Morrible waved a hand, dismissing her concerns easily. “You have an understanding of politics and society life, exactly what the Wizard needs. There’s no one better for the job.”
“You said our Great Wizard wanted representation in other parts of Oz. Does this include Munchkinland and Quadling Country? The Vinkus?”
“Yes, yes, and no. The Wizard, at the moment, is not concerned with the West.”
“So, have you talked to any other students about being Ambassadors?” she asks in a way she hopes is casual.
“I have, but my dear, there’s no reason for you to worry about them just yet. What we need to talk about is you, not other students. What do you think of my offer, dear?” Morrible asks, smiling expectantly.
Glinda imagines no one has ever turned her down, not with her poisonously insidious way of making one feel inadequate, or perfect for anything, or like it was all their idea to begin with.
Elphie would tell her to say no. Elphie would tell her Morrible is no-good (wicked, even?), and the Wizard worse, and that nothing virtuous can come of working with them, no matter how hard you try.
It’s not the first time she would disappoint Elphie.
*
Lady Glinda, Ambassador for the North, is the title she is given by the Wizard. It’s the first title that she hates.
The people of Gillkin are the ones who begin calling her Glinda the Good, as in Glinda the Good Witch of the North, and she does her best to cultivate it. She thinks having it means she’s not made some terrible mistake, as she’s sure Elphie - wherever she is - thinks she’s done.
Glinda does great things for Gillikin, or as great as she can with Madame Morrible and the Wizard tying her hands behind her back. She even tries reaching out to the Vinkus, and she would swear up and down it was for honest purposes, and has absolutely nothing to do with the rumors that Elphie is there. She befriends Fiyero, a prince she remembers from school, though he was only on the periphery of their “group”. He has an interest in Elphie, and since Boq no longer speaks of her (on Nessarose’s wishes), it’s the only time she gets to express her worries and concerns about her missing friend, until he too eventually goes missing.
She never finds out what happened in the Vinkus, though she hears rumors of a tribal coup, and of course, about the Wicked Witch of the West‘s take over of Kiamo Ko.
*
Glinda is older than she would care to admit when she sees Elphie again. Perhaps inevitably, it doesn’t go how Glinda always imagined it would.
She has somehow managed to stay exactly how Glinda remembers her and change radically at the same time. She looks older, of course, and more haggard and exhausted, with her dark hair wild and long, and she’s still dressing in nothing but black and carrying around that damn hat and broomstick.
She’s come because her sister is dead.
“Oh, Elphie,” Glinda sighs when she sees her, her heart breaking. She wastes no time in throwing her arms around her long-lost friend in a tight hug.
She stands there stiffly, but she says, “Glinda,” like the name is an anchor.
“Oh, I can’t believe how long it’s been!” she murmurs, pulling away and taking a hold of Elphie’s hands. “Though I wish it was under better circumstances, of course…”
“I know,” she says, and her voice is hoarse. Glinda wonders if it’s from grief or simply disuse. Knowing Elphie, it’s the latter.
“I’m so sorry about Nessarose, Elphie, truly I am.”
“Thank you.”
They stand there in an awkward silence, trying to avoid the issue they don’t want to discuss (I hear you’re still flying around on that old broomstick, terrorizing citizens? - yes, and I see you’re still a pawn for the Wizard.), but it’s hanging in the air between them whether they want it to or not.
“You gave that little farm girl Nessa’s shoes,” she says finally, an edge to her voice that was not there before.
Perhaps it makes sense that Elphie seizes on something meaningless to talk about (and destroy their friendship), because Glinda knows it’s easier to talk about shoes than calling each other traitors and dredging up old, bitter topics like abandonment.
“I thought it would be wise to get them out of Munchkinland. You know what they’ve come to represent here.”
“They were my shoes. She was my sister and I am her only living relative.”
“You weren’t here. What did you want me to do? Hold them for you? I couldn’t do that,” Glinda says, scoffing and waving a dismissive hand, as if they were talking about - well. Shoes.
“No, the Wizard wouldn’t approve of that, would he?” she retorts.
“Oh, please don’t start on that, Elphie,” she says, because this is the thing she was trying to avoid.
“You never did want to talk about things that were staring you in the face,” she mutters, reminding Glinda of the girl from their university days.
“Sometimes it’s better to ignore things that get hurt by them.”
“I’m not something you can just ignore, Glinda!” Elphaba says, and Glinda actually thinks she sounds hurt.
“Why not? I’ve ignored you for years since you left. It was the only way to get through, because I couldn’t spend the rest of my life worrying about you, not when I had to pick up the pieces at Shiz! Do you even know how much Nessarose cried when I made it back from the Emerald City alone? If it weren’t for Boq and myself, she might have grieved herself to death. She depended on you, Elphaba, and you just left her!”
Elphaba recoils visibly, looking away from Glinda and at the wrecked remains of the house. “I-I know,” she says, turning back. “I’m sorry, but I had to - you know what happened in the Emerald City, Glinda. You know why I had to leave!”
Glinda doesn’t know what to say. It’s been years, but she can still remember the day Elphaba flew for the first time, leaving her behind to deal with the aftermath. It seems all she’s ever done is deal with aftermath and fallout. It’s her job as an Ambassador.
“I know you were doing what you thought was right, Elphie, but you were so caught up in Animal rights that you forgot your family,” she says, sighing.
“No, I never forgot…”
“We haven’t seen you in years!” Glinda interrupts, anger and hurt getting the best of her. “You left us and forgot all about us, and now you think you can just sit back and judge me, because I’m actually doing something-”
“You’re not doing anything, except what the Wizard tells you!”
“No, I’m just not doing it in a way you approve! I do good work, Elphaba - but you can’t stand it, can you? I’m actually getting something done, and you’re not, and you don’t understand why.”
They glare at one another for several moments, unable to say anything else. There’s nothing that can be said to heal over the past resentments, not while they’re both angry and too proud and stubborn to admit their mistakes.
Glinda doesn’t need to be able to see the future to know this is the end.
“I thought you were my friend,” Elphaba says finally, looking away.
“I am. But we never seem to get past our differences,” Glinda replies, feeling like she is at Shiz again, or even the Emerald City, about to embark on life’s next greatest adventure with her best friend. But she’s been through this before, and she knows how it ends.
Elphaba mounts her broom and begins to rise into the air. “I want those shoes, and I’m going to get them back from that girl, no matter what,” she says as her parting words, and then she’s rising higher. A wind catches her and carries her off, and Glinda watches until she can’t see her anymore.
*
Glinda finds out about the death of the Wicked Witch of the West like everyone else: through word of mouth.
She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and releases it. Later, she will light a candle in honor of her friend. Now, she steps out onto her balcony, conjures her bubble, and floats to the center square in Gillikin, where celebrators have already congregated.
“It’s Lady Glinda!” someone cries, and then someone else shouts, “Lady Glinda, please, can you tell us if the news is true? Is she really, truly dead?”
“Fellow Ozians,” she speaks loudly, projecting her voice so the crowd could hear her, “the Wicked Witch of the West is dead.”
*
She goes to the Emerald City, and finds the Wizard has already fled his castle. The anger Glinda feels magnifies to a point she feels how Elphaba must have felt all those years ago, during their first visit to the City. With the Wizard gone, there is no one to bring to justice for the murder of her friend, and now she doesn’t know what to do.
“Lady Glinda?”
“What?” she snaps, whirling around, her many skirts flaring impressively around her legs.
The porter flinches, bowing respectively. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but there is a crowd gathering outside the castle. It seems the citizens are angry that the Wizard has abandoned them,” he says quickly, still bowed at the waist.
Yes, I imagine so, Glinda thinks, but does not say. Instead, she takes a deep breath and prepares to address the citizens of the Emerald City.
(Lady Glinda the Good, ruler of Oz, has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? - I’m going to hold you to “the Good” part. - I expect nothing less.)
Fandom: Wicked: The Musical (and a little Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire)
Characters: Glinda, with appearances by various others
Word Count: 2,500
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: There are various spoilers for both the musical and the book, so be warned.
Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me. Title and summary line comes from the poem “More and More” by Margaret Atwood.
Summary: I become a wish to assimilate the world. Glinda is used to being defined by other people’s words.
Author’s Notes: Written for madamedarque on the occasion of her birthday. Happy (*cough* really late *cough*) birthday! I hope you enjoy your (really late) present! :)
This is a companion piece to A Distant Echo (the sky now is begging for notice), so it’s set in the same hybrid canon ‘verse. Glinda is basically unchanged, but the circumstances are a blend of musical and book.
Dissolve
(I give you fair warning)
She is born Galinda of the Arduennas of the Uplands. She would like to believe that all of Gillikin wept for joy upon the event of her birth, though that is extremely doubtful. It’s best not to mention that to her.
She is smart enough to get into Shiz University, but one would almost never know it by the way she acts. Only a few people get to know the Galinda underneath, and they should consider themselves honored.
*
At Shiz, she becomes Glinda because a Goat who couldn’t pronounce her name was murdered. It is the one title she chooses for herself in her entire titled life. The school still prefers to think of her as Galinda of the Arduennas, but everyone knows to address her as Miss Glinda, or they will be (kindly) reprimanded.
The only people who refuse is Madame Morrible and her parents. It takes several conversations (each less civil than the last) and pointed ignoring when her “real” name is used before Madame Morrible bends. Her parents are a lost cause, but she supposes they always were.
*
Elphie leaves her all alone, with the knowledge of a fraudulent Wizard and a year left to go at university.
She really doesn’t think she’s prepared for this. Elphie was the one who knew what to do about all of this… stuff, and now she’s gone, and Boq is trying to console Nessarose who hasn’t stopped crying since Glinda returned from the Emerald City and news reached Shiz that Elphie was “wicked”.
“It’s okay,” she says to the younger girl, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder, because even her usual bright-eyed optimism is failing her. “Everything’s going to turn out right, you’ll see. Elphie will come back and apologize.”
“When has Elphaba ever apologized?” Nessa snaps through her tears, and Glinda has no response.
Boq catches her eyes with a look that clearly asks where do we go from here, and she has to look away because she doesn’t want him to see that she does not know.
*
Madame Morrible, under the guise of needing to talk about her future, calls her into her parlor. Today she is wearing a sickly shade of yellow that doesn’t look good on anything, much less a person, and her hair is swept in an elaborate, gravity-defying (oh, and now she’s thinking of Elphie again) up-do that puts any of the high society women in the Emerald City to shame. Glinda would ask for tips if she wasn’t too busy trying to go over her rehearsed answers in her head, already having an idea of what she would be asked from Boq and Nessarose.
It occurs to her that Morrible might be trying to look like a ray of light, but in the gloomy dark of the parlor, she only looks false and misplaced. Playing at goodness, Glinda thinks, and figuratively claps herself on the back for what is truly an Elphie turn of phrase. She would be so proud, if she were here. (And now she’s wondering where Elphie is, because there’s been no news of her since she disappeared, as if she vanished in a puff of smoke.)
“Miss Glinda,” Madame Morrible says in greeting, voice as sweet as her dress is sickening. “Please, take a seat. We have a lot to discuss. Tea?”
She accepts the cup brought to her by Grommetik, but she never raises it to her lips.
“You have come a long way from when you first started here, Miss Glinda,” she says. “Why, I will admit I wasn’t too sure you would be any good at sorcery,” she laughs here, as if that will disguise the insult, and she must truly think Glinda is an idiot if she thinks that chortle would hide anything, “but here you are, poised to be as good a sorceress as myself.”
She doesn’t want to dignify any of that with a response, but she grits out, “Oh, thank you, Madame Morrible,” and she does it with a beatific smile.
“I think once you’ve graduated from here, you’ll do great things in Gillikin,” Morrible continues, as if she hadn’t spoken, “as an Ambassador for the Wizard.”
“Ambassador?” Glinda sits up straighter.
“Yes. Our Great Wizard has felt for many years that he needed someone to represent him in other parts of Oz, so he could have a better understanding of the citizens’ needs. He has asked me to recommend to him a few graduates for the posts, and I think you would be ideal for the Ambassador of the North.”
If anyone were to ask, she would deny any excitement over the prospect.
“Oh my,” she says, eyes wide. “I’m not sure that I am up for such a monumental task…”
“Nonsense, my dear,” Morrible waved a hand, dismissing her concerns easily. “You have an understanding of politics and society life, exactly what the Wizard needs. There’s no one better for the job.”
“You said our Great Wizard wanted representation in other parts of Oz. Does this include Munchkinland and Quadling Country? The Vinkus?”
“Yes, yes, and no. The Wizard, at the moment, is not concerned with the West.”
“So, have you talked to any other students about being Ambassadors?” she asks in a way she hopes is casual.
“I have, but my dear, there’s no reason for you to worry about them just yet. What we need to talk about is you, not other students. What do you think of my offer, dear?” Morrible asks, smiling expectantly.
Glinda imagines no one has ever turned her down, not with her poisonously insidious way of making one feel inadequate, or perfect for anything, or like it was all their idea to begin with.
Elphie would tell her to say no. Elphie would tell her Morrible is no-good (wicked, even?), and the Wizard worse, and that nothing virtuous can come of working with them, no matter how hard you try.
It’s not the first time she would disappoint Elphie.
*
Lady Glinda, Ambassador for the North, is the title she is given by the Wizard. It’s the first title that she hates.
The people of Gillkin are the ones who begin calling her Glinda the Good, as in Glinda the Good Witch of the North, and she does her best to cultivate it. She thinks having it means she’s not made some terrible mistake, as she’s sure Elphie - wherever she is - thinks she’s done.
Glinda does great things for Gillikin, or as great as she can with Madame Morrible and the Wizard tying her hands behind her back. She even tries reaching out to the Vinkus, and she would swear up and down it was for honest purposes, and has absolutely nothing to do with the rumors that Elphie is there. She befriends Fiyero, a prince she remembers from school, though he was only on the periphery of their “group”. He has an interest in Elphie, and since Boq no longer speaks of her (on Nessarose’s wishes), it’s the only time she gets to express her worries and concerns about her missing friend, until he too eventually goes missing.
She never finds out what happened in the Vinkus, though she hears rumors of a tribal coup, and of course, about the Wicked Witch of the West‘s take over of Kiamo Ko.
*
Glinda is older than she would care to admit when she sees Elphie again. Perhaps inevitably, it doesn’t go how Glinda always imagined it would.
She has somehow managed to stay exactly how Glinda remembers her and change radically at the same time. She looks older, of course, and more haggard and exhausted, with her dark hair wild and long, and she’s still dressing in nothing but black and carrying around that damn hat and broomstick.
She’s come because her sister is dead.
“Oh, Elphie,” Glinda sighs when she sees her, her heart breaking. She wastes no time in throwing her arms around her long-lost friend in a tight hug.
She stands there stiffly, but she says, “Glinda,” like the name is an anchor.
“Oh, I can’t believe how long it’s been!” she murmurs, pulling away and taking a hold of Elphie’s hands. “Though I wish it was under better circumstances, of course…”
“I know,” she says, and her voice is hoarse. Glinda wonders if it’s from grief or simply disuse. Knowing Elphie, it’s the latter.
“I’m so sorry about Nessarose, Elphie, truly I am.”
“Thank you.”
They stand there in an awkward silence, trying to avoid the issue they don’t want to discuss (I hear you’re still flying around on that old broomstick, terrorizing citizens? - yes, and I see you’re still a pawn for the Wizard.), but it’s hanging in the air between them whether they want it to or not.
“You gave that little farm girl Nessa’s shoes,” she says finally, an edge to her voice that was not there before.
Perhaps it makes sense that Elphie seizes on something meaningless to talk about (and destroy their friendship), because Glinda knows it’s easier to talk about shoes than calling each other traitors and dredging up old, bitter topics like abandonment.
“I thought it would be wise to get them out of Munchkinland. You know what they’ve come to represent here.”
“They were my shoes. She was my sister and I am her only living relative.”
“You weren’t here. What did you want me to do? Hold them for you? I couldn’t do that,” Glinda says, scoffing and waving a dismissive hand, as if they were talking about - well. Shoes.
“No, the Wizard wouldn’t approve of that, would he?” she retorts.
“Oh, please don’t start on that, Elphie,” she says, because this is the thing she was trying to avoid.
“You never did want to talk about things that were staring you in the face,” she mutters, reminding Glinda of the girl from their university days.
“Sometimes it’s better to ignore things that get hurt by them.”
“I’m not something you can just ignore, Glinda!” Elphaba says, and Glinda actually thinks she sounds hurt.
“Why not? I’ve ignored you for years since you left. It was the only way to get through, because I couldn’t spend the rest of my life worrying about you, not when I had to pick up the pieces at Shiz! Do you even know how much Nessarose cried when I made it back from the Emerald City alone? If it weren’t for Boq and myself, she might have grieved herself to death. She depended on you, Elphaba, and you just left her!”
Elphaba recoils visibly, looking away from Glinda and at the wrecked remains of the house. “I-I know,” she says, turning back. “I’m sorry, but I had to - you know what happened in the Emerald City, Glinda. You know why I had to leave!”
Glinda doesn’t know what to say. It’s been years, but she can still remember the day Elphaba flew for the first time, leaving her behind to deal with the aftermath. It seems all she’s ever done is deal with aftermath and fallout. It’s her job as an Ambassador.
“I know you were doing what you thought was right, Elphie, but you were so caught up in Animal rights that you forgot your family,” she says, sighing.
“No, I never forgot…”
“We haven’t seen you in years!” Glinda interrupts, anger and hurt getting the best of her. “You left us and forgot all about us, and now you think you can just sit back and judge me, because I’m actually doing something-”
“You’re not doing anything, except what the Wizard tells you!”
“No, I’m just not doing it in a way you approve! I do good work, Elphaba - but you can’t stand it, can you? I’m actually getting something done, and you’re not, and you don’t understand why.”
They glare at one another for several moments, unable to say anything else. There’s nothing that can be said to heal over the past resentments, not while they’re both angry and too proud and stubborn to admit their mistakes.
Glinda doesn’t need to be able to see the future to know this is the end.
“I thought you were my friend,” Elphaba says finally, looking away.
“I am. But we never seem to get past our differences,” Glinda replies, feeling like she is at Shiz again, or even the Emerald City, about to embark on life’s next greatest adventure with her best friend. But she’s been through this before, and she knows how it ends.
Elphaba mounts her broom and begins to rise into the air. “I want those shoes, and I’m going to get them back from that girl, no matter what,” she says as her parting words, and then she’s rising higher. A wind catches her and carries her off, and Glinda watches until she can’t see her anymore.
*
Glinda finds out about the death of the Wicked Witch of the West like everyone else: through word of mouth.
She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and releases it. Later, she will light a candle in honor of her friend. Now, she steps out onto her balcony, conjures her bubble, and floats to the center square in Gillikin, where celebrators have already congregated.
“It’s Lady Glinda!” someone cries, and then someone else shouts, “Lady Glinda, please, can you tell us if the news is true? Is she really, truly dead?”
“Fellow Ozians,” she speaks loudly, projecting her voice so the crowd could hear her, “the Wicked Witch of the West is dead.”
*
She goes to the Emerald City, and finds the Wizard has already fled his castle. The anger Glinda feels magnifies to a point she feels how Elphaba must have felt all those years ago, during their first visit to the City. With the Wizard gone, there is no one to bring to justice for the murder of her friend, and now she doesn’t know what to do.
“Lady Glinda?”
“What?” she snaps, whirling around, her many skirts flaring impressively around her legs.
The porter flinches, bowing respectively. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but there is a crowd gathering outside the castle. It seems the citizens are angry that the Wizard has abandoned them,” he says quickly, still bowed at the waist.
Yes, I imagine so, Glinda thinks, but does not say. Instead, she takes a deep breath and prepares to address the citizens of the Emerald City.
(Lady Glinda the Good, ruler of Oz, has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? - I’m going to hold you to “the Good” part. - I expect nothing less.)