Work Text:
Glinda the Good, formerly known as Galinda Arduenna Upland, of the Upper Uplands, beloved ruler of Oz, sat in front of her vanity, gently brushing her golden curls. Shadows stretched across the room under the faint light of a solitary lamp, while outside the sun had set hours before.
Shrouded in silence, the blond woman continued her careful strokes, lost deep in thought, when suddenly a knock startled her out of her reverie.
“Yes?”, she called out as an invitation.
The door opened carefully, with the head of her personal assistant barely peeking around the corner. The young man, evidently uncomfortable with the thought of interrupting her, hurried to ask: “Is there anything else you will need today, ma'am?”
"Glinda shook her head in front of the mirror, then turned slightly and, with a quick, practiced smile, answered: “Ah, Alfred, how good of you to check on me so late in the evening. But yes, there by the door, I have left a few urgent letters. If you could make sure they get sent out as soon as possible, maybe even tonight. After that, you can retire for the evening.”
Clearly confused by the request, he inquired: “Urgent letters? And tonight? Is everything alright ma’am?” Taking a step inside the room, to take the letters from the table by the door, he glanced at the blonde woman with a questioning gaze.
Another quick smile was followed by a: “Of course, everything is fine. There will be a great council in the near future, and I thought it only right to give the eminences and councilmembers a little bit of warning, to prepare accordingly.”
Clearly put out by the sudden declaration, the young man let out a stuttering: “A great council? What for? Are you sure there is nothing wrong?”
Raising an eyebrow, Glinda clearly felt compelled to chastise him: “Ts, ts, ts Alfred, now is not the time to question me. It is late, and I am tired. Yes, a great council. Please make sure the letters are sent out, and have a good evening.”
Ducking his head like a scolded child, he continued to wrestle with himself for a moment, before nodding, and letting out a short “Very well, have a good night ma'am”. A second later, the door was closed with a quiet click.
Once again alone, Glinda turned around to look at herself in the mirror once more, her face impassive, the smile having fallen away as soon as she was without company once more.
Her role as de facto leader of Oz made it necessary to always look composed and presentable, yet Glinda had, many years ago, started to avoid looking at herself for too long.
What was there to look at, after all? Of course, objectively she was aware that she was still pretty, her hair as golden and glowing as it had been in her youth, her blue eyes shining, her smile always kind and gentle. A mask she had perfected over the past decades, hiding her imperfections, her shame, her loneliness.
Letting out a quiet sigh, the blonde put down her brush and after tucking her hair behind her shoulders Glinda slowly rose from her chair. Taking a few steps towards the large door to the balcony, she turned back once more and, with a gentle wave of her hand, turned off the light next to her dressing table.
Opening the large, green door, she took another step outside, before softly closing it again. Leaning against the golden decorated railing, she took a moment to breath in the fresh night air, quietly overlooking the Emerald city she had ruled over for the past fifteen years, before beginning to speak without removing her eyes from the glowing lights below her: “I guess it would have been too much to ask for one last night of peace and quiet?” It had been a long time since Glinda had acknowledged the silent presence that followed her most nights. And yet, this night was different.
Letting the silence settle for a few moments, Glinda turned her head slightly, taking in the green shadow standing a few feet behind her. Sighing once again, she continued softly: “There truly is no need to haunt me anymore, my dearest. Not after today, I should think. Have I not finally accomplished everything you asked of me?”
Once again, she got no answer. Turning fully, the blond raised one of her elegant, shaped eyebrows, before admonishing: “Really, for an apparition conjured up by my own imagination, you truly are as unpredictable as the original. Tell me, why can’t you answer me now? I have finally fulfilled all your last wishes, kept all my promises, and am rewarded with nothing but silence. When in the past, you had so much to say every time I failed.” Her words had become louder and more agitated at the end, demanding an answer from the figure hidden in shadows.
And yet, no answer was forthcoming. Glinda's heavy, agitated breathing was now the only sound that could be heard, as her eyes glared daggers into the night. Suddenly, the fight seemed to drain out of the blonde woman, and turning back towards the lights of the city, her shoulders shaking in suppressed sobs, Glinda the Good whispered: “Oh Elphie. Fifteen years. It truly doesn’t sound that long, and yet it feels like it has been an eternity since…..well since. I know I have no right to demand anything of you, and yet I had hoped that you would be proud of me, just for today, just for a moment. It hasn’t been easy, getting the council to agree on anything, least of all equal rights for all the citizens of Oz. Getting the people to accept the Animals, and making sure it will stay this way in the future. Protecting the Grimmerie. Although the hardest thing has surely been not telling the truth about your war. Biting my tongue when your name was cursed, smiling every time your end was mentioned, celebrating your death every year, as if it was something to be rejoiced at instead of mourned.”
At this, her voice broke, and a quiet tear began to make its way down her cheek. Disregarded, it lingered for a moment, before surrendering to gravity, vanishing into the depths below. She ignored it, her voice still rough as she continued: “But it’s of no consequence, not anymore. I have done what you have asked of me. I have made this land a better, safer place for all its people. I have protected the Grimmerie, and with the magical protections I have cast it will continue to reside in the depths of the Emerald Palace, in safety. And not once have I broken my promise, to let the world believe the worst of you even though it caused me nothing but pain and grief. Finally, I am done!”
“Done?” For the first time that night, the figure hiding in the shadow spoke, her voice gentle and questioning.
Turning around once more, the blond woman declared firmly: “Indeed, I am done. Oz is safe, the Grimmerie is safe, the council is filled with good people, or as good as any politician will ever be. I believe I am ready.” With those words, a shudder went through her body, before she seemingly pulled herself together, and reentering her bedroom, swiftly making her way towards the large canopy bed. Sitting down, her eyes closed, her fingers tightly clenching a small bottle, Glinda could feel a presence next to her.
“So, is Glinda the Good going to retire?”
The question startled her out of her thoughts. After a few moments where she tried desperately to control both her breathing and her pulse, she turned towards the end of the bed, where she had felt the foreign presence. Taking a deep breath, the blond woman suddenly felt much younger than her nearly 45 years. Here, sitting on her large, pink bed, with a faint shadow of green beside her, Glinda, for the first time in a while, actually felt ‘good’, in any sense of the word. And yet, she knew that this was nothing but a dream. A last ditch effort of her own consciousness to give her some comfort. Still, she supposed, after everything that had happened, she was allowed to take every little piece of happiness she could find.
Glancing towards the bottle in her hands, Glinda made a decision. She had fought so hard, for so long.
It was time to rest.
Uncorking the glass, she refused to look at the shadow to her left, instead closing her eyes, before quickly gulping down the foul tasting liquid. Carefully putting down the empty bottle on her nightstand, the blonde, with her eyes still closed, laid down on top of the duvet.
Silence crept back into the room, stretching into every corner, falling like a heavy shroud, sinking into the walls, the floor, the very air. It was not peaceful, but hollow—an absence, a void left in the wake of words that would never be spoken.
After a while, Glinda felt her mind slow down, her body becoming heavy. And yet, the silence bothered her. Quietly she began: “Elphie? Would you please just…..talk to me? Say anything really. I just don’t want it to be so quiet, I just don’t want to feel like I’m alone right now. I’ve been alone for so long, but right now I can’t bear it. Please.” A long time ago, Glinda had begged the green apparition to never speak to her again, had pleaded with her, admitting that hearing her friends voice, knowing that she was nothing but a figment of her own imagination was too painful. Now she felt nothing but regret for not soaking up every word, imagined and false as they would have been.
Still, it seemed, her own subconscious was not done punishing her. A gentle, pained sigh, was followed by a short: “Glinda, my sweet, please forgive me, but you have to know, I am not….”, she was interrupted by harsh laughter. The blonde continued the sentence in the other's stead: “Real, I know. You’re a ghost, nothing more than a hallucination, a manifestation of my guilt and grief. Believe me, I know. And yet……Knowing the truth of the matter, your presence still comforts me. So will you give me this? Please, won’t you stay with me?”
Her eyes still closed, she could feel a cold stillness unfurling in her limbs, as if sleep were creeping in, but deeper, heavier. She had expected fear. Instead, there was only relief. She exhaled softly, her breath barely disturbing the still air.
“Please,” she murmured, her voice weak but steady.
She could imagine it, the green skin, the ghost of a smile curling around dark lips, a gentle nod. “Very well, what would you like me to talk about?”
Glinda would have shrugged her shoulders, but suddenly every movement felt like a monumental task, so she simply hummed, before whispering: “Tell me about your life. About every amazing adventure you ever had, all the books you’ve ever read, the people you’ve met. Make something up, I won’t know the difference anyways, will I?”
She could feel the smile, even with her eyes closed, but there was something sad in the air. “No,” the voice said softly. “I suppose you won’t.”
And so, she spoke. She wove tales of distant lands, far beyond the desert, where trees would speak to those who listened, of forgotten ruins where ancient magic still hummed beneath the stones. She spoke of friends she had found, both humans and Animals, that had accompanied her during her travels. She painted worlds with her words—some real, some imagined, all beautiful.
Glinda listened, her breathing slowing, her body growing ever heavier, sinking deeper into the warmth of her voice. She let it carry her, let it fill the empty spaces inside her, the ones that had ached for so very long.
Her friend’s voice softened, faltered for just a moment, before slowly coming to a stop.
Slowly, with all the strength she had left, Glinda opened her eyes one more time. The room was fully drowned in darkness, leaving only the soft glow of starlight to cast a faint shimmer over the shadow before her.
“I am so tired,” she whispered quietly.
“I know.”
“I wanted—” Her throat tightened. So many words left unsaid, so many chances lost, buried under years of regret and a grief too heavy to carry. But none of it mattered now. Not anymore. “I wanted to follow you,” she admitted, her voice shaking.
Her friend’s expression softened, but there was something else now, something searching. A pause. A flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. Then, she reached forward, a green hand hovering for a moment, as if she might touch, might pull her back.
“You don’t have to,” she said. “Not yet.”
A small, serene smile touched Glinda’s lips.
“No Elphie. I think I finally do.”
A shift in her expression —something like realization, but it was too late. Too late for both of them. The silence stretched between them, heavy, final.
A single tear slipped down pale cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered once again, she tried to focus on the green figure in front of her, her vision blurring, the world dissolving into nothing but starlight and shadow.
A breath in. Shaky. Shallow.
A breath out.
And then—nothing.
Just silence.