Chapter Text
The Wizard had always been Elphaba’s hero, and meeting him was everything she’d ever imagined. He was funny, and thoughtful, and kind, and he welcomed her in. He talked about turning his palace into a home — a place where she belonged.
She’d never belonged anywhere, but when he said it, she believed she could. He smiled, and she thought she could belong here.
And he already knew her heart’s desire. He knew that she cared about the Animals more than she cared about her skin, and he wanted to help her.
She was about to ask what she had to do — how she had to prove herself — but then Madame Morrible walked in. Elphaba ran towards her, already reaching out for a hug, and Madame Morrible pulled her in.
“What are you doing here?”
“Oh dearie, I couldn’t miss your big moment.” Madame Morrible pulled back, smiling at her, and Elphaba smiled back. She hadn’t been sure if she could do this, but she felt steadier now. Madame Morrible was sure that she could, and Madame Morrible had never lied to her.
So she stepped up to the Grimmerie, and it opened for her, and she read the words like she’d known them all along. And then it all went horribly wrong.
She stared at a room full of winged Monkeys, all screaming in pain, and Madame Morrible sounded gleeful and proud. Elphaba needed to talk to her, needed to explain that this was wrong. Their bodies were turning against them, and she had to find some way to fix this. She knew Madame Morrible would understand—
But she heard the words spies and scouts and seditious Animal activity, and her dream of the Wizard fell apart. She ran back to the Grimmerie, and the Wizard just stared as she yelled at him. He didn’t yell back. He didn’t try to defend himself.
“We’re doing this to keep people safe. All of Oz will benefit.” Those words hadn’t come from the Wizard.
Her eyes snapped to Madame Morrible, and she repeated the words until they made sense. We’re doing this to keep people safe.
We’re doing this.
We.
Nothing about this made sense.
“And you’ve known all along? Since the day you met me?” She tried to keep her voice steady, but she remembered the day they’d met, and Madame Morrible had smiled at her and taken her hand and told her—
She’d told her that she’d been waiting for someone like her. She’d been waiting for someone to do this.
“You’ll benefit too, dearie.” It was same soft voice that she’d used to ask Elphaba about Doctor Dillamond. About the other students. About Nessa. About herself. Madame Morrible reached for her, and ten minutes earlier, Elphaba would’ve reached back. She would’ve taken comfort in it. “You must trust—”
“Don’t,” she hissed, at the only person she’d ever trusted. And she ran.
Elphaba wasn’t sure how she ended up alone in a room with Glinda. Her friend was talking, telling her to calm down, but Elphaba could barely hear her. We. She jammed a broom through the handles of a door, and she dragged a cart in front of it, and she couldn’t breathe.
We.
We.
“This is everything you’ve dreamed of!” Glinda snapped, and Elphaba finally heard her.
And Glinda was right. She’d dreamed of the Wizard since she’d been a child, and he’d offered everything. A place where she belonged, a life where no one cared about her skin, a home with her best friend. Her father’s love, maybe, or at least his pride. It was all there — a life with everything she’d ever wanted.
But the Lion cub had trembled in his cage, and the guards had taken Doctor Dillamond without his glasses, and she could still hear the Monkeys screaming, and Madame Morrible— This life had nothing that she wanted.
Before she could put it into words, Madame Morrible’s voice echoed above them. “Citizens of Oz. There is an enemy that must be found and captured. Believe nothing she says. She has stolen our Grimmerie. She is evil, responsible for the mutilation of these poor, innocent monkeys.”
Glinda whispered, “Oh no,” but it barely registered.
“Her green skin is but an outward manifestorium of her twisted nature.” Elphaba closed her eyes, and tried not to sob. She’d heard those words so many times, but never in that voice — the voice that had praised her, the voice that had reassured her, the voice that had been kind. The only voice that had ever been proud of her. Oh dearie, I couldn’t miss your big moment. Bile burned in the back of her throat. “This distortion, this repulsion, this wicked witch!”
Elphaba couldn’t move. She tried to breathe, but the air stuck in her throat. Madame Morrible knew her. She knew that, under the indifference and defensiveness and hostility, there was a bundle of fear and pain and rejection. Madame Morrible had embraced that pain, and soothed it.
And she’d put it out in front of all of Oz.
There was a girl in the courtyard at Shiz, yelling that she was not seasick and she had not eaten grass as a child, and magic burned under her skin, too powerful to control. A girl who had never been wanted, who ruined everything she touched. And Madame Morrible walked up to the girl, smiled, and took her hand.
And Elphaba was that girl. She was standing in the courtyard while Nessa rolled away, and she was alone in the Ozdust Ballroom while everyone pointed and laughed, and she was seven years old and the normal children were throwing stones at her.
She wasn’t allowed to throw them back.
Glinda stepped up and took her hand. “Don’t be afraid.”
Elphaba was not that girl. She touched the edge of the Grimmerie, and it steadied her. She hadn’t stolen it from the Wizard — it had never had been his. He couldn’t read it. Magic still ran hot in her veins, but it didn’t scare her. Not anymore.
They’d painted her as a monster. She was the enemy. She was a wicked witch, a liar, a thief. But she was allowed to throw stones now.
She looked Glinda in the eye. “I’m not afraid. It’s the Wizard who should be afraid of me.”