Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

An argument.

That was how it started.

"You don't know the first thing about my friends, y-you brute!"

"I know enough," said Elphaba. "I have the pleasure of hearing them. When they ask why you're stuck with the 'green freak’. When they wonder if it's contagious."

"Well, maybe if you made an effort to be less... you, people would respond differently!"

"Yes, I'll just stop being green, shall I? Excellent suggestion, Miss Galinda. Your wisdom truly knows no bounds."

"That's not what I-” the blonde girl started, then stopped, frustrated. "You're deliberately misunderstanding me."

"And you're deliberately interrupting my studying with this pointless fight," Elphaba countered, reaching for a book that lay between them on the small table that marked the boundary of their territories.

"Nothing I do is pointless!" Galinda protested, reaching for the same book, intending to move it away, to force Elphaba to look at her, to acknowledge that this conversation wasn't finished.

Their fingers collided over the leather binding. Just a brush, the lightest contact of skin against skin.

The world stopped.

More specifically, Galinda’s world stopped.

It was as if someone had poured something warm through her veins.

(Something pink surely!)

The most thrillifying sensation spread through her body, settling somewhere behind her ribcage like a glowing, fabulous ember. She stared at their touching hands, then up at Elphaba's face, seeing it as if for the first time.

Had Elphaba's eyes always held those flecks of gold - like stolen sunshine trapped in emeralds? Had her hair always spilled like midnight silk, woven by angels under the moonlight? Had her lips always curved with that delicious disdain? Sweet Oz, was she always this... perfect?

"What are you staring at?" Elphaba asked, withdrawing her hand as if burned. "Am I greener?" She adjusted her glasses, suddenly self-conscious.

Galinda couldn't speak. Her mind raced with intrusive thoughts that felt both foreign and completely natural. Her cheekbones were like expensive, sculpted marble. Her voice could open the gates of heaven. The slight furrow between her brows was enchantical.

No. No, no, no. An old conversation with her momsie floated through Galinda's mind.

"When it happens, dear, you'll know. Every Upland feels it - the moment you touch your soulmate, the curse activates. Your great-grandfather wrote fourteen sonnets the day he met your great-grandmother. Your uncle climbed a church steeple to serenade your aunt. I sent your father thirty-six bouquets before he'd agree to a single date."

"That sounds horrendible," young Galinda had replied, wrinkling her nose “I would never make a fool of myself like that.”

"It feels like the most natural thing in the world, honey. Like your heart finally knows which way is north."

"Hello? Has your brain finally surrendered to the fumes of that ridiculous perfume?" Elphaba was waving a hand in front of Galinda's face, careful not to make contact again.

The blonde blinked rapidly, forcing herself back to reality. "I... I'm fine," she managed, but her voice sounded strange to her own ears – breathier, almost reverent.

"You don't look fine. You look peculiar… more than usual.”

"You have beautiful eyes," Galinda blurted, then immediately clasped a hand over her mouth, horrified.

Elphaba took a step back. Suspicion replacing concern. "Are you making fun of me?"

"No!" The denial was too quick, too fervent. "I just... noticed. Just now."

"After nearly three months of sharing a room?" Elphaba's voice dripped with skepticism.

Galinda felt a compulsion rising - to explain, to compliment, to touch her again. She clenched her fists tightly, fighting it.

"I... I should go. Like I was trying to say before, my friends are waiting." She backed away, nearly tripping over her own vanity stool. She needed space. She needed to think. She needed to not be looking at Elphaba's face, which was suddenly the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen.

"They didn’t even arrive yet," Elphaba pointed out, looking increasingly confused by Galinda's erratic behavior.

"I'll meet them halfway!" Galinda grabbed her purse, not bothering to do her final check in the mirror (The horror! She truly must be cursed!) . "Don't wait up, Elphie - I mean, Elphaba! ”

This is ridiculous. 

That was Galinda’s first thought in the quiet of the early morning, while watching Elphie - Elphaba! Dear Oz! -  sleep with an intensity that would have alarmed her if she could see herself.

She slept like she did everything else - efficiently, without unnecessary movement, her breathing deep and even. In other words, she slept like a corpse.

After seventeen minutes (no, she wasn’t counting) the green girl stirred.

"You're up early," she said, her voice husky with sleep. "Did your social calendar suddenly include dawn activities?"

Galinda turned from her vanity, where she was pretending to be busy. A cutting retort in the tip of her tongue, but the words died in her throat. Elphaba looked... so beutifyed. The morning light softened her sharp features, her hair was charmingly tousled, and her eyes were deep pools of -

"Elphie," she said instead. Ugh. Stupid adorable nickname. Why fight it? Resistance is futile and frankly, exhausting.

Elphaba frowned. "Please, don’t call me that."

"It suits you," Galinda replied, feeling a smile bloom across her face without permission. "It's whimsical but strong, just like you."

A puzzled silence followed this declaration.

"Are you sure you’re well?" Elphaba finally asked, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "You're not acting Galinda strange. Just…strange. It’s deeply unsettling.”

"Never better!" Galinda chirped, her voice several octaves higher than normal. She turned back to her mirror, horrified at the image of her blushed self. "Just excited for Professor Nikidik's lecture today."

"You hate Nikidik's lectures," Elphaba pointed out, reaching for her uniform. "Last week you said if he droned on about transmutation theory for one more second, you'd transmutate yourself into someone who hadn't wasted a perfectly good hour of her life."

"Did I?" Galinda laughed nervously. "Well, I've had a change of heart. Education is so... educational."

Elphaba stared at her for a long moment, then shook her head. "If you're planning some elaborate prank, Upland, now is the time to tell me."

"No pranks," Galinda assured her, watching in the mirror as Elphaba gathered her toiletries. "Though your suspicious nature is oddly endearing."

"My what is what?" 

"What are you doing?" Elphaba asked. Her wariness barely concealed. She has been acting this way since THE TOUCH (as Galinda had begun to think of it, with dramatic capital letters).

"Me? Oh, just looking for something," Galinda replied while extracting a box buried beneath a mountain of pink dresses and high-heeled shoes.

Elphaba simply observed her odd (increasingly odder) roommate "If this is some elaborate beauty ritual, I'd like to remind you that I have sixteen pages of reading to complete before morning."

"Hush, Elphie! Not everything I do revolves around cosmetics and fashion."

"Could have fooled me," Elphaba muttered.

"Aha!" Galinda finally exclaimed, holding up a small paper-wrapped bundle. "Here they are."

"They?" Elphaba set down her quill, curiosity clearly getting the better of her.

Galinda unwrapped the package carefully, revealing a string of tiny lights, each bulb no larger than her smallest fingernail. They gleamed softly in her palm.

"Fairy lights!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with pride - perhaps a little too much pride , considering the topic. "They're from the Gillikin Valley. The glass is blown by artisans and the light is made with the essence of fireflies. Very exclusive."

“What do you intend to do with them?" asked the green girl.

Galinda took a deep breath. What she was about to do would definitely cross a line in their relationship (Rommateship? Friendship?). 

She had this inexplicable urge to care for Elphie. She just had to do something!

"They're for you," she said simply, rising from her bed. "For your reading."

Elphaba went utterly still, her expression cycling through confusion, hesitation, and a variety of other not-so-nice emotions - none of which were in the spectrum Galinda had expected in response to such a nice gesture.

"For me," she repeated, not quite a question.

"They're charmed to emit a soft, golden light," Galinda hurriedly explained (Calm down! Don’t scare her!). "I've noticed you rubbing your eyes when you study late. These will help without disrupting your concentration or keeping me awake."

Elphaba's fingers twitched slightly, as if they wanted to reach out but hadn't received proper authorization from her brain. "That's... unexpectedly thoughtful."

"I am very thoughtful, Elphie," Galinda insisted, trying not to sound hurt.

"Yes, I'm seeing that. Sorry, I’m just trying to un-" 

"May I?" Galinda interrupted. Impatient already (her darling roomate does tend to ask a lot of questions).

After a moment's hesitation, Elphaba nodded, leaning back slightly to give Galinda room.

With careful movements, she began arranging the string of lights along the edge of Elphaba's bookshelf, just above her workspace. Her hands moved with unusual precision, each tiny bulb positioned to cast gentle illumination without glare. She was painfully aware of Elphaba's proximity, the warmth radiating from her body, the faint scent of wood and old books that seemed to cling to her skin.

"You have to be more mindful of your wellbeing, dear," Galinda said softly, adjusting the final bulb. Then she paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "What if your eyesight gets even worse? You already need glasses, and what if they stop working? What if one day you wake up and everything's just a blurry fog forever? You’ll trip over stuff, mistake your tome for a deadly weapon, accidentally set your spellbooks on fire because you read ‘ignite’ as ‘illuminate’ - and then where will we be? Half the campus reduced to cinders because you squinted at a footnote! And what if you walk straight past me in the halls someday? We cannot have that.”

Galinda stepped back, examining her work with a critical eye. "There," she said, her voice only slightly breathless. "Now I won’t have to worry about the impending ruin of your beautiful, perfect eyes."

Elphaba blinked at her, then slowly turned to glance at the newly adjusted lights like they held the answers to life’s deepest absurdities.

“…Did you just spiral from lightbulbs to me setting Shiz on fire because of a misread footnote?”

Galinda flushed (Oz dammit!) and quickly replied, “Most people just say thank you, Elphie”.

Elphaba crossed her arms, lips twitching. “Well… thank you, I guess, for saving my ‘beautiful, perfect eyes’ from their tragic and inevitable doom. Truly, the land of Oz owes you a debt.”

With an undignified huff, Galinda turned around and went to her side of the room.

Ungrateful, green, mean, mesmerizing - ugh! - woman.

A date!

That was what Galinda needed. 

To focus on someone else. 

Because then this… infatuation with Elphie would become a distant - and very weird - memory.

"Would you care for another serving of pudding, Avaric?" 

Avaric Tenmeadows - handsome, wealthy, and possessing every opposite trait of her roommate - beamed at her attentiveness "Yes, please. This is almost as good as my mom’s cooking, but you’ll have to take my word for it until you try it yourself."

"Sure," the blonde replied, not hearing him at all. Across the dining hall, Elphaba had just entered, a solitary figure in black, dark hair caught in a practical braid. She moved with that particular economy of motion that Galinda had begun to find hypnotic.

Avaric followed her gaze, his expression souring slightly. "Ah. The green girl."

“Emerald,” Galinda corrected, too sharply. “Her skin is emerald. Like… like moss after rain. Or a beautiful jade necklace.”

“Oh... of course. I didn’t realize you two were fri-"

"But now that I’m really thinking about it, we ought to go shopping together. There are so many colors that would make her skin even more enthrallifying! Navy blue would look darling - and purple? Oh, Oz, she would look absolutely charming."

“Uhh, I gue-”

“Do you think she’d let me buy her new glasses? Not that there’s anything wrong with the ones she has - they make her look all studious and brilliant and... well, perfect. But a girl needs options! My Elphie needs options. She deserves all the frames Oz has to offer. I need to fix this!”

Avaric cleared his throat “Um, I’m sure Elphie would love it.”

Silence.

And then: “Oh no no no,” Galinda laughed, though her eyes were doing something much closer to murder. She leaned in slightly, voice sugar-sweet and deeply unsettling. “Don’t call her that. You see, only I call her Elphie. You are not me - tragically - so that just can’t happen.”

She smiled wider, like a cat about to knock something off a shelf. “And if it does happen… I’ll get mad. Like, scary mad. You don’t want to see that. Trust me.”

Avaric, now visibly concerned, reached for his newly served pudding. “Noted…so, th-”

“Anyway, ” Galinda chuckled, “You were saying?”

“I - actually, you were talking. A lot.”

“Oh. Right. About Elphie.”

“Yes…about Miss Thropp.”

A few days after the so-called date - if one could even call it that (the man barely spoke! Rude!) - Galinda found herself in the library. Yes, the book place. Desperate times. She’d arranged a study session with Pfanne and Shenshen, hoping - foolishly - for a dash of normalcy in her increasingly abnormal, Elphie-saturated existence.

"Did you hear about Milla's new beau?" Shenshen whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. "A Munchkin boy."

"How exciting," Pfannee replied, his eyes gleaming with the particular delight that comes from discussing other people's business.

Galinda nodded absently, her quill poised over her notebook. She had intended to take notes on their Ozian History assignment, but looking down, she realized her hands had other plans.

A delicate profile had emerged on the page: a sharp nose, high cheekbones, eyes that seemed to see right through pretense. She had even captured the way Elphaba's hair fell across her forehead when she was concentrating particularly hard.

"Galinda? Are you listening?" Pfannee's voice cut through her reverie.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Thrillifying. Absolutely," she replied automatically.

"What's that you're drawing?" Shenshen leaned over, trying to peek at Galinda's notebook.

With reflexes born of pure, unfiltered panic, Galinda snapped the notebook shut like it had personally offended her. “Nothing! Just… doodling! Dress ideas. Very normal, very fashionable dress ideas. The color pink is a vast frontier, okay? Society hasn’t even begun to tap its full potential. There’s so much more to explore - like hot pink, bubblegum pink, orchid pink, salmon pink - honestly, it’s endless.”

"Sure, is that why your cheeks are blush pink?" Pfannee asked, eyebrow arched in a way that was nowhere near as elegant as when Elphaba did it.

"They are not!" Galinda insisted, feeling her cheeks betray her. "It's very warm here."

"It's freezing," Shenshen countered, pulling her sweater tighter around her shoulders.

“Let’s not quarrel! Some people run cold, some people run hot - we’re all on our own internal thermostats, darling. Now! What were we talking about? Oh! Milla’s new boyfriend! So charming!”

As the gossip train chugged happily along, the blonde’s mind did what it always did - drifted straight back to its natural habitat: Elphie. It wasn’t her fault. She was surrounded by books. What was she supposed to do? Not think about the elegant, borderline regal way those green hands turned each page? As if each book were a sacred artifact and Elphaba was some sort of snarky, brooding librarian goddess?

Impossible. Utterly impossible.

"Galinda?" Shenshen's voice seemed to come from very far away.

"Hmm?"

"You're drawing her again."

Galinda looked down at her notebook in abject horror. Oh Oz. Not just another profile this time - no. She’d somehow drawn an entire study of Elphaba’s hand. A full sketch of her palm, complete with those long, elegant fingers and perfectly sharp emerald nails.

"I... I need to go," she said suddenly, gathering her things with frantic energy. "I just remembered I have to... to alphabetize my perfume collection."

She fled the book place.

Back in the safety of her room, Galinda tore the pages from her notebook, crumpling them into a ball. 

She marched to the trash can, struck a match with shaking fingers, and set the paper ablaze. The drawings curled and blackened. 

Her private devotion turned to ash.

"There," she said aloud, watching the last embers fade. "That's the end of that."

She spun toward her vanity, doing a quick once-over to make sure no incriminating evidence was clinging to her. But then, her eyes drifted to the tragically blank wall above her bed. 

The perfect canvas, really.  

And she did have those new charcoal pencils she'd been meaning to try...

"No," she told herself firmly. "Absolutely not."

Ten minutes later, Galinda stood on her bed, charcoal in hand, carefully sketching the curve of Elphaba's jaw onto the wall. The lines flowed easily, as if her hand had been waiting for this moment.

"Just a small piece," she murmured, adding the delicate arch of an eyebrow. 

She was so absorbed in her work that she didn't hear the door open. Didn't notice the presence behind her until a voice - that voice , the one that had begun appearing in her dreams - spoke.

"What in Oz's name are you doing?"

Galinda froze, charcoal paused mid-stroke. Slowly, she turned to face Elphaba, who stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression somewhere between bewildered and astounded.

"I can explain," Galinda said, though she very much could not.

Elphaba stepped closer, tilting her head to examine the wall. "Is that... me?"

"No!" Galinda exclaimed, then, seeing Elphaba's skeptical expression, she flailed for dignity, "Maybe - don’t be so full of yourself, Elphie. It’s not becoming. And to be clear, this is definitely not what it looks like."

"It looks like you're drawing a giant portrait of me on our wall," Elphaba observed dryly.

"Well, yes, but not for the reasons you're thinking."

"And what reasons am I thinking?"

"That I'm... obsessed with you or something." Galinda's laugh was brittle, too high. "Which is ridiculous! Me? Obsessed with you? I barely notice you exist!"

"Clearly," Elphaba replied. "Your complete lack of awareness of my existence explains why you've captured the exact angle of my nose."

Galinda flushed. "It's... for an art project. On... on contrasting skin tones. Very academic."

"I see." Elphaba set her books down on her desk, movements unhurried. "And does this academic project explain why you've been acting like you've been possessed lately?"

"I don't know what you mean," Galinda insisted, finally climbing down from her bed. She brushed charcoal dust from her hands, leaving gray smudges on her perfect flamingo-pink dress. "I've been perfectly normal."

"Galinda…you just drew my face on our wall. I think we've left 'normal' several miles back."

There was something in her tone - not mockery, but something almost like tenderness - that made Galinda's carefully constructed defenses crumble.

"I-I know," she whispered, sinking onto her bed. "I know it's not normal.” 

Elphaba sat on her own bed, facing Galinda across the small space that separated them. For once, her expression was open and more… curious. Mildly. Warily.

“I know we are not particularly close,” she said. “But you can tell me if something’s bothering you - I’ll try to help…against my better judgment.”

The response she got was not what she expected.

Tears.

Actual tears were spilling from Galinda’s eyes as she dramatically flung herself onto the bed like a fainting duchess in a second-rate opera.

“I cannot believe this! My soulmate doesn’t think we’re close! What’s next - she calls me a colleague? How am I supposed to go on? I should just perish now before this pain gets worsedly worse!”

She flung an arm over her face, leaving one eye strategically uncovered to shoot a pointed look in Elphaba’s direction. “Take it back. Immediately. I refuse to live in a reality where you say things like that with a straight face!”

Elphaba’s face cycled through at least five emotions before short-circuiting entirely. In the end, she landed on pure, unfiltered shock.

“Your soulmate?!”

Galinda nodded miserably, eyes darting anywhere but toward her roommate, “I’m cursed, Elphie. Doomed! It’s a real thing - we call it the Upland Curse. It’s passed down for generations like a hideous heirloom teapot nobody wants. Everyone in my family has it and now…I have it!” she wailed.    

The green girl was starting to feel disoriented, “How exactly does this work?" she found herself asking.

“Oh, Elphie! Your eyebrows do this tiny, furious wiggle when you’re thinking. It’s adorable ”

A traitorous flicker - something perilously close to a smile - twitched at the corner of Elphaba’s mouth. She smothered it with a scowl. “Galinda. The curse.”

Said cursed girl shook her head, golden curls swaying as if to dislodge the memory. “Right - my affliction.” She hugged one of her many pillows, voice softening, "It began the moment I touched your hand. You remember - that ridiculous fight over… what was it? It doesn't matter.” A dreamy sigh escaped her. 

“Your skin was so… verdant. Like storm-lit ivy. And then- ” She bolted upright, sudden as a jack-in-the-box, looking at Elphaba with wild eyes. “-It happened. This… this horrendible ache! This need to care for you, to be near you, to - to protect you!”

Her hands fluttered, frantic and theatrical. “But how was I supposed to know you were my soulmate? That one stupid touch would leave me like this!”

A beat.

“Well, that explains…” Elphaba trailed off, her eyes flicking to the wall behind her roommate. “A lot.”

Galinda’s tears pooled with the ruthless efficiency of a broken dam. “I’m sorry, Elphie,” she whispered, the words fraying at the edges. “I never meant to - to infest your life like this.” A shaky breath. “I’ll… file a request with Miss Coddle. Have her relocate me. Somewhere far. Antarctica, maybe. Or - or that broom closet by the latrines. You’ll never have to see me again.”

A wet hiccup escaped her. She clapped a hand over her mouth, as if stifling a sob. “You’ll finally have peace. No more idiotic gestures. No more… me.”

Elphaba exhaled sharply through her nose, the closest she ever came to sighing. She rose with deliberate slowness, mattress springs creaking like a protest as she settled an arm’s length from Galinda’s trembling form. “Okay, enough of that,” she muttered, the words landing somewhere between command and plea. Her hand hovered above golden curls before making contact - three stiff pats against the girl’s shoulder blade. “I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

Galinda looked up, surprised. "You're not disgusted?"

"By being the subject of an involuntary magical infatuation?" Elphaba's smile was wry. "It's certainly a novel experience. Most people can't stand to look at me, let alone draw flattering portraits on their walls."

Galinda’s nose scrunched, as if the word itself smelled offensive. “It’s not flattering,” she protested, her voice fraying at the edges. “ It’s accurate.”

"Hmm." Elphaba studied the drawing again, trying to process the mountain of information the blonde just spilled on her. "You've made my eyes too kind." It’s the only thing she comes up with.

"No," Galinda said softly. "That's exactly how they look when you're not pretending to be annoyed with the world."

Their gazes locked, and something shifted in the air between them - a recalibration, a new understanding.

"So,” Galinda said, incapable of enduring the silence for too long, “if Antarctica’s off the table… what do you propose we do about this?”

"Perhaps," Elphaba suggested, head still buzzing due to everything that just happened , "We should do the opposite of whatever you are doing.”

A giggle escaped Galinda's lips - the first genuine laugh she'd managed all day. "You want me to just... embrace being a cursed, obsessed, portrait-drawing maniac?"

Elphaba shrugged, her expression thoughtful. "I'm suggesting that fighting against it seems to be driving you slightly mad. Maybe there's a middle ground between denial and..." she gestured to the wall, "...redecorating our room with my face."

"A middle ground," Galinda repeated, turning the idea over in her mind. "I don't know if the Upland Curse does 'middle ground.' My great-aunt followed her soulmate across the Deadly Desert, composing sonnets the entire way."

"And did she catch him?"

"Her," Galinda corrected. "And yes. They were married for sixty-two years."

Something that might have been respect flickered across Elphaba's face. "Well, that's... actually rather- umm - romantic."

"It is?" Galinda sat up, a dangerous hope blooming in her chest.

"In a slightly terrifying, stalker-ish way," Elphaba amended quickly. "But yes."

They lapsed into silence again, but it was a different quality of silence now - contemplative rather tha-

"Does this mean I get to finish my mural? It still needs a lot of work to truly reflect your beauty”

“Uh- sure, jus-.”

“YAY! ”

Elphaba was no stranger to life’s cruelties - scorn, isolation, her father’s relentless disappointment, even the occasional threat of violence. But nothing had prepared her for the strangeness of the situation she now faced.

“Elphie,” came the dreamy sigh from across the room. “Have I ever told you that when you practice spells, your fingers move like they're performing a sacred ritual? It's positively entrancifying."

Elphaba did not look up from her textbook. "You mentioned something similar five minutes ago, Galinda." She kept her voice deliberately flat. "Though that time it was about how I hold my pencil."

"Well, both observations are valid," Galinda replied, propping her chin on her hands. "Your pencil-holding technique is quite exquisite."

The green girl suppressed a sigh. Since their confrontation about the wall portrait three days ago, Galinda had abandoned all pretense of normalcy. The confession of the "Upland Curse" had apparently freed her from any remaining restraint, and now Elphaba found herself under constant, adoring surveillance.

As Elphaba tried the spell again, she caught herself wondering - do my fingers truly move in any special way?  

The thought made her scowl . 

She was becoming self-conscious about the most mundane actions - how she walked, ate, breathed. It was maddening.

"Your frowns are like poetry," Galinda promptly observed. "Each one tells a different and gorgeous story."

"This one is telling the story of someone who can't concentrate," Elphaba replied sharply, but without real bite. Something in Galinda's earnest admiration made it difficult to summon genuine irritation.

"Oh! I'm distractifying you?" Galinda looked genuinely distressed. "I'll stop talking! I'll just... observe. Silently. Like an art critic at a gallery or an audience member at a play "

And true to her word, Galinda fell silent. 

But somehow, the silence was worse . 

Elphaba could feel those brown eyes studying her, cataloging her every movement as if committing them to memory. She tried to focus on her sorcery book - something that would normally have captured her full attention - but found herself increasingly aware of her own body.

Is the way I bend my neck strange?  

Do I blink too often? Too seldom maybe?

Do I always twist a strand of hair around my finger when contemplating a difficult passage?

After ten agonizing minutes of this self-awareness, Elphaba slammed her book shut.

"This isn't working," she announced.

Galinda's face fell. "Is my silence too loud, dearest?"

The question was so earnest, so absurd, that Elphaba felt a reluctant smile tug at her lips. "Something like that."

"I knew it!" Galinda exclaimed. "I've always suspected my thoughts might be audible. They're just so... intense , you know? Especially now, with- well, everything."

Elphaba regarded her roommate with a mixture of exasperation and something dangerously close to fondness. "We need rules," she said finally. "Boundaries. If we're going to continue sharing this space-"

"Oh, we are!" Galinda interrupted, eyes wide with alarm. "You promised no Antarctica!"

"No Antarctica," Elphaba confirmed, raising a placating hand. "But if I'm to maintain my sanity and academic standing, we need some parameters."

Galinda straightened, fussing with her skirts, which - of course - had no wrinkles to begin with. "I'm listening. Whatever you need, my emerald enchantress."

"First rule: no more of... that."

"That?"

"Those… terms. The excessive compliments. The staring."

Galinda's face crumpled like a paper being crushed by an unsympathetic hand. "But Elphie, the curse-"

"I understand there are... compulsions," Elphaba conceded, adjusting her glasses. "But surely we can find compromises."

A silence fell between them, surprisingly comfortable (given the circumstances). Elphaba found herself studying Galinda's face - the genuine distress there, but also a determination that she rarely showed in anything other than her beauty routine.

"Three," Galinda said suddenly.

"Three what?"

"Three compliments per hour. That's my counter-offer." Galinda's expression grew animated. "Oh! And I get to keep 'Elphie' because it's not really a term, it's more of a nickname, and-"

"Fine," Elphaba cut in, surprised by her own capitulation. "Three compliments per hour. And... Elphie is acceptable."

The brilliance of Galinda's smile was almost blinding. "You won't regret this compromise, Elphie! I'll be the most disciplined cursed person you've ever met!"

"You're the only cursed person I've ever met," Elphaba pointed out dryly.

"See? I’ve already made an impression on you - how delightful!

All Elphaba could do was roll her eyes and turn away before the blonde saw the smile threatening to escape.

By bedtime, both girls had reached an agreement:

THE ROOMMATE AGREEMENT -   For the Management of the Upland Curse and Maintenance of Elphaba’s Sanity

1. Galinda is permitted three (3) compliments per hour toward Elphaba.
2. Staring is limited to five (5) minutes per hour, preferably not consecutive.
3. The nickname "Elphie" is permitted; all other endearments require prior approval.
4. No public displays of curse-induced affection during classes or official school functions.
5. The wall mural may remain but shall not expand beyond its current boundaries.
6. Both parties shall maintain their respective territories within the room.
7. Study hours (7-9 PM) shall be observed with minimal interruption.

"There," Elphaba said, setting down her pen. "That should make things... manageable ."

Galinda studied the document with uncharacteristic focus. "It's missing something," she declared, snatching the pen. In flowing script, she added:

1. This agreement acknowledges that the Upland Curse is a legitimate magical phenomenon and not a fabrication or excuse for inappropriate behavior.

Elphaba read the addition with a raised eyebrow. "Are you actually worried about this?"

"Yes," Galinda said, her voice suddenly small. "I don't want you thinking I'm... making this up. Or that I'd act this way by choice."

The vulnerability in her tone stirred something in Elphaba - an unfamiliar protective instinct. "I believe you," she said simply.

Galinda's expression brightened. "Really?"

"The wall portrait was rather compelling evidence," Elphaba said dryly. "Not to mention the fairy lights, the incessant compliments, and the fact that you've worn the same dress two days in a row because you've been too distracted to notice."

Galinda gasped in horror, looking down at her outfit. "Sweet Oz, you're right! I'm a fashion disaster!" She clutched at Elphaba's arm. "The curse is even worse than I thought!"

Despite herself, Elphaba laughed. "Get some sleep, Galinda. Tomorrow will be our first full day under these new terms."

"It will be magical," Galinda promised, eyes sparkling. She hesitated, then added quickly: "Your laugh sounds like wind chimes made of starlight."

"That's one compliment used already." Elphaba warned, while going to her bed.

"Worth it, " Galinda whispered to herself.

Elphaba had almost convinced herself that the agreement would work. Almost.

The first test came at precisely 8:17 AM, as they prepared for Life Sciences.

"Elphie," Galinda said, her voice carefully casual as she arranged her curls. "I've been thinking."

"A dangerous pastime," Elphaba remarked, gathering her books.

"The agreement specifies three compliments per hour, but it doesn't specify the... magnitude of said compliments."

Elphaba paused, already sensing the loophole Galinda had discovered. "I'm listening."

"Well," Galinda continued, visibly restraining her excitement, "technically, I could deliver one extremely comprehensive, detailed compliment that happens to contain multiple observations of your excellence, and it would still count as a single compliment event."

The precision of this argument was so unexpected coming from Galinda that Elphaba could only stare for a moment. "That's...  very legalistic of you."

Galinda beamed. "I have hidden depths, Elphie."

"Apparently," Elphaba conceded, torn between exasperation and reluctant admiration. "What did you have in mind?"

Galinda took a deep breath, her eyes taking on a focused gleam.

"Elphaba Thropp, your intellect functions with the precision of a master clockmaker's finest creation, each thought connecting to the next with perfect logical integrity, creating a tapestry of reasoning so compelling that even the most stubborn opponent would find themselves nodding in agreement, especially when you're explaining something you're passionate about and your voice takes on that particular cadence that makes even the driest subject sound like the most thrilling discovery in the history of Oz, and the way your eyes flash when you're about to dismantle someone's faulty argument is quite possibly the most magnificent sight I've ever beheld."

She delivered this without pause for breath, then smiled triumphantly. "One compliment."

Elphaba blinked, momentarily speechless. “Okay… that was remarkably detailed.”

"But technically within the agreement's parameters," Galinda pointed out.

"I'm beginning to think I should have had a lawyer review the document," Elphaba muttered, but there was no real irritation in her tone. In fact, she felt a strange warmth spreading through her chest - an unfamiliar sensation that she quickly identified as pleasure. Not that she would admit it.

"Shall we go to class?" she asked instead, gathering her books. "And remember rule four - "

"No public displays of curse-induced affection," Galinda recited faithfully. "I'll be the very picture of casual disinterest."

Elphaba had serious doubts about this claim, but she nodded and led the way out of their room, painfully aware of Galinda's proximity as they walked across campus.

They sat side by side in Life Sciences - a new development that raised a few eyebrows among their classmates. 

Before Elphaba could even think that the morning would actually be normal, she felt something brush against her hand. 

A small, folded note.

With a sense of foreboding, she unfolded it.

Your posture while taking notes is MAGNIFICENT. Like a queen on her throne. Just an observation, not a compliment! - G

Elphaba suppressed a smile and continued writing. Three minutes later, another note appeared.

The way sunlight catches the strands of your hair is empirically fascinating. Still not a compliment! - G

By the fourth note (Your handwriting looks like what I imagine ancient elvish script would be - elegant yet powerful. Again, purely objective!), Elphaba found herself almost anticipating each new delivery. 

There was something oddly gratifying about being the focus of such determined attention - especially from someone who had once seemed so superficial.

The trouble began when Dr. Dillamond called for discussion.

"Who can explain the ethical implications of using transformation spells on non-sentient creatures?" he asked, his gaze sweeping the classroom. "Miss Upland, perhaps you have thoughts?"

Galinda, who had been busy composing her fifth "observation," startled visibly. "Me?"

"Yes, Miss Upland. I've noticed you've been quite... engaged with your notes today."

A titter of laughter rippled through the classroom. Galinda straightened, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

"Well," she began, her voice higher than usual, "I believe that ethical considerations must take into account the... the..."

Her gaze drifted sideways to Elphaba, and something shifted in her expression.

"The inherent dignity of all living beings," she continued, her voice growing stronger. "As Elphi- Miss Thropp - often argues in our discussions, magic users have a responsibility to consider the consequences of their actions, especially when those actions fundamentally alter another being's existence. The fact that a creature cannot verbally object doesn't absolve us of the moral imperative to treat it with respect and compassion."

The classroom fell silent. Dr. Dillamond's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"That is... quite correct, Miss Upland. A thoughtful analysis."

Galinda beamed, then caught herself and adopted a more nonchalant expression. "Thank you, Professor. I've been... studying."

When class ended, Elphaba gathered her books slowly, waiting until most students had filed out before speaking.

"That was unexpected," she said quietly.

Galinda shrugged, attempting casualness but betrayed by the pride in her eyes. "I listen when you talk, Elphie. Even before... you know." 

"I'm impressed," Elphaba admitted. "Though I don't recall having that exact conversation with you."

"Well, no," Galinda conceded. "But I've heard you argue with other professors about similar topics. You get this particular tone when you're defending something you believe in. Very compelling. Makes a girl want to agree with whatever you're saying."

The sincerity in her voice caught Elphaba off guard. She was accustomed to Galinda's theatrical declarations, but this quiet admission felt different - more genuine, somehow.

"Thank you," she said finally, unsure what else to say.

Galinda's face lit up. "You're welcome! That doesn't count as one of my three compliments for this hour, does it? Because technically you complimented me first, and I was just acknowledging—"

"It doesn't count," Elphaba interrupted before the girl could enter a never-ending spiral.

As they walked toward their next class, it was Elphaba who started doing the dangerous task of thinking. It was strange, that just a few weeks ago, she had considered Galinda the embodiment of everything shallow and irritating about Shiz society.

Now? She didn’t really know what to make of it.

She should really stop thinking.

"Elphie?" Galinda's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Is it terribly inappropriate that I'm looking forward to my next scheduled compliment opportunity? I've been composing it in my head all morning. It's about your ears."

Elphaba shook her head, resigned yet inexplicably amused. "You're incorrigible."

"I know," Galinda agreed cheerfully. "But according to the agreement, I'm incorrigible within acceptable parameters."

And oddly enough, Elphaba found that she didn't mind at all.

The first gift appeared on a Tuesday.

A small, innocuous box wrapped in emerald paper, positioned with mathematical precision at the exact center of her desk. No ribbon, no note - just perfect symmetry against the dark wood.

Elphaba stared at it with the wariness one might reserve for an unidentified threat. 

"Good morning, Elphie!" Galinda's voice floated from behind her dressing screen, suspiciously cheerful for this early hour. "Sleep well? I did. Marvelously well. Almost as if I'd accomplished something significant before bed."

Elphaba's eyes narrowed. "You're up early."

"Am I?" Galinda emerged, already immaculately dressed in a confection of pink and cream. Her gaze slid to the package on Elphaba's desk, then away with practiced nonchalance. "Oh, would you look at that? How mysterious."

"Indeed," Elphaba replied dryly. 

"Well?" Galinda perched on the edge of her bed, barely containing her excitement. "Aren't you going to open it?"

Elphaba hesitated, fingers hovering over the package. "Does this count as one of your three compliments per hour?"

"Of course not!" Galinda looked scandalized. "Compliments are verbal acknowledgments of excellence. This is merely a... tangible appreciation."

With a sigh of resignation, Elphaba carefully unwrapped the package. Inside lay a leather bookmark, dyed a deep blue-black like midnight, with silver stars embedded in the material. It was elegant, practical, and completely unlike anything Galinda would choose for herself.

"Do you like it?" Galinda's voice had lost its affected casualness, now tinged with genuine uncertainty.

Elphaba ran a finger over the bookmark's smooth surface. "I- yes, I do," she admitted, surprised by her own pleasure at the small gift. "Thank you."

Galinda's face brightened like a sunrise. "You're welcome! I noticed you use folded scraps of paper as bookmarks, which is practically sacrilegious, especially with those ancient tomes you're always buried in."

Elphaba slipped the bookmark into her current reading material - a dense philosophical treatise on the ethics of transformation. "It will be useful."

From most people, such a lukewarm response would be disappointing. But Galinda had become fluent in Elphaba's particular dialect of reluctant appreciation. She recognized the light touch on the bookmark's surface, the careful way it was immediately put to use, the absence of outright rejection.

In Elphaba-speak, this was practically effusive enthusiasm.

On Wednesday, Elphaba found a small vial of ink on her desk. Not ordinary ink, but a rich, emerald-green variety that shimmered subtly when caught in the light.

"For your notes," Galinda explained, watching Elphaba examine the vial. "So you can match your brilliant thoughts to your brilliant complexion."

Elphaba rolled her eyes, but the ink found its way into her writing case nonetheless.

Thursday brought a set of quills, each one selected in a shade that "harmonized with her skin tone" according to Galinda's elaborate explanation of color theory - a subject Elphaba didn’t know her roommate was so passionate about.

"The deep purples bring out the richness of your emerald undertones," Galinda explained, gesturing with the authority of a master artist. "While the midnight blue creates a celestial contrast, like watching a shooting star against the night sky."

"I wasn't aware my writing implements required aesthetic coordination with my epidermis.”

By Friday, Elphaba found herself approaching her desk each morning with a peculiar sensation that took her several moments to identify as anticipation. 

This realization bothered her more than the gifts themselves.

"A first-edition Ozian philosopher's debate on the nature of magic?" Elphaba couldn't keep the astonishment from her voice as she carefully opened the ancient tome that awaited her that morning. "How did you even find this? It's been out of print for decades."

Galinda smiled mysteriously, applying a fourth coat of mascara with precision. "I have my sources."

"Your sources must be exceedingly well-connected. And expensive."

"Worth every penny to see that look on your face," Galinda replied, her voice softer than usual. When Elphaba glanced up, surprised, the blonde quickly added, "Besides, the author's theories about inherent magical alignment seem relevant to your research on Animal rights. Not that I've been paying attention to your research topics or anything."

Elphaba studied the blonde with new curiosity. "You continue to surprise me, Miss Upland."

"Good," Galinda declared, snapping her makeup case closed with finality. "The day I become predictable is the day I surrender my fashion icon status and start wearing sensible shoes."

By the second week, the gifts had evolved from thoughtful to borderline bizarre.

"It's a custom letter opener," Galinda explained as Elphaba examined the silver implement shaped like a miniature broom. "See? The bristles actually fan out to slice the envelope! I had it specially made because I noticed you always tear your mail in that adorably impatient way."

"I'm not adorable," Elphaba muttered reflexively.

"Is this actually made of fish scales?" Elphaba asked, holding a glowing marker to the light.

"From a Fish in Gillikin River," Galinda confirmed. "Ethically sourced, of course. He donated it himself after a particularly compelling argument about scientific advancement and Animal rights. You'd have been proud of my negotiation skills."

Elphaba could only shake her head in bewildered appreciation. Never in her life had someone paid such meticulous attention to her interests and needs - certainly not in service of bringing her joy.

It was... unsettling. And yet, increasingly, something she found herself looking forward to each morning.

Not long after, the poetry began. 

A small slip of paper fell from the Theoretical Sorcery textbook as Elphaba opened it during study hours:

In halls of learning, midst minds astir,  

One intellect shines emerald bright;

Where others falter, she stands sure,  

A beacon in the scholarly night.

Elphaba read it twice, then glanced across the room where Galinda appeared deeply absorbed in filing her nails, the picture of innocence.

"Subtlety continues to elude you," Elphaba commented, tucking the poem into her notebook nevertheless.

Galinda looked up, wide-eyed. "Whatever do you mean? I am the very soul of discretion."

"Mmm," Elphaba hummed noncommittally, returning to her reading. 

But twice more that evening, her fingers drifted to where she'd stored the damned thing.

Her mind, a labyrinth of brilliant thought,

Her words, precise as surgeon's art;  

In verdant glory, magic wrought,  

Her gaze could stop a beating heart.

The emerald hue that graces skin,  

No curse, but blessing rare indeed;  

Where others end, does she begin,  

A revolution in a single seed.

O! Verdant Vision of Vindication!  

Your chlorophyll complexion, celestial in composition,  

Puts mere mortals' pallid hues to shame!  

Are you goddess or revolution?  

Philosophy incarnate or rebellion made flesh?  

The universe concentrated its most perfect pigment,  

Then said: BEHOLD! I HAVE CREATED MAGNIFICENCE!  

And thus, Elphaba emerged,  

Emerald and extraordinary,  

Making mockery of mundane existence!

P.S. Green is clearly superior to all other colors, especially pink, which I now renounce forever in your honor.

"This," Elphaba declared, storming into their shared room that evening, last poem she received in hand, "has gone too far."

Galinda looked up from her vanity, expression angelic. "Whatever could you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Elphaba countered, waving the paper. "This... this lyrical monstrosity. And I know for a fact you would sooner renounce breathing than the color pink."

"Art requires certain sacrificial declarations," Galinda sniffed, though her lips twitched suspiciously. "I was making a point about your chromatic superiority."

"My 'chlorophyll complexion'?" Elphaba quoted, fighting the traitorous urge to smile. "That's not even scientifically accurate. My skin doesn't contain chlorophyll."

"Poetic license," Galinda dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Besides, how do you know? Have you had it tested?"

Not knowing how to formulate a response to something so preposterous, a startled laugh came out of  Elphaba - genuine sound that seemed to catch them both by surprise.

Galinda beamed. "You liked it!"

"I did not," Elphaba protested, but the denial lacked conviction. "It's ridiculous and overwrought."

"But you kept it," Galinda pointed out, triumphant. "Just like you kept all the others."

Elphaba opened her mouth to deny this, then closed it, caught. She had indeed kept each poem, tucked into the back of her journal where she thought Galinda wouldn't notice.

"They're evidence," she said finally. "For when I inevitably need to have you committed to an asylum."

"Mmhmm," Galinda hummed, clearly unconvinced. "Keep telling yourself that, darling." 

(Yes, after some begging, she got the approval for that term!)

"Elphie," Galinda began, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve, "I want to give you something. Something... special."

Elphaba glanced up from her book, noting Galinda's unusual demeanor with mild alarm. "Should I be concerned?"

"No! Well, maybe. I mean-" Galinda took a deep breath, visibly composing herself. "It's important to me. And I hope it might mean something to you as well."

This departure from Galinda's typical confidence piqued Elphaba's curiosity. She set her book aside, giving her roommate her full attention - a rare concession that didn't go unnoticed.

From behind her back, Galinda produced a velvet box. Not wrapped, not adorned with ribbons - just simple black velvet.

With delicate movements, she opened it to reveal its contents: a pendant, suspended on a fine silver chain. The stone at its center was a perfect emerald oval, its depth and color an uncanny match for Elphaba's skin.

Elphaba stared, momentarily speechless.

"I had it made," Galinda continued, words tumbling out in a nervous rush. "The jeweler said it couldn't be done - matching a gem to something he'd never seen. But I described you for hours . The way your skin catches light, how it deepens when you're passionate about something, the hint of blue undertones when you're tired..."

She stepped closer, the pendant catching the morning light. "I wanted you to have something that celebrates what makes you extraordinary. A wearable testament to your magnificence ."

The room seemed to hold its breath, suspended in the fragile moment between gesture and response.

"Galinda," Elphaba began, her voice unusually hoarse, "this is..."

"Too much?" Galinda bit her lower lip.

Elphaba carefully lifted the pendant from its velvet nest, studying the way the stone seemed to come alive against her skin. No one had ever created something beautiful for her before.

"It's exquisite," she said finally, the words barely above a whisper. "But I can't accept this. It must have cost-"

"Don't," Galinda interrupted, lifting a hand. "Don't diminish this by talking about money. That's tediously predictable, and we're far more interesting than that."

Elphaba laughed - it was becoming routine by now, given all the absurdity she had to endure.

"Besides," Galinda continued, emboldened, "what better use for my family's ridiculous fortune than creating something meaningful? Something that reminds the world that green is not just a color - it's your color, and therefore extraordinary."

She stepped forward, gently taking the pendant from Elphaba's fingers. "May I?"

After a moment's hesitation, Elphaba nodded, turning slightly to allow Galinda to fasten the chain around her neck. The pendant settled against her collarbone, cool at first, then warming to her skin as if recognizing its perfect match.

"There," Galinda breathed, stepping back to admire her gift. "It looks exquisite on you. Like it was always meant to exist exactly there."

Elphaba touched the stone lightly, unused to wearing jewelry of any kind, much less something like this. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Galinda replied softly. "Just...  at least try to use it. Please? Let it remind you, whenever you see it, that someone sees you - all of you - and finds you beautiful."

Beautiful.

A word that had never belonged to Elphaba Thropp. Even now, with Galinda saying it often - insistently - she still struggled to see it reflected in her own image.

She swallowed hard, fighting an unexpected tightness in her throat. "I'll try," she promised, her voice barely audible.

If, during particularly difficult moments throughout the day, Elphaba’s fingers drifted to the spot where the emerald lay hidden under her collar - well, that was nobody's business but her own.

Galinda Upland had come to the book place with the noblest of intentions. 

But.

All academic ambitions evaporated the moment she spotted Elphaba at a corner table, sunlight catching in her dark hair and creating the most entrancing highlights. Galinda had been about to approach (maintaining appropriate non-curse-influenced casualness, of course) when the Vinkus prince had appeared.

Now, peering between leather-bound volumes of "Ozian Agricultural Almanacs," Galinda felt something twist in her chest as she watched the interaction unfold.

He's standing much too close , she thought, noting with narrowed eyes how Fiyero leaned slightly forward across the table. And that smile! So transparently eager! Does he think she won't notice such obvious flattery?

When Elphaba's expression shifted from annoyance to something resembling interest, Galinda's internal monologue accelerated to a frantic pace.

Oh. Sweet. Oz. She's actually considering it! Can't she see what's happening here? This isn't about weather spells or drought decrees or whatever academicky excuse he's using. Look at him twisting that button on his jacket – classic nervous gesture of someone with ulterior motives!

Galinda pressed herself closer to the bookshelf, nearly knocking over a particularly dusty tome.

And now he's doing that head-tilt thing! That's not a scholarly head-tilt. That's a "look how adorably confused I am, please teach me with your superior intellect while I gaze at you admiringly" head-tilt. I invented that head-tilt! Well, not invented, but perfected!

She watched as Elphaba nodded in response to something Fiyero said, then pointed toward a section of text in her book. The Vinkus boy beamed as if she'd offered him the keys to the Emerald City.

He probably doesn't even care about the whatever they are discussing, Galinda thought indignantly. He's just using academics as an excuse to monopolize her attention. And look! Now he's writing something down. Probably "Elphaba Thropp" surrounded by little hearts. Disgusting. So transparent. So... so...

Galinda paused in her mental tirade, a horrifying realization dawning.

Sweet Lurline, is this jealousy? Am I actually jealous of Fiyero? 

This is intolerable , she decided. Absolutely inexcusable. Not that I care who Elphie talks to, of course. The Agreement doesn't forbid her from associating with whoever she pleases. But really, there are limits to what a cursed person should have to endure.

"Oh! What a coincidence!" 

Galinda exclaimed, making a beeline toward the pair who’d once again caught her eye in the library - honestly, this place! "I was just looking for a quiet spot to study."

Fiyero looked up, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Galinda. What a... surprise."

"Isn't it?" she agreed, pulling out the chair beside Elphaba and sitting down with more force than necessary. "What are we studying today?"

" We' weren't studying anything," Elphaba said pointedly. "Fiyero and I were assigned a joint project for our History class."

Our?!

"A joint project?" Galinda asked, her voice rising dangerously. "How convenient."

"Convenient?" Fiyero echoed, clearly entertained by her reaction.

"Yes, convenient," Galinda nodded vigorously. "That you were paired together. Almost as if someone arranged it."

"Yes, Professor Mikko arranged it," Elphaba said slowly, as if explaining to a child. "That's typically how academic assignments work."

"Well," Galinda huffed, opening her book with all the force her manners would allow, "by all means - carry on with your little joint project."

"You can't meet him," Galinda declared, her voice urgent.

"I can't... what?"

"Meet Fiyero. At the café. I heard you making plans… you can't go."

Elphaba's brow furrowed. "And why not?"

"Because..." Galinda scrambled for a plausible reason. "Because I need your help tomorrow. With... with my sorcery assignment."

"Your sorcery assignment," Elphaba repeated, skepticism dripping from every syllable. "The one that Madame Morrible specifically said was an individual effort?"

"Yes, that one," Galinda nodded vigorously. "I'm having trouble with the, uh, the incantation."

"Galinda," Elphaba said, her voice taking on that dangerous gentleness, "what is this really about?"

"Nothing! I just... don't think you should meet him." The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

"And why not?"

"Because he's... he's not good for you," Galinda insisted, feeling increasingly desperate. "He's just using you for your brain."

"As opposed to my stunning good looks and charming personality?" Elphaba's voice was dry as dust.

"Don't say that," Galinda protested, genuine hurt flashing across her face. "You are stunning. And charming and… really pretty."

Something shifted in Elphaba's expression then, a subtle softening that made Galinda's heart flutter traitorously. "Galinda, is this about your... condition?"

"No!" Galinda exclaimed, too loudly. Then, quieter: "Maybe. I don't know. I just don't like seeing you with him."

"We're working on a class project. I already told you that," Elphaba assured. "That's all."

"That's how it starts! First it's class projects, then it's tea at cafés, and before you know it, he's writing you sonnets and comparing your eyes to emeralds."

"Yes," Elphaba replied flatly. "How could I possibly live with this kind of attention."

"Exactly, darling," Galinda said with relief in her tone. "You are finally getting it."

Elphaba studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "I'm meeting Fiyero tomorrow," she said finally, her voice firm but not unkind. "For tea. To discuss our project. Nothing more."

"Fine," Galinda huffed, crossing her arms like a petulant child. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you when he falls madly in love with you and follows you around like a lovesick puppy, making a complete fool of himself."

"Bit late for that warning," the green girl muttered, raising an eyebrow. "Seems someone’s already beaten him to it."

"Oh Oz, who?! ” 

The café by the Suicide Canal was quaint and cozy, with small round tables and large windows that overlooked the water. It was the perfect place for a study session. 

Galinda was the very picture of casual nonchalance. If one ignored the fact that she was hiding behind a fern, that is.

From her leafy vantage point, the blonde peeked through the fronds, lips pursed in a pout that deepened with every passing second. She told herself she was only keeping an eye on things - purely observational, nothing more. But her gaze kept drifting to Elphaba, who sat across from (Ugh!) Fiyero, entirely absorbed in conversation. The way the sunlight caught the edge of her profile, casting delicate shadows along her cheekbone, was frankly unfair. Her eyes - those sharp, impossible green eyes - lit up when she spoke, and Galinda felt a flicker of something hot and uncomfortable twist in her chest. He’s probably not even listening properly, she thought bitterly, watching Fiyero laugh a beat too late, I would laugh at the exact appropriate tim-

"Galinda," Elphaba said, suddenly standing in front of her. Her voice controlled but with an edge of steel beneath. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

"Uh- now?" Galinda asked, still trying to recover from the scare she just suffered.

"Now," Elphaba confirmed.

With a sigh of resignation, Galinda followed her to a quiet corner near the back of the café, away from curious ears.

"What are you doing?" Elphaba demanded, her voice low but intense.

"Having tea?" Galinda suggested weakly.

"You're spying on us," Elphaba accused. "Don't deny it."

"I'm not spying," Galinda protested. "I'm... being helpful! Just making sure nothing bad happens to you. I'm simply... supervising."

"Supervising," Elphaba echoed, that same strange expression returning. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"What would you call it?"

Elphaba studied her for a moment, then shook her head slightly. "I believe the traditional term is 'jealousy.'"

"That's absurd!" Galinda protested, a flush rising to her cheeks. "I'm not jealous. I'm concerned. There's a difference."

"And what exactly are you concerned about?"

Galinda hesitated, caught between truth and pride. "I don't trust him," she admitted finally.

"You don't trust Fiyero," Elphaba clarified. "The same Fiyero you were flirting with at the OzDust Ballroom just months ago."

"That was before," Galinda muttered.

"Before what?"

"Before he started looking at you like... like you're something special." The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

Elphaba stilled, her expression shifting from irritation to something more complex. "And that bothers you," she said softly. "That someone might think I'm special."

"No!" Galinda exclaimed, horrified. "That's not it at all. Of course you're special. You're the most special person I've ever met. It's just..." She trailed off, unable to articulate the storm of emotions in her chest.

"Just what?" Elphaba prompted.

Galinda looked up, meeting those eyes that had come to mean so much to her. "He doesn't deserve you," she said simply. "He doesn't know you like I do. He doesn't see how your eyes change color in different lights, or how your hands move when you're talking about something you care about.”

She took a deep breath, the words flowing freely now. "He hasn't noticed how you twist your hair around your finger when you're reading something difficult, or how you talk to yourself when you think no one's listening. He doesn't know that you sleep with your hands folded over your heart, or that you always check the window three times before going to bed."

Elphaba stared at her, eyes wide with something between shock and wonder. "You... notice all that?"

"I notice everything about you," Galinda confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't help it."

Elphaba studied her for a long moment, then said. "I've never had someone be jealous over me before," there was a note of wonder in her voice. "It's... oddly flattering."

“Ugh! I’m not jealous, Elphie!” Galinda huffed, crossing her arms defensively.

"Okay, sorry," Elphaba agreed, but there was a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth now. "Anyway, it's still just a project, Galinda. Nothing more."

"That's what he wants you to think," Galinda insisted. "Men like Fiyero are sneaky like that. They lure you in with academic discussions, and the next thing you know, you're... you're..."

"Yes?" Elphaba prompted, openly amused now.

"Holding hands and discussing poetry," Galinda finished lamely.

"The horror," Elphaba deadpanned.

"It's not funny," Galinda pouted. "I'm serious."

"I can see that," Elphaba nodded, her expression softening. "And while I appreciate your... concern, it's not necessary. I promise you, Fiyero has no romantic interest in me."

"You don't know that," Galinda argued. "He looks at you."

"Most people look at me," Elphaba pointed out dryly. "It's the green skin. It's rather attention-grabbing."

"No, not like that," Galinda shook her head. "He looks at you like... like you're interesting. Like what you have to say matters."

"And that's suspicious to you? That someone might find me interesting?"

"Yes! No!" Galinda threw up her hands in frustration. "I don't know! I just know that when he looks at you, I want to-"

"Want to what?" Elphaba pressed, taking another step closer.

"I don't know," Galinda whispered, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. "Do something drastic."

Elphaba's lips curved into a proper smile then, a sight that made Galinda's heart skip. "Something drastic," she repeated, her voice warm with what might have been affection. "Like spying on us from behind a potted plant?"

"Oh, Oz," Galinda groaned, covering her face with her hands. "This is mortifying."

"I don't mind, you know," she said. "Not really. The...attention. It's strange and occasionally infuriating, but it's also..." She hesitated, seemingly struggling to find the right words. "No one has ever worried about me that way before. As if I were something precious rather than problematic."

Galinda's eyes widened slightly at this admission. "Oh, Elphie..."

"Don't," Elphaba warned, holding up a hand. "I'm not fishing for sympathy or sentimentality. I'm merely acknowledging that while your methods are chaotic and often deeply embarrassing, the... sentiment behind them is not entirely unwelcome."

It wasn't quite gratitude, nor was it affection, but it was something – an acknowledgment, a recognition of Galinda's feelings as something other than mere inconvenience.

"Does this mean I can keep uh- supervising?”

"No," Elphaba replied firmly. "It means you're going to go back to the dormitory and let me finish my meeting with Fiyero. In peace. Without surveillance."

"But-"

"No buts," Elphaba cut her off. "If it makes you feel any better, I promise to tell you all about it afterward. Every boring detail."

Galinda hesitated, torn between her possessive instincts and the rational knowledge that she was being ridiculous. "You promise?"

"I promise," Elphaba nodded. "Now go. Before you do something truly drastic."

With a defeated sigh, Galinda nodded. "Fine. But if he tries anything-"

"I'm quite capable of handling Fiyero Tigelaar," Elphaba assured her, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Now go."

Galinda gathered her belongings, casting one last suspicious glance at Fiyero, who raised his teacup in a mock salute. She stuck her tongue out at him before she could stop herself, earning a startled laugh from Elphaba.

"Galinda," Elphaba said, her voice gentle but firm. "Go."

"I'm going, I'm going," Galinda muttered, turning toward the door. "But remember-”

"Every boring detail," Elphaba promised. "Now shoo."

"Here, darling!" Galinda beamed, presenting a massive bouquet as though unveiling a masterpiece. "The florist swore this color was the absolutely perfect-"

“Match for my skin. Yes… thank you," Elphaba interrupted, her voice clipped.

As she glanced up, Galinda caught the slight twitch in Elphaba’s jaw — a tension she usually kept hidden, but which had been slipping through more often lately.

"Elphie…?" Galinda’s smile wavered. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Perfectly fine," Elphaba lied, adjusting her glasses with a deliberate stiffness.

Galinda’s gaze dropped to Elphaba’s hands, gripping the edge of her desk so tightly her knuckles had blanched to mint. Guilt pierced through the hazy pull of the curse.

"You’re upset," Galinda murmured, mostly to herself. "I’m upsetting you."

With a sharp exhale, Elphaba closed her book. "Not upset. Overwhelmed. There's a difference." She stood, every line of her body held taut. "Your... enthusiasm lately is…" She hesitated, searching for the least hurtful phrasing.

"Too much," Galinda supplied softly.

Before Elphaba could counter, Galinda rushed ahead. "What if we changed tactics? With the, uh - curse management. If it’s making you miserable, then-"

"Galinda, it's not making me mis-"

"We need to address the cause, not just manage the symptoms! This controlled-dosage-of-worship idea? It’s not working."

Elphaba bit back the admission that the “dosage” had long since spiraled beyond control. "You’re suggesting we try to break the curse."

"Exactly!" Galinda's eyes lit with fierce determination. "A joint research project! If this curse is hurting you, we’ll end it. Together."

Elphaba pinched the bridge of her nose, conflicted. She wanted it to end - for both their sakes. But mostly for Galinda’s. She didn’t deserve to be chained to a feeling that wasn’t real. She didn’t deserve to be trapped in this illusion.

She didn’t deserve to be stuck with me.

"...Alright," she said at last. "We can try."

“Yay!” Galinda squealed. “Oh, this is perfect! We'll need matching notebooks, a color-coded reference system, maybe coordinated bookmarks-"

"Or we could simply go to the library. Like normal people."

"Normal is such a limiting concept, Elphie." Galinda was already digging through her wardrobe. "What does one wear for curse-breaking research? Something scholarly, with just a whisper of daring adventure..."

"Clothes, Galinda. One wears clothes to the library."

For nearly an hour, they managed a semblance of productive research - Elphaba methodically working through historical accounts of magical afflictions while Galinda-

"You're doing it again," Elphaba observed without looking up.

"Doing what?" Galinda asked innocently.

"Staring. Your book is upside down, by the way."

Galinda glanced down at the tome in her hands and quickly righted it. "I was testing a theory. Perhaps reverse reading breaks reverse curses."

"A fascinating hypothesis with absolutely no foundation in magical theory."

"You get this look in your eyes," Galinda said softly, "When you're deep in thought. It's like watching someone solve the mysteries of the universe."

Elphaba finally looked up, her expression a complex negotiation between exasperation and something softer, less definable. "The only mystery I'm trying to solve is how to make you see me as just Elphaba again."

A shadow passed over Galinda's face. "But I do see you."

"Through a lens of magical compulsion."

"Is that really so different from how anyone sees anyone else?" Galinda asked, her voice suddenly thoughtful. "We're all under spells of one kind or another, aren't we? Social expectations, preconceptions, personal histories..."

Elphaba stared at her. Lost for words. Then, regaining her composure: “You have quite a way with words, don’t you?”

"I do, thank you for noticing, dearest," Galinda replied with a small smile. "Now, shall we try the section on Gillikinese family enchantments? I noticed it while admiring how pretty your collarbones look today. You should really consider not wearing such high collars all the time."

Elphaba blinked.

“Don't worry, Elphie," the blonde continued, "I don't stare further down your collarbone - well, not often, I'm only human - but I'm always discreet about it. A proper lady knows when to avert her eyes after an appropriate moment of appreciation.”

Elphaba’s cheeks never looked greener. “J-just show me the passage you’ve found, please.”

“Okay!”

"Elphie, are you certain about the newt's eye? The text specified 'a newt's eye view,' which could be metaphorical rather than literal." Galinda held up a small vial suspiciously, nose wrinkled in distaste.

"It's not an actual eye, it's a form of moss," Elphaba replied absently, measuring powder into a small stone mortar. "Though I'm beginning to think this entire recipe is more folkloric than functional."

Galinda eyed the bubbling concoction with equal parts excitement and trepidation. "Is it supposed to be that particular shade of… brown?"

"The text wasn't specific about coloration." Elphaba transferred the mixture to a cup. "According to 'Remedies for the Romantically Afflicted,' this should temporarily neutralize the effects of any emotional enchantment."

"Temporarily?"

"It's a starting point. If it works, we can refine it for more lasting effects." Elphaba hesitated, then added more gently, "You don't have to do this, you know."

Galinda squared her shoulders, chin lifting in determination. "For science, Elphie. And for you, obviously ." With a dramatic flourish worthy of the Emerald City stage, she took the cup and downed its contents in one swift motion.

For a long moment, nothing happened. They stared at each other, Elphaba tense with anticipation, Galinda with wide, expectant eyes.

"I don't feel any diff-" Galinda began, then stopped abruptly, her expression shifting to one of confusion.

"Galinda?"

When the blonde spoke again, her voice had taken on a strange, rhythmic quality:

"My heart still races at your emerald grace,

 Your beauty haunts me,

I cannot erase the longing that fills every waking thought, 

This potion's effects were all for naught."

She clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide with shock.

Elphaba stared. "Are you... speaking in rhyme?"

Galinda nodded frantically, then tentatively removed her hands:

"It seems that I am cursed to speak in verse,

 This situation's awkward and perverse.

Yet still my feelings for you burn so bright,

Your eyes like stars that guide me through the night."

Elphaba's scientific composure cracked, and a snort of laughter escaped her. "I think we can safely categorize this attempt as a failure."

"Your laughter rings like bells upon the air, 

I'd suffer any curse if you were there."

"This is going to be a very long day," Elphaba muttered, already reaching for her notes. "Let's try the next formula."

They’d tried countless formulas - nine, to be exact.

But the last one - the one they were sure would work - didn’t go as planned.

It all happened in a blur: the extra splash of silver essence, the sudden violent bubbling, the thick vapor rising faster than either of them could react. 

Galinda had inhaled before Elphaba could pull her away.

Then - the collapse.

Six hours had passed since she'd burst through the doors of the infirmary, Galinda's limp form cradled against her chest, but the weight of her roommate still lingered in her arms - phantom limbs of guilt and something far more terrifying.

Now Elphaba paced, boots clicking an anxious rhythm against the polished floor. Her hair, usually contained in a severe plait, had come partially undone, little braids framing a face drawn with exhaustion and worry. The emerald skin that typically glowed with defiant pride now appeared sallow under the harsh lights.

"Breathe," she commanded herself, but the memory kept surging back - the way Galinda fell, the way she felt useless. Powerless.

She leaned against the wall, the cool surface biting through the heat of her panic. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!"  

The door to the treatment room swung open.

Madame Seraphine, the stern-faced head healer, emerged with clipboard in hand and a quizzical expression that sharpened as she took in Elphaba's disheveled state.

"Miss Thropp," she said, voice clinical. "Your roommate is stable now. The potion you described - a Severance Solution, was it? - caused a temporary disruption to her magical equilibrium, leading to unconsciousness. The fall resulted in a minor concussion, but I've administered the appropriate antidote for the potion's effects."

Elphaba's shoulders slumped with relief. "She'll recover completely?"

"Physically, yes," Madame Seraphine replied, making a note on her clipboard. "Though she may experience some... perceptual anomalies for the next twelve hours or so. A common side effect when these potions are improperly prepared." Her eyes flicked up, studiously casual. "May I ask what bond you were attempting to sever?"

Heat crept up Elphaba's neck. "That's not - it was just an academic exercise."

"An academic exercise," Madame Seraphine repeated flatly. "One that specifically requires items of personal significance from both parties."

"We're roommates," Elphaba snapped, crossing her arms. "Sometimes experiments are necessary for... harmonious cohabitation."

The healer's eyebrow arched with professional skepticism. "I see. Well, your 'roommate' has been asking for you. Quite insistently, between bouts of rather poetic babbling about emeralds and hidden flames."

Elphaba swallowed hard. "May I see her?"

"Briefly," Madame Seraphine said, stepping aside. "Do try not to agitate her further. Magic-induced hallucinations can be...revealing."

The implication in her tone made Elphaba bristle, but the desire to see Galinda overrode her instinct for cutting retorts. She swept past the healer into the treatment room, where the scent of antiseptic mingled with restorative herbs.

Galinda lay propped against white pillows, her normally perfect curls a chaotic halo around her pale face. A small bandage adorned her temple where she'd struck the floor. Despite everything, Elphaba's first irrational thought was that even in disarray, Galinda managed to look like an illustration from a fairytale - the princess after the spell, awaiting whatever came next.

"Elphie?" Galinda's voice was soft, slightly slurred. Her eyes, normally sharp with calculation or sparkling with enthusiasm, were unfocused, pupils dilated. "You're glowing."

Elphaba approached carefully, settling into the chair beside the bed. "That would be the hallucinogenic effect of inhaling magical residue," she said dryly, though her attempt at detachment felt hollow. "How do you feel?"

Galinda's lips curved into a dreamy smile. "Like I'm seeing through veils... everything has layers now." She reached out a hand, fingers wiggling in the air between them. "You're all wrapped in green light - it swirls around you like a cloak. But there's red at your center, right here." Her hand pressed against her own chest, above her heart. "Pulsing, bright red."

"Fascinating," Elphaba muttered, uncomfortable with the imagery. "The healer says you'll be fine once the effects wear off."

"Your hidden heart," Galinda continued as if she hadn't heard, eyes wide with wonder. "I can see it, Elphie. All those feelings you tuck away, pretending they don't exist. Like little birds in a cage." She giggled, the sound unnervingly childlike. "Pretty birds. Singing birds. All for me."

Elphaba shifted, fighting the impulse to flee. This was worse than Galinda's cursed adoration - this was observation, penetration of the careful walls she'd constructed around herself.

"You should rest," she managed. "The potion was my mistake. I miscalculated the proportions, and-"

"No, no," Galinda interrupted, reaching out to grasp Elphaba's hand. Her touch was fever-warm. "Not your fault. We were both there. Both wanted to break it." Her expression clouded momentarily. "Don't know why anymore. Silly us."

Despite her discomfort, Elphaba found herself unable to withdraw her hand from Galinda's grip. Instead, a foreign sensation washed over her - a fierce, unexpected protectiveness that made her want to guard this vulnerable version of her roommate.

"We'll discuss it when you're thinking clearly," Elphaba said, her voice gentler than intended. "For now, just focus on recovering."

"Stay?" Galinda's fingers tightened around hers, her gaze suddenly clear and intent. "Please, Elphie?"

Any refusal Elphaba might have offered dissolved at the naked plea in those brown eyes. "Alright," she conceded softly. "I'll stay."

Hours later, Elphaba jerked awake in the uncomfortable infirmary chair, momentarily disoriented. The room was dimly lit, night having fallen while she dozed. Her hand was still entwined with Galinda's, fingers numb from the prolonged contact, yet she found herself reluctant to let go.

A nurse had left a blanket draped across her shoulders sometime during her vigil, a small kindness that felt undeserved given that she was the reason they were here.

She studied Galinda's sleeping face, peaceful now, the earlier distress smoothed away. In this unguarded moment, without the performance of perfection Galinda constantly maintained, something shifted in Elphaba's perception. She'd always seen her roommate as a collection of annoying contradictions - vapid yet clever, selfish yet occasionally kind, frivolous yet surprisingly determined. But perhaps these weren't contradictions at all, just facets of a person more complex than Elphaba had allowed herself to acknowledge.

Her mind drifted into the hazy territory between wakefulness and dreams, where defenses lowered and truths emerged unbidden. Images flashed behind her closed eyelids: Galinda's face the first day they'd met, curiosity quickly masked by disdain; the concentrated furrow of her brow when she studied late at night, thinking Elphaba wasn't watching; the sound of her laughter, genuine and unrestrained, when Elphaba caught her off guard.

The dream shifted, and suddenly they were dancing - Galinda's hand warm at her waist, their movements perfectly synchronized. Dream-Galinda leaned close to whisper something of profound importance, but before the words could form-

Elphaba jolted fully awake, heart pounding. Her hand had instinctively flown to her neck, fingers curled tight around the emerald pendant Galinda had given her weeks ago. She hadn’t even noticed it had slipped from its usual hiding place.

"Trouble sleeping?"

Elphaba nearly jumped out of her skin. A nurse she hadn't noticed stood beside a medicine cabinet, measuring something into a small cup.

"The staff tried to convince you to leave hours ago," the nurse continued, voice hushed. "But you refused to budge, even in your sleep. Said something about not being able to leave her alone." She shot Elphaba a curious glance. "Must be quite a friendship."

"We're roommates," Elphaba said automatically, then winced at how hollow the designation sounded.

The nurse merely smiled. "Of course. Well, 'roommate,' visiting hours start again at eight. Though in your case, since you never technically left..." She shrugged eloquently.

Elphaba nodded her thanks, then carefully extricated her hand from Galinda's, flexing her stiff fingers. She should leave, find her own bed, prepare for tomorrow's classes. Instead, she repositioned herself in the uncomfortable chair and resigned to a night of half-sleep, unwilling to examine too closely why the thought of Galinda waking alone seemed so unbearable.

"Well, well! So the stories are true - you really are the most delightfully verdant shade!"

The exclamation, delivered in a voice that managed to be both melodious and piercing, jolted Elphaba from uneasy slumber. She blinked gritty eyes, momentarily bewildered by the vision before her: a woman who appeared to be Galinda aged twenty-five years, with the same golden curls (though more elaborately styled), the same delicate features, and the same overwhelming presence that seemed to shrink the room around her.

Three enormous suitcases flanked her like obedient pets, and her traveling ensemble - a confection of baby blue and cream that must have cost more than Elphaba's entire wardrobe - somehow looked freshly pressed despite what must have been a lengthy journey.

"Mrs. Upland," Elphaba deduced, scrambling to her feet. Her body protested after a night in the chair, joints cracking audibly.

"Indeed! And you must be the infamous girl my daughter keeps writing me about!" Mrs. Upland's eyes - the exact shade as Galinda's - sparkled with undisguised interest as she swept forward to clasp Elphaba's hand between her own. "The brilliant Miss Elphaba Thropp, who has my darling Galinda absolutely beside herself with - well, let's call it 'admiration,' shall we?"

Elphaba extracted her hand, discomfited by the knowing gleam in the woman's gaze. "Galinda's condition is improving," she said stiffly. "The healers administered an antidote for the potion, but she'll need rest to fully recover."

Mrs. Upland waved this information away like an annoying insect. "Oh, I know all about it, dear. I spoke with Madame Seraphine before coming in." She leaned closer, her perfume - the same floral notes as Galinda's - enveloping Elphaba. "A Severance Solution? Rather drastic, don't you think?"

Before Elphaba could formulate a response, Mrs. Upland had already moved on, bustling to her daughter's bedside and adjusting the blankets with practiced efficiency.

"Momsie?" Galinda's voice was clearer than the night before, her eyes focusing with recognition.

"Hello, my precious petal," Mrs. Upland crooned, pressing a kiss to Galinda's forehead. "Your letters mentioned experiments with your green friend, but you neglected to mention they involved Class Three restricted potions!"

Galinda had the grace to look abashed. "We were being careful-"

"Clearly not careful enough," her mother interrupted, though her tone remained light. "But no matter. Accidents happen, especially with matters of the heart."

At this, both Galinda and Elphaba tensed, exchanging a swift, unreadable glance.

Mrs. Upland straightened, adjusting her immaculate coiffure. "Miss Elphaba, I wonder if you might join me for tea? The infirmary garden is quite pleasant in the morning light, and Galinda needs her breakfast and medication." Before either could object, she added, "Doctor's orders - fifteen minutes of calm before visitors. Isn't that right, nurse?"

The nurse, entering with a breakfast tray, nodded her agreement, clearly intimidated by Mrs. Upland's authoritative presence.

"But-" Galinda began.

"No arguments, sweetest. Miss Elphaba has been here all night, according to the staff. She could use some fresh air and refreshment." Mrs. Upland's tone left no room for debate. "We'll return before you've finished your porridge, I promise."

Elphaba found herself shepherded out of the room and through a side door into a small medicinal garden where, improbably, a table had already been set with a tea service. Mrs. Upland must have arranged it upon arrival - a testament to either her influence or her force of personality.

"Sit, dear," she commanded, pouring tea with practiced elegance. "You look absolutely exhausted. Black, I presume? You strike me as someone who takes life without sweetener."

Despite herself, Elphaba's lips twitched at the assessment. "Black is fine."

Mrs. Upland handed her a steaming cup, then leaned back in her chair, studying Elphaba with unnerving directness. "So. You've been trying to break my family's curse."

“Uh- yes,” Elphaba said cautiously. “No offense to you or your family, Mrs. Upland-”

“Larena is fine, dear.”

“Right…but there’s been a mistake. It isn’t fair to Galinda that the curse chose me to direct all this affection toward. She shouldn’t have to feel this way - especially not because of magic.”

"Mmm." Mrs. Upland sipped her own heavily sweetened tea. "Did she explain the full nature of the Upland Curse to you?"

"That physical contact activates an obsessive infatuation, yes."

"That's the simplified version," Mrs. Upland said, setting down her cup with a delicate clink. "The truth is considerably more nuanced. The Upland Curse doesn't create feelings from nothing, dear. It merely illuminates what lies beneath the surface - like rain revealing footprints in dry sand."

Elphaba frowned, not knowing what to say.

"My daughter," Mrs. Upland said fondly, "has always preferred to smooth pass complex matters. Especially when the truth might require uncomfortable self-reflection." She selected a small cake from the tray. "The curse manifests differently for each Upland, both in intensity and expression."

"How was it for you?" Elphaba couldn't help asking.

Mrs. Upland smiled enigmatically. "I painted three hundred and sixty-five portraits of my husband before we married. One for each day of courtship." Her gaze softened. "I still paint him, you know. Thirty years later."

Elphaba couldn’t help but think about the giant portrait in the wall above Galinda’s bed. 

The older woman leaned forward, her expression growing serious. "The point, Miss Elphaba, is that the intensity of the curse's manifestation corresponds directly to pre-existing emotional foundations. The stronger the latent feeling, the more powerful the curse's expression."

The implication hung in the air between them, unavoidable.

"That's preposterous," Elphaba said flatly. "We barely tolerated each other before…all of this."

Mrs. Upland's smile was gentle but knowing. "Is that so? Then tell me, dear - why are you still here?"

The question landed like a precise dart, finding vulnerabilities Elphaba hadn't realized were exposed. She opened her mouth to rebut, to explain this was merely an act of guilt or responsibility, but the words died before they could form.

Instead, unbidden memories surfaced: the first day of term, spotting Galinda across the crowded hall and experiencing an inexplicable jolt of awareness; the mixture of irritation and fascination she'd felt watching Galinda charm everyone around her; the way she'd found herself paying attention to Galinda's habits and preferences long before any "curse" entered their lives.

"I..." she began, then faltered.

Mrs. Upland reached across the table to pat her hand, a gesture Elphaba was too stunned to evade. "Curses are funny things," she said gently. "Sometimes their greatest magic is forcing us to confront truths we've been avoiding."

Elphaba withdrew her hand, unsettled by both the touch and the conversation. "I should check on Galinda," she said, rising abruptly.

"Of course," Mrs. Upland agreed, serene in her victory. "Do tell her I'll be along shortly. And Miss Elphaba?" Her eyes crinkled with genuine warmth. "Whatever you decide about the curse... remember that clarity can be its own kind of magic."

Returning to the infirmary room, Elphaba found Galinda sitting up in bed, her color much improved. The breakfast tray lay mostly untouched beside her.

"Elphie!" Relief colored her voice. "I thought Momsie might have scared you into permanent exile."

"It would take more than an overly perceptive maternal figure to drive me away," Elphaba replied, settling into her chair. "Though she certainly tries one's patience with her presumptions."

Galinda grinned weakly. "That's Momsie. Always thinking she knows everything." Her gaze dropped to Elphaba's neck, where the emerald pendant rested openly against her collarbone. "You're wearing it."

Elphaba's hand rose automatically to touch the smooth stone. "I always do."

"You usually hide it under your shirt," Galinda observed, a question in her tone.

Rather than answer, Elphaba simply adjusted the pendant so it sat more prominently against the dark fabric of her dress. The small gesture felt more significant than any verbal response could be.

The journey back to their dormitory was a study in contrasts - Elphaba's rigid posture betraying her concern, while Galinda affected a breezy nonchalance that fooled absolutely no one, least of all her watchful roommate. Every few steps, Elphaba's emerald hand would hover near Galinda's elbow, not quite touching but ready to steady her at the first hint of wobbliness.

"Elphie," Galinda sighed after the third time this happened, "I'm recovering from a magical mishap and a minor concussion, not transforming into a porcelain figurine."

"The healer specifically said to watch for dizziness," Elphaba countered, her voice clipped with what anyone else might mistake for irritation rather than worry. "Your equilibrium could still be compromised."

"My equilibrium has been compromised since the day we became roommates," Galinda muttered, then immediately blushed at the unintended double meaning.

Behind them, Mrs. Upland - laden with no fewer than four shopping bags acquired during her two-day stay - suppressed a delighted smile.

When Elphaba unlocked their dormitory door and ushered Galinda inside, the blonde stopped short, her perfectly shaped mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise. The normally divided room - one half meticulously ordered scholarship-student austerity, the other an explosion of frills and fashion - had undergone a subtle transformation. Fresh poppies (not the standard florist arrangement but hand-picked specimens that suggested Elphaba had actually ventured into nature) brightened the windowsill. Galinda's already plush bed had been turned into what could only be described as a recovery nest, complete with extra pillows, her favorite pink throw, and - most surprisingly - her collection of magazines arranged on the nightstand in order of preference.

"Who," Galinda asked slowly, turning to fix wide brown eyes on her roommate, "are you, and what have you done with my prickly, disdainful Elphie?"

Elphaba's verdant complexion darkened slightly. "I merely applied basic principles of convalescent care," she said stiffly. "Nothing sentimental about it."

"Sure," Mrs. Upland agreed, sailing past them to deposit her bags by Galinda's wardrobe. "Just as your great-aunt Cordelia's twelve symphonies for the blacksmith were merely an exploration of musical theory." She winked at Elphaba, whose blush deepened to forest green.

"Momsie," Galinda protested weakly, but allowed herself to be guided to her newly plumped bed.

"Now," Mrs. Upland continued briskly, "I've brought restorative chocolates from Gillikin, fresh nightwear since you've outgrown those childish things you insist on keeping, and-" she produced a small crystal bottle with a flourish, "-the Upland family headache tonic. Three drops in morning tea, not a speck more.”

Larena turned to Elphaba, who hovered uncertainly by the door. "Miss Elphaba, would you be a dear and fetch us all some tea?"

It was so clearly a transparent ploy to speak with Galinda alone that Elphaba nearly refused on principle. But something in Galinda’s mom expression - a gentle understanding rather than manipulation - made her reconsider.

"Fine," she conceded. "I’ll be back shortly."

"Of course you will."

The door had barely closed behind Elphaba's retreating form when Mrs. Upland turned to her daughter, eyes glittering with suppressed delight.

"Well!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. "Isn't this a fascinating development?"

Galinda sank deeper into her pillows. "Momsie, please. I'm still recovering."

"From a botched attempt to sever a magical bond that apparently has you both so terrified you'd rather poison yourselves than acknowledge it." Mrs. Upland perched on the edge of the bed, smoothing her immaculate skirts. "Darling, even without the Upland sensitivity to such matters, any fool could see what's happening here."

"And what, exactly, is that?" Galinda challenged, though her defiance was undermined by the way her fingers nervously pleated the bedspread.

Mrs. Upland's expression softened. "Recognition," she said simply. "The rarest and most precious magic there is."

Before Galinda could formulate a suitably dismissive response, the door swung open and Elphaba returned, balancing a tea tray with surprising grace.

"That was quick," Galinda observed.

"The kitchen staff were... accommodating," Elphaba replied evasively, which both Upland women correctly interpreted to mean she had intimidated them into immediate service.

"How solicitous of them," Mrs. Upland beamed, accepting a cup. "And you've remembered exactly how Galinda takes her tea. Three sugars and just a whisper of milk."

Elphaba froze fractionally before passing Galinda her cup. "It's difficult to miss when she announces her preferences loudly enough for the next building to hear."

"Rude," Galinda sniffed, but her eyes sparkled over the rim of her teacup.

Mrs. Upland observed this exchange with the satisfied air of a naturalist documenting precisely the behavior she had predicted. "Miss Elphaba, that pendant truly looks striking on you. Galinda has always had an excellent eye for what suits people."

Both girls suddenly found their teacups absolutely fascinating.

"Yes…," Elphaba finally managed, one hand rising unconsciously to touch the smooth stone, "She truly does."

By mid-afternoon, the novelty of Elphaba's attentiveness had transformed from shocking to sweetly amusing in Galinda's estimation. Every time she so much as shifted position, her roommate appeared at her side with alarming speed, offering water, another pillow, or to adjust the curtains for optimal reading light.

"If I didn’t know any better," Galinda said, watching Elphaba rearrange her pillows for the fourth time in an hour, "I’d swear you’re the cursed one between us, Elphie."

Elphaba straightened, hands on hips in a posture of affronted dignity that was somewhat undermined by the telltale darkening at the tips of her ears. "Don't be absurd. I'm simply following Madame Seraphine’s instructions for post-concussive care."

"Did her instruction manual specify tucking my blanket at precisely seventy-six-degree angles?" Galinda teased, enjoying the way Elphaba's composure fractured just slightly.

"I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about," Elphaba sniffed, but her hands betrayed her by reaching out to adjust the corner of Galinda's blanket one more time.

"And I’m certainly not complaining, dearest." Galinda murmured.

Larena, who had been pretending to read a fashion periodical, chose this moment to casually reminisce.

"You know, this reminds me of how your father behaved after our first official outing," she said, turning a page with deliberate nonchalance. "He sent his manservant to inquire about my comfort every thirty minutes for three days. By the end, the poor man refused to make the journey again unless explicitly threatened."

"Momsie," Galinda groaned, "nobody wants to hear ancient romantic history."

“Well, then let me think of a more recent tale,” Mrs. Upland's eyes twinkled. "Miss Elphaba, did Galinda ever tell you about the time she was five and decided her favorite doll needed to be green like the spring grass?"

"She most certainly did not," Elphaba replied, leaning forward with unexpected eagerness.

"Oh sweet Oz," Galinda muttered, pulling a pillow over her face. "This is worse than the concussion."

"She used her father's finest emerald ink," Mrs. Upland continued gleefully. "Ruined a three-hundred-year-old Gillikinese carpet in the process. But the doll - Miss Emeralda - went everywhere with her for two years. Wouldn't sleep without her."

Elphaba's gaze slid to Galinda, who had emerged from behind her pillow just enough to shoot her mother a betrayed glare. "How... ironic," she said, her voice with a playful tone.

"Ugh! I hate you both!” Galinda exclaimed.

A beat.

“I don’t actually hate you, dear Elphie - I couldn’t , not even if I tried! Pretending, even for a moment, was already horrendible!”

Larena laughed.

Late afternoon brought a parade of visitors that Galinda suspected had less to do with concern for her well-being and more to do with curiosity about the mysterious "accident" that had sent the university's social butterfly to the infirmary.

Pfannee and Shenshen arrived with a huge box of chocolate and thinly veiled questions about what exactly had happened, clearly disappointed when Galinda vaguely described a "study mishap" while Elphaba loomed nearby like an emerald gargoyle.

More surprising was Fiyero's arrival, bearing not only Galinda's missed class notes but a bundle of carefully annotated readings for their shared Ozian Literature class.

"These are..." Elphaba began, examining his notations.

"Coherent? Insightful? Not the work of a brainless prince?" Fiyero suggested with a self-deprecating smile.

"I was going to say surprisingly thorough,'" Elphaba replied, keeping the usual disdain in her voice.

Galinda watched the exchange with a strange swirl of emotions. Not long ago, even a moment like this between them might have driven her absolutely mad. And yes, traces of that unwanted jealous feeling still lingered, prickling at the edges. But now, her attention was drawn elsewhere - fixed on the quiet shift in Elphaba’s stance. She had placed herself just slightly between Galinda and Fiyero - not overtly possessive, but unmistakably there. A silent barrier. Not territorial, exactly... just present in a way that made Galinda’s heart skip a million beats.

"Very kind of you to deliver these personally," Mrs. Upland said to Fiyero, her practiced social smile revealing nothing of her thoughts. "Though I'm sure the girls have much to discuss regarding their... academic pursuits. Perhaps you could show me that fascinating sculpture garden you mentioned on your way in?"

Before either girl could react to this transparent maneuver, Larena had whisked a bemused Fiyero out the door, calling back, "Won't be a moment, dears!"

The silence that fell between them vibrated with unspoken awareness. Galinda absently traced the pattern on her bedspread, suddenly shy in the face of all they weren't saying.

"So," they both said simultaneously, then stopped, startled into nervous laughter.

"You first," Galinda said, looking up through her lashes in a gesture that was half habit, half genuine uncertainty.

Elphaba shifted awkwardly, her angular frame seeming too large for the delicate chair she occupied. "I was merely going to inquire about your comfort level. If you need anything."

"You don't have to take care of me, you know," Galinda said softly. "The curse doesn't work in reverse."

Something flickered across Elphaba's face - vulnerability quickly masked by her usual sardonic expression. "Perhaps I want to."

As evening deepened into night, Mrs. Upland made a show of gathering her things, announcing her intention to return to her hotel room.

"You girls need rest without an old woman hovering about," she declared, ignoring Galinda's token protests. "I'll return in the morning before my train departs."

Elphaba rose to escort her to the door, an unexpected courtesy that made Mrs. Upland beam with approval. In the hallway, just beyond Galinda's hearing, the older woman paused, fixing Elphaba with a penetrating gaze.

"She's really fond of you, Miss Elphaba," she said quietly. "Curse or not."

Elphaba stiffened. "I- uh-"

Larena raised a hand, cutting off whatever excuse the green girl was fumbling to offer. “I know my daughter, dear. The letters about you did increase - exponentially, I might add - but I’d be lying if I said her... admiration didn’t begin long before that.”

She leveled Elphaba with a pointed look, one that clearly said: Don’t make me spell it out for you.

“Bu-”

“Have a great night working on your convalescent care, darling.”

Galinda blinked awake as the morning light filtered through the rose-tinted curtains. Momentarily disoriented by the lingering effects of magical disruption and deep sleep. 

As her vision cleared, she noticed a hunched figure in the chair beside her bed.

Elphaba was asleep, her normally severe posture collapsed into the awkward angles of unintended slumber. Books were scattered around her - not textbooks, Galinda realized, but older tomes with faded spines and cracked leather bindings. One lay open on Elphaba's lap, a page marked with a pressed poppy that matched those on the windowsill.

Something shifted in Galinda's chest - not the overwhelming compulsion she was getting used to by now, but a quieter, deeper recognition. Something that had grown gradually between the over the top compliments, the testing of boundaries and the slow dismantling of mutual misconceptions.

Elphaba stirred, the transition from sleep to wakefulness evident in the immediate tensing of her shoulders, the reflexive straightening of her spine. For a heartbeat, before her usual guardedness reasserted itself, her expression upon seeing Galinda was one of unfiltered relief and something that might, on anyone else, have been termed tenderness.

"You're awake," she said, her voice morning-rough.

"So are you, barely," Galinda replied, nodding at the books. "Late night research?"

Elphaba straightened, suddenly self-conscious. "I was... researching alternative approaches to our situation."

Before Galinda could inquire further, a cheerful knock heralded Mrs. Upland's arrival, bearing a basket of breakfast pastries and her inexhaustible energy.

"Good morning, my darlings! Last day of maternal interference, I promise. The train back to Gillikin waits for no one, not even an Upland ."

Breakfast passed in a whirl of Mrs. Upland's chatter, final medicinal instructions, and increasingly transparent hints about "keeping in touch" regarding "developments." 

By the time she announced her departure, both girls were flushed with equal parts embarrassment and reluctant affection.

"You girls clearly have matters well in hand now," Larena declared, kissing Galinda's cheek and, to Elphaba's evident shock, hers as well. Her gaze lingered meaningfully on the emerald pendant. "Remember, sometimes what we think needs fixing is actually perfectly right."

With a final wave and a cloud of perfume, she was gone, leaving behind a silence that felt both oppressive and full of possibility.

Galinda, feeling stronger than she had in days, moved to her vanity and began brushing her hair with methodical strokes, watching Elphaba's reflection in the mirror. The green girl was pacing, picking up books only to set them down again, clearly building toward something.

"Out with it, Elphie," Galinda finally said, setting down her brush. "You're practically vibrating with unspoken thoughts, and it's making my head ache again."

Elphaba stopped abruptly, hands clasped behind her back like a student called upon to recite. "I've been thinking about our approach to your... our... circumstance."

"The curse, you mean?" Galinda turned on her vanity stool to face her directly. "You can say it, dear. It won't summon additional magical mishaps."

"Yes. That." Elphaba drew a deep breath. "I think we should take an alternative approach.”

The air between them seemed to thicken with anticipation. "Which would be?" Galinda prompted softly.

Elphaba halted, visibly steeling herself before meeting Galinda's gaze directly. "Acceptance. Perhaps even... exploration."

The word hung between them, laden with implications neither had directly acknowledged until this moment.

"Exploration," Galinda repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elphaba took a step closer, then another, her movements uncharacteristically hesitant. "Would you... that is... might you consider... joining me for dinner? Not here. Somewhere. Elsewhere. Together."

The stilted invitation hung in the air like the final, trembling note of a violin solo. Galinda’s breath caught. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the emerald flush creeping up Elphaba’s neck, the way her glasses slid slightly askew as she swallowed - tiny imperfections that, to Galinda, only made her more exquisite .

With a gasp loud enough to startle the portrait on the wall, Galinda sprang from her vanity stool, sending a perfume bottle clattering to the floor. "Dinner? " she echoed, pressing a hand to her chest as if struck by divine revelation. "Elphaba Thropp, are you finally surrendering to my charms?!"

Elphaba opened her mouth to retort, but Galinda silenced her. "Wait - no, don’t answer! Let me savor this! The great Elphie, reduced to stammering over little old me? Oh, I must write a sonnet. No, an opera! The Verdant Maiden’s Midnight Proposal-"

"Galinda," Elphaba interjected, her voice strained between annoyance and fondness, "it’s just dinner."

"Just dinner?" Galinda clutched Elphaba’s shoulders, her eyes blazing with theatrical fervor. "This is no mere meal, darling - this is history! The moment the stars realigned! The day the perfect Elphaba Thropp admitted she’s madly, hopelessly smitten with-"

"I said none of that," Elphaba muttered, though her lips twitched dangerously.

Galinda leaned in until their noses nearly touched, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But you meant it. Admit it. This-" she gestured wildly between them, nearly smacking Elphaba’s ear, "-is your grand romantic gesture! A candlelit table! Wine as red as my aching heart ! Violins weeping in the background as you finally confess your undying-"

"Galinda. "

"Fine, fine!" She threw up her hands, then seized Elphaba’s before they could retreat. "Yes, you impossible, infuriating, magnificent creature - I’ll dine with you! I’ll dine with you on rooftops and in dungeons and atop volcanoes if you wish! But mark my words-" She brought Elphaba’s knuckles to her lips, her smile wicked and wondrous. "-this ‘dinner’ will go down in legend as the night you officially became mine."

Elphaba groaned, but her fingers tightened around Galinda’s. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re blushing," Galinda sang, twirling away with a laugh that echoed off the rafters. "Do try to find something beautiful to wear, dearest! And leave all the little details to me, wouldn't dream of you lifting a finger!"

(Mostly because if Elphaba did lift a finger, Galinda's meticulously color-coded first-date-plan from three weeks ago might spontaneously combust.)

Operation Woo Elphie: The Perfect First Date

Page 1 : Phase 1 -  Attire Warfare

- Objective: Ensure Elphie’s outfit says ‘mysterious scholar’ while subtly matching my gown’s undertones (see Appendix B for fabric swatches).

Page 9 : Phase 3 - The Fountain Gambit

- Arrival Protocol: I shall arrive precisely 7 minutes late - enough to suggest whimsy, not disrespect. 

- Note: Practice ‘windblown but gorgeous’ hair toss 20x.

Page 34 : Phase 10 - The Kiss Conundrum

- If she leans in first: Surrender gracefully. 

- If she hesitates: Deploy maneuver number 4 (see page 37). 

Page 55 : Words of affirmation

- This is THE night that will begin our forever. Our grandchildren will hear this story someday.

- It’s going to be great!

Across their shared dormitory, Elphaba stood before the modest mirror fastened to the closet door, her expression caught somewhere between skepticism and reluctant hope. The outfit she had finally chosen - the crisp white button-up under the black dress Galinda had so casually suggested (no less than three times that week) - draped over her green skin in a way that made her look quietly elegant.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered to her reflection, fiddling with the collar for the fifth time, doing her best to mask the nerves buzzing just beneath her skin.

Behind her, Galinda fluttered about her side of the room in a whirlwind of perfume mist and discarded accessories. Occasionally, Elphaba caught her roommate watching her in the mirror, quickly averting her gaze when discovered.

"Is this...acceptable?" Elphaba finally asked, turning away from her reflection with a stiff gesture toward her attire.

Galinda, still in her silk robe, paused her own preparations to consider Elphaba with a critical eye that didn't quite mask the appreciation beneath.

"Turn," she commanded, twirling her finger.

Elphaba complied with an exaggerated eye-roll that didn't quite conceal her nervousness.

"It’s perfect," Galinda announced, as though bestowing a royal decree. "Though perhaps we might..."

Before Elphaba could protest, Galinda's fingers were at her neckline, making a minor adjustment to how the fabric draped. The brief touch sent an unexpected warmth cascading through Elphaba's chest.

"There." Galinda stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "Now you look positively enchantical."

"I believe that would require actual enchantment," Elphaba replied dryly.

Galinda made a shooing motion with her hands. "Off you go, Elphie. I simply cannot have you seeing me before I'm ready. It's bad luck."

"That's weddings," Elphaba corrected, one eyebrow arched in amusement.

"It applies to momentous first dates as well," Galinda insisted. "I've decided.”

"You've decided," Elphaba echoed, the phrase carrying a gentle mockery that had somehow, over their months as roommates, become almost affectionate.

"Indeed I have. Now go! The fountain. Twenty minutes."

Elphaba allowed herself to be guided toward the door, pausing only to grab her worn satchel. "But I've forgotten my-"

Galinda tossed the coat at her, cutting her off, and slammed the door shut without hesitation.

The fountain at the center of Shiz University's courtyard cast delicate rainbows as evening light filtered through its spray. Elphaba arrived exactly on time.

She stood rigidly beside the fountain's edge, one hand gripping the trap of her bag with unnecessary force. Students passing by cast curious glances her way - the green girl dressed for an occasion, an unprecedented sight.

"Relax," she whispered to herself. "It’s only Galinda."

Seven minutes later - exactly as planned - said girl appeared at the edge of the courtyard, and Elphaba's inner meltdown disintegrated.

The blonde vision approaching was Galinda, certainly, but a version of her Elphaba had never seen. Her dress, a shade of pink (obviously) that caught the lamplights like a captured sky, moved with a liquid grace that suggested it had been made specifically for this moment. Her golden curls were partially swept up, with strategic tendrils framing her face in a way that appeared effortless but had actually required forty-two minutes of careful arrangement.

"You're late," Elphaba said when Galinda finally reached her, aiming for severity but landing somewhere closer to breathless. "For an event you orchestrated, no less."

"One simply cannot rush perfection, Elphie," Galinda said with a flourish of her wrist.

While her outward performance remained flawless, Galinda's internal monologue raced with considerably less confidence: Is the dress too much? Not enough? Her eyes went wide when she saw me - was that good surprise or horrified surprise? She hasn't mentioned my hair - does she hate it? Should I have gone with the silver pins instead of gold?

"Well," Elphaba said after a moment, "I suppose the result was… worth the wait."

The simple statement, delivered with uncharacteristic directness, sent a flush of pleasure through Galinda that far outweighed any compliment she'd received from her usual admirers.

"Shall we?" Galinda offered her arm with a theatrical formality that disguised how genuinely nervous she felt.

Elphaba hesitated only briefly before slipping her hand into the crook of Galinda's elbow. "Where exactly are we going?"

"First," Galinda announced, guiding them toward the university gates, "we dine like proper ladies. I've arranged everything."

"Of course you have," Elphaba murmured with a hint of fondness.

The Olive Bistro, with its warm glow emanating from arched windows, had already intimidated Elphaba from a distance. Up close, with its uniformed doorman and crystal-decked tables, it seemed to broadcast a clear message: You Don't Belong Here .

"Galinda," she whispered as they approached the entrance, "I'm not sure this is-"

"Reservation for Upland," Galinda announced to the maître d', her chin tilted at the precise angle her mother had taught her for addressing service staff - polite but undeniably expectant of deference.

"Ah, Miss Upland," the man replied with a slight bow. "Your table is ready. If you and your... companion will follow me."

The hesitation before "companion" was brief but unmistakable. Elphaba stiffened, preparing for the familiar feelings of disdain and discomfort that accompanied public outings.

But Galinda's arm tightened around hers. "My date," she corrected with a smile that somehow managed to be both dazzling and sharp-edged, "is Miss Thropp, heir to the governorship of Munchkinland. I trust that won't be a problem?"

The maître d's posture adjusted instantly. "Of course not, Miss Upland. Right this way, ladies."

As they followed him to a secluded corner table bathed in flattering candlelight, Elphaba leaned close enough that her breath tickled Galinda's ear. "That was unnecessary."

"It was entirely necessary," Galinda replied without looking at her, smile still fixed in place. "No one disrespects my Elphie."

My Elphie. The casual possessive sent an unexpected thrill through Elphaba's chest.

Once seated, an awkward silence descended between them - the strange territory between their established friendship and this new, uncharted landscape.

Galinda fidgeted with her napkin, suddenly unsure how to proceed. In her extensive planning, she'd somehow failed to account for this moment.

"So," Elphaba finally said after they'd ordered, "is this where I'm supposed to pretend I don't already know you snore, or that you keep chocolate bars hidden in your second dresser drawer?"

"I do not-" Galinda began indignantly, then caught Elphaba’s knowing look. She huffed. "Well, a lady requires emergency sustenance."

She chose to ignore the earlier accusation - it was, evidently, entirely untrue.

"Indeed," Elphaba agreed gravely, though her eyes danced with mischief. "And does a lady also require emergency reading material? Perhaps that novel tucked beneath your mattress with the scandalous cover?"

Galinda gasped, her cheeks flaming. "Elphaba Thropp! Have you been snooping through my things?"

"Merely observing," Elphaba replied with innocent precision. "I am, after all, a dedicated scholar."

“Well, if you must know,  that book is extremely educational for some… future plans I have for us.”

The deep blush that bloomed across Elphaba’s cheeks was enough to make her forget her own embarrassment - discussing such things on a first date was hardly proper, but seeing the green girl flustered felt like a triumph worth every bit of impropriety.

Disaster struck as they finished their main course. The waiter approached with an apologetic expression that immediately set Galinda's nerves on edge.

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss Upland, but I've just been informed by the kitchen that there was an unfortunate accident with the chocolate soufflé you requested. A replacement cannot be prepared in time for your dinner."

To most, this would be a minor disappointment. To Galinda - who had choreographed every moment of the evening with precision - it was catastrophic.

"I see," she said, her smile rigid. "How unfortunate."

"Perhaps the ladies would prefer the crème brûlée? Or our berry tart is quite exceptional this evening."

She glanced at Elphaba, who only shrugged, blissfully unaware of the culinary tragedy unfolding. "The tart will be fine," Galinda said automatically, her mind already racing with the implications of this deviation from her plan.

After the waiter departed, the blonde stared at her water glass, her fingers tracing its rim with uncharacteristic stillness.

"Is everything alright?" Elphaba asked, genuine concern replacing her usual guardedness.

"It's perfect," Galinda insisted, voice tight. "Absolutely perfect."

"Galinda," Elphaba said quietly, "it's just dessert."

"It's not just-" Galinda cut herself off. "I wanted everything to be perfect. For you."

Something in her tone made Elphaba reach across the table, her long green fingers tentatively covering Galinda's pale ones. "You know," she said, awkwardly but earnestly, "I don’t care about any of this."

Galinda looked up sharply, but Elphaba pressed on before her courage could falter.

"I care about you. That's... that's enough for me."

The simple honesty of it stole Galinda's breath. In all her planning, she'd neglected the most important element -  that Elphaba had chosen to be here, with her.

"Oh," she said softly.

Their fingers remained intertwined until dessert arrived.

"No, absolutely not," Elphaba insisted, reaching for the bill. "You arranged everything. The least I can do is-"

"Precisely dear," Galinda interjected, somehow already holding the bill folder despite Elphaba's best efforts, "I planned this, so it’s my responsibility."

"That's not how it-"

"My date, my rules," Galinda declared with finality, slipping her coins into the folder with practiced efficiency.

Elphaba's protest died on her lips, caught on one specific word: date. Of course that's what this was - they'd both acknowledged as much - but hearing it stated again so plainly sent a fresh wave of butterflies through her stomach.

"Fine," she conceded, "but I'm covering the next one."

Galinda's eyes widened slightly at the implication of future outings before her face blossomed into a smile of such genuine delight that Elphaba momentarily forgot how to breathe.

"I shall hold you to that promise," Galinda said, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks.

After settling the bill (with Galinda leaving an extravagant tip that made Elphaba's eyes widen), they departed the restaurant into the cool evening air.

"Shall we catch the ferry back to campus?" Elphaba asked, gesturing toward the dock where small boats ferried students and faculty across the narrow river separating Shiz University from the town.

"Yes, of course," Galinda agreed, but steered them toward a different dock than usual.

Elphaba's brow furrowed. "This isn't the right-"

"It most certainly is," Galinda interrupted with a mysterious smile.

"Have you decided to kidnap me?" Elphaba asked dryly. "Because I should warn you, I'm not a particularly valuable asset."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so certain about that, dearest," Galinda replied with a sidelong glance that sent unexpected warmth spiraling through Elphaba's chest.

They boarded a smaller, more elegantly appointed ferry than the student barges. The boatman nodded to Galinda, requiring no ticket or explanation.

With a graceful flourish, the blonde led Elphaba to a cushioned bench and settled beside her, maintaining a respectable yet undeniably close proximity.

The boat carried them not toward campus but to the opposite shore, where the impressive silhouette of Shiz's Grand Library and Ancient Archives loomed against the night sky. Unlike the university's main library, the Archives were typically accessible only to faculty and advanced scholars - certainly not to first-year students, and definitely not after hours.

Yet as they approached, Elphaba noticed a single lantern burning near the entrance, illuminating the figure of a woman in academic robes.

"Galinda," she whispered, genuine astonishment coloring her voice, "what have you done?"

"Created an opportunity," Galinda replied lightly, though Elphaba could detect the pleased undercurrent in her tone.

As they disembarked, the woman at the entrance - Chief Archivist Linden, Elphaba realized with shock - offered a polite bow.

"Miss Upland, Miss Thropp," she greeted them. "Everything has been arranged as requested."

"Thank you kindly," Galinda responded with practiced grace. "My popsicle sends his regards and appreciation for your accommodation."

"How did you-" Elphaba began once they were inside, surrounded by towering shelves of ancient tomes and illuminated manuscripts.

"Being an Upland has its privileges," Galinda said with practiced nonchalance, though she was internally rejoicifying at Elphaba's expression of wonder. "You'll discover many more of them in the future... soon future"

"You're getting rather ahead of yourself, Miss Galinda," Elphaba noted, though without any real objection.

"Am I?" Galinda countered softly. "I prefer to think of it as optimistic planning."

"You've been unusually quiet for ten consecutive minutes. Either this is dreadfully dull for you, or something's weighing on your mind."  Elphaba suddenly observed, her tone thoughtful.

In the hushed reverence of the Rare Manuscripts Room, bathed in the gentle glow of enchanted lamps, a subtle shift came over Galinda. A flicker of uncertainty, the first of the evening, softened her usual bright demeanor.

"Elphie," she began, her voice barely a whisper, “I-I need to ask… is this… are you here because you want to be, or because of… everything that happened? If it’s just obligation or pity-”

“I can assure you, Galinda,” Elphaba interrupted, her gaze fixed determinedly on an ancient map rather than meeting Galinda's eyes. “I don’t act out of obligation. Or pity.”

“Oh! Well. Good. Brilliant! Glad we’re on the same page!” The blonde’s laugh frayed at the edges.

“I believe we’re on page 23 of your bible,” Elphaba said, a sly crescent of a smile betraying her.

Galinda stiffened. “You read it?”

The green girl arched a brow. “Only the cover. But a binder that size must have at least twenty-three pages. Was I close, my sweet?”

Galinda’s pulse stuttered at the endearment - a first, fragile and deliberate - but she schooled her face to stillness, afraid to fracture the moment.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, letting her arm graze Elphaba’s. The contact lingered, a silent counterpoint to every unspoken thing.

The night air carried a gentle chill as they made their way back toward their dormitory, crossing the moonlit campus in companionable silence. 

Galinda gave a theatrical shiver, shoulders hunching delicately as she wrapped her arms around herself.

Elphaba watched this performance with barely concealed amusement before wordlessly removing her coat and draping it over Galinda's shoulders. "Subtle," she murmured.

"I have no idea what you mean," Galinda replied innocently, though she snuggled into the garment with obvious satisfaction.

In her mind, Galinda was conducting a complex analysis of their current circumstances: Is it too soon to take her hand? Should I wait for her to initiate? Perhaps if I casually let our fingers brush while walking...

Before she could implement any of her strategies, Elphaba - in a rare moment of initiative - simply reached over and took Galinda's hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. Though the night shadows largely concealed it, the deeper green flush spreading across her cheeks was unmistakable.

Galinda's careful plans dissolved in the warm reality of Elphaba's fingers intertwined with hers.

"Your hands are always so warm," she observed softly.

"Abnormal circulation," Elphaba replied automatically. "Probably related to the-"

"It's lovely," Galinda interrupted before Elphaba could retreat into self-deprecation. "Like holding captured sunshine."

Elphaba made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. "You and your poetics."

"I can’t help it. You inspire me, darling," Galinda replied simply.

They walked the remainder of the path in silence, hands still joined, each lost in private thoughts yet acutely aware of the other.

Standing before their dormitory door, Galinda found herself uncharacteristically tongue-tied. All her elaborate plans and rehearsed lines evaporated in the face of actual possibility.

Elphaba fumbled slightly with the key, her usual dexterity compromised by evident nervousness.

"Well," she said finally, once the door swung open to reveal their familiar shared room. "That was..."

"Not over yet," Galinda interjected, finding her voice. "You've forgotten something important."

Elphaba frowned slightly. "Have I?"

Sensing Elphaba's matching nervousness, Galinda fell back on her most reliable talent: making Elphie smile. With exaggerated formality, she took the green girl’s hand between both of hers.

"Miss Elphaba Thropp," she began in a tone of solemn ceremony, "I believe traditional courtship rituals require a ceremonial conclusion to our evening."

She pressed a deliberate kiss to Elphaba's knuckles, maintaining eye contact with a mixture of playfulness and genuine affection.

Elphaba's eyebrows rose, but she didn't pull away. "Is that so?"

"Indeed," Galinda confirmed, pressing another kiss to Elphaba's wrist, then slowly making her way up her forearm. "It's a very specific protocol."

By the time Galinda's lips reached her shoulder, Elphaba was caught between embarrassment and laughter, her usual composure thoroughly disrupted.

Galinda paused at Elphaba's cheek, their faces now inches apart. The playfulness in her expression softened into something more vulnerable, more questioning.

Their eyes met, a silent conversation passing between them. Elphaba gave an almost imperceptible nod.

The kiss was brief but perfect - a gentle press of lips that contained worlds of unspoken feelings, months of quiet (and loud) observations, and the promise of something neither had dared hope for.

Elphaba pulled back first, her expression a delightful mixture of wonder and shyness. "That's all you're getting tonight, Miss Upland," she said, her attempt at sternness undermined by the smile she couldn't quite suppress.

"I shall write five sonnets about it," Galinda declared, her heart too full for anything but joyful hyperbole.

Later, while the sound of the shower filled the dorm room, Galinda discreetly retrieved her binder. With a victorious grin, she scribbled a quick entry:

Page 37: Maneuver number 4

- Status: Complete success! (Further analysis required, but preliminary data suggests high levels of positive response!)

Chapter Text

Twenty-Five Years Later

The library of the Thropp-Upland manor was a sublime contradiction, much like its inhabitants. Ancient tomes on Ozian law stood in dignified rows alongside lavishly illustrated fashion portfolios. Serious academic journals shared shelf space with romance novels whose spines had been deliberately cracked at the most scandalocious passages. 

Light filtered through stained glass windows - a wedding gift from Larena and her husband, Highmuster - casting emerald and rose-gold patterns across the polished oak floor.

Elphaba hunched over her desk, quill scratching against parchment as she finalized the syllabus points for tomorrow's session on "The legal framework on equality between species." Her angular features softened in concentration, a rare moment when her perpetual vigilance relaxed into something approaching peace. 

Without breaking her focus, she raised a hand to shield her eyes from a particularly persistent sunbeam that had found its way across her meticulously organized work.

Naturally, this tranquility couldn’t last long:

SLAM!

Elphaba jolted so violently her inkwell nearly toppled, her quill leaving an unfortunate streak across her notes like a calligraphic scar.

"There!" proclaimed a triumphant voice.

Elphaba looked up to find Galinda - Still Galinda in private, though Oz had long known her as Glinda - standing by the now-closed window, her blonde curls (professionally rebooted every other Friday) somehow remaining perfect despite the dramatic gesture. 

"What in the-" Elphaba's spectacles slipped down her verdant nose as she fixed her wife with an exasperated stare. "Galinda, are you trying to kill me with fright? I nearly ruined three hours of work!"

"Never, my love," Galinda declared, sweeping across the room with theatrical indignation, her hand briefly pressing against her sternum as if steadying herself before continuing, "It was that dreadful sun! Attempting to blind you with its inconsiderate rays! I simply had to intervene!"

Her expression shifted to one of genuine concern as she noticed the ink streak marring Elphaba's careful handwriting. "Oh, darling, look what that wretched star made you do."

The green woman’s irritation melted - well used to her wife’s ways by now. With a gentle gaze and an outstretched hand, she beckoned the blonde closer, guiding her to sit on her lap.

"Thank you, my sweet," she said, her voice dropping to that tender register reserved only for moments like this.

Galinda’s eyes darkened with familiar intensity - a quiet blaze of unwavering devotion that never dimmed

"Oh, my emerald," she whispered, bringing Elphaba's fingers to her lips. "How long has it been since I properly kissed these lips? Since I worshipped you as you deserve?" Each word punctuated with a kiss traveling from knuckles toward wrist.

Elphaba attempted composure, though a telltale flush spread across her features. One corner of her mouth curled upward - the smile she'd never been able to suppress around Galinda. "Hours," she replied, voice betraying more affected emotion than she'd intended.

"Hours," Galinda agreed, continuing her methodical journey of kisses - wrist, forearm, elbow, shoulder - a pathway she'd traced thousands of times since their first date, having discovered early that Elphaba melted beneath this particular attention. "Far, far too long."

Their lips met in a kiss that hadn't lost its electricity after decades. Elphaba's other hand found its way to Galinda's waist, drawing her closer with the practiced ease of long partnership.

"Dear Oz," came a pained voice from the doorway. "I implore you, in the name of my sight, to cease this unbearable torment."

They separated with proficient abruptness - though their hands remained entwined. 

Liir stood with dramatic deliberation - a flair he’d clearly inherited from Galinda, though his expressed itself as carefully curated apathy. Dressed in a black sweater and sporting artfully tousled hair, he embodied the exact level of adolescent indifference he’d spent years perfecting.

Elphaba suddenly found the ceiling architecture fascinating, while Galinda beamed unapologetically.

"Liiry dear," Galinda sang, using the childhood nickname he pretended to despise, "do you need something? A snack? Advice on talking to that shy Munchkin girl who keeps visiting your garden?"

Liir's carefully constructed mask of boredom cracked momentarily with horror before he reassembled it. "Just came to inform you that your daughter," he emphasized the pronoun pointedly, "has decided to give Brrr a mohawk... again." He sighed with the weight of someone carrying the burdens of the world. "Despite his generally annoying nature, I don't think he should suffer Olyvia's questionable aesthetic choices."

"Oh!" Galinda clapped her hands together. "That reminds me! Go find them - Are they in the living room? Don’t let anyone leave." Her eyes sparkled with a particular gleam. "I have an announcement to make!"

Elphaba's eyebrow arched, her curiosity piqued. She studied her wife's face with the careful attention of someone who had spent years cataloging every micro-expression. "You do?" she asked, her voice still a little breathless, carrying a mixture of lingering desire and newfound concern. 

Galinda merely winked, pressing a quick kiss against Elphaba's lips - much to her son’s dismay. "Family meeting in ten minutes, dearest. Don't be late." She swished toward the door, pausing only to straighten Liir's perpetually askew collar before disappearing down the hallway in a cloud of perfume and purpose.

Liir and Elphaba exchanged a glance - mother and son momentarily united in their shared apprehension of what Galinda's "announcements" typically entailed.

"Last time it was redecorating the west wing with living butterflies," the boy reminded her, his voice flat.

"And the time before that, she enrolled us all in ballroom dancing," Elphaba replied, gathering her papers with a resigned sigh. The ink stain was already dry. 

She rose from her desk, stretching slightly. "Twenty-five years and she can still sur-"

"Spare me, please." 

Olyvia sat cross-legged on a plush sofa, her back ramrod straight despite the casual pose. Her curly blonde hair shimmered in the light, and her skin - paler than her older brother’s - seemed almost luminous against the jewel-toned cushions. Between her knees, a small Lion cub squirmed in silent protest as she attempted to sculpt his little mane into a perfectly vertical ridge.

"What is this about?" she sighed, glancing impatiently at the ornate grandfather clock that stood above the fireplace. "I'm on a tight schedule. The Winkie Boys tickets go on sale at noon, and if I don't get front row, my social life is essentially over." Her hand fluttered dramatically to her heart.

Leaning against a bookshelf with practiced nonchalance, Liir covered his mouth, but not quickly enough to completely mask his snort.

Olyvia's eyes - green like Elphaba's - narrowed dangerously. "What?" she snapped, jabbing her styling brush in his direction. "I know the concept of anything merely social is foreign to someone whose best friends are potted plants, but-."

"Okay!" came Galinda's voice, sweeping into the room with the natural timing of someone who was accustomed to perfecting the art of dramatic entrance. “No need to worry, dear, I won’t keep you long - Also,” With the ease of a diplomat diffusing international tensions, she extracted Brrr from her middle child's lap, holding him briefly against her chest. She made a face after feeling what she hoped was hair gel in his mane, "-we'll take care of this shortly, sweetheart." She planted a kiss on his temple before setting him down on the cushion between the siblings, a tactical buffer zone.

Brrr responded with a little grunt of relief, his hazel eyes watching Galinda with unconcealed adoration. The small blue scarf around his neck was his limit when it came to adornment, a fact Galinda continuously sought to amend.

The young Lion had come to them just four months ago, rescued from an illegal Animal trading ring that Elphaba had helped expose. His early isolation had left him unable to speak - or unwilling, the family wasn't sure which. Every morning, Elphaba would sit with him in their garden, pointing to objects and repeating their names with a patience that contradicted her reputation for sharpness. Just last month, he'd murmured his first word (a syllable, really) - "Ma" - causing the green woman to turn away abruptly, claiming something had gotten in her eye while Galinda openly wept.

"Where's Mom?" Olyvia asked.

The question hung unanswered as Elphaba swept into the room - the last to arrive. She wore what Galinda liked to call her “Scholar look” - a white button-up tucked into a long black skirt, topped with some kind of sweater that always looked half-forgotten and entirely deliberate. 

The three children turned to her with identical expressions of bewildered inquiry - eyebrows slightly raised, heads tilted at precisely the same angle, a rare scene of familial resemblance transcending their physical differences. The silent question hung between them: What's happening?

Elphaba caught their collective gaze and, while Galinda's back was momentarily turned, offered a barely perceptible shrug - a gesture so subtle it might have been missed by anyone who hadn't spent years decoding her minimalist communication style. The slight movement of her shoulders conveyed volumes: I know as little as you do.

She settled into the high-backed armchair positioned strategically near the fireplace - her designated spot for as long as she can remember. 

“Wonderful! Now that everyone’s here, we can officially begin!” Galinda announced, inching ever-so-casually closer to her wife.

The pitch of her voice alone was enough to set Elphaba on high alert - this specific octave of cheerfulness had, historically, heralded events that would upend their carefully calibrated existence.

The blonde continued. "Surely, it hasn't escaped your notice that I am a very celebrated designer! My name a byword for innovation, for style itself!" Her hand swept dramatically as she continued, "And my creation, my sanctuary of chic – Emerald & Orchid by Glinda – is not merely a success! It is a phenomenon ! A beacon of unparalleled taste!" Each word seemed choreographed, her gestures growing more elaborate with each accomplishment listed.

An array of perplexed expressions formed before her - Elphaba's eyebrow inching higher with each passing second, Olyvia's head tilting like a confused bird, Liir's eyes narrowing in skepticism, and Brrr's wide-eyed stare that suggested he understood more than he could express.

Liir broke the awkward silence, his voice dry. "Is there an award season for clothes? Do we have to start a campaign or something?"

"Oh no, honey, that wouldn't be necessary..." Galinda dismissed with an elegant wave of her hand, rings catching the light like tiny constellations. "The competition isn't exactly… fierce."  

Olyvia leaned forward, studying her mother's face with confusion in her eyes. "So... you're amazing. We know that already, Momsie… do you need some kind of validation? Did somebody say something? Was it that horrid Shenshen woman at the Spring ball? Because I heard she's been wearing last season's hats and-"

"Oh no no, nothing drastic like that..." Galinda interrupted with another wave that seemed designed to disperse unwanted questions like bothersome flies. Her smile brightened to its most dazzling wattage. "I'm retiring!"

The announcement landed in the room like a spell gone wrong - stunning everyone into perfect stillness. Even Brrr looked shocked, his tiny mouth forming a perfect 'O' of surprise.

Olyvia recovered first, horror washing over her features. "Are you really that old? You look fantastical for your age, Momsie!"

Galinda's face shifted from excitement to indignation with the seamless transition of a professional performer. Her eyes darted to Elphaba, conveying an entire conversation in a single glance - a silent plea for intervention that spoken words couldn't capture.

"Oly." Elphaba's voice carried the warning that only a mother can convey in a single word, each syllable weighted with years of authority.

Galinda smoothly redirected, her hands settling into a practiced gesture of reassurance. "No, this has nothing to do with age, it's simply a new chapter in my life." Her fingers began fidgeting with the necklace at her throat - a nervous tell that Elphaba immediately catalogued.

"But what about your shop? You love that place." Liir's voice carried an unexpected earnestness, his cultivated disinterest momentarily forgotten. 

Something flickered across Galinda's face as she replied: "That is a conversation for adults - young adults," She gave a pointed look at her daughter before continuing. "You don't need to concern your pretty little heads about it, okay? I just wanted to let you all know." 

Before anyone could probe further, Galinda clapped her hands twice. "Great! This has been amazifying. Now you're all free for your Sunday commitments."

She swept Brrr up with practiced ease, cradling him against her silk-covered shoulder. "And you will come with me. Your shower awaits, baby." The cub made a tiny noise of protest, his eyes finding Elphaba's in a silent plea for rescue.

But Galinda was already halfway to the door, her exit as precisely executed as her entrance had been.

The moment the echo of Galinda's footsteps faded, Liir and Olyvia pivoted toward their remaining mother with synchronized alarm.

"Mom," Olyvia whisper-yelled, leaning forward with such urgency that she nearly toppled from the sofa. "We can't let this happen! Can you imagine Momsie not working?! She will drive everybody completely mad!" 

Elphaba found herself struggling to process what just happened, the surprise evident in her usually composed features. Her wife had never not worked. This was completely unexpected, emerging seemingly from nowhere.

She mentally reviewed their recent conversations, searching for clues she might have missed - late night whispers, casual remarks over breakfast, talks during their nightly ritual of tea by the fire. Nothing offered insight into this sudden decision.

"I hate to agree with her," Liir gestured toward Olyvia with affected disinterest that didn't quite mask his concern, "but it's true, Mom. What in Oz is she thinking? She loves her clothes more than-" He caught himself. "Well, almost more than anything."

Elphaba pressed her fingertips to her temples, gathering her thoughts. "I'm just as surprised as you both. I had no idea she was planning this. But-" 

"You need to talk to her!" Olyvia interrupted, desperation making her voice climb. "She listens to everything you say!."

The statement hung in the air, revealing volumes about how the children perceived their parents' dynamic - a perception that made Elphaba amused and a little bit uncomfortable.

"That's not true," she protested, but without conviction. 

Both teens gave her identical disbelieving looks.

Okay, maybe she listens eighty percent of the time... ninety, tops. But not everything. The thought betrayed her, carrying the realization that her influence over Galinda might be more significant than she'd admitted to herself. It was an unsettling truth.

"I'll talk to her," she conceded, rising from her chair with the air of someone preparing for a delicate negotiation. Her posture shifted subtly from relaxed to resolute, spine straightening as though physically preparing for an emotional challenge.

Olyvia started eagerly: "Tell her-"

Elphaba cut her off with a raised hand, the gesture carrying the quiet authority that had subdued classrooms of rambunctious students. "I won't tell her to do anything. We'll talk." The emphasis made it clear this was a partnership, not a hierarchy. "I'll see you both later."

After the green woman left, Liir and Olyvia exchanged a knowing look - the kind of silent communication that only siblings who have weathered family storms together can manage.

Olyvia broke the silence first, a half-smile tugging at her lips. "Ten coins says Mom has her back at work by Tuesday."

Liir scoffed. "Monday. You underestimate the power of Mom's disapproving eyebrow."

Elphaba found herself lingering outside Brrr's bedroom door, fingertips suspended against the carved wood as she rehearsed a dozen different openings in her mind. 

How curious, she thought, that one could share a bed, a home, a life with someone and still find moments when speaking felt difficult - when every word had to be chosen with care.

The irony wasn't lost on her; she, who had faced every injustice that life had to offer  head-on, momentarily undone by the prospect of questioning her wife's sudden decision.

When she finally pushed the door open, the scene that greeted her was a masterpiece of domesticity: Brrr's chamber, transformed months ago from a forgotten guest room into what could only be described as a Lion cub heaven.

The space defied the manor's otherwise dignified aesthetic. Where most rooms featured tasteful antiques and academic collections, this one boasted climbing structures fashioned from polished driftwood that extended from floor to ceiling like abstract sculptures. Plush sleeping nests in various sizes dotted the room - a silent acknowledgment that their youngest would grow quickly. A collection of sensory toys filled custom shelves, each one selected after Elphaba had spent nights researching Animal development; each one approved only after Galinda had verified it wouldn't clash with the room's carefully curated color palette.

The suite's attached washroom door stood ajar, steam curling into the bedroom, carrying the scent of the lavender-chamomile bath oils Galinda insisted were "essential for a cub's proper development" - a claim substantiated by absolutely no literature Elphaba could find, yet one she hadn't bothered to dispute.

Galinda emerged from the mist, Brrr bundled in a forest-green towel embroidered with his initials. She was somehow immaculate despite the dampness in the air, her silk dress untouched by water droplets, her hair defying humidity's laws. Only the slightly rolled sleeves betrayed her recent activities.

"There we are," she cooed to the cub, who looked simultaneously resigned and content, "all clean and civilized again. Now, let's find something truly magnificent for you to wear." She set him down on the cushioned changing table and headed toward the walk-in close.

"Hey, sweet," Elphaba announced, stepping fully into the room.

Galinda turned, her face illuminating with that particular smile - the one that made Elphaba wonder, not for the first time, if perhaps there was some truth to the rumors that the Uplands had fairy blood somewhere in their ancestry. No normal person should be capable of looking so radiant while merely selecting cub attire.

"Elphie!" The nickname, once tolerated by the green woman, now carried decades of tenderness. "Perfect timing. We need an impartial judge for today's fashion deliberations."

Elphaba approached the changing table, her hand coming to rest on Brrr's still-damp head. "Hello, little one. You're looking considerably better without all that... stuff atop your head." She rubbed between his ears with gentle affection, earning a rumbling purr that vibrated against her palm.

"I don't know how many times I must reiterate to Olyvia that he is not her living mannequin," Galinda sighed, her hands fluttering through precisely organized drawers of cub-sized garments. "The child has my eye for aesthetics but none of my restraint."

Elphaba chose not to comment on her wife’s supposed restraint . "It's her peculiar way of showing affection," she observed, leaning against the changing table with practiced ease. "Better than the alternative. Remember how concerned we were about introducing him to them?"

The memory hung between them - those late-night whispered conversations, Galinda curled against Elphaba's side, voicing fears about disrupting their children's lives. They'd prepared elaborate speeches, ordered books on sibling adaptation, even consulted a child psychologist from the university.

"All that worrying for nothing," Galinda mused, holding up a miniature vest against Brrr's chest, which he promptly batted away with a tiny paw. "Olyvia claimed him instantly as her 'real-life accessory' - a term we really must discourage - and Liir..."

"Liir pretends not to care while spending hours in the garden with Brrr trailing after him," Elphaba finished, a rare smile softening her features. "I caught him yesterday trying to explain the difference between healing herbs and decorative ones. Brrr was more interested in pouncing on butterflies, but still."

"The boy has your patience… and your aversion to affection," Galinda said, presenting another outfit option to Brrr, who responded with a dismissive head shake. "That would have been truly dreadful - if they hadn’t gotten along."

Elphaba watched the selection process with growing amusement, the familiar choreography of Galinda's enthusiasm colliding with Brrr's stubborn preferences. "You should consider surrender as a strategic option, love."

Love . The endearment still sent a visible shiver across Galinda's shoulders – a reaction Elphaba noted with quiet satisfaction. The term had emerged years ago in their most intimate moments, when Elphaba's carefully constructed walls had crumbled completely. Galinda had seized upon it immediately, extracting a breathless promise that Elphaba would use it again, and again, and again. Even now, the word carried echoes of whispered pleas and tangled sheets, a private code between them.

"Surrender?" Galinda gasped with indignation. "What would people think if our son wore the same article daily? That we're neglectful parents? That we lack the resources to provide variety? Or worse-" her voice dropped to a scandalized whisper, "-that I, Galinda Thropp-Upland, have lost my impeccable taste?"

Elphaba exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Brrr. "I believe this is what people call an unwinnable scenario," she deadpanned.

With an exaggerated sigh of capitulation, Galinda extracted one of at least a dozen identical blue scarves from a dedicated drawer. "This temporary setback does not constitute defeat," she informed Brrr solemnly while tying the fabric with expert fingers. "We shall revisit the waistcoat proposition next week."

A comfortable silence settled between them as Galinda fastened the scarf into a perfect knot. Brrr's eyes began to droop, the bath having worked its soporific magic. Once finished, Galinda lifted him into the plushest of the sleeping nests, where he curled immediately into a tight ball of contentment.

When she turned back to face Elphaba, her expression had shifted – the playful mask receding to reveal something more vulnerable.

"I know you didn't postpone the journey to your precious library to discuss Brrr's obstinate fashion preferences, Elphie," she said softly. "So, out with it. The children sent you, didn't they?"

Elphaba straightened, momentarily thrown by the direct approach. She'd expected more elaborate social maneuvering before reaching the heart of the matter. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"About what, specifically?" Galinda's fingers busied themselves unnecessarily adjusting Brrr's already-perfect bedding.

"Don't play obtuse, Galinda," Elphaba replied, her voice gentle despite the admonishment. "It doesn't complement your considerable intellect."

Galinda's shoulders deflated slightly. "I simply didn't feel it warranted preliminary discussion. You're already carrying the weight of an entire department on those lovely green shoulders. Why burden you with trivial personal decisions?"

"Trivial?" Elphaba moved closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of roses that perpetually clung to Galinda's skin. "It's your life's work, Galinda. There's nothing trivial about that."

"There's no cause for concern," Galinda insisted, her voice taking on the artificial brightness that Elphaba had learned to recognize as emotional deflection. "It's simply... time, isn't it? I've already etched my name into the fashion firmament. What else could one possibly aspire to after that?"

Elphaba studied her wife's face with meticulous attention - searching for hidden meanings between carefully arranged words. Twenty-five years had taught her to read Galinda's expressions with scholarly precision: the slight tension at the corners of her mouth, the almost imperceptible crease between perfectly shaped eyebrows, the way her fingers twisted together before deliberately separating.

Something unspoken lurked beneath the polished explanation, and the realization that Galinda was keeping secrets - however benign - created a hollow sensation in Elphaba's chest.

Whatever crossed her face must have shown her thoughts, because suddenly Galinda's expression crumpled into distress.

"Are you mad at me?" The words tumbled forth in an uncharacteristic rush. "Because if this causes you even a moment's displeasure, I'll retract everything immediately. I'll continue working until they carry my elegantly clad corpse from the atelier floor. I simply cannot bear the thought of being responsible for any diminishment of your happiness." She exhaled, reaching for Elphaba's hands.

"No, no, no, sweet," Elphaba quickly reassured, catching those trembling fingers between her own. "I'm merely... surprised. This materialized without warning. I don't want you making impulsive decisions you might later lament."

Galinda's eyes - those brown eyes that had once made Elphaba forget complex spell incantations mid-recitation - softened. "I won't regret it. I find myself increasingly... attached to home these days. The shop feels further away somehow." She paused, a flicker of something crossing her features before her smile reasserted itself. "Must be getting sentimental in my advancing years."

Elphaba hesitated, then suggested. "What about a test run?"

"You know perfectly well I don't participate in physical exertion… unless it involves you," Galinda replied slyly.

A laugh escaped Elphaba before she could contain it. "A month," she proposed, thumb tracing unconscious patterns across Galinda's knuckles. "Consider it an experimental sabbatical. A simulation to determine if retirement suits you as magnificently as you expect."

Galinda made a performance of contemplation, her head tilting at the precise angle calculated to display her profile to best advantage – a habit so ingrained Elphaba doubted she was even aware of doing it.

"You consistently produce the most brilliant ideas, darling," she finally pronounced, leaning forward with clear intention. "It's among your most attractive qualities, along with your cheekbones and that thing you do with your-"

Elphaba gently held her at bay with a hand on her shoulder. "You truly want this? You're not merely acquiescing because I suggested it?"

"Well," Galinda replied with exaggerated thoughtfulness, "I do find everything you say inherently magnificent, so that undoubtedly factors into my decision-making process-"

Elphaba began to protest, but Galinda continued:

"But yes, it would be the more sensible approach to an admittedly significant transition." Her eyes darkened with familiar intensity, the curse flaring visibly in her gaze. "Now kiss me already, you impossible woman."

Their lips met in a kiss that carried the weight of shared history. Elphaba drew the blonde closer, while Galinda's fingers tangled in raven hair as they had countless times before.

From his nest, Brrr emitted a disapproving grunt - the cub's typical response to his mothers' frequent displays of affection.

They separated with reluctant smiles, the conversation concluded but not completed.

Elphaba knew better than to push further. Some secrets revealed themselves only when ready.

For now, it was enough to hold Galinda, to breathe in the familiar scent of her, to savor this quiet moment before whatever change approached their carefully constructed life together.

Elphaba pressed her forehead against Galinda's, green against fair, and whispered, "A month, then we reassess. Deal?"

Galinda's answering smile contained multitudes - affection and mischief and something deeper that Elphaba couldn't quite name.

"Deal," she agreed, sealing the bargain with another kiss.

With no more questionable substances to worry about in her son’s mane and her concerned wife temporarily pacified, Galinda finally found herself alone in her room.

The carefully crafted façade she'd worn all day crumbled like a sandcastle at high tide. She pressed her back against the ornately carved door and slid down to the floor, collapsing in an uncharacteristically graceless heap. 

"Sweet Oz," she whispered to no one, hand flying to her sternum where a peculiar ache had taken residence. It wasn't pain, precisely - more like yearning transformed into physical sensation.

More than two decades of managing the Upland Curse had taught her its rhythms, its ebbs and flows. Galinda had become a virtuoso at orchestrating her life around its peculiar demands. But this - this was something entirely new. Something urgent and insistent.

She pushed herself upright and began pacing in tight circles across the room. The plush carpet absorbed her steps, muting the sound but not the storm behind them.

“Everything is fine,” she told her reflection as she passed the vanity mirror. The words rang hollow, even to her own ears.

She paused, adjusted her posture until it resembled something regal, and tried again.

“Everything is great!”

Better.

The dining room glowed with the warm amber light of enchanted candles - Elphaba's practical solution to Galinda's insistence that candlelight was the only acceptable illumination for family dinners. These particular flames never dripped wax, never flickered in drafts, and - most importantly - never risked igniting the elaborate floral arrangements Galinda refreshed thrice weekly.

"...and then the superintendent had the audacity to suggest we reconsider adding another class," Elphaba explained, her fork pausing midair as she recounted the day's faculty debate. "As if decades of Animal rights could simply be-"

A soft, dreamy sigh interrupted her academic recounting.

Galinda, who had been watching her wife with increasingly undisguised adoration, now pressed her hand against her heart. Her expression had transformed into something so nakedly besotted that Liir quietly slid lower in his chair, as if physical distance might protect him from the impending display.

"Do continue, my genius," Galinda urged, her voice thick with barely restrained passion. "Your intellectual ferocity is simply..." She paused, apparently lost for words (a rarity).

Elphaba cleared her throat. "Yes, well. As I was saying-"

But whatever academic point she'd been building toward dissolved as Galinda reached across the table to capture her green hand, bringing Elphaba's knuckles to her lips for a lingering kiss. Then another. And another. Each more fervent than the last.

Olyvia and Liir exchanged glances across the table - hers amused, his pained.

"Please," Liir muttered, stabbing a vegetable with unnecessary force. "We're eating."

Galinda seemed not to hear him, too consumed with pressing her eighth (or ninth) kiss to Elphaba's increasingly flushed wrist.

Brrr, who had been silently observing this spectacle while methodically biting his food, emitted a sound that everyone present suddenly realized was his version of an exasperated sigh.

"Momsie," Olyvia finally remarked, twirling pasta on her fork with perfect technique, "you're being extra... adoring today. Is it the anniversary of the first time you two locked eyes or something?"

The question broke through Galinda's reverie. She blinked rapidly, as if emerging from a spell, and released Elphaba's hand with visible reluctance.

"Don't be absurd, dear," she replied with a laugh that chimed too brightly. "That was two months ago." She straightened her posture, adjusting an already immaculate curl."Can’t a woman appreciate her wife without being interrogated? Honestly, children these days have no sense of romance."

Elphaba just observed, her eyes narrowed in that particular way that suggested her mind was assembling puzzle pieces.

"Respect your mother, kids," she said at last, grabbing Galinda’s hand again. "I happen to love her affectionate ways." Then she kissed her wife’s pale knuckles with delicacy.

"Oh, my darling," Galinda sighed, her cheeks flushing pink. "You’re the only one who truly understands me."

Liir shot his sister a look of pure exasperation.

"Sooo," Olyvia tried, drawing out the word like a hook, "Momsie, did Mom talk to you about the whole... retirement thing?"

Galinda, still mid-swoon, blinked at her daughter. "Oh yes! I just need to speak with my associates, but my thrillifying retired life officially begins tomorrow!"

The teens turned to Elphaba. Their stares carried one clear message: We thought you had this handled.

Brrr glanced at everyone, blinked twice, and returned to his bowl without judgment.

"Actually," Elphaba interjected smoothly, "she’s doing an experiment. A few weeks to see if this is truly what she wants. Isn’t that right, love?"

"Exactly!" Galinda beamed. "I couldn’t have said it more perfectly myself. We are all unworthy of your splendor, dearest."

"Five more minutes." Galinda murmured, burrowing deep into Elphaba's neck.

"You said that fifteen minutes ago," Elphaba replied.

With movements born from years of practice, the green woman initiated her standard morning escape: a subtle shift to the left, followed by a careful slide toward freedom. But today, Galinda’s hold clung with the persistence of ivy to old stone.  Every tactical retreat was met with an equal and opposite clinging.

Eventually, Galinda's eyes fluttered open with theatrical timing, as if she'd been awaiting her cue all along.

"Is it morning already?" she sighed, her voice honey-smooth despite having just woken. "I was having the most delicious dream... you were explaining tax law to a room full of diplomats while wearing that black night-robe I adore."

Elphaba's eyebrow arched. "Tax law?"

"Mmm, yes," Galinda confirmed, her fingers tracing idle patterns across emerald skin. "Particularly the subsection regarding charitable deductions. It was fabulously arousing."

"You are a singularly peculiar woman," Elphaba observed, finally managing to slide from beneath her wife's embrace.

The moment her feet touched the floor, Galinda was upright as well, floating from the bed with all her grace.

"Where are we going?" Galinda inquired, smoothing her camisole.

"I am going to shower," Elphaba emphasized, selecting fresh clothes from the wardrobe. " You traditionally spend another twenty minutes lamenting the cruelty of mornings before your first cup of tea."

"Plans change," Galinda replied airily, trailing behind Elphaba like an exquisite shadow. "Retirement brings with it such freedom to reinvent one's routine."

In the bathroom, mist covered the glass panels as Galinda slipped in behind her wife with casual determination.

“Water conservation, darling,” Galinda said breezily. “No funny business. And absolutely no peeking.”

She tilted her chin toward the ceiling, eyes theatrically wide and a hand raised like a saint. The act held for precisely four seconds before her gaze dropped - unapologetically - to Elphaba’s shoulders, then lower.

"Such virtuous intentions," Elphaba murmured, laughter curling at the edges of her voice as her hands acted of their own accord - sliding around Galinda and pulling her into a kiss that was anything but restrained.

“Oh,” Galinda gasped against her lips, her eyes glittering with mischief and anticipation. “Well, if you’re going to be so insistent …”

Without waiting for permission, she began her descent - slow, deliberate, and devastating. Each kiss she left in her wake was a spark, trailing fire down Elphaba’s body, until her knees met the floor with a quiet thud - the cold tiles stark against the heat building between them.

Elphaba, already breathless, tangled her fingers in Galinda’s golden curls, gently urging her to look up. “Sweet… isn’t that position a bit rough on you?” she asked, concern threading through her arousal.

Galinda froze, blinking up with a flash of annoyance. “What are you talking about, Elphie? We’ve done this here plenty of times.”

“Yes, but it’s been a while-”

That earned her a scandalized look and a firm pinch to the backside. “Are you calling me old?”

“Ow- no! Why would I-I'm older than you! Why would I say that?” Elphaba yelped, caught between laughter and pain.

Galinda sat back, crossing her arms with an imperious pout. “Well someone’s implying something rude.”

Elphaba rolled her eyes, her voice flat with disbelief. “Oz forbid I express concern for your wellbeing.”

“Entirely unnecessary,” Galinda sniffed. “This position is perfectly compatible with my youthful, vibrant, completely undamaged body.”

It absolutely wasn’t. Her knees were already protesting, and her lower back was starting to ache - but the blonde would sooner die than admit it.

Elphaba raised a skeptical brow but shrugged. “Very well. You may proceed then.”

“How romantic, truly,” Galinda muttered, but her fingers were already sliding back up Elphaba’s thighs, drawing a shiver from the woman above her. “You’re lucky I’m doing this for me …”

Her mouth found its mark with exquisite precision, and Elphaba’s moan echoed through the room, hips arching instinctively toward her.

“Really… really lucky.” Elphaba gasped.

Elphaba was halfway through her second cup of coffee - a vital fortification before facing the day's lectures - when Galinda appeared in the kitchen doorway, fashionably late as always, having required her customary extra time to become presentable .

The sight before her could only be described as professorial chic.

Galinda had somehow reimagined academic attire as a structured blazer in light blue (tailored to emphasize her waist), paired with a skirt that stopped precisely at the knee (respectable yet undeniably flattering). Her hair was gathered in a high ponytail that suggested intelligence without sacrificing a single tendril of feminine charm. Even her glasses - when had Galinda acquired glasses? - perched on her nose with an air of cultivated wisdom.

"What," Elphaba managed after a moment of stunned silence, "are you wearing?"

"One must dress appropriately for the environment," Galinda replied, adjusting a non-existent wrinkle. "I've studied your colleagues extensively through those faculty reception portraits. Such a grim lot, really. I think this strikes the perfect balance between academic gravitas and actually having a pulse."

Elphaba's coffee cup lowered slowly to the table. "My colleagues? Why would you-"

"I'm accompanying you to the university today," Galinda announced with such confidence that it temporarily masked the absurdity of the statement.

"You most certainly are not," Elphaba countered once she'd recovered. "Don't you have transition meetings at the shop? Designs to finalize? A business to gradually extract yourself from?"

"All handled," Galinda explained, inspecting her manicure with calculated nonchalance. "My assistant is overseeing the meetings. They're perfectly capable. I trained them myself... well, I trained someone who trained them."

"Galinda-"

"Besides," her wife continued, reaching across the table to capture Elphaba's hand, "how am I to properly appreciate what consumes half your waking hours if I never witness it first hand? All these years of marriage, and I've never once observed you in your natural habitat. It's positively sacrilegious."

Elphaba sighed, resignation settling across her features. "You'll be bored within an hour."

"Nonsense," Galinda declared, victory brightening her eyes. "Nothing you do could ever bore me. It's scientifically impossible."

Their arrival at Emerald City University created exactly the spectacle Elphaba had dreaded. Students whispered behind textbooks, colleagues gawked with varying degrees of subtlety, and Galinda navigated the hallways as if on a runway - acknowledging the attention with practiced grace while maintaining the pretense of academic seriousness.

"Professor Upland!" called a breathless student, hurrying toward them with a stack of papers clutched to her chest. Elphaba had tried insisting on her full last name, Thropp-Upland , but the students had collectively decided two names was one too many - so Upland it remained.

The student skidded to a halt, her eyes going wide with disbelief.

"And… you’re… you’re the Glinda Upland!"

"Thropp-Upland," both women corrected simultaneously, with identical intonation.

"I wore one of your designs to my sister's wedding," the student continued, awe coloring her voice. "The blue gradient one with the-"

"Crystal beading at the shoulders, summer collection three years ago," Galinda finished for her, beaming. "You have excellent taste, dear. I hope your sister appreciated being upstaged."

"Galinda," Elphaba murmured in gentle admonishment, quietly observing how much joy her wife could draw from simply discussing her garments.

"What? It's a compliment," Galinda reasoned before turning back to the starstruck student. "I'm sure you looked absolutely breathtaking."

By the time they finally reached Elphaba's office, the green woman's patience had worn as thin as the excuses her colleagues had invented to "accidentally" cross their path.

"Here we are," Elphaba announced, unlocking her door and ushering Galinda inside. "My humble-"

She never finished the sentence. Galinda stood frozen in the doorway, genuine horror washing over her features at the austere, functional space before her. The office contained precisely what was necessary for academic work - a sturdy desk, plain bookshelves overburdened with tomes, two serviceable chairs, and absolutely nothing decorative save for a small potted plant that had been a gift from Liir.

"Elphie," Galinda gasped, clutching imaginary pearls, "you've been robbed! Should I call the guards?"

A smile threatened at the corners of Elphaba's mouth. "It's always like this, sweet."

"Oh," Galinda managed, her gaze sweeping the room with increasing dismay. "How... quaint."

They both knew "quaint" was Galinda's diplomatic term for anything she found aesthetically offensive but was temporarily keeping herself from redesigning

"I’ll have a class in twenty minutes," Elphaba reminded her, settling behind the desk and retrieving lecture notes from her satchel. "Feel free to sit in, but please-"

"Of course, darling," Galinda interrupted. "I'll be silence itself. You won't know I'm here."

Elphaba's skeptical expression spoke volumes.

The lecture on "Evolving Rights of Sentient Plant Species" began smoothly enough. Elphaba commanded her classroom with practiced authority, her deep knowledge evident in every carefully constructed explanation. For the first fifteen minutes, Galinda maintained her promise, sitting attentively at the back of the lecture hall, her expression one of exaggerated concentration.

It was during a student's question about mobile plant rights in urban environments that the unavoidable intervention occurred.

"If I may," Galinda's voice cut through the academic discourse like silk through butter, "the issue isn't merely legal, but aesthetic. Have you considered how many dinner parties have been utterly ruined when the centerpiece decides to relocate to more favorable lighting?"

Twenty pairs of eyes swiveled toward her in surprise.

"My wife raises an interesting point about practical applications," Elphaba managed, shooting Galinda a look that was equal parts fond and please behave. "But perhaps we should focus on the constitutional implications first."

"Oh, absolutely, my love," Galinda nodded solemnly, then turned to the class with a sweeping gesture. "Constitution first, tablescapes second. Isn’t she just the most sublime creature on the planet?"

Twenty pairs of eyes widened in unison.  

Their famously unflappable professor being flirted with like a leading lady in a romance novel? It was definitely worth the shared shock.

Elphaba inhaled slowly, then made a deliberate zipping motion across her lips, her gaze never leaving her wife.

"Right, right - zip it, everyone! Elphie’s about to speak," Galinda said, giving her two enthusiastic thumbs up before settling into exaggerated silence.

After Elphaba gently pointed out that joining her at work every day would defeat the purpose of her retirement simulation, Galinda found herself escorting Brrr to Paws & Play , Oz’s premier daycare. The lion cub padded beside her, eyes wide with curiosity and wonder.

The blonde clutched a research binder thicker than most doctoral dissertations - its cover emblazoned with "Brrr's Care & Cultural Integration" in gold leaf lettering.

"Now remember," she instructed the cub as they approached the cheerful building, "maintain dignified posture, but not so dignified that you can't participate in social activities. Be selective about playmates, but not exclusionary. And under no circumstances should you allow anyone to suggest replacing your scarf with a collar. We are categorically against collars."

Brrr blinked up at her, his expression suggesting he comprehended perhaps every third word but appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

The daycare director - a pleasant Owl named Ms. Featherwing - greeted them at the entrance, her professional smile already showing signs of strain as she observed the thickness of Galinda's binder.

"Welcome to Paws & Play," she hooted warmly. "We're so excited to have Brrr join our community. I understand this is his first daycare experience?"

"Indeed," Galinda confirmed, opening her binder with ceremonial gravity. "Now, regarding his care requirements-"

What followed was a forty-minute presentation that left Ms. Featherwing's expression shifting from professional interest to overwhelmed resignation.

"His blue scarf must remain precisely this loose," Galinda demonstrated with exacting gestures. "Not a fraction tighter or looser. And he prefers his water at exactly room temperature, though room temperature in our house, not yours. And this folder," she extracted a color-coded section, "contains the meaning of each of his grunts. I've categorized them phonetically with corresponding emotional states and probable needs."

Ms. Featherwing blinked slowly, the only outward sign of her internal distress. "That's... thorough."

"Thoroughness is the cornerstone of proper parenting," Galinda replied with unwavering confidence.

After completing the exhaustive instructions, Galinda finally permitted Brrr to explore the play area. The cub moved cautiously, looking between potential new friends and Galinda's encouraging smile. A Tiger cub approximately his age approached, sniffing curiously, and Brrr's tail gave a tentative swish of interest.

"Look at that," Ms. Featherwing observed. "They're already connecting."

"Well, of course," Galinda replied, as if it were a foregone conclusion. "Brrr has impeccable social instincts. He's half Upland, after all."

The moment of departure arrived with unexpected emotional weight. Galinda knelt to Brrr's level, straightening his scarf one final time.

"Momsie will return before you know it, darling," she promised, her voice catching slightly. "Be your fantastical self."

Brrr responded by pressing his forehead briefly against her hand - a gesture that threatened Galinda's meticulously applied makeup with imminent disaster.

"Go on now," she urged, rising quickly to preserve her composure. 

As she turned to leave, Ms. Featherwing escorted her toward the exit. "He'll be perfectly fine, Mrs. Thropp-Upland. Most children settle in-"

"Oh, I'm not worried about him," Galinda interrupted with fragile brightness. "It's just... the first step toward independence, isn't it? Today it's daycare, tomorrow he's commissioning his own scarves without consulting me on color harmony."

The Owl's beak curved in what might have been a smile. "A mother's burden."

"Certainly," Galinda agreed, turning to open the door just as a severe-looking woman stepped inside. She had silver streaks in her hair, permanent smudges on her fingers, and the air of someone who had painted entire revolutions. Without a word, she set up a stool and propped an enormous blank canvas near the play area.

Ms. Featherwing stared at the unfolding scene. "And… who is this?"

"Oh! This is Madam Liorra," Galinda said breezily.

"And why is she setting up a painting station in the toddler zone?" the Owl asked, blinking.

"Well, Brrr’s mother - the other one - couldn’t be here today. And she simply can’t miss such a monumental milestone. So Madam Liorra will capture the moment on canvas. That way, Elphie can see how our amazifying son is conquering his first day, and I’ll have it immortalized forever." She said it as though this was the obvious and only reasonable response to such an occasion.

Ms. Featherwing, long practiced in the art of choosing her battles, simply replied, "Right… how shortsighted of me."

Galinda beamed at her, waved with regal flourish, and - finally - swept out the door.

As she stepped outside, a sudden, sharp pain lanced through her chest - so intense she reached for the wall to steady herself. The now familiar ache had intensified tenfold, catching her completely unprepared.

"Are you quite all right?" Ms. Featherwing appeared in the doorway, concern evident in her tone.

"Perfectly," Galinda managed, straightening with practiced poise. "Just remembered an urgent appointment. Good day!"

She reached the carriage before finally allowing herself to clutch her sternum, where the pain pulsed with relentless insistence. Her thoughts spun, searching for the nearest place - anywhere that would bring her closer to the University.

Closer to Elphie.  

Galinda navigated between sculptural topiaries and rare blooms, her approach toward the garden deliberately casual yet perfectly timed.

She'd waited for Elphaba's return home before venturing outside, reducing the physical distance between them to a manageable ache rather than the crippling pain she'd experienced at the daycare the other day. 

Now, with Elphaba safely ensconced somewhere just a floor above, Galinda could focus on her next project: her son's romantic future.

Liir knelt among his beloved plants, his dark hair falling across his forehead as he carefully transferred a delicate herb to a larger pot. His hands worked the soil with innate understanding.

He sensed her presence before she announced herself, his shoulders tensing slightly in that familiar way that signaled preparation for unwanted social interaction. The boy had inherited far too many of Elphaba's antisocial tendencies for Galinda's comfort.

"Momsie," he acknowledged without looking up - a name he reserved strictly for home; in public, he insisted on "Mother," much to Galinda’s horror, "whatever this is about, I'm busy repotting these sensitive herbs."

Galinda perched on a nearby stone bench, smoothing her skirts with practiced precision. “Why would you assume I have an agenda, Liiry?”"

Liir's raised eyebrow answered that question without words.

“Well,” she conceded, tilting her head, “perhaps I do have a small observation to share. I couldn’t help but notice that darling little Munchkin girl wandering past our gates again.”

Liir's fingers stilled, the herb momentarily forgotten. His denial came too quickly, too forcefully: "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, please," Galinda waved dismissively. "The Emberwik girl. Pretty little thing with that unusual copper hair. She's circled our property four times this week alone, each time slowing precipitously when passing your garden."

"She's interested in rare medicinal plants," Liir muttered, returning his attention to the repotting with unnecessary focus. "It's academic."

Galinda’s smile bloomed like one of his prized roses - beautiful, smug, and impossible to ignore.

“Of course, dear… I just want you to know that I’m more than happy to assist in the courting process. We can’t have you tarnishing the family name with your... peculiar brand of caring.”

Then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, she added, “I could lend you my book - Operation Woo Elphie: A Comprehensive Guide. Just over a thousand pages - but it’s a breezy read, I promise.”

While speaking, she gave her hands a distracted flick, as if brushing off an invisible nuisance.

Liir gave her a long, flat stare before replying, “I’m never reading that.”

“It’s full of my hard-earned wisdom, ” Galinda protested. “And if it helped me land your mom - who, by the by, is not an easy woman to woo - I’m confident it could help even you.”

"I don't need-"

"What scandalocious family secrets are you discussing without me?" Olyvia's voice interrupted, bright with interest. She appeared around a flowering arch, school bag slung with calculated carelessness over one shoulder, her blonde curls arranged in what Galinda recognized as her daughter's "casual yet devastating" style.

"Perfect timing, Oly" Galinda brightened, patting the space beside her on the bench. "We're discussing the art of romantic pursuit."

"Ah," Olyvia nodded sagely, dropping onto the bench with grace. "Liir's hopeless pining for Arinna Emberwik. It's painful to watch, honestly."

"I am not pining," Liir snapped, a flush creeping up his neck. "And if I were - which I'm not - it would still be none of your business."

"Well," Galinda interjected, her expression illuminating, "you can always try touching her."

Both children froze, expressions of sheer horror spreading across their faces.

Liir was the first to find his voice, sputtering, "Momsie! That’s wildly inappropriate. I can’t just go around touching girls!"

Olyvia followed with a scandalized gasp. "Is that what you did with Mom? How bold! "

Galinda let out a long sigh, flush creeping into her cheeks. "Oz, your minds are filthy! I meant a light graze - on the hand, or maybe the arm! Not whatever you’re thinking." She straightened her posture, regaining her composure. "As my children, you both have a statistically high probability of inheriting the Upland curse! Touching your soulmate is how it activates - I’ve told you this!"

"Please don’t remind me," Liir muttered, returning to his herbs with grim focus.

Olyvia, however, leaned in, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Which is exactly why I got front-row seats to the Winkie Boys concert, Momsie. I know Jaxx - the lead singer - is the one!"

"Jaxx," Galinda repeated flatly. "The boy who believes shirts are optional performance attire and rhymed 'heart' with 'heart' in three consecutive verses?"

"He's misunderstood," Olyvia insisted. "His soul is deep, like a really deep... thing."

"A well?" Liir suggested dryly.

"Exactly!" Olyvia agreed, missing her brother's sarcasm entirely. "Like a magical Winkie well of feelings."

As the siblings descended into familiar bickering, Galinda shifted uncomfortably on the bench. The pain in her chest had intensified the longer she remained outside. 

"Children," she interrupted, rising with sudden urgency. "Why don't we continue this incredibly rich discussion inside? Perhaps over tea? In the library?" 

(Where Elphie is, she didn't add.)

"I have plants to finish," Liir replied.

"And I have concert preparations," Olyvia added. "My hair needs specific pre-conditioning treatments to achieve the perfect volume under stage lighting."

"Fine," Galinda conceded, already moving toward the house with barely concealed haste. "We'll resume later."

The bedroom held the gentle quiet of late evening, broken only by the rhythmic turning of pages as Elphaba reviewed student essays from her armchair by the window. Galinda sat at her vanity, completing her elaborate nighttime beauty ritual with practiced precision.

To the casual observer, it was a scene of perfect domestic tranquility - two people comfortable in shared silence. But Elphaba's attention had long since wandered from the academic text before her, gaze fixed instead on Galinda's reflection in the mirror.

She had been watching - observing, cataloging, analyzing - for days now. Something had shifted in her wife's behavior since the retirement was brought up, subtle changes that might escape notice individually but formed a pattern when viewed collectively.

The increased physical contact. The perpetual proximity. The almost frantic need to be in the same room. The winces when they were separated, quickly masked but not quickly enough to escape Elphaba's notice.

"You seem... different lately," Elphaba ventured finally, closing her book with deliberate care.

Galinda's hands paused momentarily in their application of night cream, her spine straightening almost imperceptibly before she resumed the circular motions.

"Different?" she echoed, her voice light but controlled. "Nonsense. Perhaps slightly more relaxed, marginally more radiant, infinitesimally more content - but different? Not at all."

The response was too carefully composed - each adjective chosen with the same meticulous precision Galinda reserved for selecting fabric swatches in a new collection.

Elphaba set her book aside, removing her glasses with measured movements. "You know what I mean, Galinda."

Their eyes met in the mirror's reflection - a conversation held in silence for several heartbeats.

"I assure you," Galinda replied at last, her smile perfectly calibrated between dismissive and reassuring, "everything is exactly as it should be. I'm simply... adjusting to this new chapter." She rose from the vanity in a whisper of silk, crossing to the room. "Come to bed, darling. Those essays will still be there in the morning."

Sunlight spilled through the windows of Elphaba’s study, casting a geometric tapestry of light and shadow across the room. She paused mid-sentence, quill suspended above the parchment, weighing her next words with caution.

The letter would almost certainly spark an argument. She and Galinda had already discussed - heatedly - about this particular person’s constant involvement in their lives, especially in matters her wife firmly insisted were private. But with the blonde being so secretive lately, what choice did she have?

Dear Larena, the heading read, followed by several tightly worded paragraphs of measured, carefully curated questions - each one circling the same silent fear:

Am I doing enough?

Elphaba adjusted her spectacles, mentally reviewing the plan she’d crafted - she was confident it would work. Still, it seemed only wise to seek confirmation from the one person who understood the Upland legacy better than anyone.

The floorboards outside her study creaked with the unmistakable dissonance of two people attempting - and spectacularly failing - to be stealthy. Elphaba's lips curved into the smallest smile as she swiftly folded the letter, sliding it beneath a stack of student essays.

A knock - hesitant, then immediately followed by a decidedly more insistent rapping - announced her children's arrival seconds before the door swung open.

"Hey kids," Elphaba said, her casual tone belied by the abruptness with which her hand moved across her desk, seemingly organizing papers that had already been arranged in perfect right angles.

Olyvia breezed into the room first, her blonde curls catching the afternoon light. Liir followed two steps behind, his eyes already analyzing the scene with that quiet perceptiveness that never failed to both unnerve and please her.

"Momsie sent us to ask which color is sparking joy for you today," Olyvia announced, perching on the edge of the desk with practiced nonchalance.

Elphaba - well aware that asking why would only lead to even more questions - simply began, "Blac-"

"She said that is not an option," Olyvia interjected with the swiftness of someone who had anticipated this exact response.

Elphaba sighed. Even after all this time, Galinda still harbored hope that one day Elphaba would awaken with a sudden appreciation for pastels.

Liir, meanwhile, had drifted closer to her desk, his attention fixed not on their conversation but on the corner of parchment peeking out from beneath the papers.

"What are you writing?" he asked, his voice penetrating.

Elphaba's fingers twitched, betraying her composure. "You know, both of you could learn a little from Brrr," she deflected. "Introspection and quietness are great skills."

That elicited the expected eye-roll from Olyvia, but Liir remained unyielding in his focus.

"It's about Momsie, isn't it?" he pressed, his dark eyes - so much like Galinda’s - searching her face with uncomfortable accuracy.

Elphaba's momentary pause said more than words ever could. Her eyes widened slightly, that fractional widening of pupils that always gave her away in moments of genuine surprise. 

“What, the curse getting worse?” Olyvia asked, her tone light, almost careless.

Elphaba's gaze snapped to her daughter.

Olyvia shrugged. "It's fairly obvious. I just figured we were… accepting it.”

"Well, of course we are," Elphaba said, her fingers interlacing as she leaned forward. “I’m simply trying to make sure all of her needs are met.”

"Ew, Mom," Olyvia grimaced, nose wrinkling. “We do not need to hear about that.”

Liir nodded in rare agreement. “Please don’t elaborate.”

Elphaba pinched the bridge of her nose, closed her eyes, and began counting silently. One... two... three... She reached ten and exhaled slowly, recalling the precise moment she had decided that raising children would be a worthwhile endeavor. 

“That is not what I meant,” she said evenly, her tone slipping into the one she reserved for particularly slow undergraduates.

Liir’s expression softened slightly, catching the tension beneath her words. “You’ll help her feel better, Mom. If anyone can, it’s you.”

"Duh," Olyvia agreed, her flippant tone unable to disguise the underlying sincerity. “I’d trust you with anything, Mom.”

Elphaba felt something warm unfurl in her chest - a sensation she had become more accustomed to over the years but that still surprised her with its intensity. Her children looked at her with a confidence that humbled her, their faith unmarred by doubt.

"Thank you ki-" she began, throat unexpectedly tight.

"Oh!" Olyvia clapped her hands together, effectively shattering the moment. "I'm going to pretend you said purple."

Elphaba blinked, momentarily disoriented by the conversational whiplash - another trait her daughter had undoubtedly inherited from her blonde mother. She tilted her head in silent question.

"Momsie's color," Olyvia clarified, already halfway to the door. "The reason we’re here."

"Right," Elphaba nodded, resignation and amusement mingling in her expression. "Purple it is."

From the Desk of Larena Upland

Gillikin Manor, Upper Upland

Dearest Elphaba,

My darling daughter-in-law! Your letter arrived at precisely the moment I was telling Highmuster about our last visit - divine timing, as always! The Falcon courier seemed positively scandalized when I squealed with delight upon recognizing your handwriting. Poor thing nearly toppled into the reflecting pool!

First and foremost, how are my precious grandchildren? I've been dreaming up the most spectacular gifts for Liir's botanical collection - Highmuster knows an absolutely fascinating fellow who cultivates carnivorous plants from the edges of the Quadling marshes. Completely harmless, I'm assured! Well, mostly harmless. And my radiant Olyvia! Do let her know I’ve found the earrings she was searching for - and kindly ask if she’d like the matching necklace and bracelet as well. One mustn’t miss the opportunity to complete a set!

What about dear, sweet Brrr - is he still indulging in those gloriously long naps, or has that phase already passed us by? Either way, I’ve commissioned a velvet cushion that will complement his mane exquisitely. 

Now, to address the matter at hand with the gravity it deserves: The intensification of the Upland Curse. I cannot believe my Galinda hasn't breathed a word of this to me! Though perhaps I shouldn't be surprised - she always did prefer to handle her more vulnerable moments with a practiced smile. The apple doesn't fall far, as they say!

To answer your question directly (which I can occasionally do, contrary to what my daughter might claim): Yes, this intensification is uncommon but far from unheard of in our lineage. Great-Aunt Gloriana experienced something similar in her fortieth year of marriage.

I myself had a rather dramatic flare during the Gillikin Trade Summit a few years back, when Highmuster was called away unexpectedly. Three fainting episodes and one spectacularly ruined garden party later, we discovered that proximity was indeed the only remedy. 

Increasing your time together is precisely what I would recommend. Think of it as the universe's rather heavy-handed way of reminding us (Uplands) to nurture what matters most. Subtle, it is not. Effective? Undeniably so.

Please rest assured that this flare will eventually stabilize. In the meantime, perhaps consider it an opportunity in disguise. After all, the universe often delivers exactly what we need - just inconveniently wrapped in chaos and poor timing.

We shall see you all at Midsummer's Eve, as planned. Highmuster is already preparing his annual lecture on historical fair trade policies - I've limited him to forty-five minutes this year, so consider that my gift to you.

With boundless affection and only the most minimal meddling,

Larena Upland

P.S. If the discomfort becomes truly unbearable, there is a rather scandalocious remedy involving - shall we say - midnight dancing and vintage champagne. Works wonders. Details to follow if necessary, though something tells me you're more than capable of improvising your own solutions. You always have been marvelously resourceful.

"Perhaps a touch more cinnamon, Tavion," Galinda suggested to the head chef, who had been preparing this exact breakfast for fifteen years without variation.

"Surely, madam," he replied, adding not a single grain more to the mixture while somehow making the motion appear compliant.

This was becoming a routine of sorts. It went like this: Galinda would offer incorrect (and entirely unsolicited) suggestions to the kitchen staff, who - ever the performers - would thank her graciously, then quietly undo her well-meaning adjustments the moment her back was turned.

In the dining room, Liir hunched over his plate, deliberately pacing himself. He shook the hair from his eyes and glanced around for the nearest clock, silently calculating how much time remained before his first class of the day.

Opposite him, Olyvia reclined in deliberate contrast, each movement designed to communicate that time itself should adjust to her schedule rather than the reverse. She examined a strawberry with a critical eye before taking a delicate bite.

Elphaba appeared in the doorway, Brrr nestled comfortably in her arms. The cub batted playfully at the emerald pendant that hung from her neck - a treasured gift that had become as much a part of her silhouette as her angular features.

What struck Liir immediately - causing him to pause mid-bite - was the unusual softness in his mother's posture. 

"You love playing with my necklace, don't you?" Elphaba murmured to Brrr, her voice carrying that rare tenderness she typically reserved for moments like this. "Your Momsie gave it to me a long time ago."

Brrr responded with enthusiastic paws, nearly capturing the gleaming pendant. "M-ma!" he declared with triumphant conviction.

"Yes, your Ma! Very good," Elphaba said, her voice glowing with pride. "You’re so clever."

"When are you going to praise me like that?" Olyvia asked.

Elphaba's eyes glinted with mischief as she settled Brrr into his specially designed chair. "I'm waiting for you to do something worth praising."

"You'll keep waiting then," Liir muttered, just loud enough to be heard while maintaining plausible deniability.

"Shut up , Liir," Olyvia retorted, flicking a grape at her brother with surprising precision. "No one asked for your commentary."

"Children, please," Galinda's voice preceded her entrance from the kitchen, a strategic dusting of flour somehow enhancing rather than detracting from her morning elegance. "The day has barely started. Try to be civil-"

Her words evaporated as she registered Elphaba's presence. Her eyes widened with alarm.

"Darling, are you late?" she asked, concern threading through her voice as she glided closer. "You're supposed to be halfway across campus by now!"

"Sweet…" Elphaba began, but her wife’s momentum continued.

"You probably lost track of time in the garden," she said, lifting a hand to press gently against Elphaba’s forehead with practiced concern. "Are you feeling unwell? This isn’t like you at all, my love."

The proximity sent a particular warmth cascading through Galinda's veins - the curse responding to decreased distance with a rush of pleasure that complicated her genuine concern. Why isn't she at work? 

"Galinda, breathe," Elphaba said gently, enclosing both of her wife’s fluttering hands in her steady green ones. "I’m not sick. And I’m not late - I don’t have anywhere to be."

Galinda blinked rapidly, processing this declaration. "But... your classes…"

"Found a sub." Elphaba's response was infuriatingly placid. "Professor Gable was surprisingly eager. I suspect he's been waiting ten years for me to miss a day so he could correct my interpretations."

"...your research?" Galinda pressed, feeling increasingly unmoored.

"In a temporary pause." Elphaba shrugged with unusual nonchalance. "The ancient texts have survived centuries of political upheaval and at least three attempted book burnings. They can manage without my attention for a season."

The children had gone perfectly still - even Brrr paused mid-berry-smash, sensing the tension.

"...what?" Galinda's whisper contained multitudes.

Elphaba's smile unfurled slowly, revealing the endearing gap between her front teeth that had always been Galinda's weakness. "Today is my first day of retirement.” 

She's smiling that smile, Galinda's internal voice noted traitorously. The one that still makes my heart perform acrobatics. She fought to refocus. No, this is wrong. Elphie doesn't retire. Elphie researches. Elphie teaches. Elphie comes home at predictable hours and tells me about her students over dinner.

Yet beneath her rational objections, something hummed with quiet approval. She would be home. Always near. No more counting minutes. No more ache.

“What?!” Galinda finally burst out. “Elphie, have you lost your mind? Why would you do that? Your work is your passion, your calling, your...” She flailed her hands in the air, as if trying to physically grab the right word.

“My mind is perfectly intact, sweet,” Elphaba replied with that maddening calm that always meant she’d considered every angle twice. “I’ve been watching you during your sabbatical trial, and I thought... why not try it myself? You seem so fulfilled.”

“But Elphie... it’s not the same,” Galinda protested, even as her body thrummed with quiet contentment at the thought of more time together.

“Why not?” Elphaba asked, head tilting ever so slightly.

“Because it just isn’t!” Galinda exclaimed, caught between logic and the warm, unwelcome rush of happiness stirring inside her. “And don’t give me that look!”

“What look, love?”

“That look right there!” Galinda cried, gesturing toward Elphaba’s face. “The one that says you’re five steps ahead of me - I loathe it. Also, don’t call me ‘love’ - we’re fighting! ”

Elphaba's eyebrow rose fractionally. "We are?"

"Yes!" Galinda's indignation escalated to new heights. "What did you think would happen? You dropped a bomb on me out of nowhere! Who does that?"

Elphaba opened her mouth, and Galinda could see the retort forming - undoubtedly something devastatingly rational about how wildly hypocritical she was being. But instead, the green woman inhaled deeply, her shoulders rising and falling in deliberate measure.

"Galinda," she said with careful neutrality, "why don't we discuss this after breakfast? When we're both... calmer."

"Fine," the blonde said coolly. "Because honestly, I don’t feel like talking to you right now."

She pivoted, her expression transforming with professional speed as she addressed their children. "Have a great day at school, Lirry and Oly!" Her voice lifted into the musical register reserved for maternal affection.

Bending to kiss Brrr's forehead, she added, "Finish your plate, Brrr. We’ll be heading out soon."

She swept from the room without another glance at her wife.

Silence descended upon the breakfast room, broken only by the wet sound of Brrr happily pulverizing another unfortunate berry against his plate.

"Well," Olyvia finally offered, examining her fingernails with exaggerated casualness, "if you thought one of Momsie's needs was a fight..."

Liir's foot connected with her shin under the table with surgical precision.

"Ow! Just observing," she muttered, rubbing her leg.

They didn't talk after breakfast.

They didn't talk during mid-morning either, nor at lunch, nor throughout the lazy stretch of afternoon that followed. It wasn't for lack of trying on Elphaba's part, but rather the impressive dedication with which her wife avoided all attempts at reconciliation.

"The day looks perfect for a walk," Elphaba said, her voice deliberately light. "I thought I might join you and the little one on the way to daycare."

Galinda adjusted Brrr's scarf with a slight tremor in her fingers.

“Brrr and I have a very specific routine, don’t we, sweetheart?” she cooed to the cub, who glanced between his mothers with mild confusion.

Then she turned to Elphaba, offering a smile that ticked every box of politeness, yet held not a drop of actual warmth.

“And shouldn’t you be enjoying your first official day of retirement?”

Galinda had created a perfect nest in her reading nook - fashion periodicals in precisely arranged piles, a half-empty teacup leaving a perfect crescent moon of lipstick on its rim. It was a space that radiated contentment and solitude in equal measure.

Which made it the perfect target for Elphaba's second attempt.

She entered with an armful of books, settling into the chair opposite Galinda's with deliberate nonchalance. "Don't mind me," she murmured, opening a volume on primitive Ozian rituals. "Just catching up on some pleasure reading now that I have the time."

For precisely forty-seven seconds (Elphaba counted), Galinda remained frozen, her eyes fixed on the same paragraph of Emerald City Elegance . The green woman observed the minute relaxation around her wife's eyes - the curse acknowledging their proximity with relief even as Galinda's will fought against it.

At the forty-eighth second, Galinda snapped her magazine closed.

"I’m glad you have such flexibility," she remarked, gathering her things with elegant efficiency. "I, however, have actual commitments to attend to."

"This is the seventh time Momsie has left a room you've entered," Liir observed, his tone deliberately neutral.

Elphaba arranged her features into an expression of forced nonchalance. "Your mother appreciates the dramatic exit. You've noticed this before, I assume."

Liir's gaze saw straight through the deflection. "Not like this."

"Should we do something? This is really weird."

Liir paced the length of their shared study, each step precise and rhythmic, like walking was the only thing holding his thoughts together. Across the room, Olyvia sat at the desk, writing with surgical focus.

"Not today," she said, finally looking up as she neatly folded the paper. "I made a bet with Tavion that Momsie would make Mom sleep on the couch."

Liir froze mid-step. "I’m disturbed by your gambling habits."

"I prefer to call it 'economically incentivized prediction,'" Olyvia replied airily, rising and moving to the window. She extended the letter to the waiting Falcon perched just outside.

Liir narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

Olyvia smiled. "Something." Then, with maddening calm: "As I said, my bet only covers today."

“Tell me more.”

Twilight cast long shadows across the master bedroom as Elphaba prepared for bed with deliberate normalcy. She arranged her spectacles on the nightstand, precisely adjusted her pillows, and opened the novel she'd been reading for the past month - all the while acutely aware of Galinda's absence.

The clock chimed nine, then ten. The house settled into its nighttime symphony of creaks and whispers. 

Still, no Galinda.

This wasn't merely one of her wife's theatrical sulks - the brief storms that blew through their marriage with predictable regularity before dissolving into equally dramatic reconciliations. Something deeper had been triggered.

It wasn't until nearly midnight that Elphaba abandoned her vigil. If Galinda wouldn't come to her, then logic dictated she must go to Galinda.

The moonlight filtered through the windows as Elphaba made her way through darkened hallways, methodically checking her wife's usual retreats. Her second closet (empty), her mirror chamber (vacant), even the kitchen (where a single teacup in the sink suggested a brief, solitary visit).

It was the faint scent of florals that finally guided her, growing stronger as she approached Brrr's room. 

The sight that greeted Elphaba as she gently pushed the dark wood open caused something to tighten in her chest. Galinda lay curled protectively around Brrr, both sleeping, her blonde curls cascading over the edge of his bed in a waterfall of gold. Brrr's paws were tangled in a strand of her hair, his expression one of perfect contentment.

But it was the small yet unmistakable frown creasing Galinda's forehead that captured Elphaba's attention - the physical evidence of discomfort from their separation.

After a moment's consideration, Elphaba carefully settled into one of Brrr's many sleeping nests nearby. It was comically small for her, but proximity to Galinda took precedence over comfort. Almost immediately, the tension in the blonde’s features eased, responding to her presence even in sleep. But the movement, slight as it was, was enough to disturb the blonde’s slumber. Her eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to focus on Elphaba's form in the dim light.

"Elphaba, I-" she began, voice thick with sleep and something that might have been another rebuke.

"We don't need to talk, Galinda," Elphaba interrupted softly. "But I'm sleeping here."

The doorbell chimed with cheerful persistence.

Elphaba glanced up from the periodical she was trying to read - her mind was too occupied replaying the past few days of strategic advances and tactical retreats. 

The living room was suspiciously quiet. Liir sat cross-legged on the floor, Brrr curled in his lap - which was uncommon to say the least - while Olyvia lounged on the sofa, examining her nails with the intensity of a general surveying a battlefield.

Too quiet.

She rose, smoothing her skirt - a nervous habit she definitely got from her wife - and moved toward the door. When she opened it, she was met with the sight of Fiyero Tigelaar, looking every inch the polished statesman.

In the years since their youth, Fiyero had traded his princely title for a seat in the Emerald City Parliament, where his natural charm and sharp mind had made him a formidable force in Ozian politics. He still carried himself with the same easy confidence, though now it was tempered by the faint shadows under his eyes - courtesy, no doubt, of raising a child who had inherited his penchant for mischief and Sarima’s terrifying competence.

He held up a folded letter between two fingers, its edges slightly crumpled. "I received this," he said, tilting his head. "Unless your penmanship has taken a dramatic turn for the worse, I’m assuming this isn’t your doing?"

Elphaba turned to glance behind her. Liir and Olyvia were watching with the intensity of vultures circling fresh prey. Between them, Brrr blinked serenely at the newcomer.

"Hi, Uncle Fiyero!" Olyvia chirped, her voice dripping with the kind of innocence that usually preceded disaster. Liir offered a silent wave, his expression carefully blank.

Elphaba turned back to Fiyero. "Tell me," she said dryly, "does your child grow weirder by the day, or is it my divine punishment in life to be perpetually surrounded by increasingly bizarre creatures?"

Fiyero grinned. "Oh, don’t worry. Last week, I caught mine licking the sole of his shoe, making a disgusted face, and then - just to be sure - licking it again." He peered past her at the children. “So… to be clear, there’s no actual crisis unfolding that demands my immediate heroics before someone meets an untimely end?”

"Of course not," Elphaba said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced. “But since you’re already here… I do have a rather unusual request.”

Fiyero’s eyes lit up, delight flickering like a child handed contraband candy.

“Now that’s more like it. I knew visiting this house wouldn’t be boring.”

Unbeknownst to them, Galinda had been lurking in the shadows of the hallway, her fingers curled around the edge of a doorframe like a woman clinging to the last shreds of her sanity.

She and Fiyero had been friends for decades - long enough that her irrational, curse-fueled jealousy had dulled into something manageable, a quiet ember rather than a roaring flame. But now - after days of self-imposed distance from Elphaba - her emotions were a tempest, and the sight of Fiyero standing so close to her wife - smiling at her, touching her with that familiar ease - made her blood boil.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

Before she could stop herself - or perhaps before reason had any chance to intervene - the blonde surged forward, positioning herself between Elphaba and the former Vinkus prince.

To his credit, Fiyero didn’t flinch. His brows lifted in mild alarm, but his voice remained easy. “Glinda! Radiant, as ever. Is that one of yours?  The draping is exquisite."

Galinda’s smile was razor-sharp. "Why are you talking to my wife?" Her voice was sweet, but her eyes were wildfire. "You don't deserve to be near her. Step. Back.”

Fiyero blinked, then shot Elphaba a questioning look. "Gli-"

"Why are you bothering her with your presence, hm?" the blonde pressed, her fingers twitching at her sides.

Before Fiyero could respond, Olyvia’s voice cut in, bright and falsely helpful:

"Uncle Fiyero was asking Mom to help him with something important for the council! Since she’s retired now and has all this free time."

Fiyero’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets. "Retired?!"

Olyvia barreled on, undeterred. "But the thing is, it’s such a big project, he was suggesting she should stay at his house for a bit. You know, to work better."

Beside her, Liir nodded solemnly, as if this was the most reasonable plan in the world.

Elphaba’s voice was pure warning. "Olyvia Thropp-Upland!"

Galinda’s breath hitched. Then-

"I’ll get my pink rapier."

Fiyero blanched. "Rapier?!"

Elphaba seized Galinda’s wrist before she could storm off. "No! Galinda, we talked about this - you swore you’d thrown that thing out!”

The blonde whirled on her, eyes wild and unseeing. "Thank Oz I didn’t! He wants to take you from me! Do you think I’d let that happen without a drop of blood? Never!"

Elphaba cupped her wife’s face, forcing her to focus. "Love, look at me."

Galinda’s lower lip trembled.

"You are not stabbing Fiyero. Alright?"

For a heartbeat, Galinda held her ground. 

Until her face crumpled like paper in the rain.

She collapsed against Elphaba with the full force of her despair, her body molding against her wife's as if trying to fuse their skeletons together through sheer willpower. "What have I done?" she sobbed into the familiar hollow of Elphaba's shoulder, her voice breaking like glass hitting marble. "These past days - these precious, irreplaceable days - squandered in this foolish avoidance when I could have been memorizing the way your eyelashes catch the light when you read!" She clutched fistfuls of Elphaba's shirt. "If letting you go is what brings you joy, then I'll perish from it gladly - a smiling corpse, my last breath whispering your name!"

Over Galinda’s shoulder, Fiyero mouthed, "The curse?"

Elphaba merely nodded. "Apologies for the..." Her gesture encompassed the scene - her wife now dramatically slumped against her, Olyvia practically vibrating with smug satisfaction, and Liir attempting (poorly) to look innocent while Brrr gnawed thoughtfully on his shoelace. "...spectacle. You understand."

"Of course," Fiyero murmured, already beginning his careful withdrawal. "And I'll let you know what Sarima says about… the thing. I'll see her as soon as I get back."

"Thank you," Elphaba murmured. Then, gently, she guided Galinda away from the doorway, sparing her children one last you-are-in-so-much-trouble glare before adding, "Look after Brrr."

"Come," Elphaba murmured, her voice low and warm, brooking no argument. 

Galinda opened her mouth - perhaps to protest, to insist she was perfectly capable of continuing whatever charade she'd committed herself to - but no sound emerged. Instead, her shoulders dropped a fraction, the smallest surrender. Elphaba recognized it immediately and led her toward their bedroom.

The bathroom adjoining their bedroom had always been Galinda's domain - a shrine to impractical luxury that Elphaba tolerated with exasperated fondness. Now, the green woman moved with purpose, her long fingers turning brass taps that sang as water rushed forth. Steam began to rise almost immediately.

"Sit," she instructed, gesturing toward the edge of the porcelain tub - an extravagant monstrosity that Galinda had insisted upon during their last renovation.

Galinda obeyed, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as Elphaba rummaged through an absurd collection of glass bottles.

She uncorked the bottle, releasing a complex aroma that softened the rigid line of Galinda's shoulders almost imperceptibly. With methodical care, Elphaba added precisely three drops to the swirling water before selecting another vial of midnight blue and repeating the same procedure.

"The water's waiting, my sweet."

The faintest ghost of a smile flickered across Galinda's face - gone so quickly that anyone else might have missed it entirely. 

With gentle efficiency born of long intimacy, Elphaba helped Galinda undress. The blonde remained passive throughout, allowing each garment to be removed with none of her usual sly commentary. This silent compliance was alarming.

Once Galinda was settled in the tub, Elphaba knelt beside it, sleeves rolled meticulously to her elbows, the contrast of her green skin against the white porcelain sharp and striking. Sponge in hand, she paused for a moment, eyes fixed on Galinda’s bare shoulders - then began to work the suds gently over her pale skin, each motion deliberate, almost reverent.

The silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the gentle lapping of water against porcelain. Then, without warning, Galinda's hand shot out of the water, catching Elphaba's wrist in a grip so fierce it might have left marks on someone less sturdy.

"Is something hurting you?" Elphaba asked, concern edging her voice.

Galinda shook her head, but the movement dislodged the newly fresh tears, which fell with quiet determination. 

The dam had cracked.

"Let's get you out," Elphaba said softly, helping Galinda stand and enveloping her in the towel with careful attention before guiding her from the tub. Each movement was deliberate, a wordless communication of care that had developed between them over years of learning each other's sharp edges and soft vulnerabilities.

From the wardrobe, Elphaba selected silk pajamas in a shade of pink that Galinda had once spent forty-five minutes explaining was completely different from three other nearly identical shades. Over these, almost without conscious thought, she reached for one of her own black sweaters - an old, comfortable thing that had long since surrendered to Galinda's occasional appropriation.

The sight of it sparked a memory, vivid and sudden.

"If you are so angry with me, why wear this?" Elphaba had demanded, gesturing at her sweater draped over Galinda's petite frame. It had been early in their relationship - that precarious time when every disagreement seemed potentially catastrophic.

Galinda had fixed her with a glare. "Believe me, I despise that even when I want to strangle you, I still need something of yours to feel better." A dramatic sigh. "It must be a curse thing."

Now, years removed from that younger version of themselves, Elphaba helped Galinda into the familiar garment, noting how her wife's fingers automatically curled into the worn cuffs. 

Ushered toward their bed, Galinda moved as if navigating through deep water - each step requiring conscious effort. Elphaba settled her against the pillows before moving through what had indeed become a ritual: shutting the heavy curtains against the outside world, turning on the ridiculous pink lamp that cast everything in a soft, rose-tinted glow.

"Practical illumination was never the point, Elphie," Galinda had once explained with exaggerated patience. "Ambiance is an art form."

With that carefully crafted ambiance, Elphaba slid into bed behind her wife, one arm draping protectively around Galinda's waist. She waited, allowing silence to create the space necessary for whatever needed emergence.

"I'm so tired, Elphie." The words, when they finally came, sounded as if they'd been extracted from somewhere deep and painful. 

"I know," Elphaba acknowledged, her breath warm against the nape of Galinda's neck.

Silence stretched between them again - a familiar choreography. Galinda always needed time to excavate her true feelings, to transform raw emotion into something manageable, articulate. The green woman had learned, not without difficulty, the art of patient waiting.

"I just..." Galinda began, then stopped. Took a breath. "I can't believe this is happening to me." Another pause, longer. "I hate this feeling."

Her voice gained momentum,“I hate feeling like a burden. I hate needing help, needing… constant attention. I just want to handle it on my own - but I can’t. I can’t do anything . My work, the kids, keeping it all together - it’s like my mind won’t shut up, and every day, it just gets louder. The ache won’t go away. It only digs in deeper. And the worst part? You're collateral damage. Again. Always.” She swallowed hard. “I don't know how you stand it."

Each word struck Elphaba with the precision of a carefully aimed arrow. The vulnerability in Galinda's voice was a rare thing - raw and beautiful and slightly terrifying . 

"Do you remember," Elphaba said softly, "when I used to think I didn’t deserve you? That being stuck with me was some kind of cosmic punishment?"

"Are you deliberately trying to upset me further?" Galinda's response was instantaneous, a spark of her usual self flaring through the melancholy. "Because if so, congratulations - it's working spectacularly."

"Remind me - what did you always say to me?" Elphaba's question hung in the air, weighted with history.

Galinda let out a long exhale, already knowing the script they were enacting. "That if you continued spouting such nonsensical drivel, I would be forced to physically assault you - even if it went against every fiber of my being."

A soft, perfectly timed slap landed on Galinda's arm - more affectionate punctuation than rebuke. Something between a laugh and a sigh escaped her as she turned in Elphaba's arms, her expression one of reluctant amusement.

"I never actually followed through with the threat," she pointed out, the faintest trace of her normal cadence returning to her voice.

Elphaba reached up, fingers moving with practiced care to wipe away the tears still slipping down Galinda's cheeks. "Only because I never reached this magnificent level of foolishness before."

"Ha! Please..." Galinda's retort was automatic, the familiar rhythm of their banter beginning to restore her.

"My love," Elphaba murmured, her voice thick with fondness, "you are many splendid and maddening things... but a burden has never been among them."

Galinda's eyes, still bright with unshed tears, studied Elphaba's face with the intensity she usually reserved for critical social evaluations. "But your work - your research. You've suddenly suspended everything because of me."

“I started preparing the moment you first mentioned retirement,” Elphaba said gently. “It hasn’t exactly come out of nowhere.”

A frown creased Galinda's brow. "But still, I'm the reason you had to rearrange everything."

Elphaba pulled her closer, arms folding around her in a wordless promise. "Of course you're the reason, my sweet. You've spent years adjusting your existence to accommodate mine - not letting people mistreat me, supporting my academic pursuits, attempting to make me see myself through your improbably optimistic perspective. You've given me gifts I didn't know to want, defended me against slights both real and imagined." Her lips curved into a smile against Galinda's hair. “Why wouldn't I want to reciprocate such magnificent devotion?"

Her smile softened further. "Besides, your mother assured me this is temporary."

Galinda pulled back slightly, eyes narrowing in sudden suspicion. "You consulted Momsie about this?!"

“Please don’t yell at me again,” Elphaba said dryly. “You weren’t exactly forthcoming about what was going on.”

Galinda flushed. “I didn’t yell…” 

“Oh, you did. I nearly cried.”

A bright, unexpected laugh escaped the blonde: “Shut up!”

Elphaba tightened her embrace, their bodies settling into a familiar constellation - as natural as breath after years of practice. "Your stubborn nature will likely prevent you from truly hearing this," she continued, "but you are not - nor will you ever be - a burden. You’ve spent so much time tending to my needs, and everyone else’s, that you’ve forgotten you’re allowed to have your own.”

"Look who’s talking…" Galinda interjected, one eyebrow arched in challenge.

Elphaba continued as if she hadn't heard, though the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her. "I want to help you, just as you've always helped me. I need you to let me."

Galinda studied her for a long moment before replying with deliberate simplicity: "Okay."

Elphaba's expression shifted to one of exaggerated disbelief. "I expected more enthusiasm at the prospect of having me at your disposal all the time. I'm somewhat wounded."

Galinda rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress the smile that crept across her face as Elphaba began leaving a trail of light kisses along her jawline, each one a separate promise. "Your self-satisfaction is showing, Elphie. It's terribly unbecoming."

"Let me be abundantly clear," Elphaba murmured between kisses, maneuvering with practiced ease until she was positioned above Galinda, her dark hair falling like a curtain around them. "I would never abandon you. Not for Fiyero, not for all the ancient texts in existence. Without you, I would unravel completely."

Her voice dropped lower, taking on that particular cadence that always sent a visible shiver through Galinda. "Each heartbeat I possess is merely applause for your existence. Every blink - a tragedy, for it steals a fraction of a second from beholding you."

"You know perfectly well what happens when you speak in poetry, my emerald," Galinda murmured, her hands moving to tangle in Elphaba's braids, pulling her closer.

Their foreheads touched, breath mingling in the narrow space between them. "I love you, my sweet," Elphaba said simply.

“I love you too, my Elphie,” Galinda said, her voice steadier than it had been all day. Her eyes sparkled with something long-missing - a glint of mischief tempered by quiet certainty.  Her fingers found the pendant at Elphaba’s throat and gave it a gentle tug, drawing their lips close - close enough to share breath.

“Now ravish me. This instant,” she whispered, her words brushing warmly against Elphaba’s mouth.

The kiss that followed was unhurried and deep, a conversation spun in silence. Elphaba tasted the salt of Galinda’s earlier tears and the lingering sweetness of bath oils, her hands moving in slow, familiar paths that drew a soft, startled sound from the blonde’s throat - half sigh, half squeal - as she arched into the touch.

“Yay!” she breathed between kisses, unable to contain her grin, “Our makeup sex is historically amazifying! ”

Elphaba came awake with the sudden, disoriented clarity of someone who had not intended to fall asleep. The first thing she registered was the weight - a warm, insistent pressure along her left side that pinned her to the mattress with the determination of a particularly affectionate anvil.

Galinda.

Her naked wife lay half-sprawled atop her, golden curls fanned across Elphaba's collarbone, one arm slung possessively over her ribs. And - there it was. The faint, rhythmic puff of air against her neck. The traitorous little sound Galinda would sooner throw herself from the terrace than admit to making.

Snoring.

Elphaba's lips twitched. Decades of sharing a bed, and still, the woman would swear up and down that Uplands did not snore, they sighed melodically in their sleep.

A glance at the window confirmed what her body already knew - it was dark. The only light came from the sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtains, painting silver stripes across the rumpled sheets.

She shifted carefully, trying to extricate herself without-

Galinda stirred, her arm tightening around the green woman. "Mmm. Why are you moving?" The words were muffled against her skin, thick with sleep.

"I need to yell at the kids," Elphaba said, voice low but firm.

Galinda lifted her head just enough to blink blearily at her. "Darling," she protested, the word dissolving into a yawn, "can't that wait for tomorrow?"

"No." Elphaba pressed a kiss to her forehead, already sitting up. "Look at the stress they put you through - sending letters in my name, making things up. This is a now problem."

Galinda made a sound of protest as Elphaba slipped from the bed, the loss of warmth clearly criminal in her half-asleep opinion. She flopped onto her back, the sheets pooling around her waist, and fixed her wife with a glare that would have been more effective if her hair wasn't doing an impressive impression of a bird's nest.

Elphaba slipped into her robe with quick  movements, the deep blue cotton sliding over her skin - prompting an exaggerated groan from her wife.

"You'll be okay?" she asked, glancing back. "It'll be quick."

Galinda scowled. "If you start treating me like I'm made of glass," she warned, eyes sharp, "I'll scream."

Elphaba paused at the door, one hand on the frame. A smirk curled at the corner of her mouth. "Like you were screaming just a few hours ago?"

The effect was instantaneous. Galinda's cheeks flushed pink, her mouth dropping open in indignant shock. She grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it with surprising force - it missed Elphaba by a mile, hitting the wall with a soft thump .

"Go! " Galinda ordered, pointing imperiously at the hallway. "If you keep this up, don't bother coming back! Make yourself comfortable on the couch!"

Elphaba laughed, the sound warm and bright in the quiet room. She snapped off a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am."

“Don’t be too harsh with them! And make sure Brrr’s asleep - it’s late!”  Galinda called after her, voice trailing down the hall.

A reply drifted back, just loud enough to be smug:

“As you wish, sweet.”

The kitchen door exploded inward with enough force to send a teacup rattling in its saucer. Olyvia barely had time to swallow her stolen biscuit before the full force of her mother's wrath descended upon them.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF OZ WERE YOU THINKING?"

Liir choked on his midnight snack, sending crumbs spraying across the table. "It was her idea!" he wheezed, pointing an accusatory finger at his sister.

Olyvia's chair screeched against the flagstones as she shot to her feet. "You traitor! You agreed to every detail! Don't you dare deny it!"

Elphaba raised a single green finger. The temperature in the kitchen dropped several degrees.

"I don't care whose idea it was," she said, her voice dangerously calm. "You knew your mother hasn't been well. You knew the curse was flaring. And you still thought it would be amusing to dangle Fiyero in front of her like some...some..."

"Romantic rival?" Olyvia offered helpfully.

Elphaba’s eye twitched. “Yes. That.”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Liir said quietly, eyes downcast.

“We both are,” Olyvia added quickly, pressing a hand to her chest.

Elphaba took a long breath, refusing to let their pitiful faces sway her already-set judgment.
“Look, I know you meant well-”

“Really well!” Olyvia chirped.

“More than well!” Liir chimed in.

“-But next time, check with at least one of us before making those… rash decisions.” ( She wanted to say ‘stupid.’ But Galinda would scold her later.)

“Certainly, Mom. Lesson learned. Never again,” Liir said smoothly.

“Excellent educational experience,” Olyvia nodded. “Some things happen for a reason.”

They had already begun inching toward the door.

“Not so fast ,” Elphaba said, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not done.”

The teens sighed in unison, caught.

“First, I want you to apologize to your mother-”

“I was already going to!” Liir protested.

“Me too! That’s a given! It’s what Momsie deserves,” Olyvia agreed.

Elphaba folded her arms. “Second… you heard what I told Uncle Fiyero I was planning to do, right?”

Liir and Olyvia exchanged panicked looks. They knew where this was going.

“Well, now it’s not my plan anymore. It’s yours. Isn’t that great?”

“Mom, please …” Olyvia groaned.

“Come on , really?” Liir added with dread in his voice.

“Would you prefer I let Brrr run wild in your garden?” Elphaba asked sweetly. Then she turned to Olyvia. “Or burn those Winkie Toys tickets?”

Silence.

“That’s what I thought,” Elphaba muttered, sweeping out of the kitchen without another word.

A beat passed before Olyvia whispered to no one in particular,  “…It’s Winkie Boys.”

"There." 

Galinda stood before her cabinet - the one housing her prized collection of Gillikin porcelain -   lips pursed in concentration, rotating a particularly valuable saucer with millimetric carefulness.

From her position at the head of the dining table, Elphaba observed the ritual over the rim of her teacup. 

The sound of footsteps in the hallway caught the green woman’s attention, though she made a point of appearing absorbed in deep thought. 

Her eyes flicked toward the doorway just as her older children appeared.

Liir's hands fidgeted behind his back while Olyvia straightened her shoulders with an air of determination.

Elphaba fought the urge to smile. 

This should be good.

Galinda remained blissfully unaware of the gathering audience, humming softly as she cleaned imaginary dust from her treasures (or admired her own reflection in their gleaming surfaces, it was always hard to tell).

Olyvia cleared her throat delicately. 

When this failed to penetrate Galinda's concentration, she tried again with more authority. " Ahem ... Ahem! Momsie?"

Galinda startled, nearly dropping a porcelain plate before catching it with unexpected grace. 

She turned in a swirl of practiced elegance.

"Oh!" Her face transformed instantly, blooming into a radiant smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. "There you are, my darlings! I didn't hear you come in."

Liir shifted his weight, his eyes darting toward Elphaba, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod while Galinda's attention was still adjusting. He straightened, something in his posture solidifying as he found his voice.

"Momsie," he began, His voice caught between its usual studied nonchalance and something softer, "we wanted to apologize properly."

Olyvia stepped forward, her chin raised in a gesture eerily reminiscent of Elphaba at her most resolute. “We never meant to upset you enough to feel like you had to use your rapier."

"Never," Liir added with an emphatic nod. "That was the last thing we wanted."

Behind Galinda's back, Elphaba set down her teacup with careful precision. Though she had demanded for this moment to happen - she found herself unexpectedly touched by the honesty in their voices. 

Were they performing?

Yes.  

But was there genuine emotion behind their words?

Surprisingly, yes.

A blossom of pride unfurled in her chest.

Galinda's face softened as she reached out, her fingers gliding gently across their cheeks.

"I know, my dears. You had goo-"

"We've prepared something for you, Momsie," Liir interrupted, seizing the opportunity to redirect the conversation to something less mellow. "A surprise."

Olyvia bounced slightly on her toes. "Just wait right here! Don't move an inch!"

Before Galinda could respond, they vanished back through the doorway.

Elphaba settled back in her chair, one eyebrow arched in curiosity as she took another sip of tea. Just waiting for what promised to be a thoroughly entertaining scene.

Galinda turned to her, eyes sparkling with affection. "They're so sweet, aren't they?" she whispered.

"The sweetest." was the dry response.

The moment was punctured by the sound of renewed commotion in the hallway. Something that sounded suspiciously like a growl filtered through the doorway, followed by urgent shushing.

Liir reappeared first, his face in determined alarm as he struggled with a squirming bundle in his arms. Olyvia followed close behind, her hands conspicuously hidden behind her back and her lips twitching with barely suppressed mirth.

In a quick motion, the boy transferred his burden into Galinda's startled arms.

Brrr glared up at them all, hazel eyes narrowed. His expression conveyed something between acute betrayal and dignified resignation. 

Galinda cradled him automatically, her face a delightful mixture of confusion and pleasure. "Well, hello there, baby! What a lovely surprise indeed - though you don’t seem particularly thrillifyed about it," she added, a hint of concern threading through her delight.

“That’s because we’re not done!” Olyvia proclaimed. 

With her trademark flourish, she produced a brilliantly pink silk scarf from behind her back, wrapping it around Brrr’s neck before adjusting the ends with theatrical precision. 

“Ta-da!”

Elphaba had to stifle a laugh behind her teacup. Poor thing.

Liir rubbed Brrr's ears apologetically. "We made a deal. He’ll wear it for ten minutes. Then he can shred it, right buddy?”

The cub nodded enthusiastically at the prospect of tearing the offending garment apart.

Galinda cuddled him closer. "My darling Brrr, you look perfectly splendid!” she whispered conspiratorially into his fur. "We'll make it five minutes." 

His tail gave a single flick - an unmistakable gesture of appreciation.

"So... have we earned your forgiveness, Momsie?" Olyvia asked, the playfulness in her tone trying to mask the vulnerability beneath.

Galinda's eyes softened with motherly love, the kind that sees through everything. "My precious darlings, you were forgiven the moment you entered the room."

She opened one arm wide in invitation, the other still wrapped around the reluctant fashion victim. “Come here. All of you.”

The children stepped forward without hesitation, wrapping themselves in the warm circle of her embrace. Brrr, trapped in the center of this emotional display, squirmed halfheartedly but made no genuine attempt to escape. His eyes closed briefly in what might have been resignation but looked suspiciously like contentment.

Elphaba observed from her seat, satisfaction settling over her. 

Galinda met her gaze over the children’s heads, her expression soft and knowing. The look she gave Elphaba said everything:  

I know you orchestrated this. And I love you for it.

"Wow."

The word hung in the air between them, Elphaba's delivery as flat as the expression she was attempting to conceal.

Galinda turned, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched in silent judgment. "No. Try again."

Elphaba cleared her throat, summoning a more convincing enthusiasm. "I love it."

"Almost there..." Galinda prompted, her head tilting in that particular way that conveyed both encouragement and the absolute certainty that her wife could do better.

The green woman drew in a breath, "It's perfect," she declared, with a theatrical sweep of her hand. "I don't know how I was living without it."

Satisfaction bloomed across Galinda's features as she moved closer to Elphaba, invading her wife's personal space with familiarity.

"I know, right?! Our minds are so alike, dearest, no wonder you are my soulmate." She rose on her toes, depositing a kiss on Elphaba's cheek that left the faintest trace of rose-tinted lip color against emerald skin.

They stood before what Galinda had christened “the family wall.” It was, in essence, a carefully composed gallery of portraits, each frame selected to complement rather than match, creating a harmony that appeared effortless despite the hours Galinda had dedicated to its arrangement. 

But today, their eyes were drawn to the newest addition: an imposing portrait of Brrr on his first day at daycare. The young lion cub had been captured in a moment of perfect poise, his tiny mane just beginning to fluff around his face, his eyes bright with mischief barely contained. Madam Liorra had somehow managed to convey both his natural dignity and the underlying playfulness that made Brrr who he was.

"Brrr!"

The exclamation from behind them carried such pure delight that both women turned instantly, identical expressions of adoration softening their features. The subject of the portrait himself bounded into the room, tiny claws clicking against the hardwood.

Elphaba moved with swift grace, scooping the cub and balancing him on her hip as she turned back toward the portrait.

"Who is that?" she asked, her voice taking on the gentle cadence she reserved exclusively for their youngest.

"Brrr!" The cub declared his own name with unrestrained enthusiasm, tiny paws kneading the air in excitement.

"Yes! Very good!" Galinda exclaimed, beaming with the particular pride of a mother witnessing her child's brilliance. "Don't you look absolutely majestic, dear?"

The cub stretched forward, reaching for the painting with curious paws that promised an investigation involving touch as much as sight.

"No, no, no. Art is supposed to be admired, not touched by your little sharp paws," she admonished, but the reprimand carried no sting, softened by the way she captured and nuzzled his furry knuckles.

Released from this momentary restraint, Brrr settled back into Elphaba's hold, his gaze returning to the portrait with an intensity of focus that bordered on comical in one so young. His tiny brow furrowed, head tilting slightly as he admired his painted self.

Elphaba watched this display with mirth dancing in her eyes. "He is definitely your son," she muttered, glancing sideways at her wife.

"Naturally!" Galinda preened slightly. "Us Uplands know when to appreciate something beautiful." The declaration was accompanied by a deliberate gaze that traveled the length of Elphaba's form, lingering in a way that managed to be both appreciative and slightly wicked.

A deeper shade of green crept across Elphaba's cheeks, her complexion betraying the heat rising beneath her skin. "Not in front of our baby," she chided, though there was little force behind the protest.

Galinda responded with an elaborate eye roll that conveyed both affectionate exasperation and a promise to continue this particular line of appreciation at a more appropriate time.

Brrr began to squirm in Elphaba's arms, his momentary fascination with the portrait giving way to the more pressing concerns of a young cub with energy to burn. Elphaba set him down carefully, watching as he immediately began a thorough investigation of the parlor's corners.

Meanwhile, Galinda had returned her attention to the wall, making a minute adjustment to the frame that only she could perceive as necessary. She stepped back to assess the effect, her gaze drifting absently toward the window - and freezing there.

In the garden beyond, Liir and Olyvia were struggling across the lawn with what appeared to be an exceptionally heavy wooden crate. Seemingly coming from the guest house that stood at the far end of the property, a charming but seldom-used structure that had, until recently, served primarily as storage for Galinda's seasonal decorations.

"Elphie," Galinda began, her tone carefully casual despite the sudden alertness in her posture, "what are Liir and Olyvia doing? It's not the first time I've seen them out there this week..."

Elphaba's response came just a beat too quickly. "Oh, they're just doing a little cleaning, the place was a mess." She moved to stand beside Galinda, as though to share her perspective, but her eyes barely skimmed the scene outside. "What if we have some unexpected guests coming? You don't need to worry about it, my sweet."

Galinda turned slowly, meeting Elphaba's gaze with the particular brand of sweet skepticism she had perfected over years of marriage. The very suggestion that any part of her domain might be described as "a mess" without her immediate knowledge and intervention was, frankly, absurd . Every room, occupied or not, existed under her meticulous supervision. 

"Hmm." The sound was neither agreement nor accusation, but something hovering delicately between. "Perhaps I should bring them a lemonade or something, they seem to be working really hard." 

"Love," Elphaba countered, a note of concern entering her voice, "that place is full of dust. I don't want you getting an allergic reaction. You know how sensitive your nose is." She moved closer, capturing Galinda's hand between both of her own. "Plus, I don't want you to leave my side, I'll miss you too much."

She brought Galinda's fingers to her lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles that lingered just long enough to suggest more than simple affection. It was a diversion tactic Galinda recognized well - Elphaba had never quite grasped that her attempts at distraction were as transparent as they were endearing.

The blonde allowed herself to be drawn in nonetheless, sliding her arms around Elphaba's shoulders and bringing their faces close enough that she could feel the warmth of her wife's breath.

"I'm going to pretend," she murmured, her voice dropped to a whisper that held both promise and warning, "that I don't know you are hiding something from me."

The quick peck she left on Elphaba's mouth was more threat than affection.

The library door creaked open. 

Olyvia appeared first, practically vibrating with the effort of containing her excitement. 

Behind her, Liir shuffled in with one hand dramatically covering the upper half of his face.

"Is it safe to open my eyes?" he asked, half joking, half serious.

Olyvia nudged him with her elbow. "It's finally done, Mom! And yes, we are in the clear."

The scene that greeted them was one they had witnessed countless times: Elphaba absorbed in an ancient tome, while Galinda sat beside her, her own slender volume forgotten in her lap, as she studied her wife’s face with quiet intensity. 

Although the blonde had initially fretted about seeming too dependent - too needy - in her constant gravitation toward Elphaba, those worries had seemingly melted away in recent weeks. Their displays of affection had since multiplied exponentially , surprising even those who believed they’d seen every possible expression of their love.

Elphaba looked up from her book, her expression shifting from concentration to barely contained anticipation. "All of it?"

"All of it," Liir confirmed with the satisfaction of a difficult mission completed.

Galinda shifted against Elphaba's side. "Am I finally going to discover what you've all been conspiring about?" She tilted her head, sending a cascade of golden curls across Elphaba's shoulder. "Because truly, darling, I cannot endure another week of these cryptic exchanges. My constitution simply wasn't designed for such prolonged suspense."

Elphaba smiled while closing her book with deliberate care, sliding her worn leather bookmark between the pages. "Yes, my sweet. I actually can't believe you haven't gone investigating on your own... it shows remarkable restraint."

She rose from the sofa, extending her hand to Galinda - an unnecessary but cherished assistance. Their fingers interlaced unconsciously.

"Ugh!" Galinda exclaimed with a dramatic flutter of her free hand. "Neither can I! I'm absolutely perishing with anticipation. How dare you subject me to such exquisite torture?"

Elphaba's expression softened, a trace of nervousness flickering beneath her composed exterior. "It's a surprise for you, my love. I'm fairly certain you'll find it to your liking."

Visible excitement colored Galinda's face as she seized Elphaba's hand more firmly, pulling her toward the door with the determination of a much larger being.

"Then why are we standing here discussing it? Honestly, Elphie, when did you become so terribly slow?"

When they paused before the closed door of the guest house, Elphaba turned to face Galinda, her expression taking on that particular brand of authority that she reserved almost exclusively for her wife.

"Are your eyes closed?"

Galinda nodded emphatically. "Yes!"

Elphaba's eyebrow arched. "Galinda..."

"Okay," Galinda sighed, exaggeratedly closing her eyes, long lashes sweeping dramatically against her cheeks. "Now they are closed!"

Behind them, Liir and Olyvia executed perfectly synchronized eye-rolls, their expressions carrying the fond exasperation of children who found their parents both ridiculous and endearing. The moment expanded to include the approach of tiny paws - Brrr (abandoning his butterfly hunt in the nearby garden) weaved curiously between his siblings legs, completing their family circle.

Elphaba opened the door and gently guided Galinda across the threshold with a hand at the small of her back. 

Once inside, her eyes swept the space in one final assessment, checking that everything was precisely as planned.

With a quick glance at her children, she turned back to her wife. "Very well... Open your eyes, sweet."

Galinda's eyes fluttered open, her lips already curving into an eager smile that faltered as she took in the nearly empty room. Clean floors stretched before her, bare walls surrounded her, and tall windows allowed natural light to pool across the space. Against the far wall stood a single object draped in fabric, its size and shape offering no immediate clues to its identity.

Her expression performed a complex journey from confusion to forced enthusiasm. "Um. I love it, dear! I've really been wanting a... bare room. So avant-garde."

Elphaba's mouth twitched at the corner, making a huge effort to contain her laughter. "Don't worry, Galinda. That's not the surprise. You can abandon the performance."

Relief flooded Galinda's features as she exhaled dramatically. "Oh, thank Oz! I was beginning to question your mental stability... So what is it?"

Elphaba's posture shifted subtly, a rare hint of uncertainty entering her normally assured demeanor. "Well, I know you miss your work."

Galinda opened her mouth to protest, but Elphaba raised a hand, her long fingers elegant in their gentle insistence.

"Of course you miss it, love. It's a big part of who you are. And you shouldn't have to relinquish it completely." Her voice softened further. "Not that I'm complaining about our retirement experiment - I treasure having you to myself day and night."

Galinda's expression melted into understanding as she stepped closer, taking Elphaba's hand between both of her own. "Oh Elphie, I treasure it too." She raised Elphaba's hand to her lips. "Every moment in your presence reminds me how undeserving I am of such magnificence-" she pressed a kiss to Elphaba's knuckles, "-such brilliance-" another kiss, more lingering, "-such extraordinary glory." The final kiss landed on Elphaba's palm - worshipful.

Elphaba's lips curved into that helpless smile that always emerged in the face of Galinda's (theatrical) adoration. "Hence why I thought we might find a balance." She gestured to the empty space around them. "This could become your new atelier. It needs considerable renovation, clearly. But knowing anything I selected would be immediately redesigned by you, I thought it best to leave that in your incredibly capable hands."

"I wouldn't change everything, dearest," Galinda protested, with an innocence so transparently false it wouldn't have convinced a child.

Elphaba just gave her a look.

"Fine," Galinda conceded with a delicate sigh. "Perhaps one or twelve things."

Elphaba's expression faded into something more vulnerable, her fingers twining with Galinda's. "I believe it would be beneficial... for both of us. I could gradually resume my own work; beginning with the research. That way I'd remain here as well, in my study. Quite near to this place..." The slightest pause. "To you."

Galinda began to respond, but Elphaba continued with increasing speed, words tumbling over each other like water finding its way downhill.

"Obviously the choice is entirely yours. If this doesn't appeal, we can simply forget the entire proposition..."

"Elphie," Galinda interjected gently.

"We can certainly continue our current arrangement, which has been nothing short of wonderful..."

"Elphie." The word emerged more firmly this time.

"I wouldn't presume to make such a decision on your behalf-"

Galinda stepped forward, taking her wife by the shoulders. 

"Elphie!"

The green woman finally fell silent - eyes focusing on Galinda's face.

The blonde pulled her into a tight embrace, her arms wrapping around Elphaba's slender frame with fierce tenderness. "I love it."

"You do?" Elphaba's voice carried a lingering uncertainty, rare in its transparency.

Galinda nodded against the curve of Elphaba's neck, her reply muffled but sincere. "How could I not? I've missed my fabrics dreadfully. And to remain near you? It's absolutely perfect." She pulled back slightly, her eyes distant with creative vision. "I already envision the interior design. It will require considerable transformation - one simply cannot summon creativity in an aesthetically challenged environment."

Elphaba's laugh carried the sound of relief, tension flowing from her shoulders like water. She leaned back enough to study Galinda's face. "Well, I'm glad."

"You are adorable when nervous, my darling," Galinda observed with knowing tenderness, rising on her toes to press a kiss to the corner of Elphaba's mouth.

"I am none of those things," Elphaba protested.

"Actually, there's one more thing..." Liir’s voice interrupted from behind them.

"Yes, Mom!" Olyvia added. "It was the most challenging aspect of the entire project! You can't possibly forget it."

Elphaba turned toward them with a start, as though she had momentarily forgotten they weren't alone. "Right..."

Galinda clapped her hands together, her excitement refreshed. "Yay! This is so thrillifying!"

Elphaba glanced at the fabric-covered object against the wall, then back to her children. "Liir, Olyvia. Would you do the honors for me?" She gestured toward the draped shape, an unusual deference in her manner. "It's my final request, I promise."

The siblings exchanged pleased (and relieved) glances before moving to opposite ends of the covered object, their movements suggesting the culmination of a long-held secret.

"Three, two, one!" Olyvia announced, her voice carrying ceremonial weight.

They pulled away the fabric in perfect unison, allowing it to pool forgotten on the floor as the object beneath was revealed: the preserved section of a wall, its aged plaster bearing the unmistakable lines of a drawing - the profile of a younger Elphaba gazing out with that familiar intensity, captured in bold strokes of charcoal.

Galinda's breath caught audibly, her eyes immediately filling with tears. "Is that really..." The question trailed off, too overwhelming to complete.

"I thought I might select at least one decorative element," Elphaba offered, her attempted casualness a fragile mask over profound emotion.

Galinda moved toward the wall fragment as though drawn by an invisible thread, her fingers trembling as they reached to touch the surface. Her touch carried the reverence one might reserve for a holy relic - careful, almost fearful, as though the wall might dissolve beneath her fingertips.

"How?" The question emerged thick with emotion, tears already tracing pathways down her cheeks.

Elphaba cleared her throat, adopting a deliberately matter-of-fact tone that served as counterpoint to the emotional weight in the room. "It was quite the logistical challenge, actually. I enlisted Fiyero to exercise some influence." She noted silently that Galinda must truly be overwhelmed if that name received no reaction. "He talked to Sarima, who serves on Shiz's board of directors. After some negotiation and a modest donation... I acquired the wall."

Galinda remained mesmerized by the faded lines, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You broke a wall for me?"

"Technically, no," Elphaba corrected. "I employed professionals to do so. After acquisition, they needed to remove at least three layers of wallpaper and paint concealing the drawing. That accounts for some fading. Then came the matter of transportation, which was positively nightmarish. They extracted only the portion containing the artwork to reduce weight for the train journey."

Galinda turned slowly to face her, eyes shining with tears and wonder. "You broke a wall for me."

Elphaba met her gaze, her voice softening into simple truth. "Yes... I did."

A beat.

"THAT IS SO ROMANTIC, ELPHIE!" The words erupted from Galinda as she launched herself into Elphaba's arms with the complete confidence of someone who knew, without question, that she would be caught.

Elphaba's surprised yelp gave way to instinctive adjustment, her hands moving to support Galinda's weight as the blonde's legs wrapped naturally around her waist. Years of similar embraces had taught them both exactly how their bodies fit together.

"On the anniversary of the first time my lips touched your right ear, no less!" Galinda added breathlessly, her arms locked around Elphaba's neck.

A brief, blank expression crossed Elphaba's features. "Umm. Of course!" She recovered admirably. "Such a milestone deserves proper commemoration. Happy anniversary, my swee-"

The rest of the word disappeared as Galinda captured her lips in a kiss that carried all the emotion words had failed to express. Her embrace tightened, legs and arms creating a perfect circle of connection as she surrendered completely to the moment.

Elphaba's initial shock melted swiftly into a passionate response, stepping forward until Galinda's back met the wall beside the mounted fragment. Past and present aligned in perfect symmetry.

"Yeah, I'll be in the garden," Liir announced, averting his eyes with practiced haste as he made for the door.

Olyvia scooped up Brrr, who had been watching the proceedings with feline curiosity (Why is Ma attacking my other Ma?).

"Come on, Brrr, you don't deserve this trauma," she muttered, following her brother's swift exit.

Their departure went entirely unnoticed by the two women, who remained lost in the private universe that had always existed between them - a place where curses became blessings and walls became tokens.

When Elphaba finally broke the kiss, she kept her forehead resting against Galinda's, their breath mingling in the narrow space between them. "To many more years of your lips touching my right ear, sweet," she murmured, her voice carrying the particular timbre of breathless wonder that Galinda had always been able to evoke.

"Many, many more, my emerald."