So here it is, at long last, the sequel to The Bonds That Tie Us. Sorry it has taken so long, hopeful it won't disappoint though as I always do, I worry it will.

Anyway, if you have any constructive criticism feel free to message me here or on my Tumblr. Or if you just want to yell at me for what I have written, I'll even take that :)

I hope you will enjoy it.

One moment people had been crowded around the stage, cheers and applause echoing in the early Summer air. It brightened the already brilliant day into one that would surely remain clear in anyone's mind for some time to come. The smiling faces of young and old, all brought together for the greater good, to help those less fortunate than they. The beaming expressions of the orphans who had lost their parents in, and to, the mines towards the north, finally given a spark of hope in their otherwise dismal lives. Finally able to smile for the first time in so long, they seemed almost confused by it.

Yes, surely it would be a day long remembered. Though, perhaps, not for the reasons they once believed. For the moment, like many, was short-lived.

Crash!

Screaming, shouting, the stampeding sound of footsteps as the congregation broke, running in all directions. The wailing of children and adults alike filling the air until it became stiflingly, claustrophobic even though they were outside. They ran and fell, littering the ground with their bodies.

Rubble rained down on their forms, bruising and cutting, painting the grass with greys and browns and whites.

Chaos.

Amongst it all, the sound of a confused, young voice called for help, lost beneath the weight of everything else.

In whole, it had been sudden, the death of the Eminent. Still something she had yet to come to terms with even as she stood amongst the roses, black cloth hanging from the windows and the single balcony of Colwen Grounds.

The funeral itself was a rather private affair, with only those closest to Nessarose or those in positions of importance attending. There were few people there Glinda knew, and so she remained on her own for the most part, for once not embarrassed by the breaking of social norms. Though that did not mean she did not feel awkward, for she did. As such she made her way through the rows of flowers, untouched by the fierce storm that took place only a short distance away, in search for a familiar greying figure.

She did not fully understand the pull she felt, the one leading her to seek someone she had very rarely purposeful sought out before. Perhaps it was due to her understanding of what he was going through, an innate desire to seek one who was now shouldering pain she herself had felt not too long ago. For her sorrow now, for Nessarose, was not as great as the sorrow she had felt those few years ago. She cared for Nessie, had become friends in their mutual loss, though they had drifted apart in the past years. Her connection with her Ama, on the other hand, had only strengthened during their time apart. A connection that would never break, only grow stronger with age.

In a secluded corner she found him alone and quiet.

It took her back to their first meeting, or rather the first time they met one another in person. It had been late at night, she once again found sleep was a distance goal, one she could not grasp easily, so she wandered the halls, planning to while away some time in the library of all things.

She had opened the door, and there he sat. Head bowed, and hands cupping some poor wooden bird that appeared to have been chewed by some young wild animal. A pose he was now replicating in the present, as if the memory had become real and appeared before her.

At first there had been a sense of distain towards her, not for her personally, but for her people. A bigotry towards the Gilikinese as a whole. Something she had come to see as a common opinion amongst the Munchkins. But, as they had come to know one another, that bigotry faded away until they had a mutual respect between them – if not a pleasant familiarity of sorts. Like… well, like family in a way.

She took in his wavering form, his figure hunched far beyond its years as he rested his weight on a sturdy cane. His hair swept back, tied, and beard trimmed as normal, but now its colour almost fully overtaken by grey.

Glinda approached cautiously, though she made sure Frexspar knew of her approach by clearing her throat daintily, but loudly. His hearing was failing quite rapidly nowadays.

Once by his side, she rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, a gesture of support she hoped, "Frexspar?"

He did not respond at first, too absorbed in his own thoughts and sorrow that Glinda wondered if he was even aware of her presence at all.

She almost jumped when he spoke.

"First Turtle Heart…" His voice cracked, his words weighed down as much as his frame now was. Glinda ensured that her hand and posture remained strong, as if her stability could pass over to the man beside her, strengthening and supporting him, "My dear Melena, my oldest child…" He sighed heavily, his misty eyes downcast, "And now Nessa. It seems I am fated to be alone."

"I understand." For now she did, if only distantly.

He turned his head to her, lifting it slightly as he smiled weakly at her, "At least I still have you and my son."

She returned his smile, though hers was far firmer, as he looked once more to the open expense beyond the hedges, "Surely you mean your son and his wife?"

"Do not belittle yourself so." He turned his glassy eyes to her again; even now his face bore none of the familiar signs of Nessarose, nor Elphaba, something she was, in that moment, greatly thankful for. Selfish of her perhaps, but it made things easier to deal with. To push aside.

He lifted a hand to rest against her own, squeezing weakly.

"You have grown, more than I imagined possible."

The words could easily be interpreted as a veiled insult, but she knew it not to be that way. Not with Frexspar. Not now.

"I would like some time alone." He shifted his weight, taking an unsteady step forward, moving from under her hand as he did, "Will you escort me to the Sunroom?"

"Of course." As she moved forward, he stuck the elbow of his spare arm out, an offer she politely took. Ever the gentleman was Frexspar, even as he grew older. She slid her arm through his and they began the slow and careful walk out of the rose gardens and towards the main building in a comfortable silence.

"Lady Glinda?"

She turned at the voice, brows raised in her surprise, a reaction she covered up swiftly when her eyes landed on Genfee's familiar shinning head.

"Yes?" She asked, hiding her displeasure at being interrupted, she would much rather have been left alone for the day to come to terms with her sudden loss. The other business she was now responsible for could wait, if only for a day.

Though perhaps that was not wise.

She could not hole up in her room and ignore her responsibilities, nor could she rightly continue about as if nothing had happened. She had duties now. Something she had to remind herself of. When a leader is lost, so too become the people.

They needed a leader and, she supposed, she was that leader now. As such, she was unsurprised when Genfee informed her that The Council of Munchkinland were awaiting her presence in the main study of Colwen Grounds.

She followed after the Munchkin, struggling to push down her annoyance that The Council had the cheek to go to the main study to wait for her, rather than the drawing room as was polite. Even the normally mild mannered Genfee seemed irritated as he broke proper manners to tug at his beard like a teenager unsure of what to do, or an ill-mannered peasant.

Genfee led her to the study she was well aware of, entering before her to state her arrival before hurrying back out of the room, leaving Glinda alone with the occupants.

The men, all Munchkins save one, were a mixture of advisors and powerful landowners. She recognised some of them from when she still resided at Colwen Grounds. One in particular, a Munchkin with a shockingly dark toupee and grey eyebrows, was a particularly outspoken individual who had attempted to convince Nessarose to abdicate and abolish the position of Eminent. Showing the familiar stubbornness of the Thropp's, Nessarose had refused again and again, month after month, until the Munchkin had finally dropped the matter. Seemingly resigned in his loss.

Ah. With those memories resurfacing she had a certain theory of just where this conversation was heading.

And with Nessarose only a few hours in the ground.

Vultures, the lot of them.

She did not greet them straight away, instead walking to the large desk in the room, hesitating before deciding not to sit down. Instead, she lifted her head even higher, exaggerating her height advantage and rested her hands on the back of the chair.

"What can I help you with?"

A Munchkin with oversized eyebrows and narrow eyes cleared his throat, taking a step forward as he did, "We, err, wished to broach a subject with you." He began, scratching at his throat with a fat finger when he paused, "With the Eminent dead and the condition of Munchkinland at present, we thought it most important."

"That I understand." And Glinda did, Nessarose does – did her best, but all realms have problems that will rear their heads no matter what actions a leader takes. Do one action, certain problems arise, take the opposite action and different problems arise instead. There was no winning, only slightly less problematic losses, "But Nessarose passed only the other day, was buried barely a few hours prior to this moment. Surely it can wait until at least tomorrow morn."

Eyebrows, for his part, had the decency to look ashamed. The other men suddenly seemed a little more apprehensive, all aside from the toupee wearing Munchkin.

Toupee stepped towards the desk, tilting his head up and squaring his chin as if that would make an impression, "There can be no waiting. The time to take action is now."

He punctuated his words with a slam of a palm on the dark wood of the desk separating them, his pale brows drawn low.

"Am I incorrect?" He turned to the five individuals behind him, gesturing with his hands. They all nodded their agreement, though Eyebrow's head moved more hesitantly.

The only Munchkinlander there, though closer to a Munchkin in height, spoke next, his face tightly constricted, "He is right. There can be no more waiting when Munchkinland is need of a firm guiding hand."

Glinda lifted a single brow, "You do not believe I am skilled enough to replace Nessarose?"

Toupee shock his head, sending the hair upon his head askew, he opened his mouth, but she cut him off –

"This is about abolishing the title again, isn't it? Well that will not happen." She had not meant to snap, but after all that had happened in the past week could she really be blamed for doing so? She had lost a friend, an ally, for Lurline's sake!

She took a breath, and willed herself to calm. Unfortunately, that did not last long, Toupee instead continuing on in spite of her clear refusal.

"The Eminent did not leave a Will; as such she did not restate what is to happen when she dies."

"Something that is not required."

"I think you will find –

"Something that is not required," she stressed the words this time, trying to get it to stick in his think skull, "Not with a tradition of this sort."

The men in the room seemed to shrink at her words, apparently beginning to see that they would not be able to exert their power over her as they originally thought. All expect one.

Toupee hit the surface of the desk with both hands this time, his lips curled back over his teeth.

Another, his stomach protruding obscenely, gained courage at this, stepping forward besides his colleague, "How do we know you're not in league with that Gillikinese Adept? How do we know that she wasn't sent her to dispose of The Eminent? To use that girl as a scapegoat when it didn't end up looking like an accident?"

"What happened was a freak accident; there is no evidence to the contrary." Glinda repeated, having grown long tired of such rumours. Ones that had only began a few days ago.

"Then why did she run away?"

Glinda's lips pressed into a thin line, her composure failing as her anger grew steadily more apparent; something that was not recognised by Toupee.

"Your kind cares nothing for us, your hand will be far too soft," he snarled, "It is time we controlled our futures, no more interference from others."

"Is this to do with my heritage?!" The pitch of her voice dropped, the last word hissed rather than spoken. The other occupants of the room visibly stepped back this time, even the raging Munchkin before her, "You are trying to find a loophole in a centuries old practice, one that has only been strengthen with time, because I am Gillikinese?!"

"Err –

"And Nessarose? Why did you want her to abolish the Title?" For their reasons had been much the same as the ones they confronted her with, only when they were brought up with Nessie the reasons were weaker, with much less evidence to back them up. Now most of the problems came from the pressure placed upon Munchkinland by Loyal Oz, something that could not be easily controlled or rectified, until now that is. For she was in charge now. "Because of her association with me? Is that it?"

"This has nothing to do with race." Thick beads of sweat were forming on the creases of his forehead, rolling down his face sluggishly, "You are simply not a native, you don't understand what Munchkinland needs."

"That was supposed to convince me that this has nothing to do with race?" The bigoted fool. Her knowledge on Nessarose's parenthood was only known by a few, but her pinkish skin might have given rise to a rumour that Glinda had not heard. If that was true, then maybe race played a part with their attempts to oust Nessie also. Then again, Munchkins were not very good at keeping secrets, nor were they all that subtle, so she doubted they were aware that Nessie had been half Quadling.

Flustered and sweating more profusely, Toupee, pressed a handkerchief to his brow, his cheeks burning bright, "I – that isn't –

He spluttered, the others remained silent, their eyes wide and faces pale. Eyebrows edged towards the door with the carefulness of one confronted by an enraged beast.

Perhaps it was wrong of her to twist things, for surely they did have a slight point buried deep beneath their bigotry, but – for reasons she could not discern – she would not let them take what was now rightfully hers. She had been through enough to get this far, lost too much too quickly, only to now lose the only thing left for her to gain.

"The Title will continue down the line, as it has for generations." She raised her chin, straightened her shoulders to put forth the image of pure power and authority that she needed to get across to these men, "In the future there may be time for discussions of concessions, the possibility for reducing the powers of the Eminent, maybe to the point of only being a figurehead."

The group's unofficial leader's throat bobbed rapidly as he tried to swallow his words, tried to grab them from the space between them and stuff them back inside, to force them down and pray they had never been released into the air.

"Until then, I remain. Munchkinland needs to know that they have someone in charge. Someone they can voice any concerns to, someone to look up to in this dark time. Surely even you can understand the benefit? See past your self-absorbed fantasies to see what is best for Munchkinland as a whole?"

The other occupants in the room were still shrouded in silence, the air around them still while the air around her crackled and tingled against her skin – enough so she feared she may have unintentionally used her Sorcery skills on the short fellows. Not that she could, she would feel wholly horrified if she had, it would leave a decidedly awful taste in her mouth, one that would grow as time passed. Not that Sorcery of that sort was easy to do; in fact she was not even sure if it was possible to use it to harm another.

And there she goes, getting of topic in a way she had not done in a long time.

Handkerchief crumpled in his hand, the still red faced Munchkin bowed his head, his fellows following suit.

"Of course, your Eminence."

How could those fools possibly think the Northern Adept had anything to do with Nessarose's death?

She did not truly know Locasta, but from the little she had experienced first-hand, and heard second-hand, she was a kind and somewhat naïve individual. She even refused to let people refer to her by her title, preferring a more personal connection with everyone she came across. Having experienced many people who acted as though they were kind and caring, Glinda was certain that with Locasta she was genuine in her behaviour. Her brief meeting with The Gillikinese Sorceress had been at a large celebration in Gillikin for the approval of an extension for The Great Gillikinese Railway into Munchkinland. Of course such plans had fallen through at the last moment due to some dispute Glinda would now, with Nessie… deceased, never know the cause of. A great loss for both countries involved in her opinion, though at least she was able to meet such a powerful and apparently influential figure before the plans did fail.

She was aware that Locasta was a popular figure in most areas of Oz, but when the locals noticed her presence there – in Munchkinland so soon after the death of The Eminent – the rumours started and spread like a raging fire.

Locasta was the Adept of the North. Of Gillikin. Besides the inherent dislike of the Gillikinese the Munchkins' held, there was also the fact she was a part of Loyal Oz, the so called 'enemy'. So really it was not much of a surprise when the whispers that she had something to do with Nessarose's death began.

As so did hardened looks directed at Glinda herself. Anyone with more than fluff between the ears would realise how ridiculous the rumours were, but Munchkin's were never particularly smart. And The Council proved that. Her being Gillikinese and still residing in the Emerald City was apparently enough evidence to raise suspicions against her. Suspicions that had never knowingly been present until poor Nessa had passed.

For her part, she ignored them.

Ignored rumours would disappear eventually, and so, despite her desire to share some words with the Adept of Gillikin, she kept her distant and did not approach her in order to extinguish the rumours more swiftly.

Wisely, Locasta for her part, left Munchkinland swiftly along with the girl some deemed magical. Of course The Council would claim she was running away, anything to strengthen their own argument, no matter how pathetic it was.

The girl. Strange, perhaps, how she had appeared mere moments after the storm that tore the area apart and ended Nessa's life so suddenly.

But a girl she was, and one so lost and confused there was no doubting her harmlessness. Though the same conclusion had not been drawn by everyone. The girl would be safe, Glinda assumed, with Locasta by her side, together they should be fine until they crossed the borders back into Loyal Oz. Back into supposed 'safety' as others deemed it.

And now they thought she had something to do with it, all because she had 'gained' something. It made her sick.

Weary, Glinda made her way to the room that opened onto the main balcony of the building, preparing to spend the rest of the evening resting with a fairly pleasant view. Something to ease the stress of the day.

She had attempted to find Nanny, having not seen the old woman in an age, but was informed that she was 'gone'. Sensing her initial reaction, or perhaps simply hearing how the sentence had come across, the staff member that she asked quickly corrected themselves. Nanny had left on some journey of her own, searching for something none of them understood. They had added a quick joke about a late midlife crisis, something Glinda saw no humour in. Nanny was indeed very old now; perhaps her journey had to do with wanting to do something before she had no time left to do so.

It left a bittersweet feeling in Glinda's chest.

She had only just lowered herself into a plush armchair when the door reopened. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to greet the intruder with a cordial smile and kind word. When she opened them and turned she was genuinely surprised to see Shell in front of the closed door.

Her tight smile eased as she relaxed in her chair.

"Evening dear," he grinned facetiously, before making his way to the chair at an angle to her own, so they could have a view of the gardens while also keeping one another in their sight, "How was your meeting with those old fools?"

"You know about that?"

"There is very little that escapes my notice."

"As I am aware."

Glinda drew in a breath slowly, her gaze focusing on the sky as it began to turn orange and red, the clouds floating by carelessly. Hard to believe that such a fierce storm has struck nearby only a few days prior.

"We do not have to move here do we?" It would be far easier to keep her distance from the place, from the memories that the walls held. It was part of the reason she chose not to return Gillikin to live, not that Shell was keen on the idea anyway – naturally she let him believe he had won their 'disagreement' of where to reside, though in truth it was a mutual decision to move to the City. Her side of the decision was simply not verbalised to him, "Our home in the City is far more pleasing."

"Oh I don't see that happening anytime soon," Shell responded followed by a chuckle, "The City has much more going on for it. Don't you think? Far more lively than this backwater town." Now while she knew of his dislike for his home, she had never realised just how much distain he had for his home country. His tone was heavy with loathing. She couldn't blame him; if she were from Munchkinland she would be ashamed too. She would do as he did and mention it as rarely as possible – if ever. His brow, which had drawn low with his last sentence, smoothed now as he cocked an eyebrow, "I think we can manage things from our home easily enough."

"'We'…" Glinda raised an eyebrow of her own as she turned to face him fully, filing away information without acknowledging it verbally, a useful and beneficial habit she had developed over the years, "My, how presumptuous."

"I suppose it rather was. Or poorly chosen words." He tapped his chin with a slim forefinger, twisting his face into mock expression of thoughtfulness.

"I rather the latter."

"Of course you do." The expression dropped quickly as he leant a hand on his knee and leant slightly towards her, "And you did not answer my question?"

Like a cat with a mouse it planned to eat, he would tease and play, stray from it, but never let it truly go. He would get what he wanted in the end, no matter how long it took. No matter how long he spent playing.

"It went as you already know it did."

"They tried to oust you then." Out of the corner of her eye she could see Shell nod at the end of his sentence.

"And that was as far as they got." He looked towards her now, and when she met his eyes she saw genuine fascination in their depths, "They will not be trying to dispose of me anytime soon."

He made an impressed sound in the back of his throat, pleased at that turn of events. No doubt he saw some advantage he could gain for himself, not that she could really condemn him for doing so.

"So Eminent," he murmured as he let his head drop to rest against the back of his chair, "what do you plan to do now?"

"Reconnect the lands."

"Reunite with Oz?" His head jerked forward, snapping to face her with a concerned crinkle between his brows, "That will cause many to revolt."

"My," she mused with a smile, "it almost sounds as if you are worried that the 'peasants will rise' and dethrone me."

"You think they won't? Reuniting with Loyal Oz would be the strongest trigger for one to explode into being."

"And they won't simply revolt due to a Gillikinese 'lording' over them?"

He shrugged, rolling his shoulders in resignation, "I guess you have me there."

Glinda weighed her next words, wondering whether to voice them aloud or not. In the end she decided she had already said enough about her intentions, what harm could more possibly do? It would be for the best if he understood that nothing occurring at the present moment could change her opinion on what actions she would need to take.

"It is better to be unified, for everyone I believe. Nothing will change my mind. No arguments you may come up with, nothing."

"But that would go against dear Nessarose's wishes."

Glinda's brow drew in, a niggling feeling tugging in her chest. It would be wrong, in a way, one of Nessie's last actions was to separate from Oz, and she had done so with such determination. Had, in her odd way, thought it would be best for Munchkinland to do so. Though whatever reasons Nessarose had were still lost on Glinda.

Back then, when Nessarose had begun her actions, Glinda had silently disagreed, and had tried to pry from Nessarose just why she believed it to be beneficial for her people. There had been no clear answer forthcoming, and now there would be none at all.

A death so sudden and unexpected, Nessie had yet to even write out a will or verbalise her wishes. Something the Council had latched on to if their words in the meeting were anything to go by. Something they may let slip for now, but which will undoubtedly be brought up again in the future.

Though, would Nessa have even made one even if she had foreseen her rapidly approaching demise? Or would she have trusted things to continue under Glinda's own hands? That she would understand her wishes? Or that others would?

These thoughts continued running around in Glinda's head, she tried to push it back for the moment but failed, and so she responded as she always did when conflicting feelings arose within.

"Do you not have some desperate mourners to offer a shoulder to?" There were few people there, but many more who were not invited to attend the funeral lingered nearby. It would not be hard to find someone.

"Later Dear." Her husband raised his brow, his eyes dancing, then it disappeared as he turned his gaze back to the window.

He stood swiftly, walking towards the glass and looking down to have a better view of whatever had caught his attention.

"Well…" He muttered, and so Glinda moved to stand by his side and followed his gaze, her own eyebrows jumping up.

"Is that…?"

"It seems the prodigal daughter has returned."

She could not reply, not even to point out his incorrect use of that word, her own words had lodged firmly in her throat, and no amount of swallowing would free them to either flow up or down.

There was no doubting the quickly striding figure even in the near shadowy night; not the dark, drab dress and the bright emerald skin.