A/N- I read Wicked a few weeks ago, and then I saw the show in Canada. I thought the book was friggin awesome, and the show absolutely kicked butt. So, this is about my favorite not-in-the-musical character... Forgive me if I get things wrong, I don't own a copy of the book and can't check my little facts.
The pointed hat lies atop a pile of twisted black cloth that is all that is left of Auntie Witch. I know that I should be sad, but I can not bring myself to mourn her. No one is mourning her. Only Miss Dorothy seems upset.
I don't really even know who she was, or who I am. I remember old Mother Yackle telling me to go with her and I left my home—I think it was my home—and followed the green lady I didn't really even know. She told the woman in the caravan to call her Elphie.
When we came to the big castle the others made fun of me because I didn't know why I was with Elphie. They asked if she was my mother, and I told them I didn't know, and they made fun of me some more. I remember when I was in the dark and the gold fish—maybe it was a Fish, like Auntie said—told me that I was Fiyero's son. Was I Fiyero's son? Fiyero was dead, and he was married to the oldest sister in the castle before that, and she wasn't my mother.
I remember that after the Fish spoke to me I was in my room again, and then Auntie acted strangely around me after that. I don't know if she was trying to be kind, but it made me nervous. Kindness did not suit her.
Still, after the others were gone I was alone with Auntie and Nanny, and I knew that she must have liked me. Well, she never really said so, and she was often occupied with the animals—or were they Animals?—but she seemed to like me. In her own way, that is. So I took care of Nanny and tried to help Auntie out. She left a lot, and I used to sit at the window of her tower room and watch for that little black and green speck to come back, and when I saw her I was always glad. I didn't let her know, though, because she didn't like it if I did. She never acted like she loved me, and I never let on that I loved her.
But I didn't know anyone else, and when I heard about the pretty farm girl with the dog, it made me think. If she was as good and kind as everyone said, perhaps Auntie was wrong and it was okay to show love. Perhaps it was okay. That afternoon when Auntie wasn't around I hugged Nanny. She seemed confused, but I think she liked it, because she put her arms around me and it felt warm. Then she rocked back and forth and I felt so happy and comfortable that I closed my eyes. Nanny started whispering something, but I couldn't hear her. Then when we heard Auntie's step on the stair we both let go, like we had to hide. A lot of times I feel like I need to hide nice things from Auntie.
When people started saying that Miss Dorothy was coming to kill Auntie, I didn't know what to do. I wanted to save her, because she might be my mother, but I really wanted to go with the girl and see if it was true that love was okay. I decided that I would help protect Auntie, because I think she was worried about the threat. And then, her sister had died, and she was sad about that, I think. So Auntie needed me.
She needed me.
I'd never thought about that before. I needed Auntie because she gave me shelter and food, obviously, and I needed her because I loved her, I guess. And now I realize that she needed me all along. She needed me to take care of Nanny for her, and to love her. Auntie pushed me away because she knew she needed me and she wanted to be all alone. No matter what she did, Auntie couldn't be alone. She had me, and Nanny, and the animals. These foreigners were taking things from her—they took her sister, and Killyjoy, and the bees, and then when I mentioned Dorothy she was angry with me. Was she afraid of losing me, too, or did she just hate the girl? I like to think she loved me, despite everything.
But when I saw that she was gone I did not cry. I was hardly sad at all. Was it because I knew that she did not have to put up with this life anymore? Was it because I was too glad to be with Miss Dorothy now, and I could love people without hiding? Or maybe it was because I never really loved Auntie Witch at all.
It's a funny thing, looking at a hat and thinking that nothing is left of someone. The water had made her disappear, or melt, or something. Miss Dorothy is wringing her hands and crying, I think, but I just stand here and stare. I'm sure I look perfectly stupid, and callous. But there was something terrible about my Auntie, something sharp about her that kept me away. Everyone called her wicked, and I think she might have been. So I can not cry for her.
No one mourns the wicked.
Not even me.