Edel had always been a very intelligent puppet. Drosselmeyer had told her this often, but it hadn't been in praise, but in frustration. She had always thought, even when she was obeying, and sometimes had obeyed him less than he would have liked. For one, he had not told her to burn herself. She made that choice because of Duck's words.
Edel was not Edel anymore, but Uzura. But still, inside her heart, she was Edel, even if Uzura didn't quite understand just yet. Until she did, Edel would keep her work of running the gears of Uzura's heart. In the meantime, this gave Edel plenty of time to think.
Edel's thoughts were often focused on Uzura. Edel was Uzura, her heart, anyway, and children, even when they are puppets, are very selfish creatures. But occasionally, Edel's thoughts had time to dwell on Drosselmeyer, and the great irony that surrounded him.
Edel was not cruel. She did not laugh at Drosselmeyer, or revel in her triumph over him. She also did not love him. She was a puppet, and, no matter how much she might desire them, did not have these emotions. She watched the world with an expressionless face as Edel. And as she watched, and had watched, she had learned.
Edel knew Drosselmeyer's past, though she had not been there at the time. He had been a quiet child, prone to stay inside and read and write rather than play. She did not know how she knew this; perhaps he had murmured it, or thought it when he had first made her. But no matter how it was, she knew Drosselmeyer had never had a true friend.
Edel did not doubt that there had been people Drosselmeyer had fancied himself close to; he had even, at one point, married. But still, when one looked into it, his love had always been selfish. And so, that had been all that was returned to him.
Edel was certain it was then, after he had written more and more stories, fully aware of the power he held with them, that he began to be hated. He did not hold any love for the people around him; to him, the only real person was himself. He used the others like puppets. He became a tyrant, and an opposition force formed; the Bookmen. Of course, he was not unaware of this hatred, and long before the Bookmen ever took action, he had a contingency plan in place: a machine molded to his will, controllable only by him, and controlling everything. The Bookmen cut off his hands, but they had not blocked his power in the least.
Edel thought that this open rebellion had solidified Drosselmenyer's opinion that all other beings were inferior and evil, and deserved a cruel end. He had grown more and more twisted and selfish, and now was even insane. His wife left him. His plans for people's ruin in stories grew more and more elaborate, to the point that all who were around him were miserable, but could not directly trace it back to him. And finally, Drosselmeyer had died.
Edel supposed that the townspeople had probably rejoiced for a time. But it had not been the end of the story. The people did not understand just how strong Drosselmeyer's power was, how it had already been used by him to leave his conciousness to continue his revenge. And now, what he was looking for was the perfect, dreadful, tragedy.
Edel decided that there was great irony in the world. Drosselmeyer had brought Duck into his world, given her power, and had been betrayed by her. Duck's influence had united a new force against Drosselmeyer, without Duck having ever even thought about it. Duck just wanted to give everyone, even her enemies, a happy ending.
Edel knew that Duck hadn't meant to betray Drosselmeyer. Edel didn't even think that Duck understood, fully, how she had been meant to be a puppet. But Duck was not a puppet, and because of that, Edel had learned that she did not have to be a puppet, at least not in all things. Two servants had betrayed their master. A son, in a sense, had betrayed his father for the love of one of these servants. They all, even those who had once been enemies, had fallen in love with the happy ending, the hope that had been offered them. They had broken Drosselmeyer's machine.
Edel thought that Drosselmeyer's wish had been fulfilled. He had been given a dreadful tragedy. It simply differed from his plans, because the dreadful tragedy was his life, not that of his enemies. But, Edel decided, that was what revenge did: it would give you what you wanted, just not how you wanted it.
Edel hoped Drosselmeyer might someday understand this, too.