When I was nine I learned survival
Taught myself not to care
I was my single good companion
Taking my comfort there
-Pity the Child, Chess
He winced, wondering what had possessed the sun to make it decide to rise this early. He buried his face in the pillow, all too aware of the fact that the woman waking up beside him was all wrong. Well not wrong, he decided as he rolled out of bed and looked for his clothes. She was pretty, and he was sure she had a lovely personality... but he couldn't remember her name, or really anything at all from the previous night. "Good morning," she said with a smile, pecking him on the lips before pulling away and walking into the bathroom. "I'll just be a minute, then it's all yours."
Sure enough, it did only take her a few minutes to dress and clean up. He made a mental note that his new friend was a morning person... Curvy, brunette, morning person... God, he wished he knew what her name was. He stared at his reflection in the mirror- he still wasn't used to that, but didn't have any complaints. He didn't have a change of clothes, so he wore what he found on the floor, hoping it wasn't too rumpled. He splashed water on his face, wondering how exactly he'd gotten into this situation.
There wasn't too much to wonder about, though. He'd surely wandered into a bar, bought the pretty little thing a drink, and gone home with her. He'd done it time and again while he was in college, and had done it most nights since Elphaba had left him. It didn't make him feel any better, but it did keep him from feeling much of anything which was an improvement.
He'd found a little apartment, not able to bare living in the house he'd shared with her- it left something to be desired, paid for by him doing odd jobs around town, but it was a place to stay on nights when he didn't get drunk off his ass and find a girl to go home with.
He was a mess, he knew that, but it was hard to care much. He shook himself, not letting himself delve into self-pity, following the scent of food out to the kitchen. "I figured pancakes were a pretty good hangover food, do you like them?"
"Love them," he said, ecstatic to realize she'd also made coffee. Now if only he could figure her name out... He poured himself a cup of coffee and one for her, sitting them both on the small table.
"Would you mind going and grabbing the newspaper? It should be sitting out on the front steps."
"Sure," he said, although he regretted it slightly because the sun was even brighter outside. He grabbed the newspaper, flipping it open as he walked in. When he settled into one of the slightly rickety chairs and began to read, he felt sick.
Neighboring Oz's Lady Glinda Killed In Palace Massacre
"What the..." he squeezed his eyes shut, as if that could make the words go away. It didn't work, they were still there when he opened his eyes again. He read the words over and over again, not understanding how Glinda's death could even be possible.
The reporter didn't hide a bias to the rebel's side- probably smart, as they had completely taken power, and they'd already proved murderous. Tonan Vuyron, a young man, even younger than Fiyero himself was, had lived in a noble family under the Wizard. He was exactly the sort of person who would've benefited under the Wizard- his family owned a large farm in western Munchkinland and had thrived on cheap Animal labor. They'd been hit hard when Glinda had issued laws requiring adequate payment for Animals. It was easy to see why he'd grown to hate her.
Even worse, was the way he completely dismissed her. They treated her like she was nothing but a pretty, silly girl. Maybe she had been at one point, but she'd been through hell- Fiyero had put her through hell! She deserved so much more respect than that. She'd done so much all on her own, while he and Elphaba had licked their wounds. Glinda hadn't even had a chance to mourn them.
And then there was Elphaba. Glinda's death would devastate her. He could only assume she'd heard of it, or she would soon enough. How would she be able to deal with her best friend dying? She'd been so frail when she'd left...
"Yero?" the girl asked, looking very concerned. "Are you alright? You look like you're going to be sick." She put down the two plates she was holding.
For a second he registered that she'd called him by the pet form of his name- he'd told her the nickname Elphaba called him by to help keep suspicion away. It was a good idea, a nickname for several different names common in Ev, but the fact that some girl he didn't really know... "Lady Glinda, the ruler of Oz was killed."
"Oh," she murmured. "That's a shame. She seemed lovely."
"She was," he said, then remembered that no one was supposed to know that he'd almost married the girl. "Um, we went to the same college. I'd seen her around." Well, it wasn't a complete lie.
She nodded. "You did say you were from Oz, didn't you? How did you wind up here, again?"
He launched into a sterilized version of his life. "I was born in the Vinkus- the Western part of Oz. Went to Shiz, the same school Glinda went to. I'd... spoken with her a few times, and knew her roommate pretty well. Very well, actually. She's the one I came here with." It was safe enough to say that- no one ever mentioned that Glinda's college roommate had turned out to be the Wicked Witch of the West. Madame Morrible had made a point of hiding it to help distance Glinda from Elphaba in the public eye.
"You were in love."
"Yes. Very much so." He took a deep breath. "But it doesn't matter, it didn't work out."
She nodded. "A shame, then. But there's nothing you can do. It's sad about Lady Glinda, though."
"Yeah. A shame." God, that didn't cover any of it! Glinda was dead, a person he loved, a person he almost spent his life with.
All the same, it was all the more reason to drift through life. It kept the hurt from cutting you. Glinda was in a better place, someone so good had to be. He didn't let himself dwell on Elphaba, instead eating the breakfast and then falling back into bed with another woman.
And then there was silence, well, near silence. She could hear her own breath, hear herself panting from the effort. She could hear crickets out in the fields, bullfrogs in a nearby creek. It was so peaceful, if not for the dead bodies that surrounded her, blood seeping into the ground.
Despite her reputation, Elphaba had never killed anyone before. In the years she had lived as the Wicked Witch of the West, fugitive, she'd never even hurt anyone. She'd scared people silly, but she'd never cursed anyone, never hurt anyone, and certainly had never killed anyone.
Now a crowd of fifteen men laid dead around her, circling her as if she were the one who'd been attacked, instead of the other way around. They were all rebels under Vuyron, they'd all participated in the attack on the palace and had helped kill Glinda. They'd all thrived since one of their own had been put on the throne of Oz, enjoying the comfort of having friends on top. They'd all lived in luxury since they'd killed Glinda.
Well, that was the end of that.
She conjured up a fireball that could rest in her hand. She used it to burn a message into the ground, burning the flesh of the dead bodies when they got into the way.
THOSE WHO WOULD MURDER THE INNOCENT ARE THE TRUE BEASTS.
The stink of burnt flesh and scorched earth attacked her nose, making her choke. These men were only a small part of Vuyron's army- but the fact that she'd single-handedly eliminated several men close to him was enticing.
She took a deep breath to steady herself. She could feel their blood drying on her body, sticking to her hands and dress. Suddenly, she felt very overwhelmed- she'd never killed before! This wasn't her, this was crazy!
They killed Glinda.
But I'm not a murderer, this is insane.
It was retaliation. This is politics. They wouldn't hesitate to do the same thing to you, if they could catch you.
That does not make it right.
Since when does that matter? Since when does anyone bother doing what's right? You're the only one who ever bothered.
If I do this, I'm sinking to the same level as them, then.
You already did it, so I guess you already sank. Relax, they had it coming.
It doesn't matter, I'm doing this all wrong!
But it really didn't matter, she'd done it all the same. If she sat there and dwelled on it she would go even more insane than she already had. She climbed on the broomstick and circled the City, making sure she was seen.
The Wicked Witch of the West was back.
