This is actually a series of seven drabbles, each focusing on one of the characters (Elphaba's used twice) of Wicked as they react to Fiyero's death. Needless to say, it's bookverse. I could've made these seperate, but they work better together then apart. And no, I'm not depressed.
Shock--Elphaba
Elphaba's eyes are glassy and blank. Her green skin pales and her heart stops. Her mind refuses to process the scene before her.
Let this be some twisted prank...please...
But even as she thinks this she knows it is not.
The most prominent addition to the room is the blood.
There is blood everywhere, flooding the floor and soaking the walls. A message streaked in red lines the walls:
Good Lurlinemas, Witch.
Another Lurlinemas decoration is the stench. It reeks of drying or dried blood, of half-eaten food, the musty smell of pine clubs and gunpowder.
But the most jarring and the one that threatens to snap her mind is this...broken shell...
The dark-skinned, diamond-covered body--
This corpse is not Fiyero. It cannot be, it must not be!
She gently brushes his wet cheek with her palm, places her other hand upon his chest.
He does nothing.
And Elphaba feels that this is what death is like, and must have been like for him.
Total, insensible shock.
Denial--Nor
"Mother," the child asks every day, "when will Father come home?"
Sarima smiles indulgently and her reply is soft, coating her building worry and wonder with sugar.
"Soon, my little Nor. My Prince Fiyero will be home soon."
Nor seems satisfied at this, and in a moment she runs off to play with her brothers.
This went on for days, which turned into weeks. Everyday Nor asked the same question, and every day the reply was the same.
"Soon, Nor. Soon..."
And then the Witch came, Elphaba came, bearing news.
As she steps forward, the green-skinned woman notes the presence of children. She can't afford to be blunt, not with innocent eyes gazing at her.
"Fiyero... will never set foot in the West again."
Nor's eyes well up with tears at her words.
"Daddy doesn't like us," she chokes, a question in her quivering lips. Sarima frowns deeply, and her brow creases with concern.
"Now, Nor... I'm sure that's not what she means. Right," she spits at their visitor, silently begging for the truth.
The verdant woman sighs. They might as well know all of it...They are his family, after all. Perhaps they will...
She pushes stray thoughts aside and speaks.
"It's not that he doesn't like you. It's that he's dead."
Dead silence. Then a shout.
"You liar! My husband will be here, I know it! Are you his secret lover, come to tear us apart with lies?"
Sarima turns to her daughter, pleading.
"Nor...don't believe her! She has no proof, she's obviously ly--"
The green-skinned woman wipes burning tears from her cheek and invites them to gaze at her. Nor gasps.
A sticky, red substance covers the black dress...Nor walks over to it and yelps.
It smells of Father, it smells of his love and tenderness...of the blue diamonds that decorated his chest... She wants to bury herself in it, to keep his scent with her...
For if this woman is here without him, he must be gone.
Nor knows now. But she doesn't accept it.
"Mother," she says, turning towards her, "When will Father be home?"
Bargaining--The Wizard
"If you give me the book," the Wizard says with a smile, "I will give you his child."
His child. Lovely. Why not him, she wants to shout. But then she remembers Nor, the remnants of her dress dirty and twisted like an underage Cinderella.
Yes, Elphaba knows the faerie tales...and she knows that her own handsome prince is gone forever. But...no, she cannot afford to hope now...
But she does.
"Oh Great and Powerful Oz," she intones, in a manner not quite sarcastic, "I have a proposition."
At this the man seems interested, gleeful even. He thought she was stronger than this; at least that's what he heard.
Ah. It must be the princess Nor, he thinks. The last heir to the Tiggular name...and the last connection to her Fiyero.
"What is it, dear Witch," he asks mock respectfully.
"I will give you pages of this book...in exchange for Fiyero's whereabouts."
The Wizard waits until the runic sheets are in his grasp before he speaks.
"My dear Elphaba, both you and I know very well where your prince is. He's in the realm beyond...and let me tell you something," he states, moving towards her slowly.
"Nothing you say or do is going to get him back...so forget it. I'd suggest you concentrate your efforts on his daughter, hm? After all...this is the only chance you have to rescue her from the evil Wizard and his army," he laughs, recalling faerie tales of his own childhood.
Elphaba reels back as if physically slapped. Deep down...she knows he's right.
"Very well...these pages for Nor, then," she begs.
He uses her weakness.
"Not a chance. The book and your sister's shoes, nothing else. Now...this meeting is over. I'm a busy man, after all..."
"And remember, dear Witch...the book and shoes for your love's daughter."
He's willing to bet she'd bargain it all away for a chance at her love...or at the very least his daughter.
Guilt--Malky
The cat prowls the city streets, hunger gnawing at his stomach. He manages to find the remians of a fish--or Fish--and scarfs it down.
The fish stirs up memories; Malky gazes at the Emerald Palace sadly.
If he could, he'd confess everything.
It's my fault, he thinks. I killed Fiyero.
It hadn't been hard for the Gale Force to find him...all-white cats were a rarity in Oz, and even more so intelligent ones.
And the army knew what cats loved most: themselves, praise, and food.
They'd given Malky fish, the most delicious kind, and made him promise to take some to Fiyero as a present.
Though he was somewhere between an Animal and animal, Malky certainly knew what a promise was. They were kept, no questions asked.
Malky sped home, remains of his meal in his mouth, imagining the look on Fiyero's face when he returned with his gift--any cat could catch birds, but fish!?
He jumped in through the window and mewed, determined to get his attention.
"Malky," the Winkie prince chuckled, "what's--"
He never got to finish; strong hands burst through the door and wrapped themselves around his neck. Then, a few seconds later, the first blow and the first spray of blood.
Malky stepped back in shock, letting his treasured fish drop to the floor. He didn't wait to see what would happen next; he was out the window before anyone could blink.
He sat by the door for hours, ears perked back to block the screams. Finally the door opened, and he began to hope. Perhaps Fiyero had escaped.
Then a figure stepped out, and guilt clutched at his heart.
A member of the Gale Force, followed by the entire squad, strutted out. The captain took notice of him and reached down to pet his head.
"Good kitty," he said with a smile.
Malky hissed and slipped away, his body flooding with remorse.
There's only one way I can atone, he thought, and that's to die in his stead.
But pride and hunger tore at him until at last the cat ate and drank...
And he feels guilty for living.
Anger--Sarima
She is at first shocked, then enraged at the visitor. How dare she say that her husband's dead! She's probably his lover, trying to keep them awa--
Oh. Blood. Nor's crying...asking her when her father's coming home...in total denial...
"Nor," Sarima stammers, "please..."
The child's sobs grow louder, and she cries herself. She turns back to the green-skinned girl, rage pumping through her veins.
"You! How dare you make her cry! He's not dead, I know it! He would never..."
She would never have come without him.
Sarima breathes in sharply and her words are laced with malice.
"Get out, Witch. Get out of our lives."
Shaking, pointing at their guest, she continues.
"You killed him, didn't you? You took him from us and came to gloat! Is that it?"
The Witch shakes her head 'no' and steps back, tears flowing down her cheeks.
"No," she breathes. "Please, I need shelter...You're his family, you're all I have left..."
"So you are his lover, then," Sarima asks; it is more a statement of triumph than a question.
"...Yes."
Sarima nods; her mind is made up to cast this girl out of her life for good...
Nor stops her.
"Mother...Let her stay. She's family now."
The woman blinks, mind racing, and slowly nods.
"...Alright, Nor...This Witch will stay."
Sarima's anger wraps around her heart, forming a shell of fire and ice. Nothing except Fiyero can penetrate it...and, well...
"But I will never forgive her for killing him. Never."
Remember Fiyero...she killed him...left the children alone...never forgive, never forget...she killed him...
This is what Sarima's mind and heart scream every day...even when she believes it isn't true.
Depression--Elphaba
She gazes at her crystal ball almost drunkenly, staring blankly into the swirling mists.
"Show me Fiyero," the Witch whispers.
She waits...the mists part...
Nothing. The ball flickers, then fades like a candle. She rubs it again, but it does not light up with a verdant hue.
"Elphaba," Liir offers, "maybe you should forget it and--"
"Shut up, you useless brat," she screeches, throwing a chair at him.
The Witch sobs, finally, sweeping up the stairs to her tower room and gazing out at the balcony. Memories swirl around her like the mist in the ball.
Blood...blood...the smell of death...red mixed with blue diamonds...
"When will Father be home?"
"Are you his secret lover, come to tear us apart?"
"Nothing you say or do is going to get him back..."
"Elphaba, maybe you should forget it..."
The Witch gazes at the ground below dreamily. She imagines hurling herself off the parapet, landing with a crunch...reuniting with Fiyero at last.
She steps onto the edge of the tower, a smile on her face.
I have nothing to lose, she thinks.
And she stumbles and falls backwards, landing on cold stone. Soft fingers grab her arm, pulling her up.
"Elphaba," Liir asks, "are you alright? You seem really upset..."
He blinks, and gazes at her worn face. He touches the burning tears tenderly.
"I'm sorry...I miss him too."
For a moment she wonders how he could have known Fiyero; he wasn't alive when he died.
Perhaps he shares her memories...but how could he do that, unless--
Unless...he was...
No. It can't be. Not another soul for her to destroy through weakness and love.
Her face turns angry again.
"I'm quite alright, thank you...Now get out of my sight," the Witch screams.
Liir nods and turns away. He's not fooled.
The Witch may be annoyed with me, but she's not alright... She's depressed. And she needs help!
These thoughts are confirmed when Elphaba's voice stops him. He turns and sees she is smiling.
"By the way, dear...would you fetch me some water?"
Acceptance--Liir
Liir had never really known Fiyero, so it was easy to accept his death.
There were fleeting memories of diamonds, and dark skin...but that wasn't enough to really connect.
All he knew was what the Witch had told him...his kind ways...his love...he wife and children...
She often spoke of Nor, his daughter...how the Wizard had her imprisoned. Liir wasn't quite sure what it was about, knowing little of politics, but something told him that he needed to find her.
He tried, once, but all it got him was a scolding from Nanny about wandering off at night and a beating from the Witch. She said that she couldn't lose him as well...
Every time Elphaba mentioned Fiyero he felt something stir within him. He wasn't sure what it was at first. After a moment it went away, and soon he grew to ignore it.
After time, as Elphaba became more and more desperate, Liir was there, reassuring her that everything was going to be fine. Besides, he was dead. Why sob over what you can't change?
It wasn't like he hadn't felt the pain of death; he had. He'd just learned to accept it and move on.
But still, there was that foolish wish...impossible...though one he dreamt of often.
"And what would you want, Liir, if the Wizard could give you anything?"
"A father..."
