The Dark Times

Shadows of a Witch

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.

Chapter one

The darkness of the under shadows of the castle became my companion; the mice that hid there became my only source of interaction. I have no account of what became of Chistery and the boy, Liir (who was said to be the son of Fiyero…and whispers of me as the mother). It was all possible still that Liir left and took my pet with him, how would that sensitive and cowardly boy survive on his own? I wondered constantly, but never saw fit to follow through with it. I was thought dead now; I was to be sure that I would start life anew.

It took me many days to convince myself to hide my face and go seek out what I could about what became of the Wizard (or my father…did I care?). For all I cared the old fool may have been dead and I could redeem myself somehow. On second thought, redemption is just talk in an idealist's mind. It was for those who believed in souls and salvation by the "unnamed god," people like Nessa or Papa, but not me. Whatever the case was, I knew that hiding under the floors of the castle was one of the false hopes for the people of Oz, for I was very much alive.

I hid myself in a black robe, with gloves and a scarf covering much of my face. While shuffling through my things that were left in my tower, I found the scarf Fiyero gave me, the black one with the red roses. My heart broke that moment, I had no idea that I still had it in my possession, and I cried like I never did before, holding the precious material to my eyes. Perhaps in death I wouldn't have suffered as I was and I could leave everything behind me, but my mind had rushed to preserve my life, saving me from the certain death. Fiyero was haunting my mind now and I couldn't take it anymore. But yet, I couldn't drop him from my mind. His death was my burden, and I tried making amends with his wife, only to get her and her children killed. Only Nor was still alive, I hoped.

I had made my way through the castle collecting various things I may need for my journey, not finding anyone around for the moment. I packed a small sac of food and an umbrella, and other than those things, I could survive. Rushing to get out of the castle, to avoid the ghosts (if there were such things in existence) of Sarima, her sisters and two sons. In the midst of walking through the castle, I had found Nanny, still much alive sitting by the fire. Fire was the last thing I had wanted to see at this point.

"Nanny," I said approaching the old woman.

She turned her head and gave a yelp of shock, "Elphie? Are you a ghost?"

"No Nanny, it's really me…I never died," I replied softly.

Nanny approached me, lowering my scarf to look at my face. Her wrinkled hands touched my cheek, rubbing over a particularly sore spot. She gave me a massive hug and began to cry, "Elphie, my dear Elphaba, it is you!"

"Yes, yes, don't cry Nanny dear, I have been burned by water more than I care to recall," I said. I let her calm down before asking about Liir and Chistery.

"Liir, took your monkey and went to find Nor," Nanny sniffed. "He's such a brave boy."

"He got that from his father," I stated almost absently.

"So he did!" Nanny exclaimed. "Go on then, find him!"

I gave a slight nod and lifted up my scarf, covering my face to my eyes. I hugged Nanny one last time before, heading towards the door. There were tears in my eyes as I said my farewells to her, I told her she should go to Papa's and stay with him and Shell. Like the stubborn woman she is, Nanny refused my request and shooed me out the door. There was a sad smile upon my face as I turned one last time to the castle. The memories that live there will remain as I walked down the road to the Emerald City. I knew that before any kind of mission to find Liir, or anyone else, I had to come to terms with the beasts within me or shall I say, around me.

Chapter two

The air was biting as I walked down the road, finding a caravan of merchants somewhere along the road. They appeared suspicious of a cloaked woman, and why not? I explained them that I was on my way to Saint Glinda's Square, I was returning to the church from an obscure personal mission. They reluctantly agreed to bring me there after much begging. The men stared at me from time-to-time and whispered amongst themselves on the identity of the cloaked woman. I could laugh at their curious gazes and various guesses. Some had speculated that I was a Sister returning from a holy mission, others said that I had to be a living Saint or perhaps, a messenger from the unnamed god. Either of which guess they favoured, and questioned me about I kept to myself and smirked vaguely under my veil.

For the five days and nights that I had traveled with these rowdy men and women, they treated me like a guest, although their activities at night were bothersome and sleep came roughly, for I had given up trying to keep awake. Every night, the group would light a large fire and dance around it, singing noisily and drank a considerable amount. For the first night, they treated me like an honoured guest, singing politely and offering me whatever they could, and after that night, they offered, but they drank heavy and sang with offensive language and told tales that would make a schoolgirl blush.

The group took me as an odd woman, always hiding herself and keeping solitude. I had been asked on many occasions why I hide my face and kept so far apart. At first I didn't know how to respond, but after dodging them once, it was hard to dodge them for a second or third time. I held my head level to the ground when they asked me again and again, eventually I told them that I was on a mission of confinement, where my face was not to be seen until I got back to the Church and I am not particularly fond of boisterous song and tales. Alas, they left me alone, until the last night together with the group. They asked me to join in on their festivities and asked for a song in honour of the unnamed god.

"I do not like singing very much," I had replied.

"Please, just a small one, a hymn or gospel?" one man asked.

I shook my head, "I'd rather not."

"Please?" a few people chorused.

I scowled and reluctantly agreed after they begged me persistently, reminding me of Fiyero and Sarima's children…annoying. I had to search my memory for an old hymn Papa used to have me sing when he carted me around as a tool. Wouldn't Papa be proud of me now? His daughter who never believed in religion, no less the unnamed god that he believed so fondly in. I could have sworn that I felt a familiar presence amongst the crowd of people; I shook it of as apart of my imagination. So, I took a breath and started to sing Papa's favourite hymn. I had sung it so often as a child that I hardly even thought of anything as the words spilled from my lips. I hated the song, not because Papa made me sing it, but because I couldn't relate to the phrases I sang. Therefore, my feelings conveyed through the melody were entirely false, singing how good the unnamed god was and how he loved me, made me strive to think of Fiyero for the emotions needed to sing the words.

I was miserable after finishing the piece, but the throng of people never knew how I truly felt, for they clapped and cheered. Soon after, I turned and went to the carts, sitting behind them, avoiding the group entirely for the rest of the evening. I pushed back the unwanted, threatening tears from my eyes, blinking fast. And I went to sleep, only to dream a dream that would find me with burning tears awaking me.

Fiyero, my dear Fiyero, how I missed him so that he haunted me in my more recent dreams. I had dreamt that he would find me and we would meet daily, almost like we would in that room. The passion mounting, the kisses fierce and the scent of him washing over me, it was intoxicating to say the least, but when I tried to find him on my own in some dingy street, he would walk away uncharacteristically, ignoring me…acting as though he had never seen my face before. And when I cried his name, he turned to me with an angry glint in his eyes then burning tears streaming down my face would awaken me.

That night was the last of the series of dreams on the same topic, for I had been having them for months previously. Always Fiyero, it was always him in my dreams who hated me. To the Fiyero in my dreams I was a tool for his pleasure, not his lover, not his true love. He when he wanted me he sought me out, but when I had wanted him, he turned a cold shoulder. Thus my true fear was loosing his love.

'Even in his death, Fiyero loved me, that is why he went to my house that night,' I thought after I had a few minutes to rationalize my dream.

"Lady, Lady Guest, are you alright?" one of the women asked me.

Once again, my name has been lost; once again, I have another identity. I hated playing this name-game, when would my real name resurface? When would I be Elphaba again? I didn't mind the nicknames like Elphie or Fabala…or even Fae. I hated the "Wicked Witch of the West" (for I was not really wicked or from the west), "Auntie" (for I was no ones Auntie), and "Lady" (for I was no real lady of honour), these names came and went, but still I despised them, for whatever they meant, I hated them all.

But what could I say to these people who had kindly taken me to the Emerald City? So, I merely nodded a response and told the woman to go back to bed, by noon we'd be in the City of Emeralds. I knew that I could seek the answers to the questions that had needed answering. Answers to questions that had haunted me for many years.

To be continued…

A/N: What awaits Elphaba in the Emerald City? What will she find out and whom will she meet? Coming soon when Chapter three is posted.

That sounded cheesy, I know, insanely cheesy. But this was something I have been working on for a while now, Chapter three is finished and ready to go, but it will be posted on its own. Sorry that chapters one and two were so short. I promise that chapter three is longer than both one and two together.

Other than that I hope you liked "The Dark Times: Shadows of a Witch." Geez, that sounded cheesy…well, I hope you enjoyed.