Chapter Text
The house smelled like warm linen and something faintly sweet—like honey stirred into tea. The afternoon light slanted through the windows, casting a golden glow across the small sitting room where a tiny Elphaba was curled up beside her mother, her small hands fisting in the soft fabric of her mother’s dress.
She had always been a clingy baby, more skeptical than Nessarose had ever been, watching the world with big, solemn eyes that seemed far too knowing for someone so small. But here, nestled against the safety of her mother’s side, she was soft, unguarded.
“You’re getting so big, my love,” her mother murmured, brushing a gentle hand over Elphaba’s wild dark hair.
Elphaba huffed at that, wrinkling her tiny nose. “Am not.”
Her mother chuckled, warm and low. “You are. And very smart, too. Too smart.”
Elphaba sat up just enough to squint at her suspiciously, her tiny mouth pursed in thought, before eventually settling back against her. “That’s not bad, though,” she decided, as if she had given it serious consideration.
Her mother smiled. “No, my darling. It’s not bad at all.”
There was a moment of quiet after that, just the sound of her mother’s steady heartbeat, the soft rustle of the trees outside, and Elphaba’s small hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.
After a beat, she spoke again—quieter this time.
“Will I always be green?”
Her mother froze, just for a second—barely perceptible, just the smallest intake of breath. Then, she smoothed a hand down Elphaba’s back, pulling her a little closer.
“Yes,” she said, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You will.”
Elphaba processed that. Frowned slightly, as if weighing the importance of it.
“Is that bad?”
Her mother pulled back just enough to cup her small face, thumb tracing the soft roundness of her cheek. “No, my love. It’s special.”
Elphaba blinked up at her, expression unreadable. Then—slowly, deliberately—she reached up, poking her mother’s cheek with a tiny, determined finger.
“You’re not green,” she pointed out.
Her mother laughed, warm and unshaken. “No. But I still think you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.”
Elphaba squinted at her again, as if trying to detect a lie, but found none.
And then, after a moment’s hesitation, she let out a tiny, pleased hum, leaning back into her mother’s embrace as if that answer had settled something deep inside her.
Her mother only held her tighter.
As if she knew—one day, too soon, the world would try to tell Elphaba otherwise.
But for now?
For now, she was just a small girl in her mother’s arms, wrapped in warmth, love, and the absolute certainty that she belonged there.