Summary: Evil is not born, it's made. Zelena was a little girl who wanted to be loved, a young woman who wanted to be happy. Life turned her into the wicked witch of Oz.
A/N: I have thought a lot about Zelena's childhood. Unfortunately the series shows us very little of it, so I wrote this episodic character study. For a better overview I decided to split it in chapters anyway. This work is a translation of "Jugend einer Hexe" which is to be found on under the following Link: www . fanfiction . de/s/6154daed00001210a3fc7dc/1/Jugend-einer-Hexe
Warning: Some episodes deal with dark topics such as violence, abuse, rape and death.
Disclaimer: ABC, as always. Thanks to whoever had the idea to bring the wicked witch to Storybrooke and to the beautiful Bex Mader for bringing her to life!
Dedication: Too Sunivaah
…
Innocence of a witch
…
Curiously, I watch the thick snowflakes outside the window. How beautiful they are. They look as if they were dancing through the air as they slowly trickle down to earth. I can't get enough of them, even though it's late and I'm tired. Mom comes to me, hugging me.
"It's time to go to sleep, Leni," she says gently, holding out a cup to me. "I've made some warm milk for you. Drink it carefully, it's still hot."
Mommy has stirred honey into the goat's milk; it tastes sweet, the way I like it best. While I drink sip after sip, she undoes my braids and brushes my hair.
"Why is snow so cold?" I ask her.
Patiently, she thinks of it for a moment. "When it's winter the raindrops freeze while they fall down from the sky."
"And why is it white?"
"Well, because water has no color at all."
I yawn aloud. "Hmm."
A smile flits across Mommy's lips as she wipes away my mustache of milk. "Now it's time to sleep, sweetie!"
She gently tickles me, whereupon I crawl under my covers, giggling, and hugging the yellow plush duck she made for me. Even though I'm barely able to keep my eyes open, I try to stay awake while she sings a song for me. I love listening to her voice. There is a warm tingling in my fingers and suddenly little snowflakes start swirling between them. They're not white, they're bright green, and they're not falling down, they're rising up. It's so beautiful, I squeak with delight. Immediately Mommy grabs my hands to make it stop.
"You know Daddy doesn't like that," she admonishes softly before placing a loving kiss onto my forehead. "Good night, Leni. Have sweet dreams."
It's happened again. When Daddy notices, he gets terribly angry with me and scolds me. It's not my fault, is it? I'm four.