Chapter 97. Home
Rifiuto: Non Miniera
A/N: This story's almost over. 3 more chapters.
Thanks to Elphaba1Fan for reviewing 96.
And now, the moment you've been waiting for……
Elphaba had stolen away to the dance studio the next afternoon. She needed to be alone.
She needed to dance.
The others let her be, giving her space. She stayed for two hours, getting caught up in the music, the rhythm of dance. When she finally returned, the others had gone to the cafeteria, getting something to bring back. Elphaba was left alone. She slipped into the bathroom, and changed out of her warmups. As she pulled the hair tie out of her hair, letting her long dark hair tumble in waves, she heard movement in the room.
Quietly, she set the tie on the edge of the sink, and slowly opened the door, picking up her dance bag as she went.
"Yero, that you? I know the lines are long, but how long does it take you all to get something to eat and then come back?" She asked, setting her dance bag down on the floor at Fae's desk, never turning around.
"Mama?"
Elphaba looked up, but never turned around.
"Mama? Yero, I know you called me that when Fae and Liir were children, mainly because they were learning to talk, but, really Yero, they're grown adults now, there's no need for you---"
Elphaba had been turning around as she spoke, and she stopped short, to see Fae sitting huddled next to her bed, arms around herself. The young girl had red welts running down her cheeks, and she was sniffling. The door opened at that moment, and Fiyero entered the others behind him.
"We're back love. We've got---" He trailed off, eyes widened at the sight of his daughter sitting on the floor. "Fae?" He whispered.
The teenager ignored him. Her eyes locked on Elphaba.
Elphaba. Her mother.
Not the younger woman Fae had gotten used to, but her mother, the mother she remembered.
Elphaba, with her long, raven hair, her snapping dark eyes. Her beautiful green skin, and her warm embrace. The woman who had sung her to sleep when she was a child, who had made cookies with the staff on Lurlinmas, and always made an extra couple of batches for the staff and servants. The woman who had taught her to fly a broom at eight, who had taught her to control her magic at ten, who spent most of her days outside, horseback riding or walking in the gardens, most of her nights in the library or in meeting. Who took time from being queen to be a wife and mother first, who treated her subjects like family.
But now, Fae saw the side of her mother she'd never seen. The side she'd gotten to know back in the past. The insecure young woman, the young, unsure queen, the woman who had birthed two healthy children, and buried a third. Who had taken the throne after the death of her father-in-law, who had relied on fortunetellers, who had been so terrified of her child losing her innocence, who blamed herself for her youngest child's death, and found it hard to accept that her daughter had forgiven her.
"M...mama?" Fae whispered, wiping tears off her cheeks. Slowly, she got up, and reached out tentatively. She was afraid to touch her mother, for fear she'd fade away. Almost robotic in her movements, Elphaba reached out and took her daughter's hand. The contact gave Fae courage.
"Mama!" Fae cried, throwing herself into her mother's arms.
Elphaba stood shocked, her child holding tight to her. Fae wrapped her arms tight around her mother's neck, and buried her face in her mother's hair, sobs wracking her body. She breathed in her mother's scent, a scent distinct from the scent she'd gotten used to back in the past. Slowly, Elphaba began functioning again, and reached up to stroke her daughter's hair.
She couldn't believe it; Fae was back in her arms. She was holding her daughter again. It was a complete shock.
"Shh. Shh. Hush hush, my sweet. No more crying my sweet girl. No more. Now's not the time for tears." She whispered,moving to the bed. She sat down, pulling Fae onto it next to her, and then cradling her daughter in her arms.
The others watched, as mother held daughter, as Elphaba comforted Fae the only way a mother could. "Hush, my little one." Fae's sobs continued, and she burrowed into her mother's embrace.
"When you're old enough, I'll take you out. I'll take you on your first broom ride. But you'll have to hold tight to me, you sweet girl." She whispered, her mind returning to the night four months after Fae's birth, on Baxiana's birthday, when she'd gone in, cradled Fae, and fed her, singing softly to her before placing her back in her crib.
Then, softly, she began humming the tune she'd heard back in the corn exchange. The tune she sang to Fae every night from the moment of conception, from the moment of her birth. The song seemed to calm Fae for a few moments, before her harsh sobs started up again. Elphaba pulled Fae closer, kissing her daughter's hair, rubbing her back. She breathed in her daughter's scent, a scent she thought she'd never get to smell again.
Lavender and peaches.
Tears sprang to Elphaba's eyes, as she held her daughter close, and repeated the mantra over and over again, a chant without a tune.
"Shh. Hush my sweet. Hush my sweet girl."