Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Written: 2006. Found: 2017- Licia

Instead of following her daughter, she returned to the Cerulean Room, slipping out onto the balcony. She found everyone outside, enjoying the sunshine. Glinda, Partra and Locasta were sitting together having tea and the children were running around enjoying a game of tag.

"Wait for me! I want to play!"

"Okay, Nessa. You're it!"

Strong arms slid around her from behind, and she sighed, relaxing back against him. "Why don't you go join them, Fabala?"

She turned her head, raising an eyebrow. "And how would it look, Tris, for the empress or the queen to go running around chasing after her children? Why do you do it? Is that conduct properly befitting the husband of the Empress of Fliaan?"

He met her gaze. "It's befitting a mother of eight children, Fabala."

"But I'm not just a mother, Trism. I'm a ruler, to two countries."

"I'm well aware, darling. You rule one of those countries with me."

She bit her lip. "And for that matter, is that conduct properly befitting the King of the Vinkus? To go running around in the backyard with his children?"

"We aren't in the Vinkus at the moment, Fabala, we're in Fliaan. We're at Colwen Grounds, our home, remember? We aren't royals at the moment; we're a family." He slid his arms back around her waist, tugging her to him. "We're parents." She tried hard to keep from smiling as he kissed the space beneath her ear, before nipping gently at her earlobe. On instinct, her eyes rolled heavenward briefly, before she turned, grabbing his hand and pulling him back into the palace.

With the bedroom door locked, she walked him back to the bed, pushing him onto it before climbing up after him. "Fabala-" I forgot, that it doesn't take much to turn my darling queen on-

"I want this- us- now." She hoisted the skirt of her dress up, straddling him, capturing his mouth in hers. His hands fell to grasp lightly at her waist, and she pushed herself into him, grinning into the kiss at his reaction. "Make love to me, my king." She whispered, meeting his gaze. He slid his hands down to grasp the bottom of her dress, before stopping, the night their youngest twins were born still sharp in his mind. He pulled back, turning his head as she moved to kiss him again.

"Fabala, we can't."

A look of confusion crossed over her lovely features. "Of course we can, Tris-" She moved to unbutton his shirt, when he grabbed her wrist.

"No, Fabala." She met his gaze, sliding off his lap onto the bed.

"Do you... not find me attractive anymore? Is that it?" He turned to her, shocked. "I know my body isn't the same when we got married, but I've had children, Trism. I've carried and given birth to eight children. Your children. You are-"

"That's not what this is about! You could have had... thirty children and you would still be the most beautiful woman in the world to me!"

"Then what is it? Are we just not going to have sex anymore? If you're worried about us being careful, Tris, we'll be careful-"

He stood, taking a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. "We were careful the last time, too, remember? It nearly cost you your life. I'm not going to risk it again." He returned to the bed, perching on the edge of it and taking her hands. "I love you with all my heart. You're my wife and the mother of my children- our children." Gently, he cradled her face in his hand. "You've made me the luckiest man in the entire world; I can't imagine my life without you in it, and when I do... I'm so glad that isn't reality."

They shifted, lying so they faced each other. "Why did we fight this?"

"Fight what, Fabala?" He propped himself onto his elbow.

"This. Us. This marriage."

"Because you were married to my brother." He whispered, and she winced; it had become an unspoken rule, that he was never mentioned- the amount of heartache and pain he'd caused was unsurmountable. Yes, he'd saved her from the slaughter in that basement, but he'd also done everything possible to hurt her afterwards. And the silent, psychological damage he'd done to his little brother-

Trism never said anything, but it was evident that much of what his brother said and did hurt him deeply. There were days when he questioned not just his marriage, but his right to the throne, his very existence, and she knew it was because of his relationship with his brother. The deep, unnerving psychological damage inflicted was going to be hell for him to accept, let alone let go of, but he could, she knew he could.

She shifted onto her back, studying the ceiling above their bed. "That man nearly destroyed me." She met his gaze. "Like he nearly destroyed you." After a moment, she turned back to studying the ceiling, as though all the answers to the universe resided above them. "He stole our first child from us, tried his hardest to destroy our marriage, did his best to destroy me before I'd even returned to Fliaan. And the damage he did to you," She shook her head. "He was not a husband. He cared only for himself. And to think, I once considered giving up everything I'd returned to just to be with him again."

She felt Trism tense beside her, and reached out, taking his hand. "I didn't. I wouldn't. I couldn't, not now, not ever. I have you, and our children. Our life... our marriage... To be honest, I wish our parents had decided on a betrothal for us all those years ago, not your brother and I. I mean... imagine... had that happened-"

"You would have probably gotten out sooner. You would have had a few years as a princess unlike the... year and a half or so you did have." She chuckled, meeting his gaze.

"We probably still would have had eight children, they just would have been spaced out more-"

"We probably would have had three or four-"

She shook her head. "No, we would have still had eight." They spent several minutes arguing softly, before he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to him. "Trism, stop! You know I'm ticklish!"

"Exactly-" Her laughter made his heart flutter, and eventually, he pulled away, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "It was you."

"What?" She tilted her head to look up at him. "What did you say, my king?"

"It was you. Who sent that creature to save me that day in the well." She sat up, now thoroughly confused. Without a word, she reached out, resting a hand to his forehead.

"Are you suffering from fever, darling? You're talking nonsense." But he grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm with a shake of his head.

"I know it was you, Fabala. She looked almost exactly like you- except her skin was green. But it was you. I know it was."

"Tris-" He sat up, pulling her closer, capturing her lips with his.

"Our fates have always been tied together, Fabala. I realize it now. I was meant to marry a Thropp, but not the daughter I thought, just as you were meant to marry a Tigelaar."

Twenty minutes later, she allowed him to tug her downstairs towards the garden. But the sight of a page standing in the foyer caused them both pause.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Your Majesties, but the Governor of Munchkinland is here to see you."

The couple shared a glance. Normally, Zor and Trot would inform them of a visit, not just drop by unexpectedly. For them to just drop by, it had to be urgent.