Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia

Fiyero awoke to the feel of Fae snuggling closer in her sleep. He could just barely make out the click-clack of the wheels on the track as the train made its way away from Red Sand towards Settica and up to Frottica; it would be at least another couple of days before the train reached its destination. After a moment, he grabbed his pocket watch and quickly checked the time before replacing it on the small nightstand.

One o'clock in the morning.

He sighed, glancing down at the sleeping figure of his wife.

His wife.

A twinge of regret tugged at his heart.

Despite his roots, he'd become nothing more than a conman over the last few years, doing everything from forging papers to selling stolen goods, and now, when the greatest con of all fell into his lap, it just happened to bring a beautifully innocent young girl with it. He'd started this with the intent of parading some random girl that he could mold and shape into the missing princess, in front of the dowager empress, impress her enough, and then walk away with the reward money, without a second thought or a twinge of guilt, but now...

Well, marriage certainly hadn't been an immediate part of the plan- one that had any good consequences, as far as he'd been concerned when he proposed it to her, but he'd discovered that it benefited both him and Fae- she was actually taken seriously for once, and he had a companion on this cross-country excursion. In some strange way, they complimented each other, despite the disagreements, the occasional arguments and days of silence where they refused to speak to one another, which had been often on this trip.

She sighed in her sleep, nuzzling her nose against his chest, her small fingers curling around his shirt.

He'd watched her that day in Red Sands, as she'd lifted her chin and calmly declared to the shopkeeper that she was the missing princess, before they left. She'd seemed so sure of herself, so certain. Not that she wasn't; that was one of the things he'd discovered about the plucky orphan he'd managed to marry. Despite the mystery surrounding her origins, she certainly had a great amount of self-confidence that she kept well hidden. She was quick-witted and intelligent, despite her young age, and, as he saw firsthand a few days ago, could be quite cunning when she wished.

Unlike most women of lower status that he'd met over the last few years, she seemed to walk with a regal air about her- unbeknownst to herself- and carried herself as though she'd spent the first thirteen years of her life being ordered to keep her back straight and her shoulders down, as though her manners had been meticulously watched, and her conversation often monitored.

Yes, it was evident to Fiyero that she already walked, talked and acted like a royal from the Fliaanian court.

He himself had very vague memories of his visits to the Fliaanian court; though he'd been a mere child when he went with his parents, there were certain images that were engraved into his memory, and would be until the day he died.

Most specifically, were the four grand princesses.

The two older girls, Sophelia and Oziandra, had always seemed cold and standoffish to him, though in reality, they were anything but. Being the oldest of the Samaart's children, they were expected to set a good example for the younger children- something that probably annoyed the girls to no end, though they never showed it. And as for the two younger girls... Nessarose had made it her mission to get him to play with them, doing everything from starting a game of Tag to stealing one of his books and hiding it. Elphaba had always captured his attention, though, for he felt that she was the prettiest of the four girls.

All four girls had the same raven black hair and dark eyes, the same slight noses and dimples when they smiled. They each had their own distinct personalities, however, he remembered. Sophelia was exceedingly compassionate and thoughtful towards others, and much more willing to think "outside the box" than her sisters were. She was strong-willed and plainspoken, and gave when others would not, often thinking of others before herself. She considered herself to be quite plain compared to her younger sisters, specifically Oziandra and Elphaba, who would both- had they lived to adulthood- be great, celebrated beauties.

Fae snuggled closer in her sleep, and he slipped an arm around her waist, holding her close.

Oziandra, though only younger than Sophelia by two years, was the daughter that most resembled Melena, from her features to aspects of her personality; it was no wonder those in the court often called her Melena's shadow. She possessed a great love of fashion, that, according to many, bordered on vanity, but the girl could be charming and personable to those around her. She knew the beauty she possessed, and, unlike Sophelia, played on it quite often, but always with a healthy dose of respect to whomever she was with.

"Yero..." He glanced down at his sleeping wife, gently rubbing her back.

When he'd first met the girls as a child, it had been Nessarose, the youngest, who had come up to him before even being introduced and declared that he would be their new playmate, before tapping him on the arm and making to run off in a game of Tag- only to be caught by the governess and told she had to stay until they were introduced. Unlike her sisters, Nessarose despaired of homework and often would run off to avoid it, even going so far as to climb trees to avoid her lessons. She was comical, sarcastic even, and possessed a cutting wit that she often used to poke fun at her family. Though slightly pudgy, if he remembered correctly, had she lived to grow up, she most certainly would have lost the weight and become a beauty like her sisters.

He sighed, once more glancing down at his wife as his mind moved to the last princess, the very one Fae was beginning to be convinced she most likely was- Elphaba.

It was the memories of Elphaba that were the strongest in Fiyero's mind; perhaps because from the moment he'd met her, he'd harbored a crush on the third princess. Considered prettier than her sisters- at least to Fiyero's childhood mind- she possessed a little more weight on her body that most likely went away with puberty. He remembered that of all her sisters, she was bold but easy to talk to, unafraid of people, and seemed to adore children. She was often the butt of her sisters jokes and pranks, and still considered and treated like a child, even as she'd gotten older. Fiyero remembered how the girl had often had to fight for her place in her family, and despite being the oldest of the younger daughters, she was often led by Nessarose, who's outgoing, quirky personality seemed to stifle her sister's. He remembered how she often had her head in the clouds, lost in a daydream or some fantasy of her own imagination. When they went out, Fiyero remembered how Elphaba was always the one of the four to speak to the common people, or the soldiers. And, like her sisters and her parents, she was deeply religious, something that baffled Fiyero to no end. Even so, as a child, Fiyero had decided that it was Elphaba he would one day marry.

Fae's shifting onto her side finally pulled him from his reminiscing, and he got up, going to the window. It was still dark outside. As he returned to the bed, curling around his wife before drifting off to sleep, one thought popped into his mind- would they really be able to pull this off? And if so, would it be the greatest con in Ozian history, or something so much more?