Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Written: 2005, Found: 2018.- Licia

"He's beautiful, Your Majesty."

Elphaba smiled softly, turning her gaze to the baby in her arms. Two months had passed since his birth; Faola had celebrated her first birthday- a celebration that had been very quiet, private affair. Avaric, Zor and his new wife, Mayre- whom everyone called Trot- were in attendance as well; Avaric, insisting that as her godfather, it was his job to spoil the little princess, had brought a beautiful little doll for her.

At eight months, the emerald diamonds had been tattooed on either side of her eyes; unlike some royal children, who had fussed and cried during the procedure, the little girl had remained silent, too focused on her grandmother, who she could see over her mother's shoulder. Melena had spent the time cooing and nickering at the toddler, just as she had done for each of her children when their diamonds had been added.

She pressed a kiss to her son's forehead, before laying the infant in the bassinet and gently covering him before slipping out of the nursery. She silently beckoned the young Governor to follow her; they returned to the master, slipping through and into the Cerulean Room. Zor had turned his head upon entering the bedroom; the young man had a courtesy about him that many leaders and rulers lacked now. Though he and Elphaba had gotten to become good friends, he saw it improper to look upon the private bedroom of a young woman- especially a ruler of such status as the young empress.

"Elphaba," The young woman looked up as Cattery brought tea; Faola rushed in after the maid, climbing into her mother's lap. The little girl was often left in the care of Miss Greyling, her governess, but on occasions when the young woman could not watch over the little girl- such as now, when she was visiting her sister in the south- Cattery often looked after the child. "I was wondering if I could ask your advice."

"In regards to what, Zor?" She asked; lavender hit her nose, and she struggled to hide the smile tugging at her lips. She had yet to tell Trism of the secret she carried, though she had told Glinda, who had simply shaken her head, "You might just get your thirty children after all, Fabala."

"It's Trot." He replied, studying his coffee absentmindedly. "Something's wrong. She... she's being exceedingly secretive and... well, I recently noticed a couple weeks ago that her appetites have changed."

"Changed how?"

"She... she's developed a taste for Vinkun custard." The empress's dark eyes shifted from watching her daughter to the young Governor. A strained laugh escaped her throat. She grabbed a biscuit and a butter knife, slipping it into the pot of jam and spreading a thin layer. But before she could say anything, footsteps could be heard on the stairs; Trism entered, kneeling to scoop Faola into his arms as the little girl climbed off her mother's lap and rushed to him.

"There's my darling." He kissed the child quickly before going to his wife. "Mother said she will send word when she gets back to Kiamo Ko." He said, kissing her forehead.

"Personally, I never cared for Vinkun custard, but then again, I don't like cranberries. I'd rather have pinlobble jam." She replied, taking a bite of her biscuit. Trism stopped, his gaze going to the biscuit his wife had bitten into.

"Pinlobble jam and... lavender tea... you only have those two things together when you're-" The young king paled, and Zor rushed to take the little princess as her father sank into the chair beside his wife. "Fabala, again? Our son is barely two months old!" The young empress shrugged, turning to the governor.

"Cravings are a sign of pregnancy, Zor." She whispered, sucking the jam off her finger. "And do not glare at me like that, my king. If you could control your appetites, we wouldn't be in this position again."

Trism closed his eyes, resting his head in his hand with a sigh. "My appetites are fine, Fabala. If you would learn to control yours-"

"So... this... custard she's eating... it's a craving..." Elphaba nodded, glancing at her husband. The young man appeared dumbstruck. "How... how long do they last?"

"Nine months." Trism answered, resting his chin on his hand. "And they come with a whole host of other delightful symptoms. Certain smells will make her sick; she will be particular in regards to everything now; her desires will be out of control, and if you can survive the mood swings, well, those are nothing compared to childbirth. Be prepared; she's going to become a completely different woman by the end of this." He jumped when his wife swatted his arm. "Oh you know it's true, Fabala, don't look at me in that tone of voice."

"So... Chiss and this new baby..." The young Governor asked, referring to the infant sound asleep in the nursery.

"Will be eleven months apart." Elphaba replied, sipping her tea. "This little one shall be born in June."

"June, August, October." Trism muttered, burying his face in his hands. "If we keep trying, we'll have a child born in every month." Zor chuckled, tickling the little girl under her chin. Faola had become quite taken with the governor, and he found himself drawn to the little princess with the black curls and big blue eyes. He hoped his child held as much innocence as she did.

"Well you can relax, Tris. I'll give up on thirty. I'll settle for eight."

The king turned wide blue eyes to his wife, before turning to the young man holding his daughter. He stood, intending on checking on their son. "Eight. I hold you responsible for putting the idea into her head." Then, without another word, the young king strode out of the room.