Rifiuto: Non Miriena
Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia
The entire theater seemed to fall silent. All eyes were trained on the dowager empress and the young girl claiming to be the missing princess. After a moment, Fiyero stepped closer to Fae. "Your Majesty-"
But the older woman held up a hand stopping him. He snapped his mouth shut, stepping back as the dowager queen moved closer to Fae.
"So, you are the young girl claiming to be my missing granddaughter. The girl attempting to con me. "
Fae's gaze moved up slowly to meet the woman's gaze; the older woman was regal, in every way possible. After a moment, she lowered her head and fell into a quick curtsy, but the older woman reached out, lifting her chin. "I don't want to con you, Your Majesty." Fae whispered, meeting the woman's gaze. She glanced back at Fiyero, who hung his head, refusing to meet her eye, before turning back to the woman.
"You are perhaps the best actress I have seen yet. Tell me, who did you trick into telling you stories of my grandchildren? Of their lives in Fliaan? Who gave you the photographs you have undoubtedly studied? Who taught you the proper etiquette, befitting a Kauri of Fliaan? What books did you read that told you of the history of that country?"
The girl shook her head. "None, Your Majesty."
Partra studied the girl, her gaze landing on the diamonds by her eyes. "And who tattooed those diamonds?"
Fae reached up, brushing her fingers against them. "I... I've always had them, for as long as I can remember. They have always been there."
The older woman nodded, not entirely satisfied with that answer. She moved around the girl, studying her as the rest of the theatergoers watched, not willing to be disrespectful to the aging empress and flee, so they stayed silent. As she moved around the girl, Partra stopped, her gaze going to Fiyero. Slowly, she moved towards him, her heels clicking on the marble floor. "Fiyero Tigelaar. The young Crown Prince of the Vinkus." Fae turned, watching as the older woman honed in on her husband. "There were rumors that you had given up your claim to the throne and turned conman. Clearly the rumors are true." He winced at the softly biting tone in the older woman's voice, but didn't meet Fae's eye. "You're the one who found this girl, aren't you? The very boy set to be betrothed to my Elphaba, and instead, you tarnish my beloved granddaughter's memory by taking a girl off the street and try to pass her off as the very girl you were to be betrothed to. Have you no shame, Master Tigelaar? Or was that stripped from you as well when you gave up the crown?"
Fae saw him wince with each accusation, but he kept quiet, head lowered and gaze down, though she could faintly see the redness on his cheek where she'd slapped him earlier. Say something, Yero. Why aren't you defending yourself?
Partra turned back to her, dark gaze studying her. She stepped closer. "It does not matter what lies you speak or how authentic you sound, you are nothing more than a charlatan, trained to deceive by a prince turned con artist."
"I don't want to deceive you, Your Majesty." She whispered, wringing her hands. "I just... I simply wish to know if I belong to a family. If... if I ever belonged to a family." Tears began to prick her eyes and she quickly blinked them away. The dowager studied her.
"Yes, well. I've had enough." She moved past the young woman, to join her sister. "My beloved Elphaba died in the palace with my darling son and his family that night, and nothing you say with prove otherwise."
She leaned out the carriage. The old mansion loomed over them, waiting.
"It wasn't the palace."
Partra stopped. "Of course it was the palace."
"Papa, what is this place? Why are we here?"
"It's the governor's mansion, Fabala. We are to stay here until your Uncle Manek's men can reach us."
"No, it was the governor's mansion. Somewhere in the country. It was safer than the palace, or so they said."
Partra turned, stunned. "What makes you so certain?"
Fae shrugged. "I..."
They painted the windows so they couldn't look out, restricted where they could go and what they could do. Guards followed them to the lavatory, made jokes and crude, horrible comments to the girls, knowing they could get away with it. The hours were long and the wait harsh, in this... this... House of Special Purpose, as they called it.
"The House of Special Purpose. The guards called it the House of Special Purpose."
"And why would they call it that?" Partra asked, stepping closer to her. Fae met her gaze.
"Because they meant to massacre us there." Even Fae herself was stunned by the words that had come out of her mouth, and she stepped back.
"How do you know they were massacred? Unless you read it in the papers."
Sophelia's skull exploded as a bullet; the first of the children to die. She hadn't even had time to react, though Oziandra did, and she rushed towards the younger children, throwing herself in front of her sisters and brother.
"Because..." Fae swallowed.
"Because why?" Partra demanded, and the girl looked up, tears welling in her eyes.
Bullets bounced off the girls, as though blocked by invisible shields, though in reality, it was the corsets they wore. But despite this, the guards turned to a more grotesque way of ridding themselves of the children, once the adults were dead. Stabbing, bayoneting, butchering; a literal slaughter of innocence.
"Because I... I..."
Fiyero looked up, watching as Fae stuttered in vain. Help her! He swallowed thickly. There's nothing you can do, she's on her own. She wouldn't take your help anyway, not after what you told her.
"You what?" Partra demanded, closing the space between her and the girl.
She crawled for the door, trying desperately to block out Nessa's screams as one of the guards proceeded to torture the twelve-year-old, not just stabbing her to death, but slicing through her undergarments and proceeding to steal her true innocence there in the basement slaughterhouse.
"Because I... I was there." And then without another word, Fae excused herself, rushing down the stairs and out of the theater into the evening air.