Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: This chapter's dated on Halloween, but I'm posting it a couple days later, sorry about that. Happy Belated Halloween and Blessed Samhain! Written: 2006, Found: 2018.- Licia
"Be careful, darlings. Now, do you remember what the candles are for?"
Silence filled the room, before she reached for the long match Melena had struck. "They're used to light the way so that the dead can return home. Right, Papa?"
Frexpar smiled softly as his third daughter. "That's exactly right, Fabala."
"But aren't the dead scary?" Shell asked, curling into Raina's side. "Because they crawl out of their graves-"
"It is not the actual dead, Your Highness. It is more... the spirits of the dead that return home on this night. And they return to spend time with those they have left behind for the spirit world. The dead use the candles to guide them home for the evening." The young maid stopped, biting her lower lip. She knew not to speak unless spoken too, but she'd been so eager to make the young prince understand that she'd gone on anyway. The family turned to look at her, surprised. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I didn't mean-"
"It's quite all right, Cata." The maid blushed, and after a moment, Elphaba took the match, turning to the candles before her.
"One for Grandfather. Right?" The young princess asked, turning to her father, who nodded. "One for cousin Jellia. One for Aunt Zixia-" She stopped, brow furrowing. "I don't remember who else; there's too many of them." Frexpar chuckled, leaning down to help her.
"That's okay, Fabala. Just as long as we light them, that way they can find their way home tonight." He quickly helped her finish lighting the candles, before picking up two and going to the small table situated near the windows of Melena's balcony. Once all the candles were arranged correctly, he allowed the young maid to bring the loaf of black bread and rest it in the center; an offering to the departed, to show that they were welcome.
"And now what, Papa?"
He turned to his children, chuckling softly. "And now, it's time for bed."
The children began to whine, begging to stay up later, so that they might witness their ancestors returning, but Frexpar put his foot down. "How will we know if they've returned if we're all sleeping?" Raina asked, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout. Her father smiled softly at her.
"You'll know, Raina."
The lights from the candles flickered softly in the darkness of her boudoir, rivaled only by the light from the fireplace. The black bread Cata had made the day before sat in the center of the small circular table that was being used as an altar, and she sighed, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her head on them. The six main candles sat gathered around the bread, the other candles gathered behind them, creating a wave of light in the darkness.
"You'll know."
Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she reached up, brushing them away, her father's words ringing loud and clear in her head. "I hope it's true, Papa. I really hope it's true." She reached up, grabbing the matches and box and striking one before lighting a smaller, red-waxed candle directly in front of the bread. This small candle was the one that welcomed the deceased, the one that offered up the bread, and welcomed them to partake in the feast within the dining room, for the table had been set so that the dead could partake in a meal surrounded by their loved ones - even though their loved ones would be fast asleep. But this year, Elphaba was determined to stay awake.
"Fabala?" She turned, meeting Trism's gaze as he stood in the doorway of the darkened room. A small twinge of guilt passed through her; her darling husband, the father of her children, her consort, looked absolutely exhausted, for he'd spent half the night trying to get the children to go to bed, so excited were they for the holiday. They had listened to their mother and great-grandmother tell them of the traditions that followed this most sacred of Fliaanian holidays, and wanted to stay up to see their deceased aunts, uncle and grandparents. "Come to bed, my love. It's late."
"I will in a while, Tris."
A soft sigh reached her ears, and soon she felt his strong arms encircle her, pulling her close. She turned to meet his gaze, and he firmly kissed her neck and then her head. "I know, Fabala. I want to see my father as much as you want to see your parents and siblings. But you need to sleep-"
She sighed, resting her forehead to his and taking his hand. "Just... give me a few minutes. I'll be in soon, my love. I promise."
He kissed her once before pulling away and meeting her gaze. "Promise?" She nodded. "Okay." He kissed her again, a little longer this time; she reached up, cradling his chin in her hand before he pulled away. "I love you." She whispered it back, watching as he stood and soon left the room. Once gone, she turned back to the candles, closing her eyes against the tears.
She must have dozed off, because she woke around midnight curled up on the floor, roused, but not sure by what. As she slowly climbed to her feet and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she heard distant voices, and quickly left her boudoir. Trism was sound asleep, and after slipping out of the room and checking on each of her children, she headed downstairs, thinking maybe the servants were still up, but there was no one downstairs. Silently, she made her way towards the kitchens, only to stop. Laughter, familiar laughter, reached her ears, and she turned back, going towards the dining room. Stopping in the doorway, she felt her chest constrict and heart stop momentarily at the sight before her.
The long, Gillikin oak table she had chosen all those years ago when she and Trism had moved into the small palace had been set with plates and silverware, waiting for a feast that only the dead could enjoy. When she and Trism had put the children to bed earlier, the table had been empty, but now, the thirty or so places she had requested be set out were being used, the chairs filled, with laughter and conversation floating about the table in soft waves, so as not to wake the occupants of the house. Her gaze landed on the young woman at the head, and her breath caught.
"Mama."
The woman looked up, her laughter like sleigh bells at Lurlinemas. Those same eyes Elphaba possessed landed on the young ruler, and she stood, a smile breaking out on her face. "Fabala." All conversation died down or stopped, as every head turned towards the doorway; silently, Melena made her way to her only surviving daughter, holding out a hand. "We were hoping you would come."
"We?" Her mother nodded, one mahogany curl having escaped her twist; it bounced as she nodded, her dark eyes shimmering in excitement. Elphaba's gaze darted around; Papa sat at the other end of the table, closest to her; Traper, Trism's father, was beside him, a warm smile tugging at the ends of his lips as he laid eyes on his beloved daughter-in-law. Beside him, sat a couple of Elphaba's cousins who had been killed in the revolution; the loyal four were also seated at the table, and there, in the center, sat her sisters and brother- Sophelia and Oziandra on the left, with Nessarose and Shell directly across from them. Her brow furrowed; there was a space between her two younger siblings when there shouldn't have been. "Mama? Who... who's the extra place for? I only asked for-"
"Why, it's for you, my silly girl." Melena replied, slipping her arm through her daughter's and pulling her close.
"Me?" Her mother nodded. "But I'm not-" She stopped, not wanting to offend anyone. Soft laughter greeted her, and after a moment, Frexpar spoke up, climbing to his feet and going to her, kissing her forehead.
"We wanted you to join us, because you've wished for it for so many years, Fabala. It was only fair that you partake in dinner with us tonight."
Slowly, Melena led her daughter to the center of the table; everyone watched silently as the two reigning monarchs- one former, one current- made their way down the table. Family members called out softly to her, reached out to take her hand, told her how wonderful it was to see her again; by the time she took a seat between Nessa and Shell, she was so overwhelmed, she was afraid she'd start sobbing and never be able to stop.
"It's good to be sitting across from you again, Fabala." Raina said, reaching across the table to take her hand. Elia nodded, as Nessa and Shell turned to their older sister. Tears filled Elphaba's gaze as she studied her siblings. "We're together again, even if only for a night."
"I miss you. I miss all of you. So, so much."
Shell reached up, gently catching the tears that trailed down her cheeks. "Don't cry, Fabala. We're always here."
"We'll never leave you." Nessa added, as silence fell about the table. The young empress looked around, drinking in the faces of her family, her beloved siblings, her cousins, aunts, uncles, and most trusted servants; her father-in-law, grandfather, her young cousin Jellia. Everyone she loved was here, at this table with her, as the candles flickered in the darkness. She met Traper's gaze across the table, choking out a sob.
"Father... I'm so sorry-"
Traper stood, making his way to his daughter-in-law. The sight of him walking made her tears flow harder, for the last time she'd seen him, he'd had his legs blown off by a bomb. "It's okay, Fabala." He whispered, kneeling beside her; his face and body were whole, not like the day he died in Locasta's arms, when his stomach had been ripped open and his features torn apart by shrapnel. "I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault, nor was it Trism's."
"He blames himself, Father. Even after all these years, he still blames himself. I've told him it's not his fault, that there was nothing he could do-"
Gently, the former Vinkun king reached up, taking his daughter-in-law's face in his hands. "But he won't listen. My son is a stubborn young man. Always has been. But he's also very lucky, to have you, and the children you've given him."
"You know about them?" Traper nodded. "All of them?"
"Yes, all eight." The king chuckled, shaking his head. "A part of me still can't believe he agreed to that. Trism has always loved children; he acted like a child himself when he got older-"
"He still does on occasion."
"And I know that when you lost your first, he was devastated." Others at the table shared glances, for they had heard of the miscarriage she had suffered; Sophelia- who had been there the day her sister miscarried, the only one of her family there- had informed them not long after it happened.
Elphaba sniffled, thinking of her husband and children sound asleep upstairs. "He always wanted a big family, and now he has one." Traper grinned, brushing the tears from her cheeks. She reminded him so of her husband. Would Trism grow to look more and more like his father as he got older? Would he possess the same gruffness his father had? Would he stop showing his children affection as Traper had to both him and his brother? Elphaba shivered; she never wanted her husband to treat their children the way his father had treated him and his brother. For Trism to lose that beautiful, gentle spirit of his, would break her heart. "I'm sorry you never got to meet any of your grandchildren, Father."
The older man shook his head. "It's okay, Fabala. I was there, when they were born, when you brought each of them into this world- I couldn't be prouder of what both you and my son have done, the children you've raised. You're doing a fine job, Fabala. Not just raising my grandchildren, but ruling the Vinkus. Be proud of what you've accomplished, my daughter." He kissed her cheek, pulling her into his arms. She let his embrace envelope her; in life, Traper hadn't been known for displays of affection; he hadn't been like Frexpar, who had openly showed affection to his wife and children when he'd been alive.
"He misses you; we all miss you. Mother most of all."
Traper sighed, thinking of his beloved wife, his Locasta, the woman he'd loved from the moment they'd met as children. "I miss you too. All of you."
When he finally pulled away, Frexpar stood, holding up one of the wine glasses. "A toast. To this... most sacred of Fliaanian holidays; the time when the veil between our worlds disappears for a few hours, and we can return home, to be with those we've left behind," He glanced at his only surviving daughter. "to spend time with those we had not got the chance to meet," He thought of his grandchildren, sound asleep upstairs. "the next generation, who had come long after we had passed on." Elphaba sniffled, hands going instinctively to her womb, as Nessa reached out to gently squeeze her wrist. "And remember that we are always with them, though they may not see us or feel us. We are always there. So on this most sacred of nights, let's give thanks, enjoy the company, and the delicious feast in our honor."
Cries of 'Here, Here!' sounded around the table, and Elphaba turned, to find the plates set out soon laden with foods of every kind- from roasted pheasant and other Fliaanian delicacies to muskatka. She knew that the kitchen staff had not made this, any of it, but didn't have the heart to question where it had come from. Eventually, Shell looked up, swallowing the bite of black bread he'd taken. "What's wrong, Fabala? Aren't you hungry?"
She glanced at her younger brother as the table fell silent. "I... I don't know... that I can..."
"It's all right, Fabala. You can partake." She turned to her mother, brow furrowing.
"But... what about... about Kumbrica, and the olives? All she ate was one, and it cursed her to stay in the underworld for eternity-"
Melena chuckled softly, not at all surprised that her only surviving child remembered the great legend of the young goddess who had been stolen by Kintar, God of the Dead and the underworld, and who, after days of captivity, had given in to her hunger, and plucked a black, bitter olive from the branch of a black tree in the underworld and eaten it, cursing her to stay as Kintar's wife for all eternity, dooming her from returning to the world and her mother, Aelphaba, for whom the young empress was named. "It's all right. We are not in the underworld, my darling. You can eat."
"You must be starving, chasing after all those children you gave birth too, Fabala." Raina added with a grin. "Whatever possessed you to give birth to eight children-"
"And four of them twins." Taama added, from her place beside her brother. Orin chuckled, sipping his wine. Elphaba shook her head. The last time she'd seen her aunt and uncle, it had been the Lurlinemas before the revolution.
"Tris and I... we wanted a big family. He loves our children, and wouldn't change a thing. There are days when I just... I just sit on the back porch and watch him chase after them in the garden. It's like the weight of our rule is off his shoulders for a few hours. He's not a king, he's a father, and he doesn't have to worry about anything except our children."
"You're lucky, Fabala. That Trism loves you so." Elia replied, as Elphaba slowly began to eat; she took a bite of the pheasant- it melted in her mouth, and she bit back a soft groan of pleasure.
"He's so proud to be a father... I think the proudest moment of his life was the moment Faola came into the world." She swallowed, thinking of her two oldest. "And he's been so good about the boys... he knows they suffer from my disease... and he still..."
"Locasta and I raised him to care about others before himself." Elphaba nodded at her father-in-law. She sat listening to the chatter and conversation, only occasionally adding her input or telling a story, but for the majority of the meal, she kept quiet, just drinking everyone in. They all looked as they had before the revolution had stolen their lives- healthy, alive.
What seemed like hours passed, as Elphaba sat among her lost loved ones, recalling memories of her and her siblings growing up, or listening as one of her cousins explained something that had happened to them long ago- no one dwelled on what had brought about their deaths, nor made any mention of it to her, for they wanted this night to be a memory she could look back on with happiness. Eventually, the meal was finished, and slowly, people stood, wishing Elphaba goodbye with hugs and kisses, and promises that they would always be there, until it was only her family and her father-in-law left at the table with her. She looked around at each of them, tears in her eyes.
"I don't want you to go." She choked on a sob, feeling the tears slip down her cheeks. Raina reached across the table, taking her hand.
"We're never far away, Fabala. We're always here."
Elphaba shook her head, turning to her parents, who had moved to sit beside her older sisters. Traper leaned back in his chair, sipping the coffee that had been brought out at one point, his blue gaze studying his daughter-in-law intently. "I wish you had been there, the day Faola was born- Mama, I needed you. I needed you so much... I was so scared..." She bit her lip, thinking of her two youngest children. "And when Ruli and Vala were born... I nearly lost my life-"
"But you didn't. You weren't meant to join us then, Fabala. Which is why we sent you back." Melena replied, tears in her own eyes.
"But I want to be with you-"
"And leave my son alone, to raise your children, and suffer a broken heart? No. You were not meant to join us then, Fabala, and you're not meant to join us now, not yet. You have so much more life to live, so much joy to bring to my son, that were something to happen to you now, I know he would not survive. Souls rarely change their mates; he survived Nessa's death because he had hope that one of you might have survived. Were he to lose you now, he would never recover. His soul and heart are too entwined with yours; he would die before you were laid within your grave."
"And leave your children orphans, as you were after the revolution." Frexpar added, shaking his head. "No. We couldn't allow that to happen."
Elphaba nodded, knowing Traper was right, but, somewhere in the back of her heart, she longed to be with her family again, and nothing anyone said would take away that longing. It was a craving only death could satisfy, a craving she would have to suffer with for the rest of her life, until her time came. She opened her mouth to speak, when a voice stopped her.
"Fabala?"
Her head snapped to the side, and she swallowed the tears gathering in her throat; Trism stood in the doorway, half-awake, his sandy hair tousled from sleep. His blue eyes drank in the sight of his wife surrounded by her family, until they lit on the one person he'd longed to see since his passing in twenty-eight. "F... Father?"
Traper glanced at his daughter-in-law before getting up and making his way towards his son. Tears filled the young king's gaze, and for a moment, he was a boy again. Gently, Traper reached up, cradling his son's neck in his hand, his blue eyes drinking in the young man that stood before him. Without a word, Trism threw his arms around his father, resting his head on Traper's shoulder. The former king held his son close; he'd watched the young man from afar, seen the changes he'd made within the Vinkus, all the good he'd done. "I'm so proud of you, Trism. You've grown into a fine young man, my son." Gently, Traper pressed a kiss to his son's tousled hair.
"I'm sorry, Father... I'm so sorry..."
"Shh, hush, my boy. It's okay. It wasn't your fault; there was nothing you could have done to stop it. I was ready to go. Though I wasn't ready to leave your mother or you, I was ready to step away from the throne. It was time a new generation took control, and the bombing just helped push it along." He son's soft sobs tugged at the former king's heart, and he gently stroked the young man's back, tracing the diamonds as he'd done when Trism was a boy. "You've done so much good for our country and her people. Be proud of all that you've accomplished, Trism. And know that I'm proud of you. I've always been proud of you." He pressed another firm kiss to his son's head, pulling away to meet his gaze. Gently, he brushed the tears from his cheeks, smiling softly at him. "My son. I love you so. I've always loved you."
Traper pulled away then; the clock struck the hour, and slowly, Elphaba's parents and siblings stood from the table. Her brother and sisters each kissed her goodbye, and she clung to them, not wanting them to go. Frexpar and Melena hugged her gently; her father pressed a soft kiss to her head, and Melena held her daughter close. "We'll always be with you, Fabala."
The chiming of the clock awoke her; she bolted upright, finding herself still curled up in her boudoir. The black bread was gone, only crumbs resided on the plate, and the red candle was out; the other candles were also out, leaving only the six still lit. The fireplace was nothing but ash now, and a warm chill wafted through the room. A moment passed, as she stumbled to her feet, making her way out of the room and to their bed. Trism slept soundly; quietly, carefully, so as not to wake him, she slid beneath the covers, feeling him pull her to him in his sleep. She tangled her hand in her husband's, her mind wandering back to the dinner.
"It's not your fault, what happened to Father, my love. He doesn't blame you. He loves you."
Trism sighed in his sleep, tightening his hold on her. "I know, Fabala. How could I not know when he told me so himself?" She pushed herself up, turning to face him. Her mouth opened, but he pulled her into his chest, holding her close. "Go back to sleep, Fabala. After tonight, we both need it."