Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Written: 2006, Found: 2018.- Licia

"Fabala!"

She turned back, but the voice faded within the sound of the rain. Drawing her attention back to the matter at hand, she took a deep breath.

They were ushered quickly into the House of Special Purpose, for fear someone was up in the middle of the night and would see. She held her head high, drinking in their surroundings as the guards searched her person for the Unnamed God knew what. In her head, she started the first letter of many that she would send to her sisters and brother, that they would receive before their own journey to join them.

My darling sisters and brother,

It is so dreary here. We had so much more freedom before now. Not even twenty minutes within what will be our new home, and I can know already it will be much stricter than before...

"Fabala. Come on, my dear." Mama held out her hand, and once she was free of the guard, she hurried to her.

She reached out, over the bank of the river-

Strong arms grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off her feet and pulling her back. Her memory on autopilot, she did the first thing she could think of; she lashed out. "No! No, please! Leave me alone!" Eventually the person set her down, several feet from the bank of the river, and she ripped away, stumbling to the ground and attempting to crawl away. "Please! Let me go!"

Her companion knelt down, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her to face him. "Fabala! Fabala, stop, it's me! It's Trism! Remember?"

She fought him, small fists pounding on his chest in a desperate attempt to get him to release her. "No! Let me go! Please! Leave me alone!"

Trism knelt before her, tears trailing down his cheeks as he watched his wife. He'd seen her meltdowns before, but they'd never been this extreme, this... heartbreaking. He glanced at Cata, who stood with her hands covering her mouth, in a desperate attempt to keep calm, before turning back to his wife. Then, without another word, he gathered the suffering young woman to his chest, holding her tight beneath his chin. She fought him still, pushing against him in attempt to break free, sobs escaping her throat. "Fabala, please." His voice was soft, tender, but it did nothing to calm her.

Once she became settled in the room she was to share with her sisters once they arrived, she left the upper floor, passing by Mama, Papa and Shell's room to go downstairs and explore was was her new home while her parents themselves got settled. There were guards everywhere, watching her, making sure she didn't run off. It was much more stifling here than it had been back at the palace.

She turned back, one guard catching her eye.

She struggled against him, shaking her head. "No... please. Don't..."

Trism turned his gaze to Cata's, who took a deep breath and shook her head. She had been forbidden to go with the rest of the family, so she had no clue as to what had happened in that House of Special Purpose, and for that one act, it had saved her life.

She had found that being friendly too the guards often helped to ease the strain she felt at being locked up, caged like a wild animal. The guards back at the palace had been kind to her, gentlemanly, despite the situation. When her birthday came, they had secretly bought her a cake, presenting it to her with a handmade card signed by all of them; no matter the situation, the change in their stations, she had begun to think of them as something akin to friends.

Her gaze locked on the guard for the briefest of moments, before she quickly turned away and continued her tour. She paused briefly, hearing footsteps behind her, and turned; he stood a few feet from her, watching her. Taking another deep breath, she continued on, eventually coming upon the water closet. Glancing quickly over her shoulder, she found that the guard was nowhere to be found, and seeing that as her chance, she softly pulled the door open and slipped inside, shutting it quietly.

It was small, as water closets are, with only room for one person at a time. Taking a deep breath, she leaned against the wall adjacent to the toilet, resting her palms and forehead against the wall and taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, that her brain was having a hard time catching up.

"We have to get her back to the house, Your Majesty." Cata spoke softly, and after a moment, Trism stood, helping his wife to her feet and keeping a tight hold on her arm, despite her struggle. "We can send for Doctor Dillamond once we return; he can look her over, make sure she is all right."

The door opened, and she looked up; dim light illuminated the person in the doorway, and for the briefest of moments, she thought it was Papa. But he didn't speak; instead, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Her heart plummeted into her stomach as she realized it was the young guard who had watched her. He didn't say a word, but the closed door now made the small space even smaller and even more equally cramped. She met his gaze, shaking her head. "Please. Leave me alone."

The young king didn't respond; he struggled to keep a tight grip on his wife. She tried to pull away, but he caught her, tugging her back to him. "No! Fabala, stop!" After several minutes, he scooped her up, not necessarily throwing her over his shoulder, but hoisting her high enough that she leaned against his shoulder. It was the only way he could really control her, despite her screams and cries. He had one arm tight around her legs, preventing her from kicking her feet, and the other around her waist, holding her in place. Her screams faded in to the driving rain, and Cata led the way back to the palace, glancing back every so often, praying they got back to Colwen Grounds in time, and that Elphaba would snap out of whatever had caught her in its grip.