Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Contains mentions of rape. Written: 2006, Found: 2018.- Licia

She swallowed, tears coming to her eyes as he closed the gap between them. "No... please... don't..."

He looked to be no older than her- perhaps by a couple of years, if that. His blue eyes drank her in, and after a moment, he reached out. Her gaze darted to his hand; she shook her head. "Please..." Slowly, his fingers grazed her waist, feeling the soft material of her blouse, the hardness of her corset beneath it. His eyes darted back up to hers, and he curved his hand around her waist, tugging her gently towards him. She resisted as much as she dared at the moment, before reluctantly letting him pull her close.

Their eyes locked, and for the briefest of moments, a flash of something appeared in his blue gaze. Recognition?

No, it wasn't possible.

But it could be. You are the daughter of the rulers of Fliaan- the former rulers. Even if he has never seen you, he has heard of you.

She sniffled. "Please. Let me go back to my room. Please. I'm begging you."

But instead of releasing her, he leaned close, pressing his mouth to hers.

Her screams woke the rest of the household, and Trism and Cata looked up to see Glinda, the children and the others coming to stand on the stairs, all rubbing various forms of sleep from their eyes. "Trism? What's going on?" Glinda asked, stifling a yawn. But the young king ignored her.

"Cattery, I know it's late, and it's storming, but I need you to go into the city and fetch Doctor Dillamond. Tell him it's an emergency, hurry!"

Without questioning it, the young girl turned, hurrying back to her room to grab a coat and her shoes before heading out. As Cattery left, Trism carried his wife upstairs, moving through the parting household and making his way to their bedroom. The children watched their parents, confused and worried. Eventually, Glinda and the others of the immediate family made their way to the bedroom, hurrying inside to help him, though they had no idea what was going on. They found Trism and Elphaba in the bathroom; the tub was quickly filling up with warm water, and Elphaba was fighting as Trism attempted to remove her pajamas from her.

"I'm begging you! Let me go back to my room, please!"

He grabbed her shoulders, squeezing firmly. "Fabala, listen to me!" Tears filled his gaze. "Please."

She pushed against him, but he managed to maneuver them until her back was pressed against the wall. Slowly, his hands slid down her hips and over her thighs, tugging at the material of her skirt. She turned her head, managed to break the kiss, but his lips found hers again, and she whimpered as he deepened the kiss, as his hands slowly tugged her skirt up. She reached up, pressing her hands against his chest, attempting to push him away, but he refused to budge. "No... please..."

Slowly, Trism slid his hands down his wife's sides, moving to her pajama top. He managed to remove it from her easily, but when he returned his hands to her waist and slipped his fingers into the waistband of her bottoms, she fought him.

Her skirt rose higher; at the tender age of fourteen, it was customary for girls to wear ankle-length skirts and their hair up; it signified going from girlhood to womanhood, that the young girl was now become a young woman. While each royal child received the diamonds by their eyes at eight months old, there was another tradition, one that was practiced regardless of status.

In the Fliaanian culture, once a young girl reached the age of fourteen, she would receive four small, blue diamond tattoos- one upon the center of the back of her neck, one between her shoulder blades, one in the middle of her back, and one just above her tailbone. These four diamonds marked the four periods of a young Fliaanian woman's life that she had and would got through- birth, girlhood, womanhood and motherhood. Raina and Elia both had the four small diamond tattoos upon their backs; Elphaba had been set to receive hers, but Papa's forced abdication and their captivity prevented the ritual, which meant her back was bare. Nessa also, would not receive her four tattoos, for she would not live to see fourteen.

"Fabala, stop! You have to let me- let me undress you! Fabala!"

"Fabala?" Trism turned as Glinda stepped forward, her blonde curls a mass of tangles. She approached her struggling cousin as though she were approaching a wild animal; hands out and palms facing forward, and voice soft. "Fabala, please. A... a hot bath will do you good. You're probably suffering from fever, being out in that rain so long. Please, Fabala, let us help. Let Trism help you."

Her tears were hot against her cheeks, and she choked on a sob; her skirt was now bunched up around her hips, his hands now slowly, carefully- almost gently- exploring her thighs and the area between them. His fingers brushed against the black curls that resided below her waist and above the space between her thighs; she swallowed thickly, turning her head and closing her eyes in attempt to forget what was happening.

She hadn't the strength to fight back anymore. Oh, why hadn't she stayed upstairs with Mama and Papa? Why had she been curious about this new prison? She heard no noise outside the closet; they had arrived late, and Mama and Papa had most likely gone to bed. It was custom that they both turned in early. And she'd been quiet when leaving the second floor, so they probably both assumed she was still in her room; had they gone to check on her before going to bed and seen the light off, and believed she to be asleep?

She knew not where the other guards were, but she knew right away that they would keep watch if anything happened- if the leering, whispered comments were anything to go by. They were most likely turning a blind eye to what was happening in the closet. A moment passed, as she felt his fingers brush against the sensitive folds between her legs; she squirmed, pressing herself against the wall, as though doing so would put distance between them. The only sound were her soft sobs, her ragged breaths, his soft breathing-

"Mhmm." She bit her lip, closing her eyes against the light pain as he pressed against the tissue between her folds- the tissue that would break upon the consummation of her marriage. She whimpered softly as he continued applying light pressure. The pressure continued, matching the pounding of her heart, the pulsing of the blood in her ears. Her teeth dug into her lip, drawing blood as he continued, blue gaze locked on her face. She struggled to keep a straight face, though it was no use. Though she longed not to give him the pleasure of seeing her in pain, what she was experiencing was too great for her to ignore.

A soft, keen-like whimper escaped her, and she pushed against his chest again, but he ignored her attempts at escape. "No... please... don't..."

A sob broke free from her lips as she felt something begin to tear between her legs; it was painful, not just physically, but emotionally, and, somewhere, deep down in the back of her mind, mentally and psychologically, for deep down, she knew what it was, what was happening, what he had decided to do to her and why he was ignoring her feeble protests. Eventually, he pulled his fingers away; in the darkness, she didn't know if they were stained with the blood of her innocence or not. She met his gaze, hoping he would now release her and let her return to her room upstairs, but when he locked eyes with her, she realized he would not be letting her go any time soon. Without a word, the young guard forced his mouth upon hers, quickly undid his pants, and then, as she attempted to shove him away, forced her arms against the wall and above her head, keeping her in place.

She screamed against his mouth as she struggled to get away; the pain becoming even more unbearable.