Captive Love
Rifiuto: Non Miriena
Summary: A girl stolen in broad daylight and sold to a race of 'savages', grew to learn her captivity had turned to love. Now, a child born from that stolen love faces her own captivity. But unlike the girl before her, hers is willing. She will soon discover, however, that the world she comes from and the world she has chosen are just too different, and that there may be deadly consequences, for all she loves, in both her worlds. Sequel to Stolen Love, set between 1877 - 1881, with the exception of the first chapter. Keep those in mind, the dates are important. Fiyeraba. Mulhama/Tibbett.
A/N: Written: 2014. Found: 2018.- Licia
Arjiki Encampment,
Kellswater,
Winter,
1872
A scream pierced the air; primal and animalistic and wild.
The fire crackled, giving off more than enough warmth; it was too much for the laboring young woman though. She bore down as hard as she could, holding tight to her sister-in-law's hands as the young medicine man and his wife worked to help her. She had been at this for hours; her waters had burst two hours earlier, not that it did any good, and she was exhausted.
"Facilità, con facilità, sorella. Un bambino non verrà se lo si forza; Lo so. È più facile lasciare che il bambino venga dal suo invece di forzarlo." The older woman kissed her head; she knew of what she spoke, for she had found herself in the position of childbirth four times before, and had learned over the years that it was best to let her body take control. When the babe was ready to enter the world, then they would leave her womb, and not before.
The young woman shook her head, letting out a cry. Her husband stayed back; she had refused his touch, his comfort, in favor of his sister's, and after a moment, he turned on the medicine man and his wife. "Why are you not helping her? You are skilled in the ways of medicine, surely there's something you can do to help my wife-"
"We can do nothing until the babe decides to come." The medicine man replied in unbroken English, for he had been born of the white world before finding a home in his tribe as a child. His wife turned to glance at the man, turning back to her husband before getting up and going to the anxious father. Without a word, she pushed him gently from the tent, into the chilled winter air. Once outside, he turned from her, running a hand through his hair as he began to pace; the woman, only a couple years older than him, watched, the buckskin wrap around her shoulders being pulled closer to her skin. The single braid that hung down her back was woven with a simple leather ribbon, and the twelve green diamonds upon her wrists- six on each- glimmered in the strong winter moonlight; it made her pale skin even paler. Looking between them, it was easy to see they were related, and were one to look at the woman comforting the laboring mother within the tent, they would see the similarities there as well, coming to the conclusion that all three were siblings.
Suddenly, he turned on her, fear in his voice as he spoke. "Do something! You're the medicine woman, it is your job to help in such matters!"
She crossed her arms, studying him silently before speaking. "Ti sbagli, fratello. Mio marito è l'uomo delle medicine. I am his wife."
"But you are still trained-"
"Addestrato o no, non è il mio posto- our place- di interferire quando è il momento per un bambino to enter the world. È compito di una donna portare per una nuova vita. We are built for it, created for it. Meant to carry the lines; il corpo di una donna, e l'atto di nascita, è sacro e non deve essere interferito. I'm sorry, I cannot interfere, and I will not interfere, and neither will my husband. Non è il nostro posto."
"Not your place?" The man scoffed angrily. "That is my wife, Nessarose! The woman I love!" He caught a glimmer of anger flash within her eyes, the hard swallow of her throat against the lump at the sound of her former name, and by extension, her former life. For she had lived nine years within the tribe; her sister had lived longer- sixteen- within the tribe, from the tender age of thirteen. "And you mean to tell me, that even though your husband is the medicine man, and you his wife, that you will not help her through this? That you will let her suffer this... unbearable pain?"
"La sofferenza può essere seguita solo dalla gioia, fratello. What is unbearable to her now will be forgotten once the babe enters the world."
"The babe is not here yet!" But before he could continue, a shriek cut through the argument, followed by a harsh, loud scream, and both hurried back into the tent. They found the medicine man sucking the fluid from the babe's nose, as the chief turned to his brother-in-law, grinning; for he and his wife had been doing their best to provide comfort to the laboring woman. The young man glanced between them, mind spinning.
"Ha portato un figlio." The young man locked eyes with his brother-in-law.
"A son?" However, before anyone could respond, the young mother pushed herself back into a sitting position, letting out another cry of pain. She grabbed her sister-in-law's hand, squeezing. "What's happening? What's wrong?" He hurried to her, kneeling down by her side. "Candle? Candle, look at me. Parlami, amore." His Arjiki was soft, unsure but getting better, for he had good teachers in the family. She shook her head, turning from him with a cry.
The other woman shooed him away with a click of her tongue, the meaning clear. There is nothing you can do for her, brother.
He backed up, bumping into the chief, who rested a steadying hand on his shoulder. "What's happening? The baby's born, so why is she-" In his head, he knew what it was, but he was so worried about her, so tightly wound in fear for her, for she'd been at this for hours, that his brain couldn't even consider entertaining the notion.
Gently pushing past her husband, the young medicine bride knelt before her sister-in-law, reaching two fingers into her to check that it was true. "She is to bear another one."
"Gemelli." Her older sister replied, from her place behind the younger woman, concern in her voice. Moments passed, with only the young mother's whimpers breaking the tension, and the medicine bride nodded.
"Un'altra bambina." She gently removed her fingers, reaching up and resting a hand on the woman's belly, pressing gently. The mother cried out in pain, and the sisters shared a glance. "It's coming, fast." She removed the shawl she wore, reaching for the basin of water not far away and dipping a softened cloth of buckskin into it before wringing it out and holding it gently against the laboring mother's opening. Her other hand against the woman's belly, she timed the pains in her head; something she had not done when she'd had her first- though that had been an experience she'd swore she'd never repeat, only to do so twice more. And her sister, four in total. "Tieniti giù, sorella. Orso giù, subito!"
The woman did as told, digging her nails into her sister-in-law's hands, a scream escaping her throat. This continued for several minutes, before finally, something began to appear. With a pop, the second babe's head appeared, and the young woman gently rubbed her sister-in-law's belly. "Good, good girl, Candle. Di nuovo. Orso giù!"
Another scream as she continued to push. "Continua a sopportare, Candela. Presto sarà finita." Trying to take her sister-in-law's words to heart, the woman gave one more strong, hard, final push. With a burst of blood and fluid, the second babe slid into their aunt's embrace, a strong wail alerting everyone within the tent to the reality that they were now there. Candle collapsed back in her sister-in-law's arms, chest heaving as she caught her breath, gaze searching for her husband, who hurried to her. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her softly, even as the medicine man laid the first baby in his wife's arms before taking the second and doing the same.
"Un ragazzo e una ragazza." He whispered. As the new parents turned their attention to their children, the medicine man beckoned the others outside. Once the flap of the tent had fallen, and they'd moved a mild distance away, he turned to the other three. "This is not good. Non va affatto bene."
His wife furrowed a brow; though she had lived nine years within the tribe, borne three children herself, there were still some things she did not fully understand that her sister and husband did. "Why is it not good, husband? So Candle ha portato gemelli Shell. Sono forti e sani e saranno amati immensely-"
"Non capisci, sorella." She turned, facing the chief and his wife.
"I do not understand? Allora dimmi, Fabala. Explain it to me. Cosa c'è di così sbagliato se una donna allafa due twins?" The chieftess met her husband's gaze, before taking his hand.
"I gemelli sono un presagio." The chief whispered, pulling his wife close as she shivered, but not from the winter cold.
"An omen?"
"In Arjiki legend, twins are considered the splitting of a soul; they are viewed as bad omens for the tribe. Death or worse will come if twins are born to an Arjiki woman within the tribe-"
"But Candle is no longer of the tribe. She married our brother, surely that legend means nothing now." She turned to her brother and sister-in-law. "They live nel mondo bianco-"
"Ma li ha partoriti all'interno di terre tribali." Her sister replied, as her husband pulled her closer.
"And even if she hadn't, Candle is still Arjiki, even though she married a white."
"Sarà sempre Arjiki." The chief replied, glancing at his wife; his father had told her something similar long ago.
"Arjiki è, e Arjiki lei rimarrà, no matter how long she lives in the white world. You of all people should know that, Mulhama." The woman sighed in agitation, glancing between her husband and her sister. She knew, all too well, because they both had lived in the white world for a time- though for her sister, it was only little under a week before the separation started to kill her, for her husband, it was thirteen years.
"Allora cosa facciamo? Cosa suggerisce la leggenda di fare?" The medicine man glanced at the chief, who bit his lip. "Tibbett?" She turned to the others. "Fiyero? Fabala? Elphaba?" The chieftess ignored her, lowering her gaze before curling into her husband's embrace. She had once near faced birthing twins, but one had died within her womb before it made its presence known, though Sarima had been able to discern that there had once been two within her. Her oldest daughter had come into the world five months later, and no one except her and Sarima had been the wiser that two had once grown within her womb. When she finally had found the courage to tell her husband, she'd been surprised to discover that he was relieved at the loss of the second baby.
At first upset by his reaction, she'd soon understood when he'd explained the legend of twins, and the implications of two being born from the same womb at the same time. That only evil could come from twins, and that the splitting of one soul to reside in two bodies was considered an ill omen for the tribe. To this day, only she, Sarima, and Fiyero knew the truth, and Nor, her precious baby girl, was none the wiser that she had once shared her mother's womb. Though no one knew that even such a short-lived twin pregnancy would unknowingly shape the destiny of the young princess, who, at twelve moons was just beginning to enter the first years of her womanhood.
"Nella leggenda di Arjiki, se i gemelli viventi sono nati da una donna della tribù," Mulhama watched her brother-in-law take a deep breath, tugging his wife closer. Elphaba turned her head, fully silent, though listening intently. Her husband's hands rested over her womb, and she reached down, covering his hands with hers. He met his sister-in-law's eyes, voice soft. "Nella leggenda di Arjiki, se i gemelli viventi sono nati da una donna della tribù, allora il bambino che lascia il grembo materno secondo è destinato ad essere sacrifificato, per salvare non solo il primo bambino, ma la tribù."
"Save the tribe from what?"
"Morte." Elphaba finally choked out, though she didn't look at her sister.
"Or worse." Tibbett added, as his wife turned to him. But before she could open her mouth to respond, the tent flap lifted. He called to his sisters and their husbands, and after several minutes, they returned to the tent, quick glances passing between them.
Do not tell, for he is a white, and will not understand.
Such a thought showed just how deeply entrenched in the tribe the medicine man, his wife, and the chieftess were, when they referred to another who bore the same skin as them- they saw themselves not as whites living with Arjiki- captives of savage Indians, as many in the white world believed- but as Arjiki. So long within the tribe, they considered themselves to be of them, no longer seeing themselves as captives or outsiders as others did. They were Arjiki, as Arjiki as the young chief Elphaba had married at thirteen moons, when he was just a young prince, and his father- who had walked within the other world one hundred and seventeen moons ago- had been chief. To them, their world within the tribe and the white world they had been born of, were two entirely separate worlds, and needed to remain so.
As the chief and his wife slipped back into the tent, Mulhama turned to her husband. "Tibbett?"
He met her gaze. "Si, wife?"
She sighed, smiling softly. "Candle asked to birth in the village. She did not want to birth in the white world, for the men who call themselves doctors do not listen to women. She asked to birth here because she knew that she would be safe here, protected, because she would be surrounded by family. Not just Shell, but all of us. If there is any way we can preserve both her children-"
Her husband sighed. "I don't know. Twins have not grown within an Arjiki woman's womb for centuries, until now. This is not something we have experienced before." He then went inside, and after a moment she followed, both unaware of how wrong he was, and that the first woman to carry twins within her womb had married the chief when he was fourteen moons, and she merely thirteen.
Once back inside, they gathered around the young pair. Their younger brother cradled the little girl in his arms, his wife the little boy. The chief and his wife sat not far from them, she settled in his lap, both lost in their own thoughts, an entire conversation passing between the pair with a few quick squeezes of their hands. As they settled not far from them, Shell cleared his throat. "We've... we've thought of names for them both." The pair shared a glance before turning back to the others.
"Our son will be Grimalkin," Shell said, and Elphaba smiled softly. She knew the name; had discussed it as a possibility before they'd settled on Manek for their third child. It meant 'Dancing Fire'; a strong, sturdy name for a boy.
"E nostra figlia, Greyling." Candle added; she could speak the white man's language, but it was much more difficult for her to pick up than for her husband to pick up Arjiki, even though she'd lived now four years in the white world. Fiyero chuckled softly at the name, which meant 'Blooming Rose'; he'd proposed the same name to Elphaba when she'd been pregnant with Nor, but his wife- at the time greatly swollen and due to birth in just two weeks- had instantly told him no, no matter how beautiful the name truly was. She had already decided on Nor, if she carried a girl within her womb, and would not budge on her choice.
Fiyero kissed his wife's shoulder; despite his fears, it was not his place, nor the right time, to inform his brother-and-sister-in-law of the legend. Instead, he held his wife close, watching the pair silently. He, like his wife and brother-in-law, could not get the niggling feeling that with the birth of his brother-and-sister-in-law's twins, that their tribe was destined for something, but he didn't know what.