Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Written: 2012. Rewritten: 2014. Found: 2018.

Arjiki Encampment,

Thousand Year Grasslands,

Spring,

Two Years Later,

1863

In two months, twenty moons would signify the number of years she had been alive on the earth, and two weeks after that, it would have been seven years- eighty-four moons- since she had first come to the tribe and married their prince.

She stretched, feeling her husband's arms tighten around her as he burrowed into her hair. She shifted onto her back, watching him. After several minutes, his blue eyes opened, and he found her staring at him, a look of contentment on her features. She gently reached up, tracing a finger over his features. "Marito, ti amo. Ti amo, Fiyero."

He smiled softly, catching her hand in his and pressing a kiss to her palm. "Fabala, ti amo." He kissed her, lacing their fingers together, before sliding his other arm around her waist and pulling her closer. Her soft body melted into his, and even through the buckskin of her dress, he could feel her tender curves, for three children had left her soft and supple in all the right places. They shifted, until he was lying on his back and she on top him; breaking the kiss, she settled, resting her head to his chest. She could feel the slight raise of the diamond tattoos against her skin, and she released a contented sigh, reaching up to trace them with a finger.

"Amo la nostra vita."

It a tender declaration, spoken in contentment, of a life she loved with all her heart. He wrapped his arms around her, sighing softly.

"Faccio troppo."

They lay in silence for several minutes before,

"Allora perché ci si sente come è tutto per cambiare?"

"Davvoro dire?"

She sighed, never lifting her head, and Fiyero noted the heaviness of the sigh that escaped her. "Ho appena... appena... avere questa pietra nel mio stomaco..." She stopped, biting her lip.

Gently, Fiyero lifted her up to meet her gaze, brow furrowed. "Pietra? Fabala-"

"Yero, se succede qualcosa di brutto?"

He started. She never called him Yero unless she was worried about something, or frightened. She'd first called him Yero the night she told him she was with child, back when they'd conceived Irji. She'd been terrified for some reason, but she needn't be. He'd been thrilled. Nervous, but thrilled.

He sat up, causing her to slide into his lap; her legs wrapped around his waist, and she turned her gaze to the diamonds on his chest, hoping to avoid the conversation. "Fabala? Parlami." She briefly met his gaze, and after a moment, he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Fabala?"

Tears welled in her eyes, and she threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. "Ho paura."

The declaration startled him, but he wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him. Quickly checking to make sure the children were still asleep, he shifted her off of him before getting up and helping her. Scooping her into his arms, he carried her outside; they settled not far from the village, facing each other. But she wouldn't talk, all she would do was curl into his arms and cry, it frightened her so. Something about this day...

Eventually, they returned to the village; others were just waking. Life was going about as usual, and silently, they worked to get the children up and dressed and set about the day, unaware of how it would turn out.

There was talk of a hunt, and the celebrating of when she came to the tribe. As the children rushed to play with their friends, and she pulled her husband close, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him deeply. He didn't question in, but allowed her to do so, knowing it had to do with earlier. As he gathered the bow and arrows he needed for the hunt, she rushed to him.

"Fiyero!" He turned back, gathering her in his arms and kissing her firmly. "Non andare. Non lasciarmi solo. Si prega, Soggiorno."

He tilted her chin up, seeing the tears in her gaze. "Non sarò andato a lungo, Fabala."

She shook her head, burying her face in his chest. "Non." He held her close, kissing her hair before slowly pulling away.

As the men were leaving for the hunt, the sound of horse's hooves could be heard; it all happened so quickly. In a blur of color and sound, the white man's raid on the village came, like a whirlwind on a lake, startling and unexpected all at once. Arrows were fired, screams could be heard. Fiyero rushed towards her; he could hear Irji and Nor crying for her, could hear Manek's cries, and saw her reach out for him-

Irji and Nor's cries for her were strong in his ears, but all he focused on was her. He saw Irji rush towards his mother, the instinct to protect her like he protected his siblings strong; their son would be a wonderful warrior, and a wonderful chief some day. Nor was being held back by one of the other women of the tribe; her screams for her mother pierced his heart, and he knew he had to get to her before the soldier did.

It wasn't like she didn't try to escape, but a man on horseback is infinitely faster. In a matter of minutes, the soldier had ridden after her and scooped her up. Kicking and screaming, she fought him, reaching out for her husband, even as arrows and bullets rained. And before he could blink, the soldier who had her was riding off again, carrying her on the back of his horse, her screams calling out to him in the distance, screams of panic, of complete fear.

They were screams that pierced his soul, that he would hear until he drew his last breath, for all eternity.

"Fiyero!"