Rifiuto: Non Miriena

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

He had to get her back.

Though it had only been a couple days, it was not the same. Life seemed bleak without her; it was as though the Great Father had turned back time, to before she had arrived, before the Scrow had taken her and the others in the raid. Avaric spent most of his time in counsel with the other elders, deciding on the best course of action to get her back. Occasionally, Fiyero would join his father, but there were times when he could not bear to listen.

Inaction, when they needed action. They had to do something.

She was their Crown Princess, the wife of the next Arjiki Chief, the mother of the future Chief of the Arjiki... he could not just sit by while his beloved wife faced God knew what at the hands of the white man.

"Papa?"

He looked up, torn from his thoughts. Irji sat beside him, tears in his eyes. It did not seem possible, that their oldest son had turned four moons two weeks ago, and now, his mother was gone, stolen by whites in a raid on their camp and taken back to their 'civilized' society. Without a word, he opened his arms and the boy crawled into his embrace. The child's sobs broke his heart, and he held his son tight against his chest. "La riprendo, mio figlio. Promesso."

I will get her back, my son. I promise. I will bring Mama home.

He pressed firm kisses to Irji's head, before looking up. Nor and Manek hid in the corner of the tent, watching their father and older brother with wide, tear-filled eyes. Without a word, he reached for them; the two youngest quickly joined their brother in their father's arms, and he pressed firm kisses to each head of dark hair. Eventually, he pulled away, studying each child, before kissing their forehead and tucking them into bed. Once all three were sound asleep, he slipped out of the tent. Avaric and the elders were just finishing up, and he hurriedly made his way towards his father.

He understood that it was not as simple as raiding an neighboring tribe. These white men had guns, and bullets that could kill in an instant. They could do serious damage to a body if they wished. They were heartless, taking over native lands for their own selfish reasons, for the Arjiki knew of the few tribes within the eastern territories that had once been prosperous, and were now nearly eradicated, due to the white man, their desire for land, and the diseases they spread.

It was this that frightened him the most- disease.

His beloved wife, while having been born among the white man, had lived the last seven years with the Arjiki, which meant she would not be immune to whatever diseases the whites carried. If Elphaba contracted something, and then was returned, whatever she contracted could unknowingly be spread to the tribe, the elders, their children...

"Fiyero."

He met his father's gaze, and Avaric sighed. "Terra di razziare l'uomo bianco sarebbe troppo rischioso. Potevano ucciderla se proviamo-"

Fiyero turned to him, stopping near the bonfire. "Così abbiamo appena lasciarla a loro?" We just allow them to keep her? Those- "Quei selvaggi." He felt his blood begin to boil. "I nostri figli?" Tears thickened his voice. "Hanno bisogno della loro madre, e ho bisogno di mia moglie."

Avaric sighed. He understood where his son was coming from, he did. He was just as upset and frustrated by Elphaba's kidnapping as his son was, but he also understood that the white man did not play nice. He understood that the white man would not release his daughter-in-law so easily. That they would fight until their dying breath to keep her, for he had seen what the white could do, the danger they posed. He understood that his son was angry, worried, frightened, for her safety, but he also knew that rushing into this would only bring pain- and possibly cost Elphaba her life. They had to play this carefully, if they wanted to get her back alive.

"Dobbiamo essere attenti deliberato, se siamo per ottenere il suo figlio indietro." He gently but firmly took Fiyero's chin in his hand. "Quando siamo pronti poi andremo dopo di lei."

Fiyero met his father's gaze. When we're ready? And when will that be? When my wife is dead of the white man's diseases? Or murdered by their guns? A moment passed, before he yanked away, turning and stalking back towards the tent his family shared. Avaric sighed, watching him go, knowing he could not push the young man into understanding, that Fiyero had to come to the understanding on his own.

After checking on his children, he slipped out of the tent, disappearing into the darkness, not far from the camp. Starting a small fire, he then pulled out a small pouch, pouring something into his hand. In the weeks leading up to her kidnapping, Sarima had been teaching Elphaba how to walk between the worlds, for the older woman was a gifted shaman in her own right. Sarima had learned from the shaman himself, becoming his apprentice when she was a mere child, no older than Irji. Sarima was to be the shaman's successor, when it was his time to pass from this world to the next, and she, seeing potential in the young white woman, the young princess, had already designated that Elphaba succeed her.

Fiyero himself had learned very basic skills from the shaman; not long after turning ten moons, he had asked the older man to teach him how to contact spirit of a lost loved one, for he wished to speak with his mother. And now, as he pulled out a small pouch and tossed crushed lavender and rosemary into the flames, he let his mind wander, for he knew that calling to a lost loved one would require one's mind to be relaxed and open.

As the flames danced and the herbs sang, releasing their sweet scents into the air, he closed his eyes, releasing a deep breath as he tried to relax. Minutes passed, minutes filled with nothing but the crackling of the fire, before he felt something brush against his shoulder.