Rifiuto: Non Miriena

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

"Papa! Papa!"

Fiyero looked up, the brush falling from his hand as he rushed from the horse he'd been grooming towards his children's cries. He found them not in their tent, nor with the other children, but in his father's tent, huddled around their grandfather. Sarima and the shaman knelt beside the Chief, silently attending to him as his grandchildren huddled close, refusing to leave their grandfather's side.

"Che cosa succede? Sarima!"

The older woman met the young prince's gaze, and simply shook her head, gaze darting to the children, the meaning clear. Get the young ones out of here, do not let them see their grandfather like this. Especially not after losing their mother.

Without a word, Fiyero gently gathered his children, scooping Nor into his arms. The princess let out a screech, crying for her grandfather, even as Irji followed obediently with Manek in tow after a stern glance from Sarima.

"Nonno! Nonno!" Nor's cries for her grandfather dissolved into screams, and others in the tribe turned at the sound, some came over to offer help to the young princess, but Fiyero waved them off, taking the children back to their tent. He had to talk to his children, and the only way he could do that was if he got Nor to calm down once inside their tent, where she was among the furs that still smelled of her mother...

Once all four were settled inside, he set Nor gently among the bedroll and furs of the bed he used to share with Elphaba, before kneeling before them. "Abbastanza, Nor! Cora quello che รจ successo? Parlare con me. Nor!" He shook her gently, and the child hiccuped, tears continuing to slide down her cheeks. She reached up, wiping at her nose as all children do, and Fiyero sighed. He'd been harsh with his baby girl, he knew he had. Harsher than he'd meant to be. Taking a deep breath, he asked her again, but all the child did was curl against his shoulder.

Irji, though only at the tender age of four, almost five, was as perceptive as his father and as inquisitive as his mother, and had watched everything that had happened. Papa had said it was okay to go see grandfather, and they'd dashed off toward Avaric's tent, but upon entering-

"Caduto." The boy's whisper was so soft, Fiyero had to tug his oldest son into his arms and tilt his head down to be able to hear. He asked the child to repeat himself, which the boy did, adding a new detail this time- that Avaric had ordered them to fetch Sarima and the shaman, and that his heart was hurting. Fiyero shuddered, pulling his children close and pressing kisses to their heads. He could only think of one cause for such sudden, shocking pain.

A broken heart.

Avaric had suffered one once before, after his wife had died, taking the stillborn babe with her, leaving him alone to raise a six-year-old son and lead his tribe. Fiyero had been no older than his own children when his mother had died, and his memories of the night his mother and baby sister died were fuzzy at best. He did remember, sharply, however, that his father had seemed to shut down in the weeks after his the burial- avoiding his son and focusing solely on his tribe; to the point that Fiyero had turned to Sarima for parental love. The medicine woman had gone to the chief, scolding him for neglecting his child, and Avaric had listened.

Now, though, Fiyero, being older and wiser- and a father himself, who had lost his wife, though not to childbirth, but to the whites- he understood the pain of heartbreak. And he had a sneaking suspicion of what had caused his father's this time. After a moment, he released his children and stepped out of the tent, going in search of Candle, who quickly agreed to watch the children for the young prince while he went back to his father's tent.

He stepped back inside, watching in silence as Sarima and the shaman worked over his father. Softly clearing his throat, he watched as both turned, and after a moment, he moved towards Sarima, glancing at her quickly before kneeling down beside his father and taking the older man's hand. "Padre." Avaric turned towards his son, his blue eyes as dull as they'd been when his wife had died.

Avaric's voice was soft; he swallowed thickly before falling to sleep thanks to the medicine the shaman had given him. Slowly, Fiyero stood, turning to the two, his father's words in his head. Bring her home and make our tribe whole again.

"Bene?"

The pair shared a glance, before Sarima gently took the prince aside. Her voice was soft, filled with worry. "Principe, sta morendo di un cuore spezzato."

"Sarima, sei sicuro?"

She nodded. "Si."

The young prince sighed; he felt as though he were six-years-old again, being told by his father that his mother and baby sister didn't make it. His own heart dropped, and he felt half sick. After Elphaba had been taken, Avaric had talked about biding their time until they could rightfully steal Elphaba away and bring her home, but now...

It was evident now that the Arjiki could not wait for the right time to rescue his wife. The loss of his beloved daughter-in-law, and thereby the weakening of the tribe, had caused Avaric to suffer a broken heart, but not just Avaric. The entire tribe seemed to have lost the will to live with their princess gone; Elphaba was a light, a shining star that lit not just the night sky, but the entire tribe- with her smile, her laugh, her gentle nature and eagerness to learn, even these seven years after her arrival.

Fiyero turned back to Sarima, knowing what he needed to do. Without a word, he left the tent; he could not leave the tribe, not with his father sick and his children needing their remaining parent. Candle came out with Manek balanced on her hip, the child had been crying for his mother, and Candle had done all she could to calm the boy. Instantly, Fiyero took the toddler, settling the boy on his hip and pressing a kiss to his son's head. After explaining what had happened, Candle immediately offered to go in place of one of the tribe's warriors. She had a point- the white's might be more willing to release Elphaba if a woman showed up with a message, instead of one of the warriors.

A moment passed, before Fiyero nodded, giving her permission. With his youngest son balanced on his hip, he followed her to the horses that were tethered in the fields. It would take her at least four days for her to reach the white man's land, which would give them time to figure out how best to care for his father. As Candle hurried off, he cuddled his son close, pressing a kiss to his head, praying to the gods that by the time Candle got to the white's land, it wouldn't be too late, and that his wife would be ready to return to their tribe.