Rifiuto: Non Miriena

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

She sat among the furs of the bed, gaze going about the tent. After Sarima and Tibbett's reunion, she had been brought to Sarima's tent, left to wait, while the medicine woman and her son conversed with the prince. It was evident that Fiyero did not trust Tibbett, but he trusted Sarima, and it was on Sarima's judgement he was relying.

He has even less trust in you, because you are of the people who stole his wife away.

Slowly, she let her gaze wander around the tent. Had her sister slept in a tent similar to this one, the past seven years? Was there a fire pit in the center of it, with furs laid out, to keep them warm, like in this one? This tent was certainly big enough for at least two, it would not surprise her if the tent her sister lived in was probably the same size or a little bigger. She has given birth to three children, after all. Children tend to take up space.

The tent flap opened slightly, and she looked up. Three small heads poked through the opening, wide eyes watching her. She smiled softly. "Hello. Who are you?" The children, two boys and a girl, all around the ages of five and below, stayed silent, watching the white woman in her funny dress and boots. Something about them seemed oddly familiar, but she couldn't say exactly what it was. "My name is Nessa-"

A stern voice caused all three children to jump, and they all looked up as the flap fully lifted and the prince appeared, stern blue eyes narrowed. He said something in Arjiki that she didn't understand, and after several minutes and a stern glare from the prince, the three slowly left, but not before a soft, "Papa!" could be heard, and Nessa started.

They were the prince's children. And if they were the prince's children, then that meant-

They are your sister's children. Those are the babies your sister birthed; those are the babies she carried inside her, that she and her husband created not long after her arrival in the tribe. They are your nephews and niece. Oh, God, they're beautiful.

She looked up as the prince, Sarima and Tibbett entered the tent, the flap falling softly behind them. Tibbett stayed by Sarima's side, glancing at her occasionally. His return had caused a stir in the encampment, and it would only become greater; for many in the tribe, he was a myth; unlike Elphaba, whom everyone knew because they often saw her, Tibbett had been within the white man's world for thirteen years. When he'd been stolen away, many of the younger generation were either children, toddlers or babies, or had not even been conceived yet. For the next several weeks, until everything died down, he would be on display, which was part of the reason he stuck so close to Sarima; partially to get reacquainted with the woman who had raised him, but also to lessen the hushed whispers. But here, in the tent, it was evident that she was on display, and so she lifted her chin. If she was going to be on display for them, then they would be on display for her.

A moment passed, before Fiyero spoke, studying her. "Sei simile a mia moglie, in tanti modi-"

Nessa glanced at Tibbett who sighed. "You and Elphaba look alike-"

She scoffed. "Of course we look alike! We're siblings! I'm her little sister!"

Tibbett sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Nessa, please."

The woman huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "You separated me from my husband, why? What was the reason to? Did you bring me into this tent for a reason? Or just so you can gawk at me like a trio of children?"

Silence settled between the quartet, startled silence, before eventually, Sarima spoke up, turning to both men. "Leave us. Vorrei parlarle alone." A moment passed, before Tibbett did as instructed, going to Nessa and kissing her head before leaving. The prince, however, merely crossed his arms. "Vorrei parlarle da solo, Fiyero. Ci sono alcune cose che dobbiamo capire l'una dell'altra. Ora vai." Still he refused to budge. "Ora."

The sharpness in her voice caused the young prince to sigh and silently turn on his heel, glaring at Nessa before he stepped out of the tent. It was very, very evident that Fiyero did not like her, and honestly, she couldn't blame him. God only knew what he'd suffered since Elphaba's capture. And having to raise their children by himself, even if only for a few days... plus the strain of caring for the entire tribe...

No wonder he was so sharp with his children. He is dealing with a lot.

Pulled from her thoughts by soft crackling, she looked up, watching as Sarima gently poked the fire before taking a seat across from her, not far away. It was suddenly warmer in the tent, though she still pulled one of the furs around her. Now that they sat not far apart, Nessa could see the blue diamonds that sparked in the firelight. The pattern and color were different- indicating Sarima having been born within the tribe- but they were so similar, that Nessa now understood why it was so easy to identify the older woman, why Tibbett hadn't hesitated at all when he'd announced his appearance in the center of the village today.

Minutes passed, before finally, Sarima spoke,

"You wish to marry my son?"

Nessa started, surprised the woman spoke English, though Tibbett had said something on the journey over that Sarima had learned English from a fur trader who'd come through and done constant business with the tribe when she was a child and had picked up the language that way, but then met the older woman's gaze. She nodded. "Yes. We are in love."

Sarima studied the teenager for a moment, eyes narrowing. While she was grateful that the young woman had brought her son back to her, she did not trust that what she said was true. "Your people stole Elphaba from us, as you stole my son. Your people have always come with ill intentions towards my people. We do not take kindly to whites who come with trickery in their hearts."

Nessa shook her head, reaching out for the woman. "No trickery, I promise. Please." She stopped, taking a deep breath, pressing a hand to her heart. "I have nothing but love for Tibbett in mine."