Rifiuto: Non Miriena

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

Fiyero did not trust Nessa, nor did he trust Tibbett, even though he was clearly Sarima's son. They had argued, Fiyero refusing to acknowledge Tibbett as Sarima's son, Tibbett pleading with the prince to see reason. But Fiyero was not up for seeing reason; not when his wife was captive of the whites, and his father was straddling the line between this world and the next. He was not up for seeing reason at all.

"Fiyero, please!" The prince stopped, midway to his father's tent. "Dov'è il bambino che mi seguiva quando andavo a caccia? Il ragazzino che mi chiedeva di raccontargli storie a tarda notte, vicino al falò? Cos'è successo al ragazzo che mi ha detto che sono stato fortunato ad essere adottato da Sarima, perché allora avevo almeno una madre? Fiyero!"

Each thing Tibbett said sparked a memory deep within; in his heart, he knew what the translator said was true, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it. He had too much to focus on, too much to worry about, to keep track of one, minor insignificant detail such as memories. He had a tribe to look after, three children to raise, and his father-

"Eri la cosa più vicina a un fratello, Fiyero. So much so that I used to call you my 'little brother', remember?" Tibbett moved to block his path, hoping against hope the prince would see reason. "And with our marriages, siamo fratelli ora."

Fiyero's blue gaze moved to meet Tibbett's. "Sposato? Vuoi sposarti?"

He shook his head, moving past the man, but Tibbett, who could be just as stubborn as Fiyero, wouldn't let him off that easily. He grabbed his arm, causing the man to turn back. "Con la tua benedizione. I have already asked Mother, and she voluto parlare con Nessa before making her decision. Ma agli occhi della Grande Madre we are already married. In the barn of the Thropp residence."

Fiyero met his gaze, something sparking within the depths of his blue eyes, as he realized what the man meant. "Le hai rubato la virtù, l'hai portata a sentire contro la sua volontà..."

Tibbett shook his head quickly. "No! Not stolen, Fiyero. Taken willingly, as I have given her mine." He sighed, realizing he hadn't changed languages at all, so desperate for him to understand. "Preso volentieri, come ho dato il suo."

Silence settled between the two men, silence that stretched on like the river that sustained the tribe. They studied each other; Tibbett saw the strain Elphaba's disappearance had taken up him- not only had it strained Elphaba to be away from her tribe, but it had strained Fiyero to lose her in such a way. He carried the guilt of having not been able to do anything, of watching as she was snatched from the very ground they themselves stood on, as she was stolen away in broad daylight, carried back to the white man's world, away from her family, her tribe. He carried the guilt of having been unable to stop them, of not having protected her better, when there was nothing he could have done. And he saw the pain of raising three children alone, of having to care for his tribe, but there was something else. Something Fiyero refused to say, though it was clearly eating at him with every passing moment. Though before he could ask, a voice broke through the silence.

"Tibbett!"

Over Fiyero's shoulder, he could see Sarima making her way towards them; suddenly, Nessa threw her arms around him, sending him stumbling back slightly. He managed to regain his balance, wrapping his arms around her waist instinctively. Sarima watched silently as she joined Fiyero, who turned to glance at the medicine woman. After a moment, Tibbett released Nessa, who took his hands. "What was that for?"

The teenager glanced over her shoulder at Sarima, before turning back to the translator. "We have her blessing to be married, my love."

Tibbett started, surprise filling his gaze as he glanced at his adoptive mother. To say he was surprised his mother had given her blessing was an understatement; he fully expected Sarima to go against the union, especially considering that Nessa was Elphaba's little sister, but apparently, it was the exact opposite. "Madre, why?"

Without a word, Sarima went to them, reaching up and taking his face in her hands. She studied the young man, searching for and finding the little boy she'd adopted those twenty years ago. She had mourned for the child stolen before it even drew its first breath from her womb, prayed for a child to end her heartbreak at the loss and been given a little boy to raise and love in answer to it, loved him and watched him grow like any mother would, and then cruelly had him snatched from her very arms thirteen years ago; she'd gone so long without knowing if her son was dead or alive, if he had married and started a family, if he still thought of her, and to finally have him back- and all thanks to a white woman; the sister of their princess, no less- after so long apart...

She could afford to give him the blessing to marry the girl he'd so clearly fallen in love with, the girl who had brought him home. "Because you are happy with her, mio figlio. And she brought you home to me." She kissed his forehead, holding him close for several minutes, before pulling away.

"Will I have a new name, now that I have joined the tribe? And diamonds, like yours and Elphaba's?"

Everyone turned to Nessa, who, in her innocence, spoke with a giddiness Tibbett could not fault, but that annoyed Fiyero's already frayed nerves. The prince studied the girl, shaking his head in annoyance. "Non si ricevono diamanti perché hanno cercato gli Arjiki."

Nessa turned to Tibbett, who sighed, squeezing Sarima's hand before going to Nessa and pulling her close. "A new name is not given for arriving at the tribe." He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to it. "One must either be adopted or marry into the tribe. That is how they receive both the diamonds and the name. It is how we ensure they are safe from harm. For Elphaba, when she married Fiyero, it was to ensure she was under the Arjiki's protection."

A brow furrowed. "Protection?"

"Sicuro dal commercio o dal furto." Fiyero replied, the last words stinging his throat.

"It is not uncommon for a captive to be traded or stolen to another tribe, and then be traded or stolen back from that tribe. Your sister was married to ensure that she would not fall back into Scrow hands."

"Oh." Something niggled in the back of her mind. "Why the Scrow?"

Sarima glanced at both Tibbett and Nessa, before moving past towards the tent; Fiyero followed close behind. They watched both go before he turned back to her. "Because a woman like your sister- especially when she was first taken- is young and supple. She can bear many children over the years. A captive such as her, especially one as pretty as her, would hold the eye of any man, but especially the Chief of a tribe. So when she arrived at the Arjiki, Chief Avaric had her marry Fiyero immediately, so her chances of being stolen again would disappear. For you do not steal from the Arjiki and-"

"Expect to get away with it." She finished, now understanding what he meant by such a phrase. After several moments, Tibbett turned, hurrying to the tent behind them, Nessa following behind. They slipped inside, to find both Fiyero and Sarima knelt beside Avaric, as the shaman worked on him. "What's wrong?"

Tibbett glanced at her. "It's the chief-"

"Sta morendo." Sarima whispered, dabbing water against his forehead as Fiyero held tight to his father's hand. Nessa turned to him, confused. Tibbett swallowed.

"He is straddling the worlds, waiting for your sister to return."

"I don't understand, Tibbett? What does that mean?"

He glanced at her, worry in his gaze. "It means he's dying."