Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: Written: 2012. Rewritten: 2014. Found: 2018.- Licia
Unlike Elphaba's marriage to Fiyero, Nessa's marriage to Tibbett was simple.
Sarima and a couple of the other women had helped her dress; she shed the calico dress and undergarments she'd worn in her world like a snake shedding its skin, allowed the women to help her into perhaps the softest buckskin dress she'd ever worn and a pair of moccasins. She'd then sat still as one of the women had undone her braids and brushed them out before pulling them into a tight, single braid down her back, weaving a single black feather into it. Unlike Elphaba, who's thick twin braids had boasted two feathers each, interwoven with ribbons of dyed blue rope, signifying the high status her marriage would bring, Nessa's hair adornment signified her status as the wife of the future medicine man- a status not as high as her sister's but high in its own right.
Her face was then done in traditional wedding paint. The different colors and designs signified the status that the bride would take upon her marriage- for Elphaba, the area just below her eyebrows to the middle of her nose and over her eyes had been painted blue, where the blue stopped down over her nose to her upper lip was painted green, and then from the middle of her lower lip and down into a triangle over her nose was painted white, with four white dots going from big to small running vertical down her forehead and above her eyebrows, signified that she was marrying into royalty. And against her thick black hair, it had made her stand out all the more.
As for her sister, Nessa's would be much more simple- a streak of red over her eyes, from below her eyebrows to the end of the bridge of her nose, with four white streaks- one down the middle of her forehead, one each at the top of her cheekbones and one down the center of her chin, starting beneath her lower lip- and signify that she was the future medicine man's bride. Once the paint was added, she opened her eyes, looking up to find Sarima standing over her. The older woman knelt down before her, unwrapping a cloth; inside, were a belt made of soft leather and stones, which she wrapped around the girl's waist, a necklace woven of rope and stone, and a light leather wrap, with a beautiful design of blue and white beads upon the back.
Nessa glanced up at the woman, who nodded softly, gently draping the wrap about her shoulders. "These belonged to my mother, which she wore upon her wedding day, and I wore upon mine. Arjiki tradition states the next bride of the medicine bride wears them upon her marriage."
"Medicine bride?" Nessa asked, reaching up to brush her fingers over the soft leather; it was perhaps softer than the buckskin she wore.
"In every generation, there is a medicine bride- be it they who practice the ways of medicinal healing, or who marries the one who practices. They are known as the medicine brides. Different to shaman. The shaman can heal, yes, but he is more strong in the ways of walking the worlds and contacting the spirits."
"So Tibbett-"
"Tibbett shall take over the medicines when I deem it time. He is already strong in the ways of medicine, I suspect my son has kept up his learning in his many moons away from our tribe." A wistful look came over Sarima's features.
"He told me had once been training to become a warrior-"
"Every young boy, upon reaching thirteen moons, learns the ways of the warriors; it is a tradition that extends to all males of the tribe. He was about ready to go through his Time of Solace when he was stolen from me."
Nessa furrowed a brow. "Ah... time of solace?"
"Every warrior must go through a Time of Solace; he spends a week in the grasslands alone, surviving off of his training, when he returns at the end of the week, he is considered a man."
"A rite of passage?" Nessa finally concluded, and Sarima nodded. "Do the women-"
"No. The women's role is much more sacred. It is women who keep the lines going; we are the living embodiment of the goddesses, of the Great Mother, carrying and bringing forth life from our husband's seeds, ensuring the tribe will continue. The princess had, though it scared her the first time, but by the time the last babe burst forth from her womb, she no longer feared her role. She was a strong woman, the princess, she did not let her fear of this life frighten her away. Her skin may be of the white man's world, but her heart and soul is of the Arjiki. She was destined to be with the Arjiki, destined to live with the tribe, the Great Mother foresaw it, many moons ago, before she was born."
Nessa's mind went back to the three children she'd seen earlier in the day, after first arriving. Her heart constricted.
Destined to be with the Arjiki, the Greta Mother foresaw it, before she was born.
So her sister was always meant to be here; her capture on the wagon trail that day in the grasslands was no accident. It was foreseen, prophesied. But if her life with the Arjiki was foreseen, what of her capture by the whites?
"Come." She looked up, torn from her thoughts as Sarima stood, helping her to her feet. "Night has fallen, the rain has lessened, it is time for you marry my son."
Taking a deep breath, Nessa lifted the flap of the tent and stepped out into the firelight, slowly making her way towards Tibbett, who was also dressed in Arjiki buckskin. It startled her briefly, to see him not in the white man's clothes, but once she got over the surprise, she relaxed, realizing she preferred him in buckskin to the clothes of the white man.
The ceremony seemed to pass quickly- or so it seemed to Nessa- and before she knew it, the shaman was rubbing ash in a streak along her forehead and Tibbett's, before taking a red ochre and brush it over her lower lip. "La Grande Madre ha benedetto questo matrimonio." He took their hands, placing them together and binding them with a rope, similar to when Elphaba had married Fiyero. And, like Elphaba before her, the shaman shook the sacred staff over her head, the beads rattling together.
"La Grande Madre vi ha proclamato di essere Mulhama- Figlia del Fiume."
Nessa glanced at Tibbett, who mouthed, Daughter of the River.
She nodded in understanding, before letting him pull her close, for the shaman had indicated he could kiss her. They locked eyes for a couple moments. "Ciao, mia moglie." She grinned softly, not understanding the words, but understanding the tone.
"Hello, my husband."
Their lips met in a soft kiss; but they were soon interrupted by the sound of hoof-beats entering the encampment. The pair broke apart and turned; everyone's attention was brought to the three horses standing in the firelight, four riders atop them. Sarima instantly recognized the two on either side- a Scrow and Yunamata rider, and Candle sat atop the middle horse, but there was someone sitting behind her, their arms wrapped around Candle's waist. Fiyero stepped forward as the riders disembarked, but it wasn't the three young women everyone's gaze lit on.
It was the woman being helped down from Candle's horse, dressed in a white nightdress from the white man's world. Barefoot, hair down, she stepped into the firelight, gaze darting around at everyone before her. No one spoke for several minutes, until a child darted through the crowd. "Madre! Madre!" Suddenly, two other children rushed forward, and she knelt on instinct, accepting the royal children into her embrace, tears flowing freely down her cheeks and clogging her voice.
"Oh, figli miei! I miei bambini! Oh, miei bellissimi bambini!"
The oldest boy turned back in his mother's embrace as his father came forward, not believing what he was seeing. "Papa! Papa! Mamma è tornata a casa! Mamma è tornata a casa!"