Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: Written: 2012. Rewritten: 2014. Found: 2018.- Licia
Life in the tribe seemed to come to a standstill. Everyone watched and waited, eager to see how the new Chief would accept his wife back. Tibbett and Mulhama stood with Sarima; the young bride held her breath, realizing that her sister knew nothing of the events that had taken place the night before.
Elphaba knelt, accepting her children into her arms, but only briefly before she stood and made her way to her husband. Fiyero was stoic, silent, watching the woman with the trained gaze of a hunter, careful of her movements. His gaze roved over her as her gaze roved over him, drinking in every detail, even as she stopped until they were mere inches apart, and reached for him.
"Yero, mio marito."
His blue gaze sparked at her words, and after a moment, he allowed her to brush her fingers against his cheek. His eyes closed on instinct, and he pressed his cheek into her palm, reaching up and covering her hand with his. Her own gaze studied him, finally latching onto the diamond in the center of his forehead- the only tattoo an Arjiki royal was allowed upon the face, signifying his status as-
Her brow furrowed, and she shook her head. No. No, that would mean that... that Avaric had... "Padre?"
Her husband's eyes opened, and he met her gaze. "È passato la notte in cui sei tornato dall'uomo bianco. Un cuore spezzato, che sua figlia aveva rifiutato la sua tribù, la sua famiglia."
Tears misted her eyes, and she swallowed thickly. "Yero-"
With the swiftness of a panther, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her towards him, until they were nose to nose. Anger raged within his blue eyes, anger that had never, not once, until that moment, been directed at her. She had seen her husband angry before, but had never felt his wrath, and she feared it now. Fiyero was not a violent man; no more violent than the other warriors within the tribe, but he could be frightening. It was one of the reasons he would make such a wonderful chief, for his anger was often justified, and always controlled.
He squeezed her wrist; she whimpered softly, wincing. "Hai lasciato la nostra tribù, la nostra famiglia. E ora torni? Perché?"
She met his gaze. "Il mio cuore parlava. Ho sbagliato a non ascoltarlo prima. Perché il mio cuore chiama te e il tuo, marito. Come il tuo cuore chiama a me e al mio. Fu solo quando ascoltai il mio cuore che capii a dove appartengo veramente. Che il mio posto è qui, nella nostra tribù, con i nostri figli, al tuo fianco." She reached up, pressing her other hand to his heart, before working her fingers around the hand that held her wrist and loosened it, tugging it until it rested against her breast, over her heart. "Lo senti, marito? L'hai sentito? Batte il tuo nome contro il mio seno. Ha sentito il tuo cuore; era il tuo cuore che mi chiamava casa. Il tuo cuore che mi ha chiamato per tornare, in modo che la nostra bambina potesse essere fatta dentro di me, in modo che potesse crescere dentro di me. Non è stato solo il tuo cuore a chiamarmi, ma il bambino non ancora creato, che è destinato a venire, che mi ha chiamato, attraverso il battito del tuo cuore."
He started, surprised that she mentioned the babe, for he'd walked within the worlds that night, come across her at the waterfall, heavy with child. That she had experienced something similar-
She moved closer, reaching up and taking his face in her hands, studying his features. The stress of the last week had aged her husband slightly, and she sighed, resting her forehead to his. "Yero. Per favore, mio marito, lasciami tornare a casa. Lasciatemi tornare alla nostra tribù."
Then, without another word, she captured his lips in a soft kiss that soon turned passionate. Her arms slid around his neck, and his hands found purchase at her waist before sliding around her and holding her against him. The pain she'd suffered, the heartbreak, the worry and fear, all came out in her kiss; he tasted the very fabric of her fractured soul; drank in the pieces of her that had died in the white man's world, tasted the bitterness of their demise, how she'd nearly given up. Greedily, he drank, tasting every corner of her mouth, tongue trailing over the hidden nooks and crannies he at one time knew so well.
She tasted as sweet now as the day he'd first kissed her, after their marriage had taken place. But like the darkest, ripest of blackberries, her sweetness became too much, and he broke the kiss, turning from her, forcing himself to catch his breath. She rested her forehead against his cheek, and he reached up, cradling her head in his hand.
God, he missed her taste-
But then he pulled away, yanking her head back to meet her gaze; she cried out, startled. "Pensi di poter tornare? ora? Un giorno dopo che mio padre è morto, un giorno dopo che abbiamo pianto per lui, un giorno dopo che sono diventato capo, quando avevo più bisogno di te, quando avevo bisogno del mio principale al mio fianco. Allora non eri lì, ma vuoi tornare adesso?"
"Yero, per favore, cerca di capire-"
"Capire? Capisco che tu non sia la donna che ho sposato. Assomigli a lei e sembri lei e assaggi come lei assaggia e sente come si sente, ma non sei lei. Avrai anche partorito i miei figli, ma tu appartieni più al mondo dell'uomo bianco che qui."
She pulled away, losing her footing and stumbling to the ground, skidding her hands as she hurried to soften the fall. She looked up at him, tears misting her eyes. "Non sei altro che un bianco vestito da Arjiki. E questo è tutto ciò che sarai mai."
She stood, tears sliding down her cheeks. "Yero-" She understood that he was angry, hurt and in grief, but surely he wouldn't-
"Non dovrai mettere di nuovo piede nella terra di Arjiki, bianco." She shook her head, reaching for him.
"No! Yero!"
"Perché se lo fai, mi prenderò la tua vita io stesso." Those last words stopped her, and she choked on a sob, catching sight of her sister over her husband's shoulder. Mulhama gasped, moving towards her, but Tibbett grabbed her arm, the meaning clear.
Do not get between them, this is not your fight.
Without a word, she turned, hurrying to the horse and mounting it. With a soft nicker, she turned the horse and spurred it on, out of the village she was now banished from.
"Mama! Mama!"
She turned back; Irji, Nor, Manek, her beautiful children, rushed after the horse, crying for her, reaching for her. Their pained cries echoed in her ears as she followed the river back, her heart shattering.