Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: Written: 2012. Rewritten: 2014. Found: 2018.- Licia
"How dare you!"
With her sister's second flight from the tribe, Mulhama rushed at the young chief, her instinct to protect her older sister burning like the wildest of fires. Tibbett tried his hardest to get control of the young woman, but she shrugged her husband off. Once close enough, she reached up, though she didn't strike.
"That is my sister! Your wife! The mother of your children! And you banish her for something she didn't do! Something she didn't know about! How was she to know the chief would die after she left? She didn't! And yet, you, in all your grief and anger over the entire situation, decide it is easier to place the blame on my sister! My sister, who's only crime was being born white! My sister, who loves you with all her heart! Who spent every moment she was in the white world begging your gods to let her come back to your tribe, and when she finally does, you banish her for something she didn't know had happened! How dare you! I understand that you are grieving the loss of your father, but you banished the mother of your children! The mother of your children! Do you know what it is like for a mother to go without her children? It nearly killed her to be away from them when she was in the white world! It will kill her to be away from them now! She was starting to die in the white world, because she was away from her tribe, and you have just sent her back! She will die if she returns!"
"Mulhama-"
But the young woman waved her husband away, never taking her focus off her brother-in-law. "And I will hold you responsible for her death! How could you dare even think of banishing the woman you love, the woman who was destined to be with the Arjiki before she was even born? My sister was meant for this tribe, she was meant for you! She was always meant for the Arjiki! She was always meant for you! Always! You have just killed not only the mother of your children, but yourself and every last member of this tribe by banishing her! It's because of her the tribe survives! It thrives off her! She's the sunlight that warms the ground at your feet, the wind that comes through the grasslands, the fire you cook with! She is Arjiki! Regardless of her skin! Without you, without your children, without her tribe, she will die! And she will take all of you with her!"
Fiyero winced, had the decency to show the regret in his blue eyes, the silent admission that perhaps he'd done the wrong thing. Mulhama shook her head.
"I would listen to her cry for you every night she was there, in that house. On the other side of that locked door, she screamed and cried and begged for you. Because she loves you, because you are her husband, the father of her children. You and this tribe are her world. The reason she kept living while in the white world those five days. And now, thanks to you, and your grief and your anger over your father passing, you have given her no reason to keep living anymore. Without her tribe, her family, she will die. And you will be the cause of her death. And I will never forgive you. I will never forgive you for killing my sister."
And without another word, she turned, rushing back into their tent. Tibbett glanced at the young chief before hurrying after his wife. Slowly, Fiyero turned to Sarima, who sighed. "Devi darle la caccia, Fiyero. Mulhama ha ragione, Elphaba era destinato ad essere Arjiki prima che entrambi di voi nascessero. Le vostre vite, e quella della vostra tribù, sono legate tra loro. Grande Madre intrecciato quei fili se stessa; sapeva quello che stava facendo. Sapeva l'importanza."
The young chief opened his mouth to speak, but Sarima stopped him, reaching up and covering his mouth with her hand. "Devi darle la caccia e riportarla indietro. Il futuro della nostra tribù dipende da lei. Il tuo futuro dipende da lei. Ora vai a prendere tua moglie, scusati e portala a casa."
A moment passed, before Fiyero strode to the horses, untying his. He glanced back at Sarima, who nodded. She knew of what she spoke, for the Great Mother had spoken to her in a dream, many, many moons ago, when she was a mere child. Great Mother had told her of a white girl that would be brought to the tribe, who would marry the prince, who would bear four children, be stolen by the whites, and forced back into their world, only to return to her tribe and be banished. Great Mother had not told her the outcome- if the girl would return or not, and Sarima, now a grown woman, knew that it was up to them to decide the outcome. When it came to prophesies, the Great Mother could only reveal so much. Sarima just hoped that Fiyero would listen.
She watched in silence as he hurried off, going in search of his wife. It was as though she were watching a moment of the future, and knew now that this moment had been shown to her, but she had been too young to understand or really take it all in. Taking a deep breath, she said a quick prayer, begging Great Mother to help the young chief to see the pain he had caused to the woman he so clearly loved, and that he would have the courage to swallow his pain and pride and fix his mistakes, because the very life of their tribe depended on it.
As Sarima's silent prayers reached for Great Mother, Fiyero tugged on the reigns, halting his horse. His wife stood with her back to him, face buried in Corvo's mane, fingers stroking the horse's nose as her small shoulders shook with sobs. Silently, he got down and moved towards her, reaching out to touch her. But Elphaba, sensing a presence behind her, turned before his hand could even grace her shoulder. Her eyes locked on his, and she quickly climbed back atop her horse, grabbing the reigns and nickering to get him to start moving. As the horse did as ordered and began to turn, Fiyero reached up, grabbing her around the waist and yanking her from the horse, a surprised screech escaping her as she tumbled into his arms.