A Necessary Visit Extended

Writers: Miriah
Date Posted: 1st March 2019

Characters: Yriadha
Description: Yriadha's visit is extended past her expectations.
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 10, day 9 of Turn 9

Yriadha

Golden Waves minor hold was a lovely place, even in winter, Yriadha
decided as she looked out of the window of the sick room. Snow
blanketed the fields that surrounded the holding, hiding the fields
that in fall, she was told, would reveal the hold's namesake. Her
fingers played with the single pearl at her neck, her other arm
wrapped tightly around herself. Though the room was warm, she
shivered. She had been here longer than expected and despite her
messages to her assistant, she did not know when she would be able to
return.

She'd received nothing from Bryvin. Her lips twisted with a mild
bitterness. If he missed her, she thought, it was only due to the
Hold's need, or perhaps his own desires. She held no illusions about
what she was to him; she provided a receptacle for the lust that he
couldn't or wouldn't give Danrina. There was no affection involved.
Her lips thinned at the sudden clench in her belly. She didn't
understand the emotion that threatened her composure and certainly
didn't know where it came from. So, she pushed it aside to consider it
later. There were other matters that needed her attention.

The primary one laid in the bed behind her. Her father lay on the bed,
his breathing shallow and ragged. The weak shell of a man was nothing
like the robust, towering figure that she remembered. His hair, once
black and vibrant, now lay white and limp against a brow that was
wrinkled, pale and clammy. His frame was gaunt, his once strong hands
withered to gnarled, stiff fingers. She hadn't recognized him at all
until the first time he had opened his eyes upon her arrival. They
were much like her own in shape and color and they had latched upon
her as though her appearance was some sort of salvation in his
illness.

She was no such figure; she couldn't take the hand that reached out to
her and did not offer the comfort that he silently begged for. She
couldn't even respond to the raspy voice when it called her name.
Instead, she had felt the long-buried resentment, anger, and Faranth
help her, hurt, surge to lodge in her throat and stick. She had
watched the hand drop away and his eyes close, tears slipping from
under his eyes to streak down weathered cheeks. He had fallen back to
sleep with tears still pooling on his pillow. Stenlis had said nothing
and had not judged her reaction to the reunion with her father,
instead allowing her time to sort her emotions out on her own.

They had yet to settle. She moved to sit in the chair beside his bed
and laid a light cool hand on his brow. She frowned, sighed, and
dipping an available cloth in a basin, wiped the drying sweat from his
face and neck. The brown eyes opened again and followed her movements.
"Yriadha… my daughter…" The weak voice cracked with strain.

"Hush, Father." She dabbed at his brow again, face taut.

"Yriadha." His wizened hand lifted to weakly touch her own and she
went still, jaw clenched.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." There were tears in his eyes again as he tried
to take her hand, but she moved it away. Her eyes went to his and she
simply stared at him, no forgiveness in their depths.

"For what exactly, Father?" The voice was cold, unyielding.

"I should have listened to you. You were in..."

She cut him off immediately. "It doesn't matter."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Stenlis is a good man. I
should have given you to him. I never meant to…" His voice trailed off
and he opened them again to look at her. "What have I done to you?
Where are your smiles? You used to be so beautiful when you smiled.
You were such a happy child."

She pulled back, fingers clenching in the damp cloth. Given her. She
had wanted to make her own choice back then. It would have been
Stenlis true, but the choice would have been hers. Instead, she had
been given to a man who cared for little except that his young wife
was considered beautiful. She remembered far too clearly the drunken
ruts, unless the man was far too gone to perform, and the periods of
sobriety when he forced the intimate instructions that were to become
so valuable to her later. Never once had she found pleasure with him
and certainly there was no affection. She wanted to ask what there was
to smile at. An old man weeping in his bed? Perhaps she should smile
at that. But it gave her no pleasure.

"Please, Yriadha, forgive me. I should have never taken those smiles
from you." He reached out his hand again, but she didn't take it.

"No."

Last updated on the March 11th 2019

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A Necessary Visit Extended