Twist of the Knife

Writers: Kaysea
Date Posted: 25th July 2007

Characters: Treya
Description: Treya's birthingday arrives and so does an unwelcome surprise.
Location: River Bluff Weyr
Date: month 4, day 25 of Turn 4

The bouyant feeling she had been filled with earlier in the day had fast evaporated as the day wore on. No one, not one single person knew it was her birthingday - or if they did, no one had let on. Not even _him_.

She pulled her working clothes off, and threw them aside, missing the bed they landed on the other side, a crumpled heap of dusty clothing. It seemed symbolic in a way, she had been thrust aside by everyone she had ever cared about, just like her clothes.

She hadn't told anyone about it being her birthingday. Didn't think she really needed to, it was in the records. But over the past few months she had been in and out of so many relationships that there was no one to really give a damn about her. She had though _he_ would have been different, but obviously not.

With a heavy sigh, she walked across to the wardrobe and started flicking through her tunics, there was one, if it still fit her - she reached back along the row and found the one she had been looking for. A deep blue, almost purple full length robe, with deep splits up the sides. She usually wore a pale yellow almost gold pair of trous with it that each time she took a stride would flash out from below the darker colour.

It had been specially made for her by a weaver she had known and weyrmated with for almost a turn. He had been a very talented crafter both in and out of bed. She smirked in memory but her smirk turned to a scowl, where was he now? Her eyes narrowed to slits, cosied up with some lower caverns drudge and three squalling brats now. Brats that should have been _hers_, she fumed.

}:You have me:{ a plaintive voice sounded in her head as Cenith's nose appeared in her doorway. }:Do you need anyone else?:{
**I'm sorry my darling.** in a few strides she had her arms around the muzzle of her lifemate, and stroked her softly. **I'm just - upset. I didn't mean to take it out on you, I'm ungrateful.** She felt tears stinging the back of her eyes when she realised how ungrateful and nasty she had been towards her lifemate. The tears fell softly onto the dragons deep green hide, dampening it.

}:If I thought it would do any good, I would sear him to within an inch of his life:{ Cenith threatened.

**NOooo. No sweet one, you don't have to even consider that. You enjoy his dragons presence that's all we need to consider."

}:If you're sure?:{ Cenith didn't sound too convinced, but was ready to accept her riders pleas.

**I'll be fine, I just need to get out and have some fun.** She kissed Cenith's muzzle and gave her a pat of comfort before turning to finish dressing.

}:I will be here when you return:{ With a few deft strokes of the brush, her hair fell into a glowing halo around her head, and a pinch of her cheeks returned their pinkish hue. She bit her bottom lip and blinked a few times and watched in the looking glass as her lips turned an inviting red and her eyes sparkled brightly. No one would guess, looking at her now, that less than a candlemark ago she had been scowling furiously and close to tears.

* * *

She scanned the dining cavern from the top step taking in the busy tables filled with riders and weyrfolk. Some were ex-partners, others just good friends, but none tonight appealed as bedmates. She took in the appreciative glances as she made her way through the crowded tables, aware of how appealing she looked, how ready for a quick roll in the cot.

But tonight, tonight she was going to be more selective - and if none appealed, then so be it. This was the beginning of a whole new side to the Treya they all kn-" she gasped, feeling the air leave her lungs, and knew her face had lost its colour in one fell swoop as she met those eyes.

"Mmmm Treya, you look lovely. Have you no greeting for your father, my dear child?" his voice was as smooth and stomach turning as it had always been.

"If you had been my father I might have." she answered coldly. "What are you doing here?" she asked between gritted teeth.

"Why, I couldn't miss your birthingday, could I my child." he said ignoring her demeanour.

She could sense the interest gathering in the tables around her, and one or two of the riders seemed to sense her need of support and hand stood to her side.

"This man bothering you, Treya?" Ar'aq asked, standing slightly to one side, the brownrider was a good foot taller than either Treya or her stepfather and a damned sight more intimidating.

"No, I'm not brownrider." Barstin answered harshly, "I am her father, come lately to give her sad tidings."

A few of the riders took their seats again, but Ar'aq's hand slipped into Treya's and she felt grateful for his continued support.

"If you have bad news for me, then better to get it over with. So tell me and then leave." she was no longer the scared sixteen turn old who had been worn down by this man who stood before her, and finally she saw recognition of that fact in his eyes. His greasy smile altered to one of insecurity, as he took in her stance and the tilt of her jaw.

A gleam of malice slid into his eyes as he glared at her. Not willing or brave enough to show outward anger or threatening behaviour towards her; she could see he was almost enjoying the pain he was about to inflict on her.

She steeled herself against the malevolence of his gaze, "Well?" she prompted, willing her knees to stop knocking and her legs to prop her up just a few moments more.

"Toia is dead." He said simply. It was almost as if he was trying to make it seem a totally insignificant thing, but he knew how much his words had cut through her. "She's been dead this last sevenday. It's taken me this long to travel the distance. Though I doubt you really care." he sniffed, seeming hurt, himself now, "After all, not word had she heard from you in I don't know how many turns. You all but killed her with your silence." his words were cutting, deliberate and cruel.

Treya had no words in which to answer him, but felt the continued warmth and strength of Ar'aq's hand in her own as he squeezed her hand in support.

"I had assumed you had killed her turns ago." she said quietly, almost to herself as her eyes dropped from the hold he had had on her.

"It was not I." he countered, "It was lack of communication, lack of knowledge of your safety that killed her."

"That is enough Sir." Ar'aq stepped forward, protecting Treya from the smaller man. "You have imparted your news," he said quietly, but commandingly, "now leave."

"I have travelled many days to get here." Barstin replied, "I have quarters for the evening, for myself and my runner."

"Then may I suggest you retire to them, and get sufficient rest that you're fit to leave at sunrise." It was less a suggestion than an order and Barstin sensed as much. He took a deep draft of the ale he had been drinking and slammed the empty mug down on the nearest table.

"This isn't the last..." he growled out at Treya as he pushed his way through the milling crowd.

"Come, sit down Treya, I am so sorry to hear of your mother. It must have come as such a shock." Ar'aq's platitudes washed over here, as he steered her to a chair.

She gave a small, harsh laughed that turned into a sob. "My birthingday..." she shook her head, and gave another, self derisive laugh. "He always knew how to turn the knife," she said, her hand reaching out, as though holding the shaft of a knife in her hand, and she gave her wrist a quick twist and flick, " - just so."

Last updated on the July 29th 2007

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Twist of the Knife