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Reconciliation; Standalone
Topic Started: Sep 14 2017, 07:26 PM (40 Views)
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[Set before the Fort disaster]

That Aniese was displeased was an understatement. She had decided long ago that Thorgan and Sien were no longer her family; her family now was Vaioa, Rezeirth and Lenth and Melacyth and Rhias and O’zen. In making this decision, she had long since settled on the realization that she would never hear from or communicate with her parents again. They had stopped appearing at Vaioa’s events, something that no doubt was intended to be a slight but that Aniese had grown numb to. Dodging her brother at such events had become commonplace, and as she had grown more secure in herself and her position at Vaioa, she had grown immune to even his presence. She could even accept his veiled remarks and snide exchanges in the brief instances that they occurred. At this point, they washed off her with little effect.

The fact that her father’s reappearance had driven such a lightning-bolt of fury and rancour through her had given her more to resent. She may have long ago dissociated herself from her parents, but this revelation made it clear that such a delineation was only effective if she did not have to see and interact with them. The fact that she was so upset by his presence said quite clearly that she was not as numb to them as she had thought. That was almost more upsetting than the fact of the matter itself.

The fact was… she’d been an adult (or nearly) when she’d been abandoned by them. Certainly there were plenty of Candidates who left for the Weyr and left their families, at ages younger than she had been. She could not pretend like she had not been a self-sufficient and capable person at that age. And yet there was one big difference, which was that she had not chosen that life for herself. At least a candidate had the option to choose his own future, and to choose to leave his family if he so desired. Aniese had not been given a choice. She had been sent to the Weyr, ostracized as punishment for refusing to marry and refusing to capitulate her title as heir to Big Bay. That had, of course, stripped her of that title anyway. Not that she desired such things anymore, but the memory stung like a disgrace. It had driven home just how powerless she really was. It was her mother’s nonverbal way of saying, ”You do not get to decide your own future.” And her father had been complicit in allowing it to happen.

Then there was the matter of the famine, which was not so much a natural result of nature spoiling the work of the farmcraft as it was her parents’ decision to refuse to tithe. Once Aniese had relayed the discovery that dragons could not hurt humans, they had realized that there was no threat holding them to their promise. They had only been supporting the Weyr based on the fear that the dragons would rain fire and death upon Big Bay. With that threat effectively removed, they had withdrawn their support from Vaioa. Completely. Never mind that Aniese had made up for it by helping O’zen lead a raid on Big Bay’s stores, or that she had not known what she was doing. She felt only a faint echo of guilt about her own stupidity at the time. What really rankled, what made the situation unforgivable as far as she was concerned, was that her parents had not just condemned the entire Weyr to starve, but they had condemned her to starve with them. Such actions had made it clear how little regard they still had for her.

So why was it that, after all this time, Aniese still felt anything toward her parents? That itself was infuriating. Was she so weak that she could not let go of a man who had clearly let go of her so long ago? Maybe, for Aniese, feeling a certain way was more than just resolving to feel a certain way. Maybe it took more than just a mental commitment to effect a lasting change in her emotions.

You already know how I feel about this. Rezeirth, unsurprisingly, had stuck to her party line. You need to be better at following through with your words. If you told him that you did not want to see him, then you should not see him.

Aniese squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. I can’t not see him, Reze. You heard O’zen.

You place entirely too much stock in what that man says. So what if O’zen says that he won’t go away until he talks to you? I can make him go away.

Aniese sighed. In this case, I think O’zen is right. I hate it, but right now, it is within my power to make him go away by listening to him. Then you can dump his tailfork Between. Take him back to Big Bay, she amended, as a sense of childish delight began to manifest in her Gold’s mind.

Rezeirth harrumphed. He does deserve to die. For what he has done to you.

Aniese’s lips puckered. She suspected that others, those who were less blinded by the loyalty of a dragon to a rider, would disagree. I have decided. It’s going to be this way.

She had debated long and hard about how to present herself during the meeting. There was a sliver of thought that she almost entertained: she could present herself in as soft and young a manner as possible. Remind him of the daughter he had abandoned. Make him feel guilt and remorse. But that was not altogether possible with her facial scars. Even a lightly-applied coat of powder could not disguise them entirely. So that was out. She could wear her nicest dress and most extravagant Gather finery; this would convey her power and station. This would tell him, You see? It does not matter that you left me alone and with nothing. I have come further than I ever would have if I had stayed in your family. However, this too left Aniese with a bad taste in her mouth. She did not want to accidentally suggest that she had any respect for the man left, and by spending time on her appearance and bedecking herself in traditional finery, she worried that that was the impression she would send.

So she settled on what had, in the end, become her most comfortable uniform. Her finest set of flying leathers, soft and durable and plain, unornamented. A tunic that draped down her body, concealing the remaining signs of her recent childbirth. Well crafted boots that would allow her to run across the Weyrbowl or jump astride Rezeirth’s neck in a split second, if needed. General perched attentively on her shoulder. Hair twisted and braided up on the back of her head, leaving her neck and shoulders bare, in the exact opposite of the style preferred by high-ranked Holder women. Leave no doubt that this was who she was now: A Weyrwoman of Vaioa, with all of the duties and responsibilities that entailed.

That includes the duty to talk to him, she reminded Rezeirth even as she paced through the Council room, weighing her options. If there was any way that she could realistically get out of this, she would. Rezeirth supported her. That should have been enough.

But sometimes, the concerns of the Weyr outweighed the concerns of one rider and her dragon.

Very well. I suppose you had better summon him.

Rezeirth did so with little finesse. Aniese continued to pace for another moment, before realizing that such a manner might be interpreted as worry, should he see it. She did not want that.

But it was true that there was more to this than mere resignation and displeasure at that fact. What O’zen had said to her when he had confronted her remained in the back of her mind, and Faranth, if it didn’t just make her madder. Maybe you can work things out… you know, make peace or whatever.

Aniese stood by what she had said. There was nothing to work out. Thorgan and Sien had made it quite clear that she was no longer part of the family. It had not been up for negotiation. And too much time had passed for that opportunity to resurrect itself.

Has it? Questioned Rezeirth. Why else are you so angry?

Aniese took a deep breath and prepared to lay it all out again for Rezeirth’s benefit-- okay, and for her own-- but the creak of a door and a hesitant set of footsteps broke her train of thought. She schooled her face into a calm and controlled expression and felt General rustle his wings.

Thorgan was standing in the entrance to the council room, looking unsure, even scared. This brought Aniese a thrill of savage delight. If he could feel even a fraction of what I felt.

I thought that you had gotten over that, reminded Rezeirth sarcastically.

Aniese did not respond. Instead she watched her father enter, radiating sheepishness and cowardice in equal parts. Her features hardened as he approached, and perhaps he noticed, or perhaps he just wasn’t used to being at this end of the negotiating table. He jumped slightly as she took a few steps closer to the chair and pulled it out, but did not sit.

“Ah… Aniese… this is the Council Room then?”

Even as she was restraining herself from rolling her eyes, Aniese was suddenly struck by how old he looked. Certainly he was fit rather than fat, but he possessed a softness that dragonmen did not have, perhaps a lack of muscle or a lack of living under threat of death by Threadfall. Aniese did a quick mental calculation and came up with a number that was higher than she’d realized, although not so high as to warrant his retirement. So. We have both aged. That is no surprise. It has been more than a decade since I was sent out on my own. That thought hardened her resolve, and she did not respond to him, just continued to stare.

Thorgan rubbed his hands together and then said, “I, well, I’ve been wanting to see you.”

“So I’ve heard.” Aniese kept her words short, her tone clipped. She had no interest in engaging in conversation, nor in granting him any ground. All she’d promised to do was listen.

Thorgan shifted on the balls of his feet, glanced around the room as though hoping to be invited to take a seat, and then said, “Vaioa is doing well. And you-- you look like you’re doing well.”

Aniese did not respond to this beyond a mere raising of one brow. The scar slashing down her cheek was evidence of quite the opposite, she thought, and after tilting her head slightly, he seemed to understand, because he flushed slightly.

But he continued, stumbling to maintain a sense of social decorum. “I-- well-- I came at once when I heard… well, I heard that you were having a baby. I had hoped… I wanted to apologize to you, and… see you.” When this again elicited no response, he added, “It’s been-- well, it’s been far too long, and I wanted to see how you were. For myself.”

To see if Kildan’s reports have been accurate. I know that he’s been parroting back to you every single piece of gossip he hears while he visits our Hatchings and Gathers. She made no reply, but her expression must have slipped slightly, because Thorgan sighed and lowered his hands.

“I know that you are angry, but I want to make it up to you. That is why I came to the Weyr. What we did when we sent you here-- it was your mother’s idea, really--” He broke off as she raised both eyebrows incredulously, and hurried to correct himself. “No, I know-- I know that I-- I was at fault too. It was my doing as well. That’s why I am here now. I want to apologize. I want to make it up to you… if you can forgive me.”

Aniese was unmoved by this speech. It was what she had expected. A thousand retorts ran through her mind, but feebly-- How could you disinherit me for Kildan, how could you send me away from my home, how could you abandon me completely-- but she refused to give them voice. She did not want to bargain or negotiate with him, and the fact that he had come to see the error of his ways meant little to her. Words are worthless. This means nothing.

Thorgan rubbed his hands together again nervously. “I-- Aniese, I was so scared when I got here and-- the labor… the MasterHealer told me that you weren’t going to make it.”

For a moment he looked so contrite and lost that Aniese’s patience snapped. “You should have thought about that when you sent me to a Weyr, then. Threadfall is just as dangerous, and I did almost die from that.”

Thorgan looked aghast at her response. “But of course I was! As soon as I heard that you were injured from Thread, I--! But you must understand, I never thought that you would become a rider! Why on Pern would you agree to Stand as a candidate? I never even knew that you were eligible to be a candidate!”

Aniese narrowed her eyes and turned away. She could not hold her Impression against him, it was true; that had been her own decision, and anyway, she didn’t regret it in the slightest. But it was asinine in the extreme to claim that he had feared for her life when she was in the delivery room and not when she had come back from Threadfall, bloodied and scarred. She spoke carefully and coldly. “I want you leave Vaioa. You’ve said what you wanted to say.”

“Wait,” Thorgan said, and Aniese was pleased to hear a note of panic in his voice. “Let me prove it to you. I am sorry, Aniese, I’m sorry that I sent you here and I missed you terribly.”

“It’s too late,” Aniese replied flatly, turning back and surveying her father with little satisfaction. She wanted to scream at him and she wanted to hurt him. The knowledge that she had the power to do so was not satisfying enough, but she did not want to say anything more. Her resolve to remain silent throughout the interview had already been broken.

“I gave you my blood! --Does that not prove how much I am willing to do for you? I brought you back from death!”

“I didn’t ask you to!” Aniese retorted, all but against her will. She could feel her color rising and heat flooding her body. “I never asked you to save me. You don’t get to hold that over me.”

Thorgan widened his stance slightly, gripping the back of a chair. “You didn’t have to. I would have done it anyway.”

Aniese felt the beginning of panic bubbling up at the base of her throat. Rezeirth, I can’t do this anymore. Come get him and take him away.

I cannot access the interior of the Council Room, Rezeirth replied. I cannot fit beyond the ledge.

Aniese could feel her heart racing and knew that her breath was coming shorter. With effort she tried to control it, take deeper breaths. She turned back to Thorgan. “We are done. You are in no position to bargain for my affection. I have nothing more to say to you.” She looked him up and down once, feeling the edge of disgust as she took in his appearance once more.

“Wait! I haven’t gotten to see-- my grandchild, Aniese. The creche has not even let me see my grandchild.”

In a detached way, Aniese could tell that his voice had changed. There was no fight in him about this. Only anguish. She turned away.

“Aniese! Please! You have to believe me!”

She was halfway out the door when his refrain reached her ears. “Wait! I’ll do anything!”

Normally she would have continued to walk away. Normally she would have let the door shut in his face, left him to wander out on his own and be confronted with a large and irritated dragon on his own. But her footsteps stopped. Against her better judgment, she looked over her shoulder.

You should do it while you have the sharding chance. O’zen’s words rang through Aniese’s ears, stifling. It wasn’t what he had meant… but they would never have another chance to solve it, and this was her duty as a Weyrwoman of Vaioa. For Aniese, things would never go back to how they were. Even if her parents hadn’t abandoned her, Impression changed a person. For Aniese, her first duty was to Vaioa and Rezeirth. Her biological family would have taken lower precedence anyway.

Slowly she stepped back into the room. She sized him up again. “Anything?” She repeated.

“Yes. Anything.”

Aniese crossed her arms over her chest, thinking quickly. She would never be able to love Thorgan the way she once had, but then, she was not a young and inexperienced child anymore. She was an adult now. Perhaps children’s relationships with their parents always changed when they became adults themselves.

“There is one thing.”

“What is it? I’ll do it. Just name it.”

Aniese stared for a moment longer, weighing. But she could believe that Thorgan was genuine. He had to be. That was the only way that this would work.

“Fix the tithes.”

“What?”

“We’ve traced the problem of soiled tithes back to Big Bay. Every shipment has traveled through Big Bay’s territory or originated in Big Bay. Fix it and never again send us anything less than your best.”

Thorgan hesitated, clearly taken aback. Then he cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I, uh… I don’t really know… I mean, I don’t manage the tithes,” he said weakly.

Aniese took another step forward, all but baring her teeth. “Then you find out whatever stinking little tithemaster Mom appointed and have him removed. Get rid of everybody who was involved. And stop her from interfering any further.” When Thorgan remained silent, Aniese pressed, “This is my price.”

Thorgan looked smaller than he had when he arrived. “This… Aniese, I--” he stopped himself and took a deep breath before attempting to square his shoulders. “I will do it.” He glanced away and frowned, then nodded and looked back up at her.

Aniese suddenly felt acutely uncomfortable, not to mention exhausted. “Good. See to it that you do.” She hesitated for a moment longer, and then could not deny the urge thrumming through her body any longer to leave, get away from all of this. She turned to go again.

“Aniese.” This time Thorgan reached out to touch her shoulder.

It was impertinent, and all but disrespectful, and if he hadn’t been a Lord Holder, Aniese would have used one of the moves she had learned in her Weyrling sparring classes. Instead she just sighed and turned back. “Yes?”

“My blood is running through your veins now. You are still my daughter. My first child.”

She had to work at it, because it went against every instinct inside her, but she managed a small smile. “It always was.” She shrugged him off. “Go to the creche and see her before you leave.” If she was going to uphold her end of the bargain, that meant that she would have to be a daughter again. Something she had not anticipated ever happening again in her life. It would take some effort. Hadn’t she just earlier accepted that changing her emotions was not so easy as simply changing her mind? If she wanted to make herself feel a certain way, it would take more than just making up her mind to feel that way. But if it meant that the Weyr would eat well again, then she would try.

Does this mean that I don’t get to dump him Between? Rezeirth asked, slightly disappointed.

Not this time, Reze.

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Amber Wingsecond Aniese of Gold Rezeirth :: Marble Wingrider Vyra of Grey Theteth :: Granite Wingrider Karen of Blue Ienirth :: Weyrling Master Mai of Green Laeitath :: Candidate Master Kari of Green Seliath :: Sandstone Wingrider Natalia of Green Priyeth :: Sardonyx Weyrling A'den of Black Ezvanth :: Amber Weyrling Cayliss of Garnet Avraith :: Candidate Mirana :: Candidate Piper :: Journeywoman Healer Ylanna :: Weyrfolk Becca

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