Not a Sweetheart

Writers: Miriah
Date Posted: 1st March 2019

Characters: Yriadha, Stenlis
Description: Stenlis manages to crack Yriadha's armor.
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 10, day 11 of Turn 9

Yriadha

Stenlis watched from the doorway as Yriadha stared into the fire, a
thick blanket wrapped around her. Her face held nothing of her
thoughts, but the light reflected along the cheekbones that had become
more prominent in the thirty turns they had been apart. He leaned
against his cane, studying her. She was still lovely to him, even
after all this time, but there was now a hard coldness about her that
was unfamiliar and faint lines that spoke of bitterness around her
mouth and eyes; as a youth, there had always been a joyful light in
her eyes and her smiles had melted his heart as a young man.. He
should have checked on her more often, made the effort to bring her
back to him, married or no. "How are you doing?"

She blinked and turned her head, her attention pulled away from the
fire. "Stenlis." She tugged the blanket around her further. "I'm
tired." And she was. Her time here, despite the lovely settings, was a
strain and old memories resurfaced that she would much rather remain
buried.

He nodded and limped forward to take the other chair before the fire.
"I imagine so."

"The Healers think it will be soon." Yriadha returned her gaze back to
the fire. "He's waking less and less." And when he did, his eyes were
glazed, and he existed in the past more than the present.

Stenlis nodded. "I was told." They fell into a silence then, the sound
of the crackling fire stilling conversation as they both sank into
their own thoughts for a moment. Trying not to get frustrated by
Yriadha's emotional distance, he began again. "I suspect that Lord
Bryvin is wanting you to return soon."

"I'm sure he is." Her response was noncommittal. "If there is an
emergency, I'll be recalled."

His frown deepened, a tic starting at the corner of his eye. "Tell me
something, Yriadha. Did you tell me the truth about Demeltor?"

That got an immediate response. Her head quickly turned, her eyes
locking on his face as her jaw tightened. "What do you mean?"

He met that gaze evenly, but his voice was soft. "Did he know he
wasn't your first? Is that why your marriage to him went so badly?"

The flames couldn't hide the immediate flush to her cheeks and her
hands clenched in the blanket. Her chin lifted. "No. He was too drunk
on our wedding night to notice." There was a soft snort as she turned
away again. "He was a poor excuse for a husband. That's why it went
badly."

"But he wasn't cruel?"

"He never raised a hand to me, Stenlis."

"You don't have to raise a hand to a woman to be cruel, Yriadha."
Stenlis' voice was now gentle, probing.

She bit the inside of her cheek. "What does it matter? He's dead." She
adjusted the blanket around her a bit more tightly.

"Did he hurt you, Yriadha?"

She didn't answer, her jaw clenching hard enough that he could see her
muscles pulsing.

"Tell me."

She spun to face him, glaring at him. "Why? Why do you care? What does
it matter? Even if he did, nothing can be done about it."

He rose, and moving with some difficulty, knelt beside her chair. "It
matters to me. We loved each other once. Jays, Yriahda, look at you."
He lifted a hand to cup her cheek.

She felt a stinging in her eyes at the memory, but her voice was
sharp. "We were children."

"I was a man, you were a woman. Young, yes, but old enough to love and
to marry. What happened?"

She stared at him, her dark eyes wet, but she refused to allow the
sting to become tears. "He was very insistent about his rights as a
husband and how he wanted those rights performed. Drunk or sober. I
never enjoyed it. Ever. But I could control him with it. I had to
learn how. And then he drank everything away and his children and I
were left with nothing. We nearly starved."

"Oh, sweetheart…"

She yanked away from him. "Don't. Don't you dare. I'm not your
sweetheart. I'm no one's sweetheart!" She rose abruptly, face bright
with a mixture of open humiliation and anger.

He rose unsteadily and faced her, his face also bright. "Keep your
voice down, Yriadha."

The stress of the past sevenday was unleashed. "Why? Because your wife
might hear that you bedded me the night before I was married? That
your honor is questionable?"

That took him aback and real anger flared in his face. "If you were a man…"

"You'd what? Hit me? Go ahead! I've survived it before and I will
again." She spoke through her teeth, standing directly in front of him
as though daring him to raise his hand.

"You said he never hit you." Stenlis growled out.

"Demeltor didn't." Her chin lifted.

"Who?" When she didn't answer, he grabbed her shoulders and gave her a
little shake. "Who, shaffit!"

Her chin lifted even higher even as he shook her, but her anger grew
unchecked. "If I can take a beating by Lord Holder, I can take one
from you! So, go ahead! Hit me, Stenlis! Prove how much of a man you
are now!"

"You don't have to hit a woman to prove you're a man." Stenlis grabbed
her and hauled her against him, silencing her by covering his mouth
with hers.

It shocked her completely and for a moment, she didn't react. Then she
began to struggle to pull both her mouth and her body away from his
grip. Her mind screamed that though his mouth was faintly familiar,
she was Bryvin's; she was his! "No!"

He caught the hand that struck out at him and pulled it behind her
back, making her cry out and arch up against him to relieve the
pressure on her shoulder. "I've waited thirty turns for you to come
back to me, Yriadha." His voice was husky with a sudden angry desire.
"I'm not waiting another moment." He bore her down to the floor.

Last updated on the May 15th 2019

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Not a Sweetheart