The Pain of Grief and Wounds

Writers: Estelle, Miriah
Date Posted: 8th October 2020
Series: The Assassin's Husband

Characters: Lorican, Lusilk
Description: The Pain of Grief and Wounds
Location: Barrier Lake Weyr
Date: month 5, day 3 of Turn 10
Notes: Mentioned: Dunrik, Jayzine, Varlin, Urlene (not by name)

Lusilk

The healers had cleaned Lorican's cuts and bandaged them, but he'd
refused to leave the infirmary once they were done. Instead, he waited
outside the room where they'd taken Lusilk, with Silgan drowsing beside
him, until the Master Healer came out and told him that they'd stopped
the bleeding. She was resting and he could watch over her, if he wished.

He carefully lifted the boy in his arms and carried him into the room.
It was quiet and calm, all traces of blood and the healers' frantic work
washed away and the antiseptic scent of redwort in the air. Lusilk
looked so slight and pale where she lay, her dark hair like spilled ink
against the white sheets. He felt his chest tighten with worry, though
the healers had reassured him that her wound, though serious, was not
dangerous as long as there was no infection.

Lorican sat down in a chair beside the bed, letting Silgan's head rest
against his uninjured shoulder. All at once, the energy that had kept
him going since they'd found the note in Lusilk's rooms, the tension and
the intense resolve to bring her son back safely, drained from him. His
eyelids suddenly felt too heavy to hold open, his head dropped and
despite his efforts, he drifted into a light sleep.

Pain, aching, loss. It filled Lusilk's mind as she slowly gained
consciousness. The memory of that last kiss. The grief of feeling her
own hand plunging downward, the last gasp of breath. Her eyes
tightened, then fluttered open. The scents were the first thing she
became aware of. Numbweed. Redwort. Grief nearly overwhelmed her
before confusion took hold. Where was she?

She opened her eyes and recognized the freshly built infirmary.
Turning her head slowly to orient herself, her eyes found the figure
of Lorican beside her. And the small figure in his arms. Her brow
knit. Why was Silgan still here? Faranth, she hurt. Licking dry lips,
her voice was hoarse. "Lorican?"

He stirred, then started awake, also taking a moment to work out where
he was, and how he'd come here. "Lusilk!" How long had he slept? He
rubbed his eyes, careful not to disturb the little boy. "You're awake.
How do you feel?"

Somber eyes simply looked at him for a moment before she answered in
an attempt at sarcasm. "Like I've been stabbed." She glanced at the
glass of water sitting beside her and grimaced when she reached for
it, the movement hurting her side. She'd been hurt far worse than
this, but the day immediately after an injury was always the worst.
"Is SIlgan alright? Was he hurt badly?"

"He's going to be fine. The healers said he'd been given fellis, but it
was a mild dose. Wait, don't move." He reached for the glass, wincing as
the motion stretched his shoulder, and held it to her lips. "He's got
some bruises on his arm and side from when that man dropped him, but
nothing worse."

She took the drink, sighing with relief as the liquid soothed her
parched throat. As she drank, she studied him, noted the bandages just
peeking out from under his shirt collar. When she was finished, she
moved her face away from the glass. "Thanks." Her brow knit. "You
promised to take him to Sunstone Seahold if anything happened." She
closed her eyes, trying not to relieve that last gasped breath against
her lips, then swallowed tightly, pushing the thought away as best as
she could. "You both would have been safe."

"I know. I'm sorry," Lorican said, guiltily. "But Silgan wouldn't wake,
and I thought it best to take him straight to the infirmary. I didn't
know what it was...and then I ran into Master Dunrik, and my shoulder
was all over blood..." Shells, he thought, he'd messed it all up, after
he'd given his word. "And I had to come back for you."

There was a moment of softness in her gaze, just a brief flash before
she sighed and closed her eyes. "What's done is done. It can't be
changed now. " Nothing could be. Except now she knew who she would be
facing. **Push it aside. You can't think of him now. There is purpose.
There's no point in grieving.** She shoved her grief down deep,
knowing that eventually it would resurface. She would allow it once
Rorrigraf was dead. They still weren't safe; she would have to plan
and work quickly.

Her eyes slowly opened again and she turned to look at Lorican.
"Silgan is better off with you anyway. He's gotten quite attached to
you." She offered a half-smile. "Are you alright? How badly were you
hurt?" Her eyes studied his shoulder. "It doesn't look as bad as what
I gave you."

He had to smile. "No, it's not. Just a glancing blow. It stings, but
it'll heal. Seems like all that practice dodging your blade paid off."
Lorican pushed aside the memory of the man with Lusilk clinging to his
back and stabbing at his throat, the bright scarlet gouts of blood
soaking them both. "You saved my life, more than once. Thank you."

"I guess you owe me twice over, then. Whatever will you do to repay
me?" Lusilk smirked, then grimaced as she tried to sit up again,
wincing at the pain. Cursing softly as she tried to push aside her
blankets to examine her own wound, she gripped the side of the bed and
forced herself to partially recline. "Feck it all that hurts. I guess
there's questions being asked too. Has Jayzine come to visit?"

She lifted the thin infirmary gown, pulling it aside to look at her
bandaged injury. Her face wrinkled. Cracked rib, she was sure.
Stitches. Faranth, it would at least be six seven days before she'd be
able to leave and take care of matters. Did she have enough time?

Lorican looked politely away from her exposed skin, a faint flush rising
to his cheeks. "Uh, not yet, but I suspect we'll need to do some
explaining in the morning." He wasn't even sure what time it was, or how
long he'd slept. "I told them we'd been out for a walk together and were
attacked by bandits. It's not so far from the truth."

She lowered the gown and went silent for a moment before her next
question. Her voice was oddly soft and strained, struggling to sound
even. "Did they bury them?"

"Those men?" He hesitated. "I don't know." Most likely, the holdless men
would be left for the wild beasts, or Thread, whichever got them first,
but instinct kept him from saying that. "I could ask, if you want me to."

Her lips thinned. "I don't care about the one who threw Silgan. But
the other. The last one...He should be buried." She turned to face
Lorican, face pale. "Bury him. He was..." She stopped and swallowed,
then lifted her chin. "I knew him well and he deserves a proper
burial. Please." It was the first time she'd ever asked him for
anything beyond what would help him survive. The first time she'd said
'Please'. "It's important."

Lorican's eyes widened a little, but he nodded. "All right. If it hasn't
been done already, I'll do it myself." He owed her that much, and more.
"For now, you should rest. Do you want me to get the healer, to give you
something for the pain?"

"Thank you." It was said quietly before Lusilk shook her head. "No,
it's not necessary." She needed to think; the pain could be a focus if
necessary and she'd had far worse. She had to plan what to do next and
she wouldn't be able to through the haze of fellis. She paused,
glanced at Silgan and then back at Lorican. "Lorican, it's not over.
You know that. Not for me. Not for Silgan."

He felt a sinking in his heart. "No." She'd defeated the two who'd come
for them, but the Lord Holder who sought her son was wealthy and
desperate enough to send others. Next time there might be half a dozen
men, or more. He imagined they'd run again, leave the Weyrhold. The
thought filled him with dismay, and not just because he'd be left
defenseless. He'd miss Silgan. He'd miss her.

"We have time, though. Time to for you to heal, for us to think. It may
be months before anyone notices they're gone."

"A month, maybe two at most." She replied softly, then sighed, then
closed her eyes wearily. Faranth, she was tired. She wanted peace and
for Silgan to be safe. And despite all of Lorican's silly ideals, she
wanted him safe as well. He was a good man and deserved that pretty
woman in that picture of his, to have a life with her or at least to try
to. She knew that he still thought of her, despite him not saying it
openly. She turned her head to look at him and slowly reached out,
taking the hand that was near her bed. "Don't worry. I'll get you back
to her. I'll take care of it." She squeezed his hand briefly, then
moved her own away. "I'm going to try to sleep. Get Silgan to his own
bed. I'll be fine until tomorrow. "

"All right." Lorican spoke reluctantly, wishing he could have stayed,
but the child did need to be in bed and the infirmary ought to be safe
enough. "I'll be back in the morning. He should be awake by then." He
stood, wincing at the stiffness and ache in his back and shoulders.
"Good night, Lusilk. And...thank you, again."

"Good night, Lorican." She waited for him to gather Silgan and after he
left, closed her eyes tightly, unable to keep the grief and pain from
washing over her again. A tear slipped down her cheek, then another.
She caught her breath, tried to stop the wetness from slicking her
cheeks, then quietly gave in to soft sobs. **Varlin...I would have
shared what I had with you. Why did you make me do that? Faranth, I'll
never find peace. Faranth help Silgan and me both.**

Last updated on the October 13th 2020

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The Pain of Grief and Wounds