Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows

Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold

Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold

Elsewhere on Pern
NPC Weyr
River Bluff Weyr
Seacraft Hall

Story Listing
Series Listing

Weyrling Training

Writers: Bree
Date Posted: 24th July 2005

Characters: Miryene
Description: Miryene reflects on how her marriage has gone wrong--and why she can't do anything to save it.
Location: Vintner Hall
Date: month 6, day 27 of Turn 3

The children were long since asleep, and Miryene found herself sitting next to the fireplace in the sitting room alone.

Jhonnel hadn't returned home for dinner that night.

Fire glinted off her needle as she pushed it roughly into the fabric of one of Jhonnel's tunics, the jerky movements as she plied the needle the only indication of her inner turmoil.

Jhonnel hadn't returned home for dinner last night, either.

She had no idea how he'd damaged the tunic. He barely talked to her now, avoiding her eyes while they sat in front of the fire in the evenings. Night after night he pretended to read until she gave up and went to bed, and only when enough time had passed for her to be asleep did he creep into their bedroom, his breath smelling of alcohol.

Miryene tied the thread off with quick, efficient movements and turned the tunic over. The seems had pulled out across the shoulder, so she knotted the end of her thread and set about fixing it.

He could have been fighting. She knew that she'd never seen him so angry in all the turns she'd known him. Sometimes if she pressed too hard for conversation when he came home, he'd look at her with cold, angry eyes. She didn't recognize anything of the man she'd known in those eyes, and she knew that alcohol had taken him away from her.

Sometimes she thought she should have known better. Their entire marriage was based on it--an indiscretion caused by too much drink. It hadn't been the first time she'd overindulged--and if it hadn't been for her pregnancy, it might not have been the last. It happened sometimes when one lived in the Vintner Hall.

There was no hint of sometimes with Jhonnel, though. She knew little enough of his days and what he did during them, but he always came home with the smell of alcohol on his breath and the jerky steps of a man who was accustomed to compensating. Sometimes he smiled and hugged the children and kissed her cheek and settled down to dinner. Sometimes he snapped at the children and glared at her and stomped off into the bedroom to hide until the children were asleep.

The worst part was never knowing--never knowing who would come through the door at the end of the day. The pain of watching his daughters eyes grow wary when they heard their father's boots outside the door. The sick agony of seeing gratitude in their eyes if they were granted the slightest bit of affection.

It was the children that hurt most of all, and the children were why Miryene could say nothing. She had no claim to them, no hold on them except her marriage to their father. She couldn't leave him, because she wouldn't be able to take the children with her. She couldn't say anything to him, because if he left, he _would_ take the children with him.

She'd tried once to bring up the subject. He'd gripped her arm with angry hands, had shaken her roughly enough to scare her. The marks of his fingers lingered for days in ugly black and blue, and Miryene knew that Jhonnel would hear nothing of any supposed problems he had.

The sound of the front door opening was followed by the heavy sound of Jhonnel's boots. She'd learned to read even that--the time it took him to close the door, how heavily he walked, how steady it sounded... it was a defense mechanism turned to instinct over the past month. The need to be able to judge his mood from the slightest indication.

His steps were heavy, and the door slammed shut loudly enough to make her jump. It would be a bad night, then... an angry night. A night with frowns and glares and harsh words and maybe bruises pressed into her arms by fingers that had once caressed her gently. Lovingly.

Next to the children, that was the part that made it hardest. She still loved him.

Wiping tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of his mended tunic, she tied off the last knot and put her sewing kit gently away. She heard him trip over a chair in the kitchen, heard the low curse and the cupboard door slam open. The cupboard with the alcohol, she imagined. The fiery liquors that left him angry and wanting to fight.

A very bad night.

With all the dignity left to her, Miryene rose and went to face the man she still loved, even while she hated him.

Last updated on the August 17th 2005