Who

Daenerys, Reveka

What

Reveka shares some hard news, and some even harder realizations are made.

Swearing, Talk of Sex and Pregnancy, Heavy emotion

When

-- On Pern --
It is 5:43 PM where you are.
It is sunset of the tenth day of the fourth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen:
It is the seventieth day of Spring and 82 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.
In Southern:
It is the seventieth day of Autumn and 64 degrees. Steely grey clouds drift across the sky, muting Rukbat's light. The wind has started to pick up more than normal as a light drizzle falls.
In Southern Mountains:
It is the seventieth day of Autumn and 21 degrees. It's really damn cold out.


Where

Igen Weyr, Caravan Grounds, Zingari Encampment

OOC Date 21 Feb 2018 07:00

 

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"Don't Daenerys. Please. They might just kill you."


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Igen Caravan Grounds, Zingari Encampment

Deep grooves in the hard packed earth criss-cross a large patch of denuded ground, bearing mute testament to the caravans that frequent this area. Despite the midden holes set back a ways from the main center of traffic, the air is sweet, redolent with the sagebrush that forms a loose perimeter around the flattened expanse. In what is as close to its center as the vague boundaries suggest, a stone ringed fire pit has been dug and surrounded with the odd log or two, ash overflowing from its darkly blackened core.

It is the seventieth day of Spring and 82 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.




So much time has passed since that Clutching — and Daenerys' subsequent Search — that the leatherworker has hardly had time to gather the best of his things to bring with him to his little cot in the Barracks, and make it his new and temporary home. From his yurt, he gathers gauzy, multicolored silks to hang as a privacy screen against the prying eyes of some of the younger and more persistent Candidates, more clothing to wear, and his leatherworking tools for small projects not requiring mch more than the space of his lap to work on. All of it fits into a large ruksack, and is draped upon his shoulder with the ease of a man long used to such things; he heads out, prepared to go back to the Barracks before curfew catches him out — but the sight of Reveka's yurt gives him pause, and he turns toward it. He really has to check on his lover, for the worry niggles the back of his mind like a fly that will not go away; what is causing her illness? But is she in there, or has she found a different bolthole to avoid sharing whatever ails her?

Reveka had bolted the night of the clutching. She had started saying she needed to talk to Daenerys, but she'd felt ill too, a rolling nausea that had plagued her all day. And as they were leaving, she'd felt like her stomach was going to win the battle, so she'd told Daen to nevermind and had bolted, had run hard and fast to find some place quiet to get sick. Then she'd avoided him since then, needing to build back up her courage. And then, then Daen had been searched and Reveka had despaired, knowing now that she'll have no choice but to foster, her child doomed to grow up without either of their parents. The thought makes her sick, but she knows that is what has to happen. She'd gone to Igraine soon after for a tea for her ails, and during her visit, she'd cried and railed and vented, and Igraine had kindly offered to foster the baby. And the promise Igraine made after she agreed to foster Reveka's unborn child, the only thing that's kept her sane, and she's been trying to find a way to speak to Daenerys. Little does she know she has the opportunity now. She's been inside all day, and the smells of supper have tempted her out. There are many who would call warmly to the girl, but she has to pass her family's wagon to get to the cook fire's and the cold, stony silence from all of them is heartbreaking. Her own mother barely speaking to her while her Father and siblings have forgotten her existence. No doubt per Papa's order. It makes it hard to venture that way. Tonight she plans on slipping to the living caverns for supper, and perhaps a chance at catching Daen, not knowing how close he is as she exits her home.

Were Daen to find out the treatment meted out to his girl, he'd be furious — and likely to walk away from the Candidacy to stand by her side, though the reasons for it are completely unknown to him. But, on this day, he's going to find out: he spots Reveka leaving her yurt, and turns to intercept her, dropping his rucksack without a thought for its contents. "Reve… hey, Reve… hold up, will you?" He gets to within speaking distance of her, his long hair loose and tangling in the wind. Impatient fingers rake it clear of his face, tucking it back behind his ear. "You have time to… you know, talk?"

Reveka jumps when Daen adresses her, she'd not expected it and she whirls around. The sight of Daenerys coming towards her, all that hair loose and being tucked back, makes her heart skip a few beats. "D-Daen. Uhm. Yeah…I have a few minutes, I was going to go to the caverns to eat. Uh..would you like to join me?" Shards how she'd love to touch him right now, to run her fingers through his hair, despite the rules and despite their current and sticky situation. The temptation is strong despite her woes and troubles, but she doesn't want to mess things up for him.

"I think… we'd better have this conversation not where the entire damn Weyr can overhear and likely offer 'advice' we dont particularly need." Daenerys doesn't particularly care about the ideas some folk have regarding a simple touch or hug — he's far too adult to allow desire to overwhelm him. Has he not managed to get through an apprenticeship relatively unscathed? Besides, they are in the middle of a campground, where many, many eyes can chaperone their interaction; rules, even when they're silly, are rules for a reason. "I wish it could be more private than this, but — well. The Weyr has a ban on that. Let's sit down, here." He indicates the stairs to her yurt, and half-smiles, sardonic. "Where we might be plainly seen by all to not be involved in a sexual affair." Well, that and that random rider over there pretending to be perusing some Zingari wares can vouch for his perfectly proper behavior.

Reveka is noddding in agreement with Daenerys, actually rather glad to have this conversation on home turf. That is, until he makes the comment about being seen not having sex, and then her lip trembles. She nods quickly and sits, burying her face in her hands. WHen she brings her face back into view, she's dashing tears from her eyes and wrapping her arms around her waist, trying to self comfort. "Oh Daen….that, is exactly why we have to have this conversation. I - I'm sorry I ran out on you the night of the clutching. And I'm sorry I wasn't here when you came to announce your search. I, I've been I'll quite often as of late, and I found out just before the clutching, that I'm …" SHe takes a breath, diving into this because if she doesn't she'll never tell him, "I'm pregnant. Almost from the start." Her voice seems strained and silent tears roll down her cheeks as she turns to look at him, her brown eyes wide and afraid and nervous.

What is it with girls and tears around Daenerys? They just weird him out, especially when there is nothing to kill for them to make the tears stop. What's a man to do? Such things make him so, so nervous! Gently, he slides an arm around her, intending to draw her close to his chest, to at least offer her his shoulder to allow her a place to spill her tears onto — but there it is. Those words! The very words he'd been hoping he wasn't going to hear. And yet, he'd been worrying that this was exactly what he would hear. He freezes for a moment, staring at her round-eyed. "You're certain, Reveka? You've seen a Healer and everything?" Even as he inwardly shrinks from the idea that this is really happening, his fingers are gentle against her face, trying to dry the tears falling down her cheeks. Of course she's certain; why else the waterworks. "Ah, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I should be here, instead of waiting around for some damn eggs to hatch." He's taking it as fact that it's his doing an no other's.

Reveka nods, relief flooding through her that she isn't getting yelled at, again. "I'm certain, I saw Igraine shortly before the clutching. She told me then. And I tried….I tried to tell you there but I was so sick…" She shakes her head, "I should have been more careful, or we should have talked about this before we decended on one another. Igraine says I'm past the first trimester already, near nineteen sevens along already at this point, so It had to have happened the first night, or the second we were together." She shakes her head again at the idea of Daen giving up his candidacy. "No. No. It's an honor to be searched, an even bigger one to impress. And….I've been doing some thinking anyway. Neither of us wanted anything serious when we started this. And I won't lie, I'm fond of you, Daenerys, to a point where I could amost say I love you. But, if you leave candidacy to be with me through this, they are going to expect us to marry, and is that something we want? Because to be brutally honest, I'm not ready to settle down, to raise a child…And if we don't marry, and if you can't take the child when it's born, they'll never suffer me raising a bastard child in their midst." She sucks in a shaky breath. "Igraine has offered to foster the baby from birth."

"…fond of me. As though I were a pet." Daenerys' dark eyes are glinting — some unnamed emotion flashing like a storm in his gaze, and passing almost too quickly to be named. Finally, though, there's some humor there, and he dares brush his lips across her cheek, playful. "Hmm. So you were too sick to say… did you know, sweetness, I've been worrying that I'd…" He waves a hand to her belly. "Well, this. Exactly this. I… wasn't as careful as I should have been, either." And then the eggs are brought up again, and he rolls his eyes in exasperation. "Eggs be Threadbared, girl. You think some damn dragon is more important than seeing you through this to me? Really?" His fingers tighten against her neck, and he pulls her closer to him still, so that he might whisper against her ear, "I don't give a shit what they want, either. What do you want?"

Reveka shakes her head, avidly. "NO. I don't think a chance at a dragon is more important to you Daen. I don't. I just don't want to trap us both in something we don't want to or can't do." She sobs, tears falling faster now. "And fond is as close to how I really feel about you as I feel I can say aloud Daen." His words whispered against her ear have her breaking down furthur. "I don't know what I want Daen, beyond that I would see our child grow up loved, by us, or someone else…but beyond that I don't know what I want Daen. What do you think we should do? " She really is in it deep here. She has a home set up for their child in case they can't raise it, but she knows she can't raise it alone, what she doesn't know, is what Daen wants to or thinks they should do. "I have faith in your honor Daen, I don't think you'd leave me stranded, but do you want this?"

"I'm no more ready for a child than you are." Daenerys will admit with extreme reluctance, drawing her tight into his chest and burying his face in her hair. Faranth, how he misses the feel of her in his arms. "I don't think I could help raise a child… properly. And if we aren't prepared to marry, then yes, we should find him or her a decent home. This Igraine…" He sighs, softly, and kisses her hair. "Will she let us see our child, at least? Sometimes?" While he knows it's in the child's best interest to be given to a stable couple to raise, some small part of him is reluctant to part with his child, his first that he's aware of. "And… how do I support you while… you know. I would not have anyone treating you like shit. This is my child you carry, and I will not have anyone mistreating you."

Reveka nods. "She would let us see the child, even said she'd raise it to know we were it's parents. She was…very kind. She was the healer that got mated to that brown rider awhile back." If Reveka has her way about it, she'd be raising this child with Daen. But neither of them are ready. And neither of them are ready to be wed. And so, this is how it has to be. "I don't know how, Daen. We're leaving for the Steppes in a few days, and you'll be here, maybe we can write, meet for a meal now and again, after I get back of course…" As to being mistreated, Reveka shrugs. "Willimina and Tallel and Igraine have been very supportive…but elsewhere, the damage is already done Daen. My family has forgotten my existence, saving my mother, who's more worried about reputation than me. She slapped me, for being pregnant, and for refusing to cut ties with you, and because I dare speak your name when she forbade it…I'm ruined in their eyes."

"Damn it, Reveka. Are you certain you would not prefer to be wed?" Daenerys grows more uneasy still as the whole tale comes out; she should not have to face this alone, and it kills him to know that if he doesn't at least try, she'll face momnths of this. Alone. As for her mother, Daenerys growls softly, resenting the woman's hitting her. "That is not acceptable, Reveka. And you are not ruined, damn it. What kind of nonsense is that?" He lifts her chin so that he can search her eyes. "I'll speak to your parents. Tell them I have no desire to forsake you. And make no mistake, my sweet dancer, I will marry you, if you say the word." Thinking for a moment, he pulls away for a moment to withdraw a small, worn necklace from his pocket, and offer it to her. "This — it was my father's, passed on to me. Wear it as proof, Reveka. We can't engage unless I leave the Candidacy.. but should I not Impress, sweetheart, I will ask you again. I promise you that."

Reveka wishes it were as simple as Daen telling her she isn't ruined, but it's not. "That nonsense speaks to traditions not yet dead, it may have been tolerated, us sleeping together unwed, but the fact that I bear a man's seed in my belly, and no ring on my finger, or dragon under his butt, in their eyes, has ruined me for marriage later, if we don't….." Reveka turns her head, feeling a bit ill now, but snaps her gaze back to his when Daen mentions speaking with her parents. She shakes her head, truly afraid now, "Don't Daenerys. Please. They might just kill you." Considering how her mother had acted, it's not a far-fetched idea. Reveka takes the necklace in hand, her lower lip trembling again and she has to wipe the tears from her face before she breaks down completely at his promises to wed or ask her to wed. Damn it. Why does he have to be so tempting? Why does her heart have to swell at the idea he presents? Dammit, she wants to say yes…but she can't, not unless he's sure.

And if he did impress, what then? Where would that leave Reveka for the weeks weyrlings aren't allowed to have contact? Or for the months following where they still aren't allowed relationships, or strong emotions or other obligations? The what ifs leave Reveka terrified. "Tell me right now, Daenerys, look me in the eyes and tell me that you can see yourself with me until we are old and grey, that you can see this child and more on the horizon, tell me that you feel strongly for me and that you are all in on this, and I'll say yes right now Daenerys, I'll marry you tomorrow if that's the case. Tell me that and I'm yours." She sucks in a deep breath, "But if you can't say all of those things, right now, with conviction and truth to both me, and yourself, then we have no business even entertaining the thought of raising this baby and marrying…."

"If that distresses you so, then fine. But can I at least speak with Willimina and Tallel?" Daenerys asks softly, running his fingers through her hair. Anything to stop the tears, apparently. What good would it do to risk that when the point is to avoid having Reveka face her family alone. The whole situation is very, very confusing for him; to leave the candidacy or not, to protect his chances at a dragon or to protect the woman he's come to know so intimately over the past few months. So many what ifs! And then, he sighs, softly, wishing he could say with certainty that he was in love with her. But he isn't. His gaze seeks hers, holds it with that forthrightness that he so rarely offers anyone. But this girl? She more than deserves it, here and now. Can he imagine them old and gray, together? With more children?

"Reve…" He sighs, softly, raking his hands through his hair — why does logic have to enter it, at all. "Were there no child to consider, I would have waited months to even consider asking you to make this relationship a serious thing between us. And yet, a child makes it serious now. I feel like I should protect you, accept responsibility for your care because it's my responsibility to do so. And my honor to do so. I don't know what, exactly, I feel for you, but it's not just a fling for me. Not anymore. Dragon or no dragon, I don't want to be quit of you. I don't know, Reve." He heaves a soft sigh, and hugs her tightly against him again. "I do feel strongly for you. And I'm afraid for you. I don't know about children. I just…. I don't know what the best path is, the path that will see you safe with this child. Do you have to go? When the caravan leaves?"

Reveka shrugs softly. "If you must talk with our leaders, then you can do so, I won't stop you. But anything you do short of wedding me won't be good enough for my parents and I can handle them, I think." She shakes her head, this is confusing to her to. Beg him to stay? Let him follow his dreams? Make the decision for them both? It's a hard road to walk, this one. So many what ifs indeed. So many in fact, it feels to Reveka as if she's torn into a million pieces, each flying in different directions. So lost. The second her name and that soft sigh come from Daenerys, Reveka closes her eyes, a fresh wave of silent tears falling as already, she knows he won't be able to declare those things she'd asked of him. She'd known it all along, for both of them. And her heart breaks into a million pieces of shattered glass with each word he speaks after, lips trembling, silent tears falling, her chest tight. "It's not a fling for me either…" She sobs, eyes still closed, afraid to open them and let him see how much that had hurt, because it's not his fault, not his fault he can't declare undying love, not any more than it is her fault for not doing the same.

It sort of settles things in her mind though, in a way. "I don't know either," She says, finally opening her anguish filled eyes to look at him, "And…that in mind, I don't think we should wed…" More shattering of her heart, "and I don't think we can raise it together if we don't know what we want. And either way we go with this, I run the risk of being hurt…If…if we force things, it could end badly, and then where would we be? Both of us heartbroken, our child's home broken. And if I try to wait for you, it could be two turns or more before we can be togather again, before you could be a father, and who knows if we could still feel the same about each other then? I think I must go when the caravan leaves, because if I stay, I might just run into the barracks and demand you come home because the irrational side of me just wants to beg you."

Reveka's openly sobbing now, pushing out of Daen's embrace because this talk just made her realise she's much deeper into this than she could ever have seen before. She stands when she can, Daen's necklace clutched in her hand as a light mist begins to fall from the sky, a light rain to cool the evening. "By the first egg Daen, I lied when I said I was fond of you, I'm not fond of you, I'm fucking in love with you….and I have been for awhile now, and I can't…. I can't do this. The baby should go to Igraine. You… You should go for search, and I, I will get through this, we can write, we can see the baby together when Igraine has it but I ….. I can't do this." She sobs and looks at Daen for a moment more, the very picture of a woman broken, before her lip trembles and she bolts for the living caverns, running as fast as her feet will carry her, tears streaming down her cheeks. What a fucking mess she's made, and none of it will clean up easy. None of it at all.

She's… in love with him. The very notion shocks Daenerys into utter stillness. In love. With him. What has he done. "Reve…" He glances down at the necklace, back up to her face. The risk of being hurt? Wasn't she already hurt by this? Heartbroken? The look in her eyes cuts him to the quick, leaving him in a state of confusion: he, who has so little to offer her now — he cannot just leave it like this. "Reveka… I will ask you again — " But she's pulled away from him, and is gone, running off. Had she even heard him? He isn't entirely certain, but the one thing he will do is to make sure the Caravan Leaders know: he wasn't going to dodge this responsibility, any more than he'd dodge caring for his sisters. Slowly, he picks up his rucksack, and begins the slow journey back to the Barracks, his mind reeling with too many questions to answer easily. Swiftly, he ducks into his yurt, there to pen a short letter to be left with the Leaders, in the hope that knowledge that it will be of help to her over the time they are forcibly apart.

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