The Happiest Day

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 7th July 2024

Characters: Ashela
Description: Ashela watches a Hatching and remembers her own Impression
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr, Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 9, day 24 of Turn 11

Ashela

Dragonriders often said that attending a Hatching reminded them of their
own happiest day. Even the most grizzled old riders could be seen
brushing away a tear as they watched a young Candidate falling to their
knees before a dragonet and calling out their lifemate's name.

Such sentiments had never troubled Ashela. For Aglayath's Hatchings, her
pleasure at being the centre of attention was only marred by having to
share it with the new weyrlings. Her gold shared her feelings, both
enjoying the awed gasps of the guests at the sight of her in her golden
glory, and resenting their intrusion on her Hatching Sands.

At this Hatching, one of Chioneth's, she felt only irritation at the
increased excitement around the clutch of the senior queen, which had
brought out a greater audience of Lords, Ladies, bronzeriders and other
people of rank and substance than usual, mixed with anticipation of
mingling with those people at the feast afterwards. She was beginning to
suspect she'd made a mistake about the bronzerider she'd agreed to sit
with, who was younger and very good-looking, but talked incessantly
about which colour would emerge first and other trivial matters. She
should have held out for a Wingleader...

The humming rose suddenly in volume, and a ripple spread around the
stands. The bronzerider was nudging her and pointing as the Candidates
filed out onto the Sands. Ashela smiled politely at whatever he was
saying, but her thoughts were miles away - and Turns ago. She could feel
it still, the coarse sand blazingly hot under the soles of her feet, the
sweat trickling down her back...

** 15 Turns ago, Rising Moons Weyr **

Ashela gritted her teeth and fixed an unconcerned smile on her face,
trying not to hop or tiptoe like the other candidates although her feet
felt as though they were blistering. This was ridiculous. She was sure
her Candidate's robe had been swapped with a shorter girl's; she had to
keep tugging it down over her legs to maintain a shred of decency. The
noise of hundreds of weyrfolk chattering, laughing and wagering over the
deep thrumming of the dragons was intense, and she felt their gaze on
her, counting her imperfections.

She should have been up there among them, perfectly coiffed and dressed
in a fine gown, exchanging languid gossip while attendants offered her
refreshments. Or more likely, not there at all, but back at the Hold,
perhaps strolling in the cool shade of her gardens or luxuriating in a
perfumed bath. Respectable ladies rarely went to the Weyr. Though she
might have persuaded Dintros to take her, just once...

How had it all gone so wrong?

She should have moved faster, despite the risk, and cornered him into a
proposal. Before his family had made their intervention.

Ashela was fairly sure that Dintros' mother or one of her cronies had
passed the Searchriders a mark or two to take her. They certainly hadn't
chosen her for more sordid reasons, no matter what the stories said. In
fact, none of the men here had bothered her, which was refreshing, if a
little discouraging to be so completely ignored by the bronzeriders.

Otherwise, being a Candidate was exactly like being a drudge: scrubbing,
cleaning, peeling, fetching, carrying, at everyone's beck and call, with
a tedious lecture every now and then. The Weyr itself had seemed
impressive from the air, but close up it was rather spartan, the food
plain, the furniture shabby and faded, even in the bronzeriders' weyrs.
The Harpers sang about grateful Holders tithing the best of their
produce to the Weyr, but those times were long gone, if they'd ever been
real at all.

She took her place in the semicircle of white-robed figures, thinking
ahead beyond the heat and the noise. The others had said there would be
a feast afterwards, and the Headwoman would lend her a dress if she
didn't have one. Perhaps there would be better chances there, when she
wasn't covered in grime or soap suds. She didn't have long, only a few
Turns, and then what? Back to drudgery, three Turns older and three
times less likely to attract a husband as rich as Dintros?

Those were her depressing thoughts when the first shell cracked, sending
shards flying, and a little brown tumbled out.

Ashela stared, never having seen a hatchling before. His head and clawed
feet looked too large for him, his wings flimsy and streaked with fluid
from the egg. Would that clumsy creature really grow into one of the
immense, dignified dragons who watched from above the stands, humming
their welcome? And yet, his eyes glowed...

A few of the boys rushed forward to help the hatchling up, but once on
his feet, he stumbled around them, heading for a skinny auburn-headed
lad who she vaguely recognized as another holder, though she couldn't
recall his name or anything else about him. He watched the hatchling
approach in disbelief, then suddenly dropped to his knees, reaching out
to cradle that big wedge-shaped head.

"His name is Lomenath!"

There was another snap of shell to her left, and then two ahead, across
the circle of the Sands, a blue and a green. Soon they were emerging
from their shells too fast to follow. Ashela remembered they'd been told
to think of love and welcome, but also to beware of getting in the way
of a dragonet intent on his or her lifemate. How could she do both at
once? There seemed to be no pattern to how the hatchlings wove
unsteadily among the cracked remains of shells, seeking out a boy or
sometimes a girl. Should she try to approach one? She didn't want to be
clawed and maimed, no-one would ever want her then...

There was a soft "oh" from the crowd, then a rousing cheer, and a boy's
voice called "Ikmenaith!" Ashela glanced over to see a bronze, the first
one in the clutch. She did recognise the boy - a son of one of their
ranking riders, and rather full of himself.

It must be nearly over now. She brushed back damp hair from her brow,
looking for the way out. The audience didn't seem to be moving yet, they
were looking over at the largest egg with its gleaming shell. Over it,
the golden queen loomed, her wings half-unfurled and her eyes burning
crimson. The gold egg was something special, she'd picked that up, but
she'd been so focused on finding a realistic, achievable path to wealth
and luxury that she'd not thought much of it...

Until a jagged crack split it from the tip downwards, and the whole egg
shivered and fell apart.

The hatchling was not like the others. To Ashela's eyes, she flowed out
of her shell with grace and poise, and spread her wings to dry them. She
glittered in the hot light, a tiny, delicate minature of her dam who
towered above her, crooning a welcome.

Entranced, she approached, hardly noticing the fragments of broken
shell, the heat and the remaining, wandering dragonets, the low warning
hiss of the queen, the other girls closing in around the hatchling. The
little gold raised her long, elegant neck and swung her head around,
studying each in turn. She was careful. She had taste.

}:I choose you.:{

Ashela felt a sudden heat in her chest, a tightening that was like
nothing she'd felt before. A bond, another mind that would always be
there for her, always trust her and love her, never abandon her. She
would always be the centre of Aglayath's world, as Aglayath would be hers.

Somehow she had run forward and was kneeling on the scorching sand
before Aglayath, lost in the radiant whirl of colour in her eyes. "Oh,
you're beautiful!"

}:I know,:{ Aglayath said complacently, tilting her head to one side,
then the other. }:And so are you.:{

All of the words that they'd used about her back at the hold - common,
worthless, sluttish - melted away as if they'd never been. How could she
have aspired to that narrow little life, when there was Aglayath? Ashela
laughed in delight and surprise as her world shifted and opened up
around her. If they could see her now!

}:But I am also very, very hungry,:{ Aglayath said primly. Ashela
realised that she could feel it, that gnawing sensation in her belly.
She admired Aglayath all the more for not rushing at once in search of
food. She had dignity. She was a _queen_.

"I'll find something for you. This way." She rose, still half-dazed. The
eggs were all hatched now, and a man in rider's leathers was waving at
her across the Sands and holding a pail. The crowd was buzzing with
gossip, and she felt every eye on her again, only this time it was like
a warm glow, invigorating, filling her with strength. She held her head
high. She was with Aglayath, and Aglayath shone.

** Present day **

Applause roused Ashela from her daydreams. She joined in politely, even
turning to the young bronzerider at her side with an indulgent smile.
Shells, it had been a long time since she'd thought of those days. She'd
put all those memories behind her when she'd first looked into
Aglayath's eyes.

"Isn't it exciting?" the young bronzerider said, grinning. "Doesn't it
make you think of _your_ Hatching day?"

Ashela raised one elegant hand to her eye and brushed it, then looked
down, wondering, at the moisture glistening on her finger.

"Oh, yes," she replied. "I remember. My happiest day."

Last updated on the July 21st 2024

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The Happiest Day