Disclaimer: This piece is written in compliance with Anne McCaffrey's published rules on fan fiction. It is posted here as a transformative work for personal use only, and will be removed if properly requested from the copyright holder. I do not and will not make any profit from this piece, though I hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it. I also do not make any claims to rights on this series. Anne McCaffrey and Todd McCaffrey are the owners of the Dragonriders of Pern® series, and I'm grateful for the chance to play on their literary land.

PART II

Chapter 14: Family Reunited

The brown dragon winked out of between at a dark hour long after dusk and well before dawn, appearing above the sinuous, winding rapids of Telgar River before banking to face the hold built high above its banks.

Telgar Hold sat far below in a dark mass, its impressive stone palisades delineated in moonlight where they cradled the outbuildings and marched back into the natural cliffs that housed the rest of the hold.

From high above, it was almost unrecognizable to Morika as her childhood home, especially in the darkness. She clung to her brother as Nith began to descend on silent wings towards the main courtyard. The green dragon on the fireheights voiced a somewhat subdued greeting, undoubtedly aware of what business brought them.

Nith set lightly down on the pavers by the central fountain and waited for Morika and B'lor to dismount before he sprung back into the air and winged away. Morika glanced around uncertainly. The courtyard was empty, lit by the wavering glow of strategic glowbaskets and the harsher light of full Timor and Belior, hung high in the sky at this time of night. She almost didn't hear the big bronze door swinging open over the water of the fountain, but B'lor touched her shoulder, and she turned to see Tand, the assistant steward, emerge with another glowbasket in hand.

He gestured wordlessly for them to follow, his eyes lingering in disapproval on Morika's hastily thrown-on clothing choices. As if she'd had the time or inclination to dress in her Gather best when she'd been woken up in the middle of the night to hear that her father was dying.

"How is he?" B'lor asked while they walked deeper into the hold, towards the lord holder's quarters. Everything was hushed and shadowy, strangely dreamlike. Morika felt as if she'd been gone a lifetime, and not any time at all.

"My lord is not well. You may already be too late," Tand said. Morika suppressed a surge of dislike at the disapproval in his tone, and how he guided them like guests through the halls they'd grown up in. All that was forgotten when they approached her parents' quarters, and she saw her older sister sitting outside the door.

"Bralla," B'lor said, hurrying past Tand.

"You made it," Bralla said with relief, rising from her chair. She looked past B'lor to Tand. "You may go."

Tand gave a wordless bow and departed back the way they'd come, not even bothering to look at Morika as he left. She frowned after him, then turned back to find Bralla studying her from head to toe. If her sister thought anything of Morika's appearance, she was wise enough not to say it or show it.

"You two should go in. Menkar and Mother are with him right now."

"Is Menkar…?" Morika couldn't finish the question, or entirely suppress the spasm of unease at her elder brother's name.

Bralla raised an eyebrow and didn't answer. "You should go in."

"Where's Havran?" Morika asked hopefully, still not moving.

"He hasn't made it in yet. We sent word to Benden immediately, but of course it takes time."

"Morika," B'lor said, and she reluctantly moved to join him, both sliding through the door while Bralla resumed her post in the hall.

"You can't seriously still be scared of Menkar?" B'lor breathed to her in the room antechambers. He tapped her forehead meaningfully.

"It's only been four days since the hatching, B'lor, they still haven't lifted the block to keep me from hurting myself. I'm more deaf than I was before the earthquake."

"Well he doesn't know it. Don't let him catch on."

"It's not that simple," she mumbled.

"Come on, where's the brave weyr girl?" He smiled encouragingly at her, and after a pause, she managed to smile back, straightening her spine from where she'd unconsciously folded in on herself. "There you go. You're not some little girl anymore, Morika. Don't forget."

Morika took a breath, her mind racing with the memories of the trials she'd come through so recently, and tried to shake off habits and fear learned as a young and powerless child. She gave him a wordless smile of thanks, then retorted, "You're being too nice, someone is going to revoke your big brother card," and spun to walk through the living area towards the bedroom while he snorted.

"Bakalor, Morika!"

Their mother rose as soon as they appeared in the doorway and moved towards them with her arms outstretched, looking relieved. She hugged them both, then looked Morika up and down.

"Morika, what are you wearing?"

Morika looked down at her mismatched pants and dirty shirt. "It's for cleaning, Mother, I'm sorry. I grabbed the first thing that came to hand when they woke me."

She looked up and over her mother's shoulder, to the wide bed where her father lay propped up on too many pillows, his eyes closed and apparently unaware that they'd entered. Menkar sat next to the bed with his elbows propped on his knees, and didn't deign to look up or greet them.

"Papa?" Morika asked in a small voice, and walked up to the bed.

Lord Brenkin was a big man, with a commanding presence that extended beyond to make him seem even bigger. The man in the bed hardly looked like her father at all, reduced and contained, his breath rattling.

To her surprise, his eyes opened, and he coughed weakly before focusing on her, then B'lor as he came to stand at her shoulder.

"Morika. B'lor. What are you doing here at this time of night?"

"We came to see you," B'lor said, sitting gingerly on the side of the bed. "We came as fast as we could."

"Nonsense, no – no need to be haring about in the middle of the night. That dragon of yours needs his rest."

Menkar rolled his eyes and rose, his dark gaze falling on Morika briefly before he left the room. Their mother followed him. Morika watched with narrowed eyes until she heard the door to the hall open, then click shut. She turned back to the bed.

"Papa, how are you?" Morika asked, reaching out hesitantly to take his hand. It felt cold and clammy beneath her fingers.

"Everyone is… making a big fuss for no reason." And he rolled his eyes, hints of his former temper showing through.

Morika squeezed his hand.

"I didn't get to see you… after the Hatching," he said, studying her face. "Are you still planning to stay there?"

Morika hesitated, unsure what he wanted to hear, and unwilling to upset him.

"Well?" he prodded, and B'lor nudged her.

"Yes, I am."

"Good." He paused to cough again. "No daughter of Telgar gives up so easily, and you – you're a special one. Faranth save your husband if we'd managed to marry you off."

"Papa!" she protested.

He turned his eyes past to B'lor. "You keep an eye on your sister."

"I will."

"And your dragon. Going to defend our family hold, eh?"

"On my honor."

"Good lad."

His hand weakly squeezed Morika's, then he freed it, patting her arm weakly.

"I need to rest… until Havran gets here. Send your mother in."

"Yes, Papa," Morika breathed. Helpless fear filled her and she battered at the block in her mind put there to protect her from accidentally drawing on her power while she was still burned out. Flame the block. What good were healing abilities and power if she couldn't use them when she needed them?

When her father raised an expectant eyebrow at her, she realized she'd been dismissed and still hadn't moved. Reluctantly, she followed B'lor back out to the hallway, where Bralla, Havran, and their mother were talking in low, fast voices. They immediately stopped when the younger siblings emerged.

"He asked for you," B'lor said to their mother, and she cast a hard look at Menkar before nodding and walking back in.

"So nice of you to join us," Menkar drawled, leaning back against the wall. "In whatever state the weyr saw fit to let you join civilized company."

Morika bristled, but B'lor just looked resigned.

"Menkar," Bralla snapped. "Don't start."

He barked a laugh, then looked away down the hall, the amusement dying completely from his face. "Well look who made it."

Morika spun and saw a welcome sight. Her oldest brother, Havran, was striding down the hallway faster than Tand could reasonably keep up, the assistant steward bobbing in his wake at an undignified pace for his shorter legs.

"Havran!" she cried, and he smiled briefly at her, assessing the group at the door quickly.

"Is he still with us?" he asked Bralla. She was more forthcoming with him, standing immediately and bowing her head to him as if he were already the lord of the hold and not just their brother.

"He is, but it's a near thing. The healers said a respiratory infection and a stroke. They don't think he'll make it much longer."

Havran nodded sharply and made his way into the living chambers, Menkar following him without another glance for Morika and B'lor.

Morika started to say something, then noticed that Tand was still standing a few feet away, staring disapprovingly at her again. Exhausted and worried, she felt her temper snap.

"Yes? Did you need something?"

She could almost see the gears turning while he debated something to say, so she beat him to it, drawing herself up and staring him down.

"Do you not have duties to attend to? Or have your duties extended to staring at the ladies of the hold?"

B'lor made a quite noise of amusement and Bralla choked while Tand turned an interesting shade of scarlet, then sketched a quick bow and immediately retreated.

"Morika!" Bralla chided. "I never!"

"Father was probably right about your poor hypothetical husband," B'lor muttered, and Morika sighed loudly. "She's been taking lessons from Taraline," he added to Bralla.

"I can see the weyr has encouraged some interesting habits," Bralla said.

"Oh, leave off, Bralla," Morika said, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

"Is Menkar going to contest the lordship?" B'lor asked, interrupting whatever else Bralla was about to say. She immediately sobered and jerked her chin in an affirmative.

"He can't be serious," Morika said, almost jumping back to her feet but thinking better of it when her head throbbed.

"He can be, and he is," Bralla said, her jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. "He has some support, too."

B'lor paced for a moment. "Does Havran know?"

"Havran always knows," the sisters said almost in concert, and all three broke out in nervous, short laughter.

"I'm sure he was hoping that Havran wouldn't get back in time," Bralla said.

"How much longer?" Morika asked, unwilling to be more explicit.

Bralla eyed her. "You can't tell?" The remark was almost snide, but Morika let it slide, just shaking her head. She had no desire to tell her prim older sister that her powers were currently shut down – or risk letting that get back to Menkar. Bralla sighed. "The healer doesn't think he'll make it past another few candlemarks. They gave him drugs to support him this far, so we could all get here."

Morika drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin and keeping her mind carefully blank for several seconds while she tried to process that, feeling both numb and painfully sick of the constant upheaval in her life. "So soon."

They lapsed into silence then, and B'lor began to pace again.

Minutes ticked past, fading into candlemarks. Morika shifted, and shifted again on the cold stone floor, uncomfortable but unwilling to move somewhere else. B'lor alternately paced and stood perfectly still. His unfocused face was the only clue Morika had that he was speaking with Nith. Meanwhile, Bralla kept her post on the chair, still and ladylike. The door never opened.

At some point, drudges moved down the hallway, shuttering glowbaskets and opening the bronze shutters on the cliff face as dawn light and air began to enter the hall. Morika levered herself to her feet and moved to a windowsill, leaning on it and staring down into the river valley as morning light stained the river red.

She was just beginning to consider the possibility of calling for food when she gasped, clutching her heart with one hand and her head with the other. The block in her head shuddered beneath the stabbing pain, then slowly resolidified.

"Morika?" B'lor demanded.

She whimpered, dropping her hands and spinning towards the door just as they heard a wail from within.

A healer, who had been in the room next door, ran out and threw open the door to the lords' quarters.

"He's dead!" their mother cried, stumbling out with tears on her cheeks. "He's dead." She sagged to Bralla's shoulder, sobbing.

The healer hurried inside, and Morika forced her legs to move, following him to the inner rooms.

She knew as soon as she saw Lord Brenkin that he was gone. Both Havran and Menkar stood at the bedside and waited for the healer to pronounce it.

"The lord holder is dead. I'm sorry for your loss," the healer intoned, and Morika shivered as she watched her older brothers lock eyes.

Menkar spun abruptly away and strode out of the room, brushing roughly past B'lor and pausing only long enough to throw at Morika, "Stick around, little sister. I have plans for you." Then he was gone.

Morika dropped into a nearby chair and stared toward the bed. A tear dropped onto her hands, and she reached up to find them running down her cheeks. The room began to blur behind the tears, and she heard Nith trumpet outside.

"Lord Holder?" the healer asked, and Morika blinked hard, looking up to find him addressing Havran, who was staring fixedly at their father.

Havran slowly looked up. "Not yet," he said. His eyes found first Morika, then B'lor, where he still stood by the doorway. "There will be a confirmation, first. You two had better stay. Menkar is going to be trouble."

Morika surprised them all with a mirthless laugh. "Doesn't he always?"

"He's going to want to use you, Morika," Havran warned.

"Use me?" She was puzzled, and wiped away her tears to see Havran better. "Who would even want to marry me at this point? I've been at the weyr for weeks."

B'lor sighed. "You didn't Impress, though. And you're a Prime empath. Menkar doesn't want to marry you off, he wants to use your powers."

She was still confused at first, then understanding dawned with anger, and then she finally began to laugh. Her brothers stared at her, and even the healer, attending to the passed lord holder, shot her a look.

"Oh no. No, no. Menkar doesn't know what I've gone through the last few weeks to earn my place at the weyr. He has no idea."

"He is clever, you know that," B'lor warned.

"And?" She looked around the room, at the hold that felt suddenly foreign, at the father who had unexpectedly supported her naïve leap to the weyr and was gone now, and then through the doorways to the window cut into the stone, where sunlight was creeping across the ledge and finally spilling in.

"The weyr is my home now." It was a ringing pronouncement, startling even Morika with its sincerity.

Havran began to smile. "Then back to the weyr you shall go. But first, we're going to have to play some politics."

Author's Note: Welcome to Part II! Thank you for allowing me a brief hiatus to recharge after Part I, and to deal with the insanity at work of getting our biyearly software release out the door. I'm back and glad to be writing, and we have some new faces around to make trouble.

Thank you very much to my faithful readers and reviewers last chapter, particularly renaid, BindyKit, lyndakey1, LunaChas, constantlearner, ITookTheOneLessTravelledBy, and rude mare. Your reviews are always so very appreciated!