Thyravon was very unhappy with the circumstances, both currently and soon to come, but nothing he'd said so far had changed Aavayl's mind. He thought, though, that he might as well make one more attempt. Today was the last day he'd be able to.

Athanora and her Enkeyn pup were out, at Kiralraes's day-care-slash-school, called "creche". In the past month and a half since 'Nora had brought her home, Thyravon had finally found out what Kiralraes was, and why they'd let a stranger, and a space-traveling off-worlder at that, adopt one of their children. Or, according to Aavayl and 'Nora both, bond to one of their children, mentally and magically, as well as charged just to look after her. The pups had been orphaned, the rest of their settlement destroyed by some unknown assailant-- though there seemed to be some unspoken consensus as to what might be the cause-- and an older Enkeyn, one Neralt, had believed that they should be fostered with the newcomers, of which there seemed to be a fair number, in a new program of creating bonded pairs that had been put into motion just months before. Thyravon still wasn't entirely sure on the whys of that program, but Aavayl had at least explained the whys of Athanora's attraction to them, and so now her odd statement that Kiralraes was "her little imbalance" made more sense.

But that didn't mean Aavayl had to leave, by himself, and leave Thyravon alone with no one but Athanora and that "little imbalance" for company! They didn't even live in the same suite anymore-- not that they were particularly good company anyway, with Athanora determined to ignore him and Kiralraes too skittish to do more than look at him before scuttling to hide behind 'Nora. But even if they were just a silent presence behind a closed door, they would still be a presence.... Thyravon didn't like being alone.

He found his father packing up what few belongings he'd brought down from the ship. The bed was strewn with neat stacks of folded clothes, piled books, his own ritual paraphernalia, and a few personal items, all sitting beside an empty satchel. Come nightfall, he would take all that, climb back aboard their ship with that Enkeyn female, Saekana, and leave the world of Karteyn behind for however long it would take to refit a ship for Enkeyn-sized passengers. The estimate, at the moment, was four to five months, plus four weeks of travel time, round trip. Six months, total, and that was only the current estimate.

Six months of being stuck on a planet where he only haltingly spoke the language, didn't know his way around, had no friends, and his only company was an unbalanced Enkeyn pup and a frosty fiance.

Thyravon stood in the doorway for a long moment, and Aavayl, busy folding clothes, either didn't notice him, or didn't want to acknowledge him. It was most likely the latter. Aavayl probably knew why he'd come, and probably didn't want to talk about it. He was probably tired of talking about it. Tired of explaining things to his frustrated, disappointing son.

Well, too bad.

"Father?"

"Yes, Thyravon?"

Not "Thyr", not "Von", but "Thyravon". No nicknames for him, nope.

"Are you really sure you'll be okay, two weeks, by yourself?"

Aavayl grunted, folding a tunic on his bed before placing it atop the pile of the rest of his clothing. "I won't be alone; I'll have Saekana."

"You know what I mean, Father," Thyravon sighed. "No other people. You'll miss a ceremony."

"It won't kill me to miss one ceremony," Aavayl pointed out neutrally. "The Three won't strike me down, I won't shrivel up and die, and I probably won't even feel ill. Besides, if I get really desperate, I could always ask the tech crew if I could join them."

"DuVaa, Father," Thyravon exclaimed with mild disgust, "even if they let you, who would want to?"

Aavayl made no comment to that; he didn't need to. The look he cast on his son-- sharp, sardonic, and with that usual hint of disappointment-- made him fall silent again, flushing and looking away in mixed embarrassment and anger. Thyravon knew his mother had high standards, that he consistently failed to meet, but it had never really occurred to him until recently that his father had expectations, as well. Whatever they were, Thyravon had seemed to miss the mark there, too, and he was growing steadily more and more aware of it. Though he'd given up trying to please his mother-- not having much contact with her, now that his parents had officially broken their union, helped-- it was both annoying and distressing, at the same time, that his father seemed to have similar problems with him. He hadn't yet made up his mind whether he wanted to try to find out and attempt to meet his father's expectations, or simply decide he didn't care, because not even Aavayl had the right to dictate how he should live.

Either way, he still didn't want to be left alone with the Ice Queen he was supposed to marry someday!

"I'll come with you," he tried again.

"Someone needs to stay with Athanora," Aavayl said, shaking his head and going back to his folding. "I'll be among our people soon enough that it won't hurt me. Six months without a true ceremony, however, and Athanora would certainly suffer."

"So bring her along!"

"She doesn't want to leave here until she has to," Aavayl continued with obvious patience. "The longer Kiralraes spends with pups her own age, the more socialized she becomes, and better able to deal with social interactions, and the more well-rounded an education she will receive."

"But--"

"Thyravon," Aavayl said quellingly, putting down the last of his clothing in the neat, folded pile and turning to face him. "It won't kill you to try and spend some time with 'Nora, to try and be kind to her, get to know her."

"It's not as if she tries, either," Thyravon grumbled, glaring a little. He couldn't help it.

"My guess would be that is because she doesn't think you care."

Aavayl didn't add the obvious: he thought Thyravon didn't care, either. Which, though he didn't want to admit it and felt guilty whenever his thoughts brushed the edge of it, was close enough to the truth. Instead, however, Aavayl continued, putting the clothing and books into his satchel, "It wouldn't kill you to try walking in her footsteps every now and then, either. Athanora might not be the beautiful, sensual person you might have hoped for--" Thyravon winced a little at that description, which he would admit was also the truth, "--but she is a good person, and responsible."

"Responsible?" Thyravon repeated, surprised at the emphasis, a little scornfully. Well, of course she was responsible-- that's about all she was.

"Yes, responsible," Aavayl reiterated sternly, placing the last item from his bed, a precious, gold-leaf goblet, into the satchel. "You could do with learning a little responsibility, Thyravon. You are thirty years old, and a Searcher; it's time you started to grow up."

"Father!" That was unfair! He wasn't exactly a child!

Not exactly.

Aavayl didn't reply, he merely closed the bag with a hiss of the fabric belt of the flap sliding through the metal buckle and pulled it tight, swinging it up onto his shoulder. "I have a few people to say farewells to," he said, as if Thyravon hadn't just blurted out in offended dignity. "And Saekana will be waiting for me to show her aboard the Dyr aSashyn in an hour."

Not sure what to say to the cool tone and dismissive wording, Thyravon did the wisest thing and said nothing. Aavayl started out of the room, brushing past him easily through the large doorway, only pausing long enough to awkwardly put his hand on his son's shoulder for just a moment before heading for the front door and out of the suite.

And just like that, Thyravon was alone, and would be for six more months, with more than enough time to mull over how to "grow up".

Chapter Five

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