The Cure for a Broken Heart

Writers: Estelle, Yvonne
Date Posted: 12th January 2021

Characters: Ashela, H'run
Description: Ashela drags H'run from his funk
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr, Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 9, day 7 of Turn 10
Notes: Mentioned: K'mai, R'enh (neither by name)

Ashela

H'run

Ashela swept into the bluerider's weyr without so much as a knock, leaving it to Aglayath to inform H'run's Calcifeth, with an air of
supreme condescension, that her rider had arrived. She was dressed in smart, tightly-fitted riding gear over a blouse in a vibrant shade of sapphire blue, and her hair was perfectly coiffed and braided for flying.

"H'run?" Hands on hips, she eyed her surroundings with a raised eyebrow. "Where are you hiding?"

"Hiding means that one does not wish to be found," H'run muttered from his nest of furs in bed. "Also, it is polite to knock."

"Being polite is for unimportant people," Ashela said. She approached the bed and looked down at him with a tiny wrinkle of her perfect nose. "Oh, dear. I can see I didn't get here a moment too soon. Darling, you look like a holdless person in a good pair of pyjamas."

"Oh, go away and let me be miserable in peace," the bluerider said irritably, pulling his blanket over his head to hide the goldrider from view.

"I won't. If I let you mope in here any longer, people will think all Dream's End riders are grouchy loners, and then what will become of my
social life?" Ashela tapped her boot on the stone floor. "Get up, H'run. I'm going to send for some hot klah."

He peeked out from beneath his blankets to glare at her, then cast them off with an aggrivated sigh. "Fine. But I'm not going to be happy about it." Ashela would just continue to annoy him any way possible to get what she wanted.

"On the contrary, I think that in a candlemark or two, you will be quite overcome with happiness." She started for the door, then looked back over her shoulder. "But first, you have to make yourself presentable. I can't be seen with you looking like that."

H'run glared at her until she left, then reluctantly rolled out of his bed. At least she cared enough to bother him. Grabbing his bathing kit
he reluctantly ventured down the hall to the nearest bathing chamber. The _least_ Ashela could have done was offered him the use of her private bathing pool.

After a lather with a delightfully scented soap, a shave, and lotion for his skin and hair, H'run was feeling marginally more like himself. He
returned to his weyr and dabbed perfume at his wrists, then lined his eyes with kohl. He pulled an outfit in black from his closet and added a pair of silver earrings that brushed his jaw. The reflection in his mirror looked tragic and sorrowful. A man in deep mourning.

He liked it.

With a sigh he left his weyr and went find Ashela. Peevishly the bluerider walked into her weyr without knocking. "Here at your service, o goldrider."

Ashela finished adjusting the riding straps on Aglayath and turned her head in unison with her gold, who looked down on H'run with a haughty draconic stare. She rolled her eyes. "Stars above. Now you look as though your whole family has died of the plague, and you're not far from the end either. Still, I suppose it'll have to do." She went over to a jug of klah that stood on a tray on a side table and poured out a steaming mug. "Drink up. We're going on a little expedition."

"I look fabulous, and you're just envious that _I_ will be the one turning heads," he said with a sniff. The bluerider picked up the hot mug and lifted it to his lips. "Where are you dragging me off to, anyway?"

"To a place where there'll be a lot of heads to turn." Ashela relied on the power of curiosity to tempt him to follow her. "We'll need to fly to get there. Calcifeth can follow Aglayath."

}:Naturally,:{ the gold commented smugly.

The bluerider rolled his eyes, finished his klah, and wandered back out again to his weyr. He purposefully dawdled a bit, just to get back at
Ashela for dragging him all the way over to her weyr for a lousy cup of klah. Not even wine! Who cared that it was still marginally the morning. He debated standing her up, but between his dragon's eagerness and his own curiosity, he couldn't quite make himself do it.

Calcifeth, meanwhile, was swaying from foot to foot on his ledge. }:I will fly with Aglayath,:{ he told every dragon that flew past. H'run
rolled his eyes at his dragon's theatrics and told him sternly to stand still while he strapped on their most handsome riding straps.

"Please, do tell Aglayath that we're ready," he said finally. The blue eagerly complied.

}:About time too,:{ Aglayath replied primly. She waited for her rider to mount, then spread her wings, checked to make sure she had an admiring audience and leapt into the air.

The dragons emerged from /between/ into warm air and sunlight over the large sea hold of Coral Bay. The harbor was filled with sails and the grounds of the Hold were busy with colorful stalls, tents and trader wagons. It looked as though a market day was in progress, and the sounds of laughter and music from a dance square drifted up towards them. Across the river, a few dragons were sunning themselves, and they bugled a polite welcome as the two newcomers landed.

Perhaps wearing black to a hot Hold wasn't the wisest choice, but it wasn't as if Ashela had given him any forewarning. H'run eyed the market and pretended like he didn't want to go. Ashela was probably meeting with someone of the Blood and wanted him for discretion, note-taking and a private serenade.

Ashela paid no attention to his supposed indifference and set off for the market at a brisk walk. Once she was among the stalls she slowed her pace, taking the time to return the greetings of hopeful traders and craftsmen with a gracious smile and a nod, but passed them by and headed for the stalls run by the weavers and tailors. The first few they came to were selling simple, plain attire, but she walked straight past those and headed for a booth draped with brightly colored swags of cloth and hung about with embroidered jackets, crisp white shirts and fashionably cut gowns.

"Do keep up, H'run," she said, glancing back over her shoulder like a mother scolding a reluctant youth. "There's someone I want you to meet - ah! Here he is!"

A tall, slender dark man with a perfectly groomed mane of silver-grey hair stepped out from behind the stall, his face lit with an expression
of sheer delight. "Lady Ashela! What a joy to see you again. How do you fare, you and your lovely Aglayath? And the crimson dress? Was it
a success?"

"It was a sensation," Ashela replied, not without a preen of satisfaction. "My dearest laid thirty-five beautiful eggs, and I wore it
to her Hatching celebration and danced with all the most handsome Lords. But I'll have to tell you all about it later, because we have most
urgent business to attend to." She stepped to one side and ushered H'run forward. "H'run, may I introduce Master Tailor Zubedin, the artist
responsible for my Hatching gown. Master Zubedin, this is H'run, rider of Calcifeth."

"A pleasure." The tailor bowed deeply. As he straightened, his eyes widened in concern. "But such dark, melancholy attire on such a handsome man! I do hope there has not been a bereavement?"

"In a sense," H'run said, bowing in return. He cast Ashela a side-long look, wondering what she was up to. "If you believe a broken heart is a
bereavement, then I am truly bereaved. Although I must admit that I am very glad to meet you, Master. Your tailoring on Lady Ashela was the talk of the Weyr and several others besides. Although she is normally the most beautiful woman in the room, that dress ensured that she outshone the moons that night. My congratulations to you."

"You're too kind. I am honored that my humble creation was considered worthy of the Lady Goldrider," the tailor replied with another bow. "She is a true inspiration."

"Oh, stop it, the pair of you," Ashela reproved them, though she was enjoying all the compliments immensely. "We are not here for me today, after all. As you can see, Master, my poor friend's spirits are sorely in need of reviving. And what better way to do that, than to order a new outfit for him from my favorite craftsman?"

"What indeed?" Master Zubedin agreed. "When disappointed in love, one should be among friends, looking superb, and show the foolish
heartbreaker what they are missing." He clapped his hands. "I will take your measurements myself, but first, why not take a look at some samples of our cloth. Did sir have a particular color in mind?"

"Ah--" H'run wasn't often caught off guard. "While I do agree that new clothes make the man, I must admit a... certain... lack of... marks at
this time..." Shells, wasn't this embarassing! He held up his hands placatingly. "Perhaps just a tunic. The basis for any good outfit."

"Ignore him. This is my treat." Ashela strolled over to the stall and began examining the wares on display. "But we should indeed begin with a tunic. Something bright and vibrant, I think." She pulled out a length of shimmering emerald green cloth and eyed it thoughtfully, then let it fall.

It was beautiful. H'run had restrained himself, but if _Ashela_ was paying... he went up to her and kissed her on the cheek. "You truly are
a queen among women," he told her ernestly, then picked up the green fabric to show the Master Weaver. "This with a dark midnight blue perhaps, for a tunic. With glass buttons at the wrists-- I despise flapping sleeves when I am trying to play. Perhaps with an upright collar... no, a jacket, not a tunic. With shell buttons. With a tunic beneath, perhaps with a bit of lace at the throat... Ashela, I do believe I feel better already."

While the weaver was distracted by scribbling notes, Ashela gave him an I-told-you-so look, mixed with a not inconsiderable sense of her own achievement. "That's the spirit. We'll show them all back at the Weyr, won't we?" For a moment, a rare note of defiance in her voice broke through the polished tone. She knew all too well what it was to face up to the world in the wake of a catastrophe.

"But what about you, my lovely? Shouldn't you have something new as well?" H'run gestured at the rolls of fabric. "Perhaps a jacket or blouse in the same red fabric as that dress, to remind certain bronzeriders of your Hatching night?"

"Oh, but this outing is for you, darling," Ashela protested. "I couldn't..." A display of light, filmy scarves caught her eye, and she
imagined the memories one of them at her throat might bring back. "Perhaps just a little something for me?" She ran one of them through her fingers. "In red?"

"Of course, my lady. I still have a little of that dye, for I could hardly imagine the color on any other woman." Master Zubedin bowed and
added a note to his list. He snapped his fingers and beckoned to a waiting apprentice, exchanging the notebook for a tape measure. "If I may, sir?"

"And once we're done here," Ashela murmured, "we can stroll down to the harbor. I happen to know a very good wine-seller who keeps his stall down there."

H'run smiled as he stepped onto the small platform the tailor gestured to and spread his arms to be measured. "My darling, you know my heart too well."

The goldrider watched with great satisfaction as the master set to work. Yes, this had been a good idea. She was sure H'run was much better off without that other bluerider, who she strongly suspected of disapproving of her. And doing this had felt surprisingly good. For a friend...

She shook off the unfamiliar feeling. **Don't be so sentimental! It's only that H'run is far more interesting when he's not sulking in his weyr.** Besides, it was always safer to be on a harper's good side, and she'd got an afternoon's shopping and gossip out of it, not to mention a pretty scarf. A very good idea of hers, indeed.

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The Cure for a Broken Heart