Gwillanth was too big to fit inside the tents, and she felt silly sticking her head under the heavy walls that kept the night’s heat in; she settled instead very nearby, her head near the door, and tried to rest.
Rest, but not sleep. Her own pains gnawed at her, but truly she was sitting vigil. Her mind stretched to where the foggy faint dreams of Issrodeth drifted; still there. Still healing. Igith had said she would take over at the midnight, the brazen gold as meek as she’d ever been.
What a strange, terrible thing, Gwillanth thought, to see the standoffish gold do her duty with no hiss or complaint. Gwill would never have wished this on her. Time would have been a better easing of her fire, not trauma. With a gusty sigh, Gwillanth reasoned it was too late to make those kinds of wishes. The best they could do was hope that Issrodeth pulled through and -- more challenging yet -- did not want or would be forced into early retirement. The other Weyrs would have their say...
Blast and score, this should not be how it happens! Gwillanth had envisioned turns, even a decade more of Issrodeth’s reign, a lucid Senior giving Gwill her laurels on her own terms, and remaining an important advisor in her twilight turns. Gwillanth would do the same for Igith, and any queen-daughters the two had, and when it was her own time, pass the torch to an older, wiser Igith. By then, the Pass would be over or nearly so, and Igith would have to be mature enough to guide the Weyr through that most grief-ridden of transitions...
Thinking so far ahead when the pains of the present were still so fresh made her heart hurt. She had another vigil to attend to now, now she was splinted and her eggs were safe. On the morrow she would have to speak with Valyth and Igith and theirs, and the wingleaders, and arrange for the territory to be scouted and the Holds given more assistance, for suitable ambassadors for the other Weyrs to ask for aid, and all the thousand other things she was sure Shayled would recall.
Issrodeth, the eggs, the Weyr, the territory; all hers to watch over.
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Which of Gwillanth’s thoughts resonate the most with you? How do you interpret her complex feelings toward Igith and Issrodeth? Do you believe you would feel the same or differently in Gwillanth’s position? Do you agree with Gwillanth’s thoughts about the succession? What would you tell her in this moment, if you could? She thinks of the far future, something you have rarely encountered, how do you react? What does her focus on concern for others mean for you?