The Knock at the Door

Writers: Duskdog
Date Posted: 26th April 2025

Characters: Nidre, N'jen
Description: Nidre gets a knock on her door and finds the son she barely knows on the other side.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 6, day 3 of Turn 12

Nidre

The knock came just as Nidre finished unbuttoning her riding jacket. Sharp and hesitant -- two quick raps and then silence, as if whoever stood on the other side had immediately regretted it.

Jossenth stirred in the back of her mind, curious but unalarmed.

Nidre frowned, halfway between irritation and intrigue. It wasn’t really unusual for her to have visitors, or just messengers, but Thread had fallen, it had been a long day, and she was _tired_. Deep in her bones tired. All she really wanted was a nice, long soak in a warm bath, some dinner delivered hot to her weyr, and maybe enough wine to get a little tipsy -- all by herself.

She opened the door. And blinked.

The boy stood there stiffly, like someone trying not to bolt. His arms were locked at his sides, and his mouth opened, then closed again like a fish out of water. She recognized him, but also didn’t -- like an acquaintance half-remembered, or a reflection of someone else’s face in her own mirror. His hair was different from the last time she had really looked at him -- clipped short and neat where it used to be unruly and flopping into his eyes -- and his face had thinned out, cheekbones just beginning to assert themselves beneath boyish roundness. But it was unmistakably her son. Her only child.

Her eyes caught on the freckles across his nose. She didn’t remember those.

“Nijen?”

"I… uh," he said.

Nidre considered. He wasn’t carrying a message, and his face said he wasn’t sure what to do. Then, she assumed, he’d come to see her. She wasn’t sure what she was thinking -- or feeling, really -- as she stepped aside. "Well. Come in, then."

He hesitated only a second longer before stepping through, gaze darting around the room as though memorizing every object that might anchor him. She gestured for him to sit, and he perched on the edge of a chair like it might vanish if he settled too much weight into it.

She shut the door gently and turned to study him again. Faranth, he looked like her, didn’t he? The thought landed with a peculiar weight -- neither soft nor hard. Just... surprising.

"You didn't say you were coming," she said after a moment. Her tone was even, not accusing.

"I know." He shifted. "I... transferred. After-- "

"After Carda died," Nidre finished. Carda. That had been his foster mother’s name. A competent woman who had seemed kind, though Nidre hadn’t thought much about her beyond that. She’d trusted the Headwoman’s judgment when it came to choosing a foster mother for her baby, because frankly Nidre herself hadn’t had any interest in such things at the time. She had only been a couple of turns out of weyrling training when she’d gotten pregnant and decided to give motherhood the shot that her holdborn upbringing had insisted she should want, maybe even _need_.

In the end, she had neither wanted nor needed it. Pregnancy had been unpleasant. Caring for a babe had been unpleasant. Fostering was normal at the Weyr for dragonriders, of course, and that had been a great relief… even if handing him over had been accompanied by a small pang of loss and guilt. Only a small one, though, and she had dismissed the feeling as a remnant of her upbringing.

“You knew about that?” he asked.

“I did. And I saw your paperwork when you transferred. I wondered about it.”

She saw his throat work as he swallowed.

"She always said I could come to you. If I needed to. She said you'd let me. But I didn't know if she was just saying it."

Nidre sat down across from him, folding her hands in her lap. She had no idea why the woman would have said such a thing, because Faranth knew she hadn’t been exactly overflowing with motherly vibes back then. Or even now. But… well… he wasn’t a screaming babe anymore. He was -- she was surprised to realize -- an actual real person, with thoughts and feelings and agency. He looked like her -- something she still couldn’t believe she hadn’t really noticed much before. And he had chosen to come here, and knock on her door. Seeking… what?

"She wasn't wrong," she decided, surprising herself as much as, apparently, him.

He looked at her then, face screwing into a thoughtful frown that said he was _really_ looking. She wasn't sure what he was searching for. Permission, perhaps. Or recognition.

"I didn't know if you'd want to see me," he said. "I mean... I know you're busy. With the Weyr. And you're important. And I -- I'm not, I guess. Not yet."

The “yet” caught her attention, and her lips twitched -- but then she exhaled through her nose, leaning back. “What made you think that’s how I measure people?”

His shoulders hunched a little, and then he gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I thought... maybe I didn’t matter. That much. To you.”

Oof. That one hit somewhere tender. She didn’t flinch, but she looked away, studying a scorch mark on the edge of her table. The admission shouldn’t have landed that way. Plenty of riders had children they barely knew -- that was just the way of things at the Weyr sometimes. The truth was… he _hadn’t_ mattered that much. Not to her specifically. Of course she thought of him sometimes. She had even checked in on him distantly, from time to time. But she had been living her life, and he seemed to be living his. Happily. That was the point, wasn’t it? To let him be raised by someone who had the time and inclination to raise children.

She thought of her parents, who had desperately wanted more children, but only ever had her before the Weyr had taken her from them. She thought of the way they had doted on her, and the happy childhood she had had. She thought of her mother, who had loved her so deeply -- who _still_ loved her, and welcomed her with a full heart whenever she visited.

Her parents would have been thrilled to foster Nijen. But back then, she had been young and stupid and hadn’t appreciated her parents or her old home the way she should have. She was a young adult, independent now, with her own dragon, and she thought she knew _better_. She’d wanted her son to grow up at the Weyr and have a chance at a dragon someday.

That had been the most thought she had given him back then.

"You do matter," she said, quietly but firmly, surprising herself again. It seemed terribly important, suddenly, that he realize that he _did_ matter. Even if -- and she didn’t think she should ever say so -- he hadn’t back then. Not to her. "I just... didn’t know what to do with you, back then. And whenever I let myself reconsider for a moment, it seemed wrong to barge in and assume I had a place in your life.”

"You’re my mother."

“I’m not a very good one.”

Silence.

She looked up and met his eyes again.

"I'm not going to lie about that, Nijen. I didn’t take to motherhood the way I thought I was supposed to. I wanted to get back to being young and… well, selfish, I guess. I thought you’d be better off with someone who actually wanted to be a mother, and there are so many women at the Weyr who are good for that, and far better at it than I would have been. _Carda_ was good at that, wasn’t she?"

“She was,” he whispered. “But she’s gone now.”

“I know,” she said, almost as soft. “I’m sorry.”

He blinked quickly and looked down at his hands, which were fidgeting in his lap. Then, after a moment: “I don’t really know what I want. I just... wanted to talk to you.”

“That’s a good place to start.”

They sat in silence again, but this time, it felt a little softer. The air in the room had shifted -- not warm yet, but not brittle either. Not so hopelessly _fragile_.

"So you decided to Stand," she said after a moment, reaching for something -- anything -- that wasn’t quite so raw.

His ears went pink. "I am. I hope I can… I mean… I don't know if I’ll Impress. Or if I'm ready. But I want to keep trying."

"You’re young. You’ve got time." She tilted her head. "You’ve got determination. That counts for a lot."

He glanced up. “You think so?”

“I do.” She smiled, small but genuine. “You knocked on my door, didn’t you? And stubbornness runs in the family.”

That earned her a tiny, uncertain smile back. But it stayed on his face a moment longer than she'd expected.

"I should, um, let you get back to your duties," he said, standing up again too quickly, like he’d suddenly remembered he’d overstayed. “But…” He hesitated, licking his lips, then continued without looking at her, “...maybe we could talk again sometime?”

Nidre stood too, and this time, she didn’t hesitate. She reached out and brushed a hand over his shoulder -- light, just a touch.

“I’d like that,” she said.

He smiled wider, this time without apology.

“Okay,” he said. “Me too.”

Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

Nidre stood there a moment longer, staring at the closed door. Her hand still tingled where it had touched his shoulder.

Maybe she wasn’t good at this. But maybe -- just maybe -- she could learn. What’s more, maybe she _wanted_ to.

Like everything else, it would take work. But she’d never been afraid of that.

Not when it mattered.

Last updated on the April 30th 2025

Welcome to Triad Weyrs!

The Knock at the Door