Note on Timeline: This is set late in the Interval after Lessa's adventures, but completely ignores anything that happened after The White Dragon. I hated the stuff that occurred in All The Weyrs of Pern and after; it completely destroyed the interesting driving force behind the Pernese dragons for me.
"Really, Gigalith?" Wingleader G'shern whispered as he patted the neck of his bronze behemoth. "You think he, out of all the boys here, will Impress?"
Yes. Him. Acrid breath seared his nostrils as his dragon blew into his hair reproachfully. Trust me.
With a rueful shake of his head the dragonrider observed the boy in question. A tall, lean (unhealthily thin, really) youth of fifteen, quietly observing the gathering of young men with the coldest blue eyes G'shern had ever seen. His adopted family members were Smiths by trade, but this slender young boy (and the tiny younger brother he'd seen lurking around the youth's heels) was obviously not suited to the physical labor required. Something in the eyes, though, gave G'shern pause; a cold, calculating intelligence that was far beyond this young boy's years. On his initial wanderings through the crafthold he'd seen signs of a precise hand correcting many small details on a new creation, and he'd seen from a distance the tall boy being shooed away from a hot piece of metal… only to later hear the master complaining about a flaw that should've been corrected before the piece cooled. Obviously the fosterling had a keen mind behind those cold eyes.
The Weyr needed that intelligence, though he hated having to present such a promising lad before the measly clutch Shareth had laid. Oh well, maybe he wouldn't Impress and they could save him for a better clutch. He was young for the Weyr; growing up a year or so among the dragons would do him good.
"What's your name, youngling?" Death glares from some of the older boys quickly followed his question. He chuckled inwardly; jealousy wouldn't have gotten them anywhere with the dragons. Blue eyes boldly met his.
"My name is Seto, dragonrider." A surprisingly gentle hand rested on the mop of black hair hiding behind his legs. "And this is my brother Mokuba." G'shern spared a glance to the younger boy, who was staring at the dragons in fascination. The little one was tiny and only slightly less scrawny than his brother; he would be willing to bet they were bullied out of meals by the older fosterlings. That Mokuba's first instinct when faced with a stranger was to hide behind his brother was unsettling as well. They obviously weren't appreciated here.
"What do you think of the younger one, Gigalith?" The dragon extended his head and took a sniff of the younger boy. After a moment of wide-eyed fear, the boy extended a trembling hand to rest on the soft nose. G'shern smiled at the little one's bravery, obviously bolstered by Seto's quiet calmness even in the face of the giant flying beast.
He has potential, was the dragon's assessment of the younger brother. Young but brave, and if he turned out anything like his brother… G'shern nodded. Both of these two deserved a chance. There were many other Weyr-brats about Mokuba's age, he wouldn't want for company while he grew up. It was unusual, sure, but the intelligence of these two was obviously wasted on the hidebound Smiths. As much as it turned his stomach, he wasn't sure if they would even be there for Search when they approached a more traditional age. Best to strike quickly and take them now.
Grinning broadly and rocking back on his heels, G'shern met Seto's eyes.
"How would you like a chance to ride a dragon?" The blooming of hope in that icy blue felt like magic.
Nine eggs. The smallest clutch laid since the end of Threadfall. Not just a small clutch; some of the eggs were oddly colored, with unusually rough, pitted shells. Well, what could you expect from a junior queen bonded to a sweet, intelligent, but not very forceful girl? You needed strength to keep a mating queen from gorging, and Jessane… wasn't very strong-willed.
No one had high hopes for this clutch except Shareth herself. She had separated one egg, the most wrinkled and oddly-shaped of the bunch, and guarded it as jealously as a starving canine would a bone. There were bets quietly running through the Weyr that half the eggs wouldn't even hatch, like the three thick-shelled eggs from her last clutch. If that were true, well… It might be best to let Shareth chew some firestone.
The humming increased to an almost frantic pitch as the candidates entered the grounds, redirecting G'shern's thoughts. Young Seto was easily visible due to his height, towering over even the older candidates. He stepped forward boldly as the others held back, crossing his arms defiantly and watching the rocking eggs intently. The Wingleader nodded in approval.
"Bet you a patrol that he makes bronze, if there's one in this clutch." He met the green eyes of his Wingsecond T'rus, rider of brown Turath, and chuckled ruefully.
"Nope, not taking against that bet. He'll ride bronze for sure." A soft, dark chuckle from several rows down made them jump slightly.
At'emu, rider of the dark bronze Yamith, looked back at him with mischief sparkling in his ruby eyes.
"I'll take that bet, and I'll put up an Ista desert patrol as prize." The strange young rider, just now entering his nineteenth year, turned his attention back to the grounds. "That young man is meant for something more."
G'shern shivered. Brilliant rider and leader or not, At'emu gave him the creeps occasionally.
Below on the sands, the first eggs had shattered. Several blues and greens found their bondmates with heartbreaking creels changing to soft croons- by his count, six of the hatchlings were the smaller colors. The last two burst their shells- a brown, handsome but small, and wonder of all wonders- a bronze.
The Wingleader watched with anticipation as the bronze made his way towards the candidates, waiting for Seto to make his move… But the youth stayed still, watching dispassionately as the hatchling crooned to a boy standing next to him. His shoulders slumped in defeat. He'd been so sure…
They had all forgotten the "queen" egg. It shook rapidly, ferociously, before- to everyone's amazement- a shining white dragonet split the shell and flopped gracelessly to the sand, shrilling at the indignity.
G'shern swore. A white queen? That was unheard of! White males had been known to occur- white Ruth, bonded to a Lord Holder, for example- but white queens were entirely unheard of. Who was going to Impress her? The only female candidate had already Impressed a green, they hadn't expected the misshapen thing to hatch, much less to be a queen… Wait.
What was Seto doing?
The youth stalked forward to stand before the small queen, who had righted herself with a hiss. Hatchling and teenager stared at each other for a long moment. The entire Hatching Ground went silent, holding its collective breath with anticipation.
Whirling red eyes slowly calmed and shaded to a bright, pure blue. A quiet croon echoed through the chamber, echoed by the humming of the bronzes as Seto dropped to one knee and hugged the wedge-head close to his chest, instinctively stroking the soft eye ridge with reverence.
For the first time in Weyr history, a male Impressed a queen.
At'emu laughed softly and rose from his seat. "My next Ista patrol is scheduled in a sevenday. Thanks so much for taking it for me."
Ice blue eyes met his, burning with barely contained anger.
"She's mine. I'm hers. You can't separate us."
Well, not the best tone for the conversation to start with. Weyrleader P'redi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and reached for Iceroth for comfort. This was an Interval, and supposed to be an easy time to be a Weyrleader. He'd never wanted to deal with things like these.
"I'm going to guess that you heard J'dom's suggestion." The youth nodded with a huff. P'redi watched him, noting that even as the boy kept glaring his hands were busy feeding his queen.
G'shern had said the boy was intelligent. Lying would only make him more distrustful and defiant. Voicing his true concerns would be a disaster, though… Best to tell the truth, but not the whole truth.
"It's possible that she might not live long anyways; it's not uncommon for hatchlings with… birth defects… to waste away. It'd be kinder to save her any suffering." Not that the hatchling looked unhealthy, despite her odd coloring and small stature; her soft white hide was whole and unmarked, her wings were properly shaped, and her eyes were bright. No, the problem wasn't with the queen… It was with her rider.
A male queenrider? That could destroy the whole hierarchy of the Weyr. What would happen when she rose to mate? (IF she rose to mate, after all Ruth had been sterile.) Even if it meant the loss of a promising young rider, it would be better if this incident could be quietly erased. Now if only he could get the boy to understand.
"So you'd kill her, just because she might die?" One eyebrow raised, Seto gave him a dry look that clearly told his thoughts on that logic.
A rasping hiss came from the dragonet as she swallowed the last bit of meat her rider offered. Blue eyes, just beginning to take the red tinge of anger, locked on his.
I am NOT going to die, Weyrleader. An impatient slap of the tail. You might meet a very angry young queen if you keep trying to separate us.
P'redi jerked backwards. Shards and shells, this was the first time a mere hatchling had ever managed to speak to him without going through their rider; the little queen was unusual in more than color, it seemed. If she could manage that just out of the shell, what could she do full-grown?
"So we're agreed then. Kisarath and I will find our place in the Weyr, and there will be no more talk of ending her life." The Weyrleader started to protest that he had never made such a promise, but cold blue eyes locked him in place and stole his breath. A dark chuckle drew their attention.
"Well said, weyrling. Now, if your queen's appetite is sated for the moment, I can show you to your quarters."
At'emu stood there with a smirk on his face, absently running a hand through his insanely spiked dark red (almost black) hair, brushing blond bangs out of his face. P'redi inwardly cursed himself as he felt Iceroth growl. The bronzerider was just a bit too clever for his liking.
"Now, wait just a minute At'emu-"
"Oh, you don't need to worry, Weyrleader, I'll see Seto to his weyr safe and sound." A devious smirk countered his protests and red eyes challenged him with a quirk of a raised eyebrow. The Weyrleader could feel his authority sliding through his fingers but couldn't think of a way to snatch it back without appearing weak and indecisive. Clenching his teeth in impotent fury he gave a sharp nod to the bronze rider and stepped back to watch their interaction.
The little queen hummed and arched her neck lightly as Yamith bent his great dark head down to her, his almost black hide giving him an eerie silhouette in the early twilight gloom. P'redi frowned as he watched 'Temu give a sly smile and offer young Seto a helping hand. Befriending this odd young queenrider, undermining his authority in the process… The bronzerider was up to something. And he had no idea how to stop him.
Sitting on the great bronze neck as the dragon conveyed him- them- to their quarters gave Seto time to compose himself. Kisarath was nestled into his lap, head lifted to the wind and eyes glimmering a beautiful pale blue.
This perfect little creature had chosen to add her strength to his. Chosen him to be her bondmate, over many who were surely more worthy…
I chose you because you did not fear the unknown. I am different, that I knew before I split the shell. The others drew back from me. You stepped forward. A gentle flick of her tail against his thigh. Do not doubt yourself. I believe in you. Coming from a less than two-hour old creature it shouldn't have been as reassuring as it was, but she knew his mind and his heart as well as he knew hers. Maybe she was right.
Of course I'm right. She hummed softly, regal and beautiful and perfect.
There was a soft thump as the bronze set down on a ledge. The rider behind him shifted slightly and the dragon knelt to bring them closer to the ground.
"Down you go, weyrling." Seto ignored the hand offered to him and slid down the soft-hided shoulder, cradling his queen in his arms. The short man chuckled. "Stubborn, aren't you?"
Seto gave him a flat look that spoke more than words ever could. The rider only smiled back.
"That stubbornness will do you well here, young man. If you ever do end up needing help, though, don't be afraid to call for me."
"I'll remember that, bronzerider." Another smile, a glint of white teeth in the twilight.
"It's At'emu, youngling. You're part of the Weyr now." The dark bronze (Seto had never seen anything like him, nearly black in color) neatly turned himself on the ledge to leave. "The Weyrlingmaster will wake you in the morning, if your queen doesn't rouse you first. He will instruct you in how to care for your dragonet and your duties in the Weyr." He gave a flippant wave as Yamith prepared to launch. "Good luck, young queenrider."
Seto scowled and turned towards the couch, intending to settle Kisarath and then go find his brother.
"We're going to need all the luck and cleverness we can manage." He murmured to his sleepy queen, gently tapping her nose as she settled onto the couch. She huffed and touched her nose to his before tucking her head under her wing and promptly falling asleep.
Recalling the mental map he had made of the Weyr during their initial tour, Seto ghosted down to the lower caverns to find Mokuba. He had hurriedly dressed in the clothes he'd brought with him and carried the white candidate's robe under his arm, unsure what exactly to do with it.
He entered the bustling caverns, filled with weyrfolk hurrying around to make sure the feast platters were kept full and everyone was satisfied. He managed to weave himself into the crowd unnoticed- slumping a little took the edge off of his height, and as long as you weren't wearing something distinctive and didn't bump into anyone most people were too busy to notice a new face.
Key word there being "most".
"Come to join the festivities, Weyrling?" Instinctively Seto jerked away from the arm the headwoman wrapped around him, though he did his best not to glare. In the few days before the Hatching, sitting and observing the goings-on, he had realized that Gamorra was just that kind of person- loud, friendly, and tactile. Didn't mean he had to like it though.
"Oh, don't be like that. Here, give me those robes, I'll take care of them." They were quickly snatched from his arms. "I last saw your brother hanging around the sweets table. Go find him and get something to eat- you're far too skinny. Just don't stay up too late, hatchlings rise early and hungry!"
With that she swept away to manage the carving of a new herdbeast, leaving his head whirling a little with the speed of her speech. He made his way out to the serving tables.
Thankfully he saw the dark mop of hair running towards him before impact, and he managed to catch Mokuba as the youngster slammed into him and latched on in a fierce hug. Bright blue eyes stared up at him joyfully.
"You Impressed, big brother! You impressed a dragon!" Mokuba had the good sense to keep his voice down, but Seto could feel the eyes on them. He ignored them all and hoisted his brother onto his hip. (Mokuba was far too small for his age… A constant worry, since nobody at the crafthold had ever cared enough to listen to his concerns or pay enough attention to either of them.)
"I did. She's absolutely wonderful." He moved off towards the food line. Mokuba bounced a little in his arms.
"What's her name?"
"Kisarath." He couldn't keep the affection out of his voice, the back of his mind filled with the subtle warmth of his peacefully sleeping queen.
He set his brother down at the end of the line so they could each take a plate. Seto heaped the greens onto his brother's plate despite his halfhearted protests and made sure he got a decent portion of meat as well; old habits were hard to break.
They claimed a small table to the edge of the grounds, sitting with their backs to the wall to watch the dancing and singing. In between bites they talked.
"You'll be alright by yourself in the caverns?"
"Yeah, I'll be okay. I made friends with some of the other boys, and the minders don't let the big kids pick on us if they catch them."
"Good. You know where to find me if you need me; I'll answer you. Always." Mokuba beamed at him.
"I know, big brother." They sat in companionable silence for a moment before Mokuba swallowed nervously, looking out on the revelry.
"Do you think they know about… Him?" Seto eyed the crowd warily.
"I don't know. We'll have to find out. Until then… You know the drill."
"Eyes open, mouth shut!" Seto smiled and ruffled his brother's hair with an approving nod.
Thankfully, most of the guests and Weyrfolk were too busy celebrating to bother the two boys quietly sitting off to the side. The few that glanced their way were quickly deterred by Seto's glare; he was tired, mentally overwhelmed by the day's events and he really didn't feel up to any sort of civilized conversation.
At Mokuba's first yawn, Seto took the opportunity to hustle his brother off to bed and leave the party behind. He quietly made his way back to his own quarters (and wasn't that a novel thought, having a room to himself) and slid under the covers of the large couch. The last thing he remembered before he fell asleep was a soft, slim white creature making her way into bed with him and curling up in his arms.
Their new life would start in the morning.
Author's Notes:
Wow, this is a monster of a fic (for me) and it isn't even finished yet. There will be at least one more chapter. And yes, I do have an actual plot for this. ;) It's not just Seto going to the Weyr because it's fun to write about (though that is certainly true).
Yes, I'm playing fast and loose with Yu-Gi-Oh names when adapting them to Pernese styles. Don't take them too seriously. Seto's name wasn't made into an honorific because he's a queenrider, in my headcanon. The first male queenrider, in this 'verse, so nobody really knows what to call him. (That, and it's really hard to make a nice honorific out of Seto. S'to? Se'to? Set'o? It's short enough already...)
Can't think of anything else witty to say, so have a quote:
"But how can we know that dragons did not exist? We have never actually BEEN to the Dark Ages."
― Cressida Cowell, A Hero's Guide to Deadly Dragons.
Hope you enjoyed, I would LOVE it if you reviewed. See you next chapter!