Here she questioned our dilemma,
Here it was she found out how,
Here she strove for our tomorrow, but no tomorrow for her now

First Night of Turn's End, 13.25.02 of the Ninth Pass

Finding solace with Pridith on their ledge, Kylara nestled between her queen's forelegs and watched the Ghosts whiz through the inky dark skies. Nearly three years after Lessa's ill-fated return with the Oldtimers, the Masterharper had early that evening unveiled his ballad honoring the decreased Weyrwoman's heroic deeds. Kylara had applauded with the rest and left the performance in a livid whirl of red skirts. Scorch the man for extolling Lessa's virtues!

Mnementh's rider comes to see you, Pridith informed her.

Is he bringing wine? she responded more acidly than intended. She winced at her own rancor, quick to offer the queen warm feelings of heartfelt love and apology. Pridith nudged her with her muzzle, and Kylara lifted a hand to lovingly pat the velvety soft nose. Then she stood, fluffing her skirts and readjusting her bodice. She smoothed the panel of fabric over her flat stomach, glad she now understood that particular trick of between—the only useful thing she'd learned from that sanctimonious wherry, Mardra. Ruathans!

Pridith crooned, concerned at her rider's strong emotion. Kylara kissed the dragon's cheek. "I'm fine, Pridith."

"What has you out here tonight, Kylara?" F'lar asked her.

She whirled around, skirts and heavy braid flying, and leaned back against Pridith's chest for warmth. "The Ghost Showers, of course."

"You left early," he said, accusatory.

"I stayed for a rousing rendition of Robinton's new ballad. I told T'bor I would stay for that and nothing more."

"You insulted the Harpers." He pulled a flask out of his jacket pocket and took a swig.

"Hardly!" Kylara eyed him in the moonlight. She'd heard he'd stopped drinking, so what had brought this on? The man still mooning for poor, dear, dead Lessa? He extended the flask to her. She grabbed it from him, took a drink, and grimaced. She handed it back to him. "This is what you're drinking these days?"

F'lar shrugged. "It's not so bad when you're already half drunk."

"No one with taste would drink that," she huffed. "What do you want, F'lar?"

"Was curious if you'd left to meet someone while T'bor was left with the Harpers..."

"No. Are you offering?"

"If you want a new Weyrleader, stop sleeping around."

"Don't dare to lecture me, F'lar!"

He held up his hands as if to ward off a blow. "The men feel sympathy for him."

Incredulous, Kylara sniffed in her disdain. "And no one feels sympathy for me putting up with that wet blanket?"

"Well, they would if you were more discreet."

"Humph!"

She turned away from him to scratch at Pridith's eye ridges.

She heard F'lar take another swig of drink. "Every man has pride, you know."

"And I have Pridith."

"And a heap of vanity," F'lar drawled.

Kylara spun around, furious ... and then she smiled sweetly at him. There was no use rising to his bait. "Oh, F'lar, why so critical this evening?"

He shrugged. "You're not her."

"Who?" Kylara feigned ignorance.

"Lessa!"

"How silly! Of course I'm not her!"

"She was the finest Weyrwoman Pern has seen in..."

"Yes, so Robinton's ballad said," Kylara said, yawning loudly. She returned her attention to Pridith.

"If she was still alive..."

"Well, she's not!" Kylara snapped.

"You..." Angry, he waggled a finger at her. He didn't dare touch her, as close as they were to her queen.

"F'lar, I am not some weak, biddable Weyrwoman, but you didn't want that when you told me Pridith was mine, did you? No, do not dare to interrupt me! You wanted someone with the strength to command Pern's attention, while somehow you and Lessa expected me to do your bidding. But today, I am Weyrwomen of Benden, and Pern looks to me where they can't look to Mardra!"

"Lessa was everything," he told her.

"Oh, find another woman, F'lar!"

"I can't, not with what happened."

"It doesn't have to be love."

"If you haven't experienced it, you wouldn't understand."

She grabbed his jacket collar and yanked him towards her. Drunk, he didn't resist. She planted a kiss on his lips, and then stepped back against Pridith, smiling slyly at him, "You've helped me understand true love, F'lar. Now give me that flask and be gone. Shoo! To your weyr!"

"Pridith flies soon," he muttered.

Kylara snatched the flask from him, interrupting him as he began protesting. "How observant of you, wingleader! Be gone before T'bor gets back!"

F'lar flicked his hair out of his eyes. "Now you care?"

She took a swig of his liquor and, grimacing, wiped her mouth. The liquor wasn't fit for a Threadscored rider. She cleared her throat and sweetly said, "You did tell me that if I wanted a new Weyrleader, I should make myself sympathetic."

He shook his head and reached for his flask. She held it out of his reach.

"Give me my flask."

"Sober up, F'lar!" she turned away from him. Pridith rumbled and nudged F'lar.

Kylara smiled to herself as she heard F'lar walking away. He was pathetic now, just like the rest of them.

Author's Notes:

So ... if the stanza at the beginning held a touch of familiarity, it happened like this. I ended up listening to a ton of Bach while writing, followed for some reason by the Les Mis soundtrack while editing. So, yes, the stanza at the beginning is filk off of some lines from "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables". Felt oddly appropriate.

I'd always wondered what had happened if Lessa had died bringing the Oldtimers forward, and I've seen all of one (!) AU exploring what if Kylara became Weyrwoman of Benden (said fic by astrokath over on Ao# is phenomenal, by the way). I ended up rereading the parts of DF & DQ involving or mentioning Kylara. I compiled a short list of questions that could be explored via a series of vignettes under the premise of "Kylara takes over Benden Weyr when Lessa dies"

So, my thoughts. Kylara is still a promiscuous egotist in the scenes I've outlined, but as the Weyrwoman of a traditional Weyr earlier in her life, I haven't decided yet if she'll end up bent on world domination. I've long thought she felt being Weyrwoman of Southern Weyr was an insult to her as someone of the Telgar Blood and that her resentment towards Lessa stemmed from feeling like Lessa had 'exiled' her to Southern to keep her away from F'lar.

if you have any questions you think I should explore with these vignettes, please let me know.