Spock let them prepare him, his face stone.
His mother helped fold the ceremonial robes over his shoulders, her face proud. He lowered his eyes to the ornate tiles beneath his feet.
And thought of her.
Her hair had been so soft under his fingers last night. Soft and full of the scent he knew now even in his deepest dreams.
The lines of his brow eased. His father settled the heavy weight of his House stones over his shoulders. Spock did not notice.
The light of the stars had made her eyes bright as she lay beneath him in their secret place. Her lips had murmured gentle comforts to his ears, even as her hands had eased him.
Spock forced his mind to turn from the memory. His mother bound his feet into the traditional sandals and his father clasped the wrought wristlets around his hands.
He doubted the Lady T'Pring ever spoke in anything less than Vulcan.
It would not be proper. And the Lady T'Pring was never anything less than proper.
"Spock?"
He lifted his eyes to see his mother.
She covered her head with the customary white hood and bowed to him. "Thee brings honor to this House."
He found it difficult to swallow.
His father, head high, was as proud as Spock had ever seen him. Sarek thought they shared a bond over this moment. It glowed in his eyes.
It was painful.
"The sun sets, my son," Sarek said, "it is time for thee to meet thy wife."
Spock followed his father up the mountain.
The setting sun burned his eyes. He found that he did not care. Instead, he let his feet find the path blindly.
His mind found the path to her more easily.
Vulcan's wind stirred his robes and Spock allowed the smallest of sighs to escape. It had been arranged since childhood. The two most powerful Houses on Vulcan would at last unite. His marriage to the Lady T'Pring, descendent of Surak himself, would secure . . . everything.
She was not . . . unpleasant, the Lady T'Pring. Reserved and porcelain-skinned, she was the essence of Vulcan. Her name was spoken of with the highest respect–even in the Halls of Gol. It was an honor to be given to her as mate.
Except he preferred her. She who held no name, no House. Only a rank in StarFleet.
And his heart.
They reached the ancient grounds, ringed with ceremonial guards. T'Pau spoke, commanding silence.
Spock stopped listening.
They had walked often in the desert. Always in the empty places. And always in the night. He had not left Vulcan since the mission to Hellguard. He had committed himself to easing hybrids and the families victimized by Romulans together.
Except one of Hellguard's daughters had not come here. She had stayed in the stars for many years, speaking for herself, forging her way.
Spock pressed his folded hands to his lips.
Never in all those years had he spoke against his union to T'Pring. Why not?
Because it had not mattered. It was always in the future, no real meaning to it.
Against was not a thought he had then.
It misled his parents on his wishes.
Spock's eyes softened.
It had not mattered once she came, claiming her right to Vulcan at last. It had not mattered that he had not ventured away in that time. She had held enough stars in her for them both.
Against was a thought he learned then.
The bells cascaded.
A terrible resignation filled him.
Now she was as untouchable as the stars.
He lowered his head.
And went to strike the gong.
"Kalifee!" I challenge!
Heads turned in shock and Spock felt his heart leap. She stood, proud and defiant, and so fiercely beautiful in Vulcan's harsh light. She gripped a fighting lirpa with all the casual power of a warrior and its sharp edge glittered bitterly against the sands. Her eyes were on the Lady T'Pring and Spock felt a terrible shiver. He knew that look. From Thieurrull. It was the look a predator gives its prey.
T'Pau rose in full majesty. "Who are thee to challenge?"
Her chin rose. "I am Saavik, Daughter of Vulcan."
The claim was true. No one could argue against it.
She pointed the lirpa at the Lady T'Pring. "I challenge for Spock, Son of Sarek.
Choose your champion – or concede right of possession."
Everyone looked at the Lady T'Pring.
And Spock felt a sense of horror when she calmly laid aside her elegant robes and took a lirpa.
T'Pau shifted, then put out a hand. "Child, thee are not a warrior."
Spock understood. T'Pau was trying to save the lady's honor. And her life. There was no mistaking the smooth muscular lines of Saavik's body–or the look in her eyes.
But the Lady T'Pring would not bow.
They fought and looking back, Spock knew that it lasted only ten point four three minutes–and that, only because Saavik allowed it. Ironically, to grant T'Pring respect for her courage.
But the end was inevitable as Vulcan's heat.
Saavik struck the gong with the weighted end of her lirpa and it was done, blood dripping into hot read sands.
It was dark by the time they were alone atop the mountain. She still gripped the lirpa protectively but now her eyes were lowered, suddenly shy of him.
Spock stepped close and took her face into his hands, lifting her chin until her eyes followed and met his.
They stood that way for a very long time.
Then he bent forward and his hand stroked hers beneath the stars.