The Golden Glow

[B'kay]

He didn't remember having come here. He barely remembered anything at all, other than the golden magic of flight, and he/Syth being wrapped around Kitari/Lefayeth. Which was which, dragon or rider? It didn't matter, nothing mattered ...

... but This.

He sat in the chair beside her bed, having just placed a steaming cup of klah on the nightstand, his own first cup cradled against his chest. She was still sleeping, for it was barely light, and he really didn't care where the day before and the night had gone. He had just peeked out toward the dragon couch, to see the entwined hides of soft glowing gold and deep burnished bronze, their rib-cages rising and falling in unison.

All was, at this moment on this mad planet circling the slumbering Rukbat ... Peace.

He knew it wouldn't last long, but he didn't care. This was the moment, This was all that mattered.

The klah had never tasted so good, and he inhaled the spicy steam before taking his second sip. It rolled around on his tongue, warmed his throat, and he felt the heat spread through his chest as he swallowed.

That warmth ... it permeated every cell, rose to the heights of bliss, and emerged in a deep, contented sigh.

This.

He was tempted to wake her, to ask her, "Was This what you wanted? Did you want This as badly as I?" But he thought he already knew the answer.

It came through the touch, it came through the dragons, meshed by passion and deep emotion. Maybe it was better not to ask at all.

Then, a disturbing thought. Which Queen had been caught first? Who was Weyrwoman? And, oh shards.... who was Weyrleader?

Weyrleader? His hand shook for a moment, but he stilled it, stilled the thought, willed the Peace to return.

That didn't matter, not right now. Not when he had This Moment.

This was all that mattered.....

[Kitari]

Sleep's lingering embrace was slow to withdraw, and Kitari almost dreaded its release. All of Pern, from every anxious memory, looming duty, and haunting fear, had vanished at the moment that two souls had joined, when bronze neck had entwined with gold, and B'kay enfolded her in his arms. To retreat from sleep was to return to the world of obligation, where the Weyr needed her, and there was little time for happiness. No, this place was much better, here in this embrace...

Kitari felt suddenly cold. She'd only been imagining the continued touch, the warm presence enfolding her; it was the last tendril of a dream now slipping away. The young woman felt a brush of fear as her mind disentangled itself from slumber, and her groping senses alerted her that the bed was empty, the furs now cold. He was gone.

That intoxicating fear grew with every breath, until the goldrider's eyes flickered open, and she turned her head on the pillow, straining to pick out the form she needed to see in the shadowy chamber.

There.

He was sitting there, waiting for her. B'kay hadn't left. And maybe...he never would.

The relief was so tangible she could taste it, the bitterness of fear washing away. For a moment longer, she didn't move, watching the dark man as he watched her in turn. What to say, what to say? To end a moment like this, in which words were so unnecessary, so cumbersome? It seemed wrong, somehow...the silence was perfection. To lie like this forever, watching him...

But now she was just being silly. Kitari gave a mental shake of her head and sat up, pulling the furs close both for warmth and cover. She brushed a black curl from her cheek and smiled, then paused a second longer. "Thank you," she murmured at last, before shuddering inwardly at how awkward it sounded. It was gratitude for a million things: for Syth being the one to catch Lefayeth, for B'kay seeing through her independent and unpenetrable front, for a day and a night of forgetting about Threadfall and politics and pain...

"I mean...I'm glad. It was you." It was a chance she was taking, and Kitari knew it. What if she'd misread, what if he wasn't at all pleased, what if he had been hoping it would be Alana and didn't realize the mistake until he'd awoken...

Words complicated everything!

[B'kay]

Kitari stirred and opened her eyes, and B'kay became suddenly aware of the ugly scars on his face, the patch of missing hair, and his heart sped up. He fought down the sudden, ridiculous urge to turn, to hide his deformity from her.

Her words, however, "I'm glad it was you," were filled with such sincerity and an innocent uncertainty that caused that heart to skip a beat. Such things, he knew, didn't matter to Kitari. She had always accepted him for who he was, and that was why he....

At that moment, a deep, baritone, rumbling sigh sounded from the dragon couch. It was a sound of contentment, of perfection, of ... love.

And B'kay smiled.

"I'm very glad, too," the bronzerider said, willing all shields to lower, for deep inside he knew that, of all places on Pern, here his emotions were safe. "I don't know what I'd have done if another dragon had caught Lefayeth." The latter he spoke softly, in a whisper, the distant look in his eyes speaking of his sincerity.

He shifted from the chair, to the edge of the bed, and took the hot mug of klah from the sidetable. He held it out to her.

"Thought you might need this as much as I did this morning," he smiled, catching her eyes with his, willing her to see the hope in his gaze.

[Kitari]

B'kay was always so distant, always had been. It was the rare moment that he was caught with his emotions exposed, and even then, Kitari was unsure. She had never had to deal with this kind of challenge, interpreting complicated emotions and the like. When one was working, everything was clear: the sails needed to be hauled round to shift the vessel into the wind. In those days, the girl had never even fancied finding herself in a situation like this. Independent and alone forever, that had been the plan! Before Lefayeth. Before everything had changed.

And now she was sitting in her bed, clinging to her furs for reassurance as much as warmth, and watching a dark man's eyes for a clue to his thoughts, to his reaction to her plea. Kitari had never intended to feel this vulnerable, ever, and the waiting was almost more painful than a rejection might be.

Then, the smile came. Breaking through the dark visage like a ray of light, a ray of hope, and Kitari nearly melted with relief. She hadn't realized how tense she was, how paralyzed by uncertainty, until it all seeped away. He spoke, and she smiled in return, shocked to hear the edge of fear in his tone when he mentioned the possibility of another dragon catching her Lefayeth. It was more than she could have expected, to be sure. Not only pleased with the results, but relieved. Just like she was.

As he stood to move to the bed, Kitari's blue eyes lifted, following him, and she gratefully took the proffered cup of klah in one hand, while the other still gripped the furs. She smiled again, nodding and taking a generous sip. Still warm. He hadn't been awake much longer than she, then. "Very much so. Thank you."

She paused, looking at him then. His eyes had caught hers, and her gaze couldn't help but be drawn to the scars tracing the side of his face, their lines thrown into relief by the growing light outside. Without realizing it, Kitari shifted the mug to the hand still holding up the furs, and her other reached out. Gently, oh so gently, she brushed her fingertips against one of the wicked scars, feeling the pain of it slice through her like a blade. Her features fell slightly, clouded by a moment of unhappiness. How cruel that B'kay had suffered so much. It wasn't fair; no one should have to endure such pain.

"Does it still hurt?" she whispered, unconscious of the question until after it was spoken. Kitari flushed abruptly, wondering if he would be displeased with the query, and drew her hand away. "I'm sorry," she murmured, eyes flickering down to fix on the mug of klah.

Lefayeth's mind touched hers drowsily, then, as the gold began to rise to wakefulness. The Queen's contentment was so profuse, so profound, that she barely registered her rider's moment of discomfort. Syth, her voice called softly, as a gently whirling eye slid open to regard her new mate. She was aglow with smug pleasure, quite pleased with herself after that Flight. The drama in the skies with Gwynevith was easily forgotten, for all had ended well.

[B'kay]

B'kay watched, eyes unshaded, his emotions shining forth, as Kitari took her first sip of klah.

And then... he froze.

Her hand reached up, as light as a feather, and brushed his scar. The ugliness, the harsh features, the grotesque visage that looked back at him from the glass....

She touched it.

The bronzerider was overcome with a myriad of emotions. Shame, warmth, horror, love, fear ... oh, such fear. His stomach roiled. How could such a beautiful woman be pleased to wake beside such a monster?

For someone who prides himself on his stoicism, Mine, you are SO vain!

Stunned, B'kay turned toward the dragon couch, and could just see the entwined hides of Syth and Lefayeth. His dragon had not appeared to have moved, nor paid any attention to his rider's dilemma at all. Yet the bronze had reached right to the depths of B'kay's fear and yanked it to the surface.

It was not vanity such as some might experience, though. It was a vanity born of the fear of ... pity.

His worry deepened, and he turned back to the Gold Rider. He searched her face. Concern he saw there, and deep emotions -- but not pity. Her apology had been more that of one who might have overstepped some personal boundary.

Or had it?

He became suddenly aware of his long silence, aware that she may be misinterpreting. But how could she misinterpret his emotions, when he didn't even understand them himself?

He sighed.

"No," he said softly, cautiously. "Don't be sorry, it's okay." He tried hard not to feel himself closing off, becoming guarded. Not with her.

He shifted uncomfortably, and yet reached down to gently touch her hand. "Sometimes ... they hurt, sometimes. But not all the time. Not, not right now."

Well, there, that was a smooth delivery. Why was this so hard?

Syth stirred then at last, and, before winding himself more tightly around Lefayeth ... his own and only Lefayeth ... he send warm, contented emotions to his rider. B'kay found himself engulfed completely, just for a moment, in his dragon's total bliss.

His face softened and he turned back to the rider of his dragon's mate ... to his own mate? He wanted this so badly, and he wanted it to be perfect.

"But ... I'm not perfect," he said, and only after he'd done so, he realized he had spoken aloud.

[Kitari]

((I am soooooooo sorry for the ridiculous delay.... Most of my free time has been at work, and I didn't quite feel comfortable writing posts for this read with people glancing over my shoulder ))

As varying emotions flickered across B'kay's face in the moments after her light touch, Kitari tucked her hand securely around the mug again, as if to better control it. She watched, wary and unsure, for his reaction, while unwittingly gripping the hot mug tightly enough to create an unpleasant, prickly feeling at her fingertips. None of this mattered, of course; physical distress meant nothing in a moment of psychological anxiety. Had she gone too far? Dared too much? He was so private with his thoughts; there was no reason he would want to share that horrible experience and the pain he had suffered with her, even after what they had shared.

But no, he was sighing. In resignation? At the memory of his pain? Kitari watched B'kay closely as he spoke, assuring her that he wasn't upset. Her eyes followed his hand as it reached out to touch hers ever so softly, and her grip on the mug relaxed almost instantly. She looked up again at his comment regarding occasional bouts of pain and felt her stomach twist inside. So they did hurt him, still. It was too awful to think about. And she had just ruined what could have been a lovely morning by reminding him of the horrible suffering he and Syth had endured, still endured...

Again that flicker of uncertainty. Ridiculous, but true! Normally, she was confident in every situation, but she'd never had so much on the line before. Maybe this was why she had often sworn she would never fall for a man...

Truly, Kitari-mine? You are too proud, I think, Lefayeth interceded gently, tone humourous. This is a good match. Good for you.

"You think so?" Kitari replied sarcastically, unconsciously speaking aloud. Unfortunately for the goldrider, her query came immediately after B'kay's quiet admission of his imperfection. As his words belatedly reached her ears, the girl's pale blue eyes widened in shock and horror, and she froze on the spot.

Suddenly, inspiration struck.

"It's good," she added hastily, flashing a small yet slightly apprehensive smile. "We have something in common."

With that, Kitari twisted her form, turning so that B'kay could see her back. Though holding the furs up to her collarbone in the front, her back was completely bared, and there on her left shoulder was a thin white scar. "Stray hook," she murmured, smiling more warmly now.

Good recovery, Lefayeth commented. Then, after a mental glare from her rider, she reached out to B'kay. I apologize for distracting mine-own while she was conversing with you. I'll leave you two, to it, then. Humming gently, she tilted her head to regard Syth. After all, I have plenty to distract me out here...

[B'kay]

B'kay's mind warred with his emotions as he slowly relaxed, feeling the bond of the dragons, accepting their counterpart that he felt, so very deeply, for Kitari. When Kitari responded, "You think so?" to his inadvertent words about his own imperfection, he was surprised, but almost chuckled -- until she turned around and he saw the scar.

Without thinking, he reached out and ran his touch, light as a feather, along the line. "That went deep," he said, noting how the edges had not quite come together evenly. The bond deepened, and he was about to lean toward her, to kiss that soft shoulder, when he was washed through and through with a warmth that he had never thought to experience.

Lefayeth spoke to him.

Stunned almost to tears, he turned toward the dragons, felt their deep connection, and how that spread outward to encompass the riders. No emotion could touch so deeply. It filled his heart, tore at his soul with gentle fingers, and he said, aloud, spreading his words to follow the feelings,

"I love you."

Syth, more pleased, more satisfied, more fulfilled than any bronze dragon could ever hope to be, responded, pulling Kitari's thoughts into the embrace to be sure she could hear,

We love you, too.

[Kitari]

The cool touch along her scar caused Kitari to shiver, even though she had expected it to come. She had shown him the scar on impulse, curious how he'd react. A part of her had hoped for, anticipated this, and she stayed turned, breathing slowly and wondering what he would do or say next. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as she sensed a shift in B'kay closer to her.

But he stopped, and her eyes were closed, waiting. The words came out in a rush and left her without air, though they had not come from her lips. 'I love you.'

Kitari didn't move, didn't think, just sat there with the furs gripped close.

Love. One loved their dragon from Impression, loved their parents from birth. But falling in love; that was something different. She had never fancied herself to be the romantic type. Men were companions, friends, and colleagues, and Kitari had never wanted or imagined more. She'd pictured herself forever a free spirit, demanding more independence with every step in her life, and especially independence from men.

But this was different. A different sort of dependency. This was comfortable, and reassuring, and right. She wouldn't be losing herself in making such a commitment, nor would she threaten the independence she'd worked towards. There was nothing wrong with having someone to turn to, someone to feel safe with.

Love?

Syth's thoughts, intermingled with her Lefayeth's, brushed her mind, as feathery light as B'kay's touch upon her scar had been. Kitari absorbed the love from the dragons, breathing it deeply into her being. Why was it so much easier to be loved by dragons than by a man? Well, she reasoned, there was far less risk there. Dragons did not betray...it was not in their nature.

But neither was it in B'kay's, and she believed that utterly.

Kitari turned then, gazing upward at B'kay with decision in her eyes. "And I," she murmured, voice softer than she had expected, "love you." With that, she took a chance, took a leap, and knew that she couldn't fall.