Daughters of Brutal Grandeur (Amenth's Flight)

[LyricalBlue]

The day dawned with a deep red sun and a line of clouds on the horizon that promised one of the vicious storms that the Southern Continent was famous for. The whole of the Weyr was restless, guards paced the bowl and two dragons stood on watch. Apprehension hung in the air as thick as stew, it blanketed and engulfed the populace so that everyone was jumping at shadows. The Weyrleaders had been gone since the previous evening, tracking the caravan that had stolen the eggs from under Sharieth's nose. And those on watch were dropping from a lack of sleep and over strung nerves.

The dawn was unusually quiet, the sounds of the birds and the wildlife dulled to the point, that high in the Weyr nothing was heard. The silence permeated and distorted the sense of apprehension so that almost none could sleep properly. Normal chores and duties felt like a farce, some weak attempt to reclaim normality. The whole of the world it seemed was waiting, waiting for some word about the stolen eggs.

The silent apprehension was broken, shattered like a child tearing out from its mother's womb. A dragon's infuriated scream ripped across the still air and moments later the warning bellows of the Watch dragons echoed after it.
A gold dragon hovered in the space above the bowl full of fury and wrath. A moment's inspection would reveal that this was none of Ponaa's resident Queens. For this dragon was frail and old, to such a point that it seemed that sheer will held her aloft. Her challenge ripped through the air again; mocking, demanding the attention of Ponaa's dragons.

If one could see the face of the rider on her back, it was a face twisted with anger and riotous indignation. Even if they did not identify themselves to the Watch Dragons, the pair could be none other than Yanra and Aerilith, the Weyrwoman of Ista and the oldest Queen alive on Pern.

Her challenge ricocheted off the Weyr walls once more and they swooped into the Weyr Bowl, landing with much less grace than a healthy dragon would have displayed. The old woman slipped off her decrepit gold's back and onto the floor.
"Ponaa!" She bellowed, her voice harsh and cracked. "Hear me! Ista will not tolerate your insults!" Yanra stood, small and defiant against the overhang of the Weyr's walls. But her cries went unanswered for a long time, for the Weyrleaders were in absence. Her ragged screams echoed hollowly save for the replying cries of the Watch Dragons .

[brimstone81]

Solarith rumbled from his ledge, and G'del came running out to stand by his bronze. There was a gold out there, a rather frail looking gold. This queen was definately not from Ponaa, Southern, or even Fort. The pair would have recognised her right away, and perhaps could have contacted her with out much thought. However, with the Weyrleaders gone, for G'del had stayed behind, who else would answer the clearly maddened weyrwoman? No one seemed to want to do it, so Solarith took G'del down and landed gracefully in the bowl. I hope this little woman does not kill me. I would not let her.

G'del proceeded to bow to the queenrider out of repect, as he lifted his eyes he looked to see if she were armed. The youngish rider stepped forward a few paces, giving the lady some room, but being close enough for conversation, "Milady, Weyrwoman, what seems to be the cause of your distress?"

[menta]

Ki'lair and Alazrath snapped to attention at the same moment. There was a disturbance outside. Ki'lair suited up and was one his dragon in moments, it was instinct. They took off and hovered for a few seconds to see where the noise was coming from and they spotted it. A goldrider...he spotted her and the bronze glided down slowly to her, they had a feeling something strange was going on as she yelled a great racket. It wasn't a Ponaa Queen, but she was still familiar, but from Weyr. as Alazrath got closer he knew who it was instantly. Yanra. He was from Ista after all, born and raised until his transfer here. He doubted that a visit from Yanra which begin with her screaming at the walls was a simple social call.

He noticed a fellow bronzerider already landed to inspect and joined him. He slid off of Alazrath and landed like a cat. He strode over to the woman, next to his fellow Ponaa rider. "Milady Weyrwoman," He said politely with a bow, but then let the other rider begin the discussion with her. He noted with some amusement the distance that was being kept from Weyrwoman Yanra.

[Memorie]

"Ponaa! Hear me! Ista will not tolerate your insults!" The words rang off of the high walls of the Weyr. Yanra's gold, Aerilith, echoed her rider's sentiments angrily. The old woman's mind wasn't working correctly. Most people did not know, but Yanra's mind had been deteriorating for upwards of two turns. The disease was known to Terran physicians and psychologists as a primary dementia. All the residents of Ista Weyr knew was that their Weyrwoman was increasingly dotty and senile. Some Pernese healers recognized the illness as abnormal, or would have, had Ista not kept the woman under careful watch. It was a miracle (or a scourge, depending on who was asked) that she's snuck out at all.

At one time, Yanra had been a courageous and brave woman, and had lived through times most riders only read about or listened to tales of. She'd been through recessions, when the holds hardly tithed at all. There had been a time were she had been one of the strongest people on Pern. And she still had a lot of will. Just not a lot of memory. The old woman did not remember that the eggs of Ponaa had been stolen, not insultingly given to Ista, and as such, was filled with the righteous indignation that would have been natural, if she were the young woman she once was and had Aerilith been producing any eggs at all. She didn't remember that she was old and bent; the Yanra she pictured was the Yanra in her thirtieth decade: young, strong, brave, and leader of an almost completely self-supporting Weyr.

Half a weyr away, a young gold dragon did not care about whatever reasons there might have been for a strange gold she had never met in her life to suddenly appear over her Weyr and start demanding attention away from the young gold herself. How dare she!

"I will kill her!" came the feral scream from the rider of the young gold. The now-mating dragon's rage had infected the rider. They were one. Amenth left her mostly eaten buck and launched into the air, screaming unholy rage. She flew to the Weyr Bowl to confront the older queen, leaving her half-minded rider far behind in the feeding grounds, with only a bronzerider (who had never been through a gold's mating flight before) to help her gain control.

Fury gripped the collective voice of the mating duo, and only the most basic screams and shrieks were intimated. Amenth's younger back was able to maneuver her better than Aerilith's would for her. The young queen twirled high in the air and dived for Aerilith. The old gold didn't have a chance.

Amenth's talons scraped old gold hide before Aerilith could rise in the air to defend herself. Her actions were motivated by her rider's deteriorating mind, and she was filled with rage, though of a different kind. Aerilith saw Amenth coming for her and took off higher. "I'll get her! She must be punished!" Tujal screamed.

Amenth, boosted by Tujal's backing, flapped harder to reach Aerilith. The two circled 'round and 'round before Amenth caught up. When she did, Aerilith turned in mid-air. It was a nasty trick that had the effect of seriously slicing Amenth's stomach open. It wasn't deep enough to spill guts or puncture lungs, but it still caused Tujal and Amenth a great deal of pain. "My belly! She slashed my belly!" Tujal clutched at her own front, which, of course, was not at all damaged. In the air, Amenth cried out in pain while Aerilith mocked her.

Amenth fell before she could gain control of herself again. When she did, she decided retribution would be served in the way it had been received. The young gold went to catch up with Aerilith, who was flying straight up in the air, in a purely perpendicular angle to the ground. Amenth caught the old gold and sunk her talons deep into the soft, recently oiled under-flesh of her stomach. Her claws groped around for purchase and found it: her ribcage. In the process, the left lung was punctured and the stomach lining was ruptured. Amenth quickly found the load too much too carry any further, and let go. Aerilith shrieked in terror and went between.

When she didn't reappear, several sounds fill the Weyr and its surrounding areas. Amenth shrieked her victory, with Tujal echoing on the ground. Their collective belly still hurt, and no doubt scarring would occur, but they had emerged victorious. Keens filled the air as the dragons mourned the loss of a queen. A lone scream rang out from Yanra, who, though her mind hadn't been whole in a long time, felt a flash of complete lucidity. "What have you done?" she asked, though no one could be sure who she addressed: herself or Tujal.

[hrsegrl]

F'dan had been with them at the Feeding grounds when the old woman's voice rang out. He watched Tujal transforming into a very enraged human being. Though he wasn't afraid for himself he was afraid for the old Queen. Something obviously was not right here. Roderith stopped eating his beast and watched the fight. "Oh no." Was all he could say to that. Someone needed to tell Lyrai what was going on. Roderith contact Zhariath and let her know Amenth is fighting another Gold...It is done.

He tried to reason with the young Goldrider but she was far too consumed by rage. "Tujal... come on. You can't give in to this." Obviously she could and now Amenth was injured. This flight could end up being disasterous. After the Queen was dead F'dan knew it wasn't over. He shook Tujal's shoulders a moment. She needed to snap out of it. Why did this have to happen to him. If Roderith hadn't been so hungry...

When he was finished mourning the death of the old Queen, Roderith looked back at his catch and began to blood. "Tujal." He looked back at his dragon and then Amenth. "Don't let her eat. She must only blood." Where was I'slen at a time like this? He should be the one instructing her. F'dan wasn't sure if Tujal could handle this after killing the other Queen pair.

[LyricalBlue]

At the first scream the Weyrling Master stopped dead in his tracks, a bolt of fear striking through his very core. He remained frozen in place, listening to that deadly quiet that followed that bitter ragged cry. Somehow that oppressive silence was far worse than the cry itself. It covered him in a cold sweat and he could bare begin to even think of moving. Then another dragon's challenging scream tore through the still air. I'slen turned in the next heartbeat and began to sprint towards the bowl. What in the world was going on?!

Out on his ledge, Weseaneth stood stiffly. His eyes went rapidly red and he swooped down into the Feeding Grounds.
She rises! There is another Queen here!
The bronze's voice was full of wild challenge and fear. Fear for Amenth and the other Queen, far more for the young Gold that he so cherished. I'slen increased his stride until he came out at the bowl, nearly breathless. He should run more... Too much desk duty was getting to him. His Grey eyes shot upwards as the Two Golds collided.
NO!

Weseaneth blooded his third kill then gathered himself up and shot into the air. Rage and desire propelling him faster than he would have ever moved otherwise. The Queens were grappling, he pumped his wings to get to them.
Separate them Wes!
I'slen stood on the ground, wide eyed, watching the unfolding event. Tujal! He glanced around for the young woman wildly and spotted her by F'dan. A guttural growl rose from his throat, something dark and primeval. F'dan.... He sprinted over to the pair of them and grabbed Tujal by the shoulders as she screamed.
"Tujal! Get ahold of her! Control Amenth!"

Another scream ripped through the still air, a ragged knife splintering through a dull surface. Then Aerilith was gone. Yanra screamed once more in echo then collapsed. That knife tore a hole through I'slen's very being. Not a gold, not like that. The wild drive of a mating dragon was drenched by cold ice. He glanced upwards as Amenth roared her victory.
Bring her down Wes! Shes hurt!

The bronze roared in pain, in loss, in wild passion. He soared higher, trying to get above the enraged Queen. If he could press her downwards there might be some chance. But he was a lone bronze. She could easily evade him if she wanted. Well not so easily! Weseaneth roared to get Amenth's attention. There would be time to keen later. He wanted her now!

[brimstone81]

She's rising. Amenth's Rising. Solarith said in a very solomn voice. It was his duty, and priviledge to fly after queens. He rather enjoyed flight, and took every chance he could to chase gold. He may have lost Sharieth, but perhaps he'd have better luck with Amenth. He had never caught a queen before, so now maybe this was his place to shine. But before they could react at all, the young queen attacked the old one. Their aerial dance proved to be a fatal one, and the old queen Aerilith went between and would never be seen again. The old rider, not far from G'del's own feet crumpled to the ground, defeated. Sympathy swept over the bronzerider, no one should ever have to loose their dragon that way. No one wanted to be left behind.

It was then that G'del noticed that Amenth was hurt. Solarith, look before he could finish, his bronze replied to him quietly, though with increasing viciousness, I see, beloved Amenth has been wounded. I will go to her. Is that wise? But already Solarith had gone to blood a beast and lifted his head to watch the gold and her bronze suitor, Weseaneth. Solarith would rise after Amenth too. His gold lust was rising. Solarith must rise to catch such a golden beauty.

[menta]

Everything happened to fast. Ki'layr watched with horror at the seen that unfolded above him. Although his instincts screamed for him to do something, he knew it would be suicide to get in between to Golds. A thought struck him...Amenth must be rising. Ki'layr couldn't stay still anymore, there was a bronze in the air already. He remounted Laz and they took off, but kept their distance from Amenth and Weseaneth. He wondered if she would still begin her flight, injured and after the death of a Queen.

Death of a Queen...a he thought it he felt a wave of sadness, as did Alazrath, but there was no time for mourning now. He realized, that even though they were in the air now, he was still at a lost of what to do. It seemed as if we on the sidelines for now, just waiting for what would happen next.

[FireThorne]

((I know my characters will not play a role in the Flight, but I thought it would be fun to show their responses to this bloody morning. Please lemme know if I need to delete it.))


T’ryus had been on guard duty since the afternoon before, and already his nerves were strung to the breaking point. The Weyrharper was by no means a mild man, and the outrage of the stolen eggs coupled with the long shift had rubbed his temper sore. Even Lyreth was snapping at him now, and he in return, which did not bode well for the day ahead. Both rider and dragon were tense and apprehensive, each listening for even the smallest of sounds or watching for the tiniest movement. It seemed a strange thing indeed not to be in the air with Beta, flying drills. The silence and tension that hung thick in the air was enough to drive a man mad, but the pair bore it mutely. Tujal had assigned them to watch duty over the eggs, along with several others, all of which looked just as haggard and strained as the harper himself. A’rik, an acquaintance of his through H’seo to name one, and many others, from a bronzer down to a cook. The goldrider had been choosy with her men.

Suddenly, a great cry sliced through the silence, and the green bellowed her warning to the entire weyr, joined by her fellow watch dragons. Lyreth’s mind became a jumble of heated words and indignation, but T’ryus was able to surmise the dragon was Ista’s queen Aerilith, which meant the rider was Yanra. As a harper, he knew nearly every rider on Pern. His brows knit together at the old woman’s cries, and the greenrider shook his head slowly. Ponaa had done nothing to Ista. Unfortunately, the Weyrleaders were gone, tracking the caravan through the guidance of H’seo, so who would answer the woman’s call?

Before T’ryus could think it through properly, however, two bronzes had already landed in the bowl and their riders were standing before the Weyrwoman. The Weyrharper only hoped they could smooth things over. He grunted harshly as the old goldrider repeated her challenge, then uttered a few choice words, none of which were at all flattering to the Istan. The man’s temper was already stretched well past his normal snapping point, and the fact that he had run out of quickal in his flask in the middle of the night did not help matters. He was starting to get irritated with the situation when Amenth appeared, and his face paled to a near-white. The young gold slashed the old queen’s hide, and the man felt blind panic seize him. “They must be stopped!” He screamed, and Lyreth accented his cry with a wild bellow. Yet, what could they do? Man and dragon watched helplessly as Aerilith betweened, Amenth bugling her victory proudly before the entire weyr. His green threw her head back and keened loudly, mourning the loss of a queen through the traditional death-song.

~~~~

Raelwyn numbly performed her chores, going about her daily habituals and duties like a dragonless one, only half alive. The stinging events of the past day were raw and fresh in her mind, leaving her eyes red from both tears and sleeplessness. She had only been at Ponaa a few sevendays, four at the most, but the weyr was already precious to her and it felt like home. To see the riders so strained and disheartened troubled her deeply, but she would never forget poor Sharieth as long as she held life in her body. The candidate could only feel the most profound compassion for the queen and her loss. Beating the skins before her only half-heartedly, the girl started violently and whirled around at the sound of the furious call behind her. Green eyes widening, Rael’s heart jumped madly. “A queen....but not of Ponaa.” She whispered softly, noting the other two candidates with her were just as shocked. The three of them stood as still as stone, listening to the woman’s indignant cries.

Finally, a bronze glided easily down to the bowl, and Rael instantly recognized the great form. ‘Solarith...’ She thought wildly, her heart jumping frantically again as she watched the muscular form of his rider stride toward the queenrider. “G’del!” She gasped, knowing full well the man was too far away to hear her. Something felt so...wrong about the situation, and she was worried for the Wingleader. He had been so kind to her....The candidate hoped nothing ill would befall him. Abruptly, Amenth appeared in the bowl before her, and the girl sucked in a breath as she watched the gold slash her claws through the older queen. A terrible chill cut through her body, making her feel as if she was encased in ice even in the Southern heat. Now she had no need to be worried for G’del, but Tujal....

Her green eyes snapped to a lone figure running across the bowl, and there was no mistaking that bright hair. “I’slen...” She said softly, watching the Weyrling Master dash to the young goldrider and grab her by her shoulders. The candidate could only hope he could get control of the queenrider. Behind them, creating a bloody backdrop for the terrifying scene, was Weseaneth, launching himself towards the queens. However, he was too late, and the strange gold betweened before he could act. The bronze’s roar was unlike anything Raelwyn had ever heard; it was heated, but mournful, burning with so much that she could not understand. She had no dragon, no ability to know exactly what was happening, and it nearly drove her mad. The gold was radiating a strange aura, but since the girl had always been taken to the safety of the lower caverns during queen Flights before she could not place the strange sensation. So much was happening so quick, Rael did not know what to do with herself.

[Memorie]

Weseaneth! All Amenth understood was that the greatest bronze was betraying her. Get away from me! She spied the other oncomers--Solarith, Roderith, Alazrath, to name a few--and took off for the skies. They would never catch her.

I'slen had appeared out of thin air and shaken her. He had said some words, angrily, but Tujal had not paid him any attention. All she knew was that she had emerged victorious...and tired. Suddenly she slumped. Energy running low, she clutched at his hands. "Aerilith is dead?" she asked stupidly.

Then it all hit her. The sudden appearance and subsequent anger. Amenth had gone after the great old queen and slashed her gut open. Aerilith had between, and Yanra, if she was even still alive, would be completely brain-dead for the rest of her elderly days. Few older riders lived through such a trauma; it was likely that her old heart had burst. But that was all in the past. Tujal had to take control of the now.

She concentrated and deciphered through all the emotions running through her consciousness. Those in the know had always told her that, because of her ability to understand all the dragons of Pern, her mating flight encounters would be more difficult to understand, and therefore, her dragon harder to control. But Amenth was the loudest voice she could hear. She heard the dragon taunting the males. She also heard the males wooing Amenth. The quietest voices were those of the browns, greens, and blues. They still mourned the loss of Aerilith...but Tujal had no time for that now. She could be contrite later.

Amenth...fly safe. There was nothing else to be said; Tujal began to become wrapped up in the Mating process, assisted by the passion of all the dragons.

There is no need. They can never, never catch me. None are worthy, came the snarky, smug answer. Tujal felt anger rising, but never got to reply. The pain to her gut returned as her consciousness melded once again with the rising gold's.

The bronzes, especially Weseaneth, had tried to interfere. They'd tried to stop her from doling out the necessary punishment to the old one. She had gotten what she deserved, and they were all traitors. Amenth didn't understand in her state of mind that they had actually tried to keep her from getting hurt. And while abstractly she knew she was hurt, she didn't care enough to stop. This day was her day of glory, and she would continue to reign in her august majesty.

The gold led the group of following bronzes through several tricksy maneuvers. Amenth enjoyed playing keep-away from the pursuers. She had been weighed down by the amount of actual food she had eaten beforehand, and this would make for a shorter flight, though Amenth didn't recognize that. Her full stomach, mixed with her lack of experience in mating, and her depleted energy levels, would ensure that her first mating wasn't as great as it should have been.

She flew on, taking great pains to evade grasping arms and to avoid tearing the soft hide on her slashed belly (which was now dripping ichor).

[menta]

Ki'layr was dropped off near Tujal and the other rider as it became apparent that there would be a flight. Alazrath roared and waited for Amenth to signal the beginning of the flight. He didn't even notice the wound on her stomach, for the power of the chase was taking him over. His eyes whirled. He ignored Amenth's warning and simply let out a great clarion in her direction.

He followed the Gold with other bronzes as the chase began. He had been in enough flights to know that she was just toying with them now and kept in the middle of the pack, not wanting to tire himself out so early over her antics. He hoped that the younger foolish ones would do so. He followed her with practiced ease, knowing that it would just get harder.

Back on the ground Ki'layr cast a warning glare in I'slen's direction. Once a flight began no male rider had the right to touch the Weyrwoman until the flight had ended. The heat of the flight was begining to flow into his eyes and he felt the familiar passion stirring. He held onto himself for now, he would relish easing into that state of exhilarating desire as the flight continued.

[Crimson]

R'dir had watched the entire fiasco from the opening to the lower caverns. Lornath had informed him, worriedly, when Aerilith had appeared, and he'd been present, albeit far away, when Yanra had begun her insane screechings. He'd watched wordlessly as Amenth's fury took her to the old queen, and killed her. His lower left eyelid twitched, but he said nothing. Lornath's keen had said enough for the both of them. R'dir felt a wrenching in his heart similar to when his father had brutally murdered his poor, innocent sister.

Anger rose in his chest, but was halted with Lornath's next few words. Mine, Amenth rises for mating! I follow! R'dir was not happy at these words, but Lornath needed a distraction. Unfortunately, if the bronze won, that meant that R'dir would be saddled with some dimglow young girl who couldn't control her dragon. R'dir sighed.

Fine. He jogged to join the group of men gathering around young Tujal. I'slen, the Weyrlingmaster, had her by the shoulders, but seemed to be giving mental directions to the dragon. Though R'dir didn't think he should "lay claim" to her quite yet, he didn't say anything.

[LyricalBlue]

Growling with barely suppressed primeval instincts, I'slen took a half step back from Tujal. That was it however; he would not allow these others to get too close. They had no right! He had fought too long and too hard to give her up to some heavy handed rider with no real sense of who or what she was. He couldn't stand them, their lack of tact, of grace, their dense, cloying smell. The bronzerider's lip curled in masculine disdain. They were nothing compared to to her and they hadn't the sharding wit to realize it. He'd promised her that he would protect her. He was... not... going to stop now!

Catch her quickly! We cannot lose! His mind voice roared with all the wild passion a human was capable of expressing and his grey eyes shot from where Tujal stood to far above, instinctualy knowing exactly where his bronze flew. Pride for his dragon and lust threatened to overwhelm him, Fear shot cold lines of ice down his back and he rubbed sweaty palms on his thighs. They could not lose!

Weseaneth ceased the bugling, the wooing that the other bronzes had taken up. Amenth knew him and he knew the young Queen. He flipped a wing and caught an updraft, soaring above the pack. His light, coppery hide catching the sun. He had flown many Queens, he knew their tricks. Now he could not waste time, she was injured. There would be more flights and he would win all those as well. No other was worthy of her and she knew it in the deep seeded, instinctual way all Queens did.

Spreading his wings wide, he flew up into the path of the sun, where she would not see, where she would not look. She was the only thing that mattered. And he was the only one who could catch her. Let the others deafen her with their pleas. He would prove what they could not. The bronze pinned his wings against his side and dove, knowing recovery if he did not catch her would be hard. But he would catch her!

Ever faster he dove, wind whipping past him and the ground rushing ever closer. His muscled body forming into a long bronze arrow, aiming straight for the Queen.

[brimstone81]

Solarith by this time was up in the air with the others, ready catch the queen. He realized that she was wounded, it registered, but that was not his first motive. If Weseaneth had merely wanted to bring the queen down for treatment, that would be one thing, but Amenth was in heat. Solarith felt energized, and he felt ready for the long haul, however, Weseaneth wanted to make sure it was anything but long. The large Fort bred bronze roared out as he watched Weseaneth dive for Amenth, but there was little he could do, even being as clever as he found himself. Solarith would try the same manuver and hope he was the heavier, but Weseaneth had too much speed already, he had the advantage and Solarith knew it, but he did not want to give up!

Solarith followed a much for shallow dive, though pulling up a few moments later, deciding that it would be too dangerous if Weseaneth got there first, for he may crash. Solarith flew less dangerously behind the queen and her other suitor, though daring to get as close as he could.

G'del was on the ground. He had not heard Rael's call, though if he had, he would have ran to her, at least to talk. He enjoyed her company. But as it was, G'del found himself amidst a group of hungry bronzeriders. And what they all seemed to yearn was a queenrider. It was his second try at a Ponaa queen, no doubt it wouldn't be his last. G'del could not leave his position, and he urged Solarith to try harder. Weseaneth/I'slen seemed to have a plan, and G'del could only watch to see it unfold. . .

[hrsegrl]

F'dan noted I'slen's approach and had moved a few steps away from Tujal. Before a flight it was rude to act as though the prize were already yours. It wasn't as if he had given into passion yet. He had been trying to help. Now that the older man was there he knew better than to be close to the young Goldrider. That sort of behavior caused fights. He'd rather not ruin Amenth's first flight.

The younger rider watched as Roderith took to the skies. The Gold was his. Whether she knew it or not. He would prove himself above these others and bring her back safely. The Bronze watched her moves and knew that even if she had not blooded entirely and had been injured, she would be hard to catch. New to the chasing of Golds he wondered how many special tricks they had.

F'dan, while being drawn to Tujal was finding that he wasn't as into the flight as he thought he would be. Why shouldn't he have her? He cared about her but as a sister, certainly that could change. He hated I'slen for wanting her. He hated them all for it. She was his. The Golds should all be his. He may not have been able to fly Sharieth or Zhariath yet but they were his too...

That was Roderith. F'dan kept telling himself thats not really how he felt but he realized it was true. He envied K'leren and I'slen... he hated N'mos. Well he ougth to feel that way. Roderith should fly a Gold. They were his. Roderith, you can win this... It wasn't long and F'dan had lost himself to dragon lust.