I am never again writing any scene this complicated. I had to draw tactical diagrams...
Warnings for dubcon of the mating flight variety, dragon sex, and violence.
****
In the Weyr, Ivy was leaning between her two supports as the torrent of Archith's rage and hunger burst through her. She was barely aware of her own body any more, barely aware of her own thoughts, as Archith rose in joy and glory, her wings pumping, the winds obeying her as they never had before. She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw the proud young bronzes behind her, and could have laughed. They were never going to catch her, but there was no shame to her if they did. The old men hanging even farther back now - that was shameful. Why did they even want to try? It would only show up how decrepit and obsolete they were. She heard a voice in her head, then - she recognized it as Blackstath's. He was never going to catch her, but he was nice enough, she supposed, for a grandfather. Ivy! he said. You have to keep her away from the hold at all costs! North! Turn her north over the mountains!
North! As if she would listen to someone like that! As if she needed to listen! But, she thought, there was no reason not to go north. That was where the mountains were, said the little part of her that remembered something other than flight and glory. It would be fun to bring her bronzes in among the mountains, where she could lose them among the peaks and trip them on the tricky air currents. Yes. Why not? And she steered herself north, using the turn to glance back at her pursuit again. One of the young bronzes was already well behind the rest, and the pack of older dragons behind them seemed to have come into some sort of a tangle. Oh, this was easy! They would never catch her! She could fly alone forever!
But what was distracting the old bronzes, anyway? She cast back toward them. They were angry. Some of them weren't even paying attention to her! How dare they! What could be more important than her? She was the most beautiful, most powerful, smartest, fastest creature -- there was something else.
There was another queen flying. There was another queen flying, and she was trying to steal Archith's bronzes! No wonder Blackstath had told her to turn north. He was betraying her for the other queen! She gave a scream of defiance and rage and banked her wings, twisting suddenly full circle so that she turned and shot back, south across the mountains, blazing through the group of young bronzes without cutting her speed. She shrieked again as she passed them, contemptuous of their pitiful confusion as they tried to turn in her wake, and then she was right below the older bronzes.
She screamed at them, folding her wings as she shot straight up through the chaos of their battle. She slashed at them as she went, drawing blood with the sharp claws of her forelegs, before she reached clear air again above them. Then, so suddenly she almost panicked, one of the bronzes pulled out of the fight, rolled in the air, and winged for her. She backbeat just out of his reach, losing airspeed as she dodged, and before she could to re-acquire her speed, he got one claw in her tail and they were both tumbling, until another bronze grabbed him and pulled him down, almost climbing him to try to get to Archith.
Good. They were paying attention to her now, as was her right. She cried out again and winged upward, but realized a moment too late that they weren't following; some of the others had used her distraction to get the drop on the two who had tried to follow, and they were too busy ripping at each other to reach her. It wasn't fair! She was the queen! They were supposed to obey her! She turned back to berate them again, and was about to dive when something caught her neck.
She twisted up. It was one of the young bronzes: he had been waiting above the older bronzes' fight, and grabbed her in her moment of distraction. She hissed at him but he only dug in deeper to the thick muscles of her shoulders and twisted his tail around hers, their two sets of wings automatically settling into a rhythm to carry them higher and away, and she decided she didn't care about the other bronzes. This one, after all, had been the only one clever enough to out-think her, the only one fast enough to out-fly her, the only one strong enough to catch her. She lifted her tail for him and forgot about everything else.
***
Lascieth leapt up and away from the stocky bronze, her head whipping around. The big one wasn't even in the air yet - slow, too slow to bother with - but where was the interesting one?
She caught a flash of bronze to the south. He was flying away from her! That wasn't possible. All bronzes were alike, she knew that, how could he possibly be flying away when she knew he wanted her? She winged in that direction and quickly passed him with insulting ease; he flipped a wingtip at her insolently as she passed, but then doubled his airspeed with no apparent effort.
Oh, yes, this was going to be interesting. Now all three bronzes were following her, as they were meant to be, and she was outpacing them brilliantly, and all was right with the world. She called out her joy and the interesting one echoed it. He was too cocky, that one, just assuming he'd be the one to catch her, when she could have any bronze she wanted. She deliberately slipped wind to slide away from him and closer to the stocky bronze, now only a few lengths behind them. She let him nearly brush one of her wings before letting a surge of speed and a bit of tricky flying bring her closer to the other.
The large bronze had reached them while they were playing, and glared at her. She hissed back at him. She'd never liked him, always thinking he could boss her around just because he was bigger. Well, she'd flown enough times that nobody was going to fly her unless she wanted him to, and him, she didn't want. She openly dismissed him and turned back to the other two dragons. Especially the interesting one. Oh yes, he needed taking down to size.
The large bronze glared at her for a moment, and then peeled away, aiming due north like a lightning-shot. That was impossible. Nothing could -- and then, suddenly, she remembered the other queen rising, and rage descended on her like red fire. She was going to kill him, and then she was going to kill the other queen - she could almost feel the hot blood spilling over her claws as she eviscerated her. Lascieth flew straight toward her quarry, leaving her other two bronzes in her wake; nothing could outfly a queen with her blood hot; and then sudden pain slashed across her rage, so startling she nearly lost track of her flight.
"Sheila!" shouted a voice she almost recognized - the little Lord Holder who thought he was a queen rider, maybe? - and another hot slap of pain lashed across her cheek. "You mustn't let her go north! I don't care what Andurieth's doing - you don't care what Andurieth's doing - why would you bother when you have the best bronze in the Weyr anyway?" She felt an echo of pleasure move across her, the promise of what the interesting bronze could do if she let him - but no, she wasn't going to be distracted. She was going to get her bronzes back from the other queen if she had to drown them all in blood and fire to do it. It was her right.
She had been distracted, though, and the distraction was enough that the other two bronzes caught up to her. The stocky one dropped out of the air above her again - she was getting really tired of his sudden appearances - and she startled away from him, without realizing that in doing so, she'd moved right into the range of the other bronze, who had grappled her tightly before she had time to respond.
The stocky bronze gave them both a darkly ironic look before winging away after the large one, but what did she care? She had the only bronze worth the winning.
***
Gard fled out of her Lord's window, already twenty feet above the wide ground of the hold. She caroled mockingly back at Nietschze, already lengths and lengths behind her, but stoically pumping along and refusing to be provoked by her. Oh, it was a beautiful day, and they would make it a good long glorious flight through the brightness of the afternoon before she let him catch her. Overhead the big ones were moving in their mating dances, too, their need flooding all the world with sharp-pitched savage joy, and she pinwheeled once in acknowledgment to them before she headed out over her Lord's forest. Other fire lizards were rising, too, in the overspill of the big ones' passions; at the edges of her vision she saw flights lifting like multicolored streamers behind their glowing queens, but what did she care? She had her bronze, who was letting playfulness take him a little, too, as he started to catch up; and her employer had his bronze, finally, she could feel them at the back of her mind, starting to twine into each others' warmth, her employer's mind-touch glowing the same gold as she was as their joy fed back and forth between them. They each had their bronze, and what more did a queen need?
Her bronze made up several lengths in a sudden burst of speed, and whirled a ripple of green humor at her; she only flicked her tail in response, but she started angling upward to make plenty of height before the end, and she was nearly in the clouds when she finally let him take her, the two of them twisting together into one shining creature as they fell ecstatically through the air.
It was a good mating flight, and Nietschze agreed with her good-humoredly afterward, as they untangled themselves and started slowly flying back, less than a wing-width separating them as they pushed through their exhaustion in the early afternoon twilight. Neither of them were thinking of much more than sleep as they slipped back through the open window and curled up together, making a little nest for themselves among the limbs where her Lord and his bronze rider were lying pillowed on each other, the queen rider just beside them, deeply asleep.
Her Lord opened one eye as he felt the rustle of their wings against his bare chest. "You were gone awhile," he told her, eye a soft green of contentment. He lifted one arm to stroke her, but seemed to give it up as not worth the effort and just dropped it across her back, incidentally draping it along his bronze rider as well. "Good flight?" he asked her.
As if he had to ask. She didn't have to ask how his mating flight had gone, either; she'd felt it as it was happening, as they felt the joy together, and she could feel it radiating off still. She just trilled softly at him in reply, and sank into contented sleep in his warmth.
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timeasmymeasure
Pern crossover: Queens High (4/5)
Date: 2011-02-24 01:29 am (UTC)Warnings for dubcon of the mating flight variety, dragon sex, and violence.
****
In the Weyr, Ivy was leaning between her two supports as the torrent of Archith's rage and hunger burst through her. She was barely aware of her own body any more, barely aware of her own thoughts, as Archith rose in joy and glory, her wings pumping, the winds obeying her as they never had before. She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw the proud young bronzes behind her, and could have laughed. They were never going to catch her, but there was no shame to her if they did. The old men hanging even farther back now - that was shameful. Why did they even want to try? It would only show up how decrepit and obsolete they were. She heard a voice in her head, then - she recognized it as Blackstath's. He was never going to catch her, but he was nice enough, she supposed, for a grandfather. Ivy! he said. You have to keep her away from the hold at all costs! North! Turn her north over the mountains!
North! As if she would listen to someone like that! As if she needed to listen! But, she thought, there was no reason not to go north. That was where the mountains were, said the little part of her that remembered something other than flight and glory. It would be fun to bring her bronzes in among the mountains, where she could lose them among the peaks and trip them on the tricky air currents. Yes. Why not? And she steered herself north, using the turn to glance back at her pursuit again. One of the young bronzes was already well behind the rest, and the pack of older dragons behind them seemed to have come into some sort of a tangle. Oh, this was easy! They would never catch her! She could fly alone forever!
But what was distracting the old bronzes, anyway? She cast back toward them. They were angry. Some of them weren't even paying attention to her! How dare they! What could be more important than her? She was the most beautiful, most powerful, smartest, fastest creature -- there was something else.
There was another queen flying. There was another queen flying, and she was trying to steal Archith's bronzes! No wonder Blackstath had told her to turn north. He was betraying her for the other queen! She gave a scream of defiance and rage and banked her wings, twisting suddenly full circle so that she turned and shot back, south across the mountains, blazing through the group of young bronzes without cutting her speed. She shrieked again as she passed them, contemptuous of their pitiful confusion as they tried to turn in her wake, and then she was right below the older bronzes.
She screamed at them, folding her wings as she shot straight up through the chaos of their battle. She slashed at them as she went, drawing blood with the sharp claws of her forelegs, before she reached clear air again above them. Then, so suddenly she almost panicked, one of the bronzes pulled out of the fight, rolled in the air, and winged for her. She backbeat just out of his reach, losing airspeed as she dodged, and before she could to re-acquire her speed, he got one claw in her tail and they were both tumbling, until another bronze grabbed him and pulled him down, almost climbing him to try to get to Archith.
Good. They were paying attention to her now, as was her right. She cried out again and winged upward, but realized a moment too late that they weren't following; some of the others had used her distraction to get the drop on the two who had tried to follow, and they were too busy ripping at each other to reach her. It wasn't fair! She was the queen! They were supposed to obey her! She turned back to berate them again, and was about to dive when something caught her neck.
She twisted up. It was one of the young bronzes: he had been waiting above the older bronzes' fight, and grabbed her in her moment of distraction. She hissed at him but he only dug in deeper to the thick muscles of her shoulders and twisted his tail around hers, their two sets of wings automatically settling into a rhythm to carry them higher and away, and she decided she didn't care about the other bronzes. This one, after all, had been the only one clever enough to out-think her, the only one fast enough to out-fly her, the only one strong enough to catch her. She lifted her tail for him and forgot about everything else.
***
Lascieth leapt up and away from the stocky bronze, her head whipping around. The big one wasn't even in the air yet - slow, too slow to bother with - but where was the interesting one?
She caught a flash of bronze to the south. He was flying away from her! That wasn't possible. All bronzes were alike, she knew that, how could he possibly be flying away when she knew he wanted her? She winged in that direction and quickly passed him with insulting ease; he flipped a wingtip at her insolently as she passed, but then doubled his airspeed with no apparent effort.
Oh, yes, this was going to be interesting. Now all three bronzes were following her, as they were meant to be, and she was outpacing them brilliantly, and all was right with the world. She called out her joy and the interesting one echoed it. He was too cocky, that one, just assuming he'd be the one to catch her, when she could have any bronze she wanted. She deliberately slipped wind to slide away from him and closer to the stocky bronze, now only a few lengths behind them. She let him nearly brush one of her wings before letting a surge of speed and a bit of tricky flying bring her closer to the other.
The large bronze had reached them while they were playing, and glared at her. She hissed back at him. She'd never liked him, always thinking he could boss her around just because he was bigger. Well, she'd flown enough times that nobody was going to fly her unless she wanted him to, and him, she didn't want. She openly dismissed him and turned back to the other two dragons. Especially the interesting one. Oh yes, he needed taking down to size.
The large bronze glared at her for a moment, and then peeled away, aiming due north like a lightning-shot. That was impossible. Nothing could -- and then, suddenly, she remembered the other queen rising, and rage descended on her like red fire. She was going to kill him, and then she was going to kill the other queen - she could almost feel the hot blood spilling over her claws as she eviscerated her. Lascieth flew straight toward her quarry, leaving her other two bronzes in her wake; nothing could outfly a queen with her blood hot; and then sudden pain slashed across her rage, so startling she nearly lost track of her flight.
"Sheila!" shouted a voice she almost recognized - the little Lord Holder who thought he was a queen rider, maybe? - and another hot slap of pain lashed across her cheek. "You mustn't let her go north! I don't care what Andurieth's doing - you don't care what Andurieth's doing - why would you bother when you have the best bronze in the Weyr anyway?" She felt an echo of pleasure move across her, the promise of what the interesting bronze could do if she let him - but no, she wasn't going to be distracted. She was going to get her bronzes back from the other queen if she had to drown them all in blood and fire to do it. It was her right.
She had been distracted, though, and the distraction was enough that the other two bronzes caught up to her. The stocky one dropped out of the air above her again - she was getting really tired of his sudden appearances - and she startled away from him, without realizing that in doing so, she'd moved right into the range of the other bronze, who had grappled her tightly before she had time to respond.
The stocky bronze gave them both a darkly ironic look before winging away after the large one, but what did she care? She had the only bronze worth the winning.
***
Gard fled out of her Lord's window, already twenty feet above the wide ground of the hold. She caroled mockingly back at Nietschze, already lengths and lengths behind her, but stoically pumping along and refusing to be provoked by her. Oh, it was a beautiful day, and they would make it a good long glorious flight through the brightness of the afternoon before she let him catch her. Overhead the big ones were moving in their mating dances, too, their need flooding all the world with sharp-pitched savage joy, and she pinwheeled once in acknowledgment to them before she headed out over her Lord's forest. Other fire lizards were rising, too, in the overspill of the big ones' passions; at the edges of her vision she saw flights lifting like multicolored streamers behind their glowing queens, but what did she care? She had her bronze, who was letting playfulness take him a little, too, as he started to catch up; and her employer had his bronze, finally, she could feel them at the back of her mind, starting to twine into each others' warmth, her employer's mind-touch glowing the same gold as she was as their joy fed back and forth between them. They each had their bronze, and what more did a queen need?
Her bronze made up several lengths in a sudden burst of speed, and whirled a ripple of green humor at her; she only flicked her tail in response, but she started angling upward to make plenty of height before the end, and she was nearly in the clouds when she finally let him take her, the two of them twisting together into one shining creature as they fell ecstatically through the air.
It was a good mating flight, and Nietschze agreed with her good-humoredly afterward, as they untangled themselves and started slowly flying back, less than a wing-width separating them as they pushed through their exhaustion in the early afternoon twilight. Neither of them were thinking of much more than sleep as they slipped back through the open window and curled up together, making a little nest for themselves among the limbs where her Lord and his bronze rider were lying pillowed on each other, the queen rider just beside them, deeply asleep.
Her Lord opened one eye as he felt the rustle of their wings against his bare chest. "You were gone awhile," he told her, eye a soft green of contentment. He lifted one arm to stroke her, but seemed to give it up as not worth the effort and just dropped it across her back, incidentally draping it along his bronze rider as well. "Good flight?" he asked her.
As if he had to ask. She didn't have to ask how his mating flight had gone, either; she'd felt it as it was happening, as they felt the joy together, and she could feel it radiating off still. She just trilled softly at him in reply, and sank into contented sleep in his warmth.