[Video; UN: lessaofpern] | Rallying the wings

[queenofsalt]

[Lessa has set her jaw as she looks into the projection of the network, grey eyes sparkling with unaffected warmth as she considers this strangely intuitive communication system. How like speaking to dragons it feels, and how strange.]

Good morning. I hope all of that merry-making last night didn't leave any of you completely indisposed, as I believe that we have a lot of work to tackle in the coming days.

I am Lessa of Pern. I am the senior Weyrwoman of Benden Weyr, Ruathan by blood, and rider to Golden Ramoth. Though it means little to those not from Pern, I can assure you that I have earned every last of those titles, and though I acknowledge that this team is a company of equals, I think we can all admit that if we want to find ourselves home sooner, we could stand to delegate and specialize to our strengths... not all of us want to retire to sandy beaches we know will decay into abandon!

I'd like to speak with those of you who are versed in ALASTAIR's values and practices, and those of you who have spoken with the Nalawi at length and have learned anything more than what we have been given prior to our arrival. Locations, traditions, values, any records that can be used to track the progress of this island's troubles... it could all be valuable.

[She affects to toss a lock of fine black hair from her face, thinking herself particularly clever for re-enacting the kind of proud-chested talk that her weyrmate has employed in the past.]

Please join me for a mug and a plate in the lower room of the inn. I'm looking forward to meeting you in person so that we can consider our options going forward together.

[Before she shuts her communication down, the proud, slight smile brightens suddenly with a kind of abandoned amusement, like she's come out of a spotlight on a stage... and that's because she has. Lessa has never been in a position where she could stand up and take singular charge before, and the thought that she might be able to now is a heady feeling. Watch her sit rigidly in the tavern of the Inn from the time the broadcast is over until the moment someone approaches; she's going to be on the edge of her seat expecting the outpouring of earnest team-members coming forward to hand her clues to go gallivanting off on.]

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[conqueress]

[ Make an exchange. Her own shrewdness leads her to be skeptical. How many times has she bluffed, when she wished to secure armies? Ships? ]

Would that I could. [ The refusal is polite enough. She is accustomed to giving, not receiving invitations. Her pride dictates that she not come to anyone a beggar, and so she must first don the pearl crown and bring Drogon with her. ] Another time, perhaps. The morning is young still, and Drogon is trying to rob the sea of its fish.

[ Her gaze fixates on something beyond the view of the feed, then flickers back to Lessa. She will, however, gladly give what has already been given. ] My name is Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen. In my world, I am Queen of Meereen, and Mother of Dragons.

[ She has many more titles, but those are for Missandei to announce. ]

[queenofsalt]

[Daenerys had her at 'drogon', if only because of the assumed mispronunciation! The rest of her titles revealed, Lessa sits up with actual, keen interest. The only other dragon-riding woman she's ever known has also been a bitter rival, and she proceeded a slothful, gluttonous Weyrwoman who'd nearly ruined Pern's chances before she'd died. It sucks, being the last of one's kind.]

Is that so? You're of the blood too, then.

[That phrase might mean nothing to others, Lessa realizes; she quirks a half a smile in apology and adds]

Where I come from, there are only a few who can claim as much: Lords and Ladies of each Hold, who can speak of a proud enough ancestry to earn such a title. Ruathans are known to have had the closest affinity with dragon-kind.

[Whether this is reaching out to nerd out share common interests with other familiar parties, or a comparing of wills, Lessa isn't going to specify. Can't it be both?]

Drogon, though... not Drogoth? Ramoth has not told me that there were other dragons here! Has she been keeping her mind closed for any reason?

[conqueress]

[ Then golden Ramoth is a dragon--one whose mind is open to this Lessa. A dangerous bond, indeed. For one jarring instant, Dany wonders how it might have been to meet another who was truly of her own blood--but that is soon subsumed by the feeling of vague loss. Pern is no place in the world she's ever known, and so Lessa hails from another realm.

That is for the best, perhaps. I have been too long at war. ]

Then we are both blood of the dragon, it seems. But the meaning may not be the same. [ She tilts her head, considering. ] In all of my home, there is only one family who could make that claim.

[ Her own.

She can see that this woman wishes to speak at length of their plights--perhaps she, too, has never met another dragon rider. But her inclination is to secure Drogon's safety first, and to learn of the new dragon in their midst. ]

Ah, but I did not misspeak. His name is Drogon. [ She could almost laugh, but settles for a smile: Drogoth puts her in mind of a hacking cough. ] I am of the blood of old Valyria, and so I have given Drogon and his brothers Valyrian names: Rhaegal, and Viserion. [ For the first time since her arrival, she speaks their names--with a distant sort of affection, to conceal the regret she feels. ] What is her temperament, your Ramoth? [ The faint smile vanishes, the tone replaced by something firm. ] Drogon has long been king of his own skies. I cannot promise he would receive another dragon civilly.

[ It's a fair warning, stated as simply as she can manage: She wants no dragon fights. She has already had to crack a whip at Khisanth on her first day in ALASTAIR captivity, to snap the other dragon's aggression. ]

[queenofsalt]

[As much as Lessa would have liked to reminisce about their similarities, Daenerys' warning snaps her into the moment and she inclines her head carefully. She's listening for anything left unsaid, though the other woman's words are incredibly plain.

...She can appreciate that.]

Ramoth does not enjoy being returned to the size of a hatchling, but she and all dragons--where I come from--would never harm another of their kind. The only time that dragons grow ardent is preceding a mating flight, fighting Threads which I hope to Faranth are not going to be a problem here, or if their rider's life is at stake.

[Lessa casts the other woman as plain a look as is warranted.]

Since I've been assured that the first is now impossible, unless you are unable to keep your king in line, I can assure you that Ramoth will not be an instigator. Your warning is well received, however: I've relayed it to her to share space when necessary and she's agreed to be careful and gentle with your Drogon. She wants to know what colour he is.

[As much as Lessa finds this conversation unsettling, Ramoth's sudden and strident curiosity is enough to make her smile. She can't help it; Ramoth had been feeling lonely and flustered since their arrival, so the change of emotion shared over their link is a welcome relief.]

[conqueress]

[ A hatchling? So ALASTAIR has taken away Ramoth's power, as well--but not Khisanth's. Perhaps they'd reasoned that a dragon who speaks could be persuaded to hold her fire.

Drogon would not have done the same. The Nalawi would have been in hiding by now, half their number taken by a winged shadow in the sky.

Lessa makes mention of control, and to her credit, Dany doesn't flinch. He had responded to her strikes upon his flank, and to his name when she'd summoned him, but he is still very much resistant. She has no entry into his mind, no books to tell her of how her forefathers had bound their dragons to them, no weapon save for an iron will and a show of dominance. He had tested her, sought to kill her in the pit, and so that much at least she has won--but now he must learn to obey again.

She says nothing of control, nothing of their bond. It's far easier to speak of colors.

Ramoth asks, not Lessa. That brings a smile. ]

Tell Ramoth that Drogon is black as night. [ She sounds as if she is telling a tale. ] He is like that all over, save for the horns and the ridges. They are red like fire, as red as his eyes.

[ But only the eyes glow. ]

[queenofsalt]

[Rather than bring her amusement, the description brings a frown of concern to Lessa's face.]

From different worlds are bred different dragons... but where I am from that is the description of one lost to fury. The eyes, swirling red, mean the dragon is beyond words.

[She returns to a politic smile, apologetic after a fashion.] More unusual still is a woman with a male dragon! In all my days it's always been known that men bond to every dragon save the queen. Easier, when they take wing against dangerous Threads, not to worry of children left in the Lower Caverns... though the hidebound among us would have it that It Is The Way It Is. Being a mother of dragons grants you a lot of leeway. They wouldn't have it, at the Weyrs.

[conqueress]

[ A year ago, that would have disturbed her, sent her to questioning what she had unleashed upon the world again. Perhaps frighteningly, it doesn't now. Dany is curiously calm. ]

Dragons are fire made flesh, I have always heard ... but I have only now begun to understand the meaning. [ She inclines her head from its proud stance, her gaze firm. ] Drogon will never be like your Ramoth, and so you must never think to reach him by words. Dragons respect only strength of will, nothing more. If he is fury, then I must be more than that.

[ Does she mean that she has to be more than that, or that she is more than that? Both. She speaks of this with relative ease, as though claiming strength over a dragon is a normal assertion to make. But with the explanation given, perhaps she might soothe some of the worry she's inspired. ]

Even still, left to his own whims, he would sooner fly and hunt, and be free. He has no fear of people, but he has no wish to lay waste to anyone without cause. [ Only to those who would threaten her, as he had proven with Khisanth. ] I understand Ramoth is a hatchling, but Drogon's body is only the size of a cat. ALASTAIR feared what he might do, I have no doubt.

[ She learns the customs of Lessa's world, and they give her pause, searching through the names she remembers. Those queens had ridden she-dragons, as well ... A small furrow appears in her brow. Am I the only queen to mount a male? ] Why do they take only men for their riders? It cannot be that only men are made worthy. [ No man would have dared tell Visenya Targaryen that. ] Has no woman tried?

[queenofsalt]

[Lessa, small as she is, has never once doubted any of the dragons of Pern. Though they might each possess words and a will of their own, for whatever reason her blood is concentrated such that she can speak with all of them where most men can't. It has lent her a particular fondness, but in this case it might be a case of foolhardiness. Luckily, Daenerys' warning isn't brushed off entirely. Being one of the few women that Lessa has found she can connect with, even on a politic and slightly distanced level, is something she hasn't managed in years! She won't scoff in the face of the mother of dragons.]

A dragon Impresses who it makes a mental connection with. Older minds assumed that there were simply men better suited to the company of a female Green, promiscuous and flighty, and some to a male Bronze, bright and steadfast... but since my Weyrmate and I took charge of Benden Weyr, we've discovered that familiarity with the eggs as they harden seems to be key.

[Lessa's smile is bittersweet. She misses F'lar and his risky gambles; they so often pay off, and they so often turn stone-headed old fools on their ear that she misses that sense of visceral engagement with the unknown. Dany's question stokes a sudden, tart fire in Lessa's breast, and her smile turns sharp.]

Before F'lar and I, there was only Nemorth and her wilful, slothful Weyrwoman Jora. R'gul was the Weyrleader before F'lar took over, and he was so hidebound he wouldn't allow me to fly with Ramoth, a dragon clearly possessing wings and the will to use them, let alone give a woman a chance to bond a dragon of any other colour. Even F'lar was leery of allowing Ramoth and I to practice the more dangers maneuvers every dragon knows in their blood.

[She laughs, a sharp, short sound.] There are likely good reasons, as I've said--to lose a dragon, a rider, and a child all in one moment to a clump of Thread would be harder for the Weyr than our odds already are... but we lost so much in the last four hundred Turns that I can't say for sure if women in our Wings were one of them.

[conqueress]

Your weyrmate. [ Dany repeats the word, allowing it to marinate on her tongue. ] This F'lar, did you marry him? [ She has twice shared power with men--once with Drogo, who had made a queen of her, and once with Hizdahr, who had sought to undermine her every decision. Both times, she had married only because she must.

Her own world is scarcely kind to women, but Lessa's stinks to her of a restriction she would not abide. The queen wrinkles her nose in distaste. ] When Drogon is grown again, I have no doubt that my captains will protest my riding into battle. [ Upon Drogon's back, she felt whole and free--content, for the first time she could remember. They could not dissuade her even if they tried. ] They voted to a man to dissuade me when my mount was a horse, and they could never agree upon anything before. Tell me, how could I have denied them that? [ A wry, albeit fond smile. ] But if my dragons are to be ridden, I must take to the skies and lead them.

[ There is no one else to do it, save for two men somewhere in the world. The dragon has three heads.

A dragon, a rider, and a child--Dany frowns. Is she pregnant? ] You have been long at war with these Threads, then. But how can it be that a war lasts four hundred years?

[ Two and a half years of waste has been enough. ]

[queenofsalt]

'Marry'? [Lessa had never really felt that her position with F'lar was one of marriage.] My Ramoth and his Mnementh flew together and mated, which I suppose is about as close as one gets, in a Weyr. The eldest golden dragon determines the senior Weyrwoman, the dragon who mates the Gold becomes the Weyrleader. It's how it was always done. We certainly fight like we're married, [she admits with a fond bit of salt to her voice.]

[So many traditions on Pern. Some, she's lived her entire life without questioning. Others, she's openly derided with every waking chance. There are things that Dany says that perk Lessa's attention, like that plural 'dragons', but she will have to wait. Given the opportunity to talk about how foolish the leaders of Pern had become, she'll take it.]

A war can not, and that is the problem. We lasted four hundred with no sign, no scrap, only Harper tales to teach us about the danger of return of Threads. With all the Weyrs abandoned at the end of the last Fall it's as though every man decided to turn their backs on the remaining Weyr, Benden, as though they were safe forever. Foolish, short-sighted Lords.