A Dragonhealer

Who: Jet and M’tan
Where: Court of Shadows, Honshu Territory
What: Assistance is needed with the new dragons.


It has been a dramatic and chaotic few days at the Court with the adjustment of newly hatched dragons, newly Impressed people, and the return of J’kson and Arlet to help mind and train the four new dragonriders. Malynth’s delight in the work is clear as the blue spends every moment in the company of one or more small dragons, mindful of their needs and prompting those around them when they may not see it at first. M’tan’s delivery of a dragonhealer from Honshu has been met with some reservations, his request for one of his subtler sets of eyes to shadow the woman has only soothed his disquiet over the challenges they may face in the coming weeks. He’s got his shoulder propped against Sirhyth as he watches the four dragons play in the courtyard. The blue’s rider’s position in a wheelchair hasn’t done much to stop her large charge from rough-housing with the bronze.

Kyramith has not resented having to spend time with the eggs, nor with the resulting hatchlings, but there’s no denying that she seems rather glad to not be confined to the ground and the buildings of the Court, especially as her hide begins to inevitably brighten. It’s not yet so much of an issue that Jet has felt the need to run, so, while Kyramith wheels through the sky, she makes her way down to the courtyard to find her husband and watch the little dragons, particular attention paid to tiny gold that now looks to Safiye and seems to be a rather docile creature with none of the airs one might expect. Without meaning to, Safiye has fallen asleep, her back to a wall, while Vesoviath gambles around, chasing her green sister. “Malynth seems to enjoy their company,” Jet remarks when she reaches M’tan’s side.

“He has the personality for it,” M’tan observes, tilting his face toward the sky to observe Kyramjth. “Is it safe for us to travel to High Reaches?” he asks as he offers out an arm for Jet to tuck herself under. “I’ve got eyes placed on that Irysa woman,” he tells her, looking to where the dragonhealer is seated and observing the dragonets. “He’s the one pushing the girl around. Healers say she’s got a long way to mend the legs. I guess he damaged both her knees and broke her shin bone.” A sigh and then he kisses her cheek. “I’m thankful J’kson and Arlet have agreed to remain while we all adjust.” He glances down at her and shrugs. “I’ll have to see about attracting another older rider to our doors. I can’t imagine they’ll want to stay too long.”

“For a few more weeks,” Jet replies, stepping closer to tuck herself beneath M’tan’s arm. “If she decides to again after that, then no. We should probably look at leaving this evening. At the moment, all she’s really making me want to do is sit in your lap and kiss you senseless.” Which, right now, she refrains from attempting to do, but she does press a lingering kiss against his jaw. “It will be an easy thing to learn if she’s delivering information back to Honshu, for I imagine at least one of their goldriders will make demands to see the dragonets. Depending on her loyalty… Well, there are many accidents that can befall a person.” Vesoviath finally catches up to her sister, the two becoming a tumbling ball of batting paws and flailing limbs, neither one of a mind to employ their claws. “Malynth may have other plans,” she supposes. “But not even he will be able to stop Vesoviath from rising when the time comes. And that time will be too early for Safiye unless we can find some way of delaying it.”

M’tan chuckles at Jet’s words and the kiss against his jaw. He tightens his hold of her and kisses the top of her head. “I’d love nothing more than to have you in my lap,” he murmurs against her hair and then pulls back to smile down at her. “I’d rather have you to myself in Reaches, though.” Seriousness settles back over him as he looks to the playing dragonets. “O’rlen already knows there was something wrong with the hatching since I asked to borrow his dragonhealer.” He shakes his head. “I had no choice but to go to him. I couldn’t very well go finding one who is of… our ways, could I?” His eyes settle on the woman being discussed and he frowns. “I made it clear that we are secretive. Hopefully, she keeps the information to herself.” He sobers completely at the reality of Safiye’s age and the golden dragon playing with her sibling settles around him. “We’ll have to send her to be trained by a goldrider. And be around a gold who can stop her from rising. They can do that, can’t they?”

“He and his Weyrlady might by idealistic fools, but I can’t help but feel we’ve done too much damage there. Not to their leadership – I couldn’t care less what happens to Honshu – but there was something not right about them at Arlet’s wedding. It wasn’t my intention to drive a wedge between them.” Jet wrinkles her nose and gives a shake of her head. “I’m placing that moment of idiotic regret and sympathy firmly at the feet of your unborn son or daughter,” she mutters dryly. “In any case, I wouldn’t trust them with Safiye and Vesoviath, of their golds or not. If golds really can stop another queen from rising, I’d think Fort’s senior is of a stronger care and will to do it. If Honshu’s doesn’t care for her eggs, I doubt she’d keep a close enough eye on Vesoviath.” She sighs. “We need see how much she grows. If she stays tiny… we might need more than one dragonhealer to look at her.”

“That wedge was too easily formed if all it took for Aerishani to lose her faith in her Weyrlord because he did what needed to be done,” M’tan answers coldly. “You can’t be idealistic and prone to inaction. Nothing will change.” He laughs at Jet’s following comment, moving to kiss her more soundly and brush his nose playfully against hers before he pulls back. “I love pregnant you, dear. After this, we’ll have to stop though. The world deserves your murderous glare.” He quiets as Jet goes on to extrapolate what they may do with their too-young and recent goldrider. “I don’t know much of Isolwyn. I watched her at Arlet and J’kson’s wedding. She seems fairly genuine with him. I’m not going to lie,” he drawls, lifting a brow, “that //she// puts up with him as well to the extent that she claims him as a family member gives me pause… I cannot see what others see in him. If anything, she’d do right by Safiye because of her connection to our Court.” He considers the little gold. “Is being small such a danger?” he wonders aloud as he hugs Jet against him again.

It takes Jet a few moments to thread sense back together again after M’tan kisses her, a hand catching in the front of his shirt to both hold on and try to steady herself. “…Being little and a gold could be dangerous,” she says quietly, folding herself against him as he hugs her. “That tiny gold that hatched at Igen grew to a normal size for her colour; I’ve asked around. But if Vesoviath doesn’t… When she rises and conceives, there’s no knowing whether her eggs will be of a size she can clutch. She seems healthy now. But if breeding will be the end of her?” Her gaze darts to Safiye, who still sleeps on, oblivious. Shuddering, Jet murmurs, “We need to learn more about queens. Isolwyn not wanting to lose the sister of J’kson’s wife is a risk more worth taking than Honshu, even if it puts Safiye in the presence of that Weyrleader. Maybe it’s for the best that Safiye has turned out to be a better swordswoman than Arlet.”

The weight of Jets concerns draw a frown to M’tan’s face as he stares at Vesoviath. “I will ask Isolwyn and C’aol when we feel it’s time for Safiye to take part in more traditional training. I have no current eyes at Fort and will look to place them now that we have reason to keep tabs on them again.” He sighs and looks down at her with a weary smile. “Gone are the simple days of gutting people and threatening others to do as we want. Now we have to… enter politics.” He mocks shuddering in revulsion and smiles, moving to grab Jets hand to place back against his chest. “Now that we’ve a plan of action… shall we retreat to somewhere private so I can kiss you properly?”

Jet spares a glance for Kyramith, who continues her lazy circles through the sky and seems to not yet glow so brightly as to be an immediate concern, though still she warns, “We should probably get ready to leave between kisses,” in the moment before she steals a woefully chaste example from M’tan’s lips. “I’m not sure how much self control I’ll have left once we’ve started. You might have to hold me down.” Before she can look too pleased by that idea and let the predatory gleam in her dark gaze take over, she threads her fingers through his and tugs him after her and towards the main building, casting, “Keep an eye on your mate for me, Sirhyth,” over one shoulder. To say that she manages not to encourage M’tan to kiss her how she wishes until they reach their quarters would be a lie, but at least they keep to the shadows.

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