To Calm a Hurricane

Writers: Halyonix, Heather
Date Posted: 22nd May 2025
Series: Bronze and Blue Entwined

Characters: Saibra, I'serin
Description: Saibra discovers a very distraught I'serin
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 6, day 17 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: R’enh, K’mai, J’ackt, M’kayre, E’kavas

Saibra

I'serin

Notes:
*****

}: Chioneth! Chioneth, my rider needs yours, _now_! :{

Aluneth’s usually dark and polished voice was spiderwebbed with fear as he reached out to the only other dragon he entrusted his unstable rider to in that moment. It was dark, nearing far too late an hour for most people to be awake, and Aluneth’s alarmed bugle would have disrupted the peace settling over the pained Weyr. But the bronze did not care. I’serin was in trouble.

Chioneth woke Saibra immediately, who was snuggled into the warm cocoon of R’enh’s arms. Rolling away from her weyrmate, the goldrider pushed her feet into her slippers and grabbed a robe simultaneously that she tied into place. **What’s going on?** The question was riddled with sleepiness as she shuffled through the internal corridor that connected the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman’s quarters and offices.

}:I’m not sure but Aluneth is upset.:{

Saibra saw the glow of light from under the Weyrleader’s office door and pushed it open with a hesitant, “I’serin?”

“Oh,” the young Weyrleader said in a faraway voice. “Saibra.”

The sight that greeted her was something uncharacteristic of I’serin so far. He looked as though he had been in a fight, leathers rumpled, hair disheveled, face barely cleaned from Threadfall earlier. And while he was seated at his desk in a seemingly usual manner, there was a glistening crimson liquid slowly spreading across the middle of it, puddling from under his hand.

}: He fought with Tirenth’s rider, :{ Aluneth explained to Chioneth. }: I...I have never felt such fury from him. He blames himself for everything that went wrong today. And…more. :{

Saibra became more lucid as Chioneth relayed Aluneth’s explanation. Closing the door behind her and sliding the lock into place, she turned and approached I’serin with a frown. It was very unlike her Weyrleader to look so… _un_ put together.

“I’serin,” she stopped in front of his desk, looking down at his hand. “Have you cut yourself?”

He looked down at the hand -- his hand? -- for a long moment before lifting it. Half a dozen lacerations made it look far worse than it actually was. “I…made a mistake,” I’serin said, looking at his hand and then looking at her.

She blinked, watching him carefully. “What kind of mistake?” Was he talking about today’s Threadfall? She looked around and saw a handkerchief folded and lying on his shelf. Taking it, she snapped it open and then reached for his hand.

I’serin let out a huff of laughter. “Where do I begin?” he asked rhetorically.

He let her tend to his hand, watching with an expression of alternating concern and absent-mindedness, as though he was trying to bind together a great bundle of thoughts that kept slipping out of his grasp. “I...made a mistake. Many mistakes. I…”

He paused to exhale. “Saibra, I…lied. About…” Another pause. Another wayward thought. Where to start? Where to begin this thread? Should he tell her? What to tell her? Aluneth pressed gently, lovingly against his mind. “I said so many untrue things. For so long,” he said, his eyes vacant for a moment as he followed all of those threads back in time.

Saibra arched one dark eyebrow. “What things?” she asked, tying the handkerchief securely in place, binding the wound shut for now. She was trying not to feel alarmed, but I’serin’s scattered manner made the nerves in her stomach knot together. She tried to imagine what on Pern he could have possibly lied about to warrant such a reaction.

He took a shuddering breath, as if gathering the courage to speak. Turns of hiding, Turns of lying…he could not keep doing it. He would only hurt the ones, the precious few he cared about.

“K’mai…K’mai and I…are lovers.”

“Ah,” Saibra drew the sound out, covering her mild surprise. She _was_ surprised but also she… wasn’t? Because it seemed like it also made sense. “You and K’mai being lovers, this is something… Something you think needs to be a secret?”

He let out an almost hysterical laugh. “Saibra, how many gay bronzeriders do you know?” The answer had to be close to zero so I’serin pressed on with, “Do you think someone like A’len would allow for his son to be any other sexuality?”

She knew a few, actually. “I’ll be honest with you, I’serin…. I don’t want anyone telling me what to do in _my_ bedroom. It’s certainly seen its fair share of… exploits.” She didn’t even _want_ to go into the whole sordid affair involving J’ackt. “So I would never question what someone else does in theirs.” Saibra’s head tilted as she studied his face. “I also wouldn’t question what you do outside of it. Aluneth chose _you_ as his rider. Nothing else matters. As for your father,” her lips pursed, her eyes flashing a bit. “He can hold his tongue and be respectful to his Weyrleader and son, or he can find a new Weyr, can’t he?”

Her words did three things in rapid succession.

First, he realized that she, like K’mai, had simply accepted that it was his decision to love whomever. She did not hold it against him like he had been ingrained to believe a goldrider would. She had her tastes, he had his own. That understanding, coming from her, swept so much of his fear away.

Second, even as Aluneth pressed against his mind more, she was absolutely correct in that Aluneth had chosen him _just as he was_, sexuality and all. To hear someone else affirm it though was like being thrown into deep, cold water, the kind that shook reality free of illusions.

Third, her words offered him an _out_. It was well within both of their rights as Weyrleaders to forcibly transfer a dragonrider to another Weyr. It was not a commonly used approach but if the situation warranted…

“You…are not upset with me?” Upset was a grossly inadequate word for what he wanted to ask. Critical, hate-filled, angry, judgmental, disappointed -- those were all words he had encountered before regarding this subject. How many times had he heard his father use those words or their adjacent tones when speaking of chromatic riders and their tastes? How many times had A’len made a mildly homophobic remark with the caveat that it was fine for others but insinuated that it was not acceptable for I’serin? Even now, he could imagine having this same conversation with A’len and it coming to a vastly different outcome than the one unfolding before him.

For the first time since entering his office, Saibra smiled. “No, I am not upset with you. If anything, my pride is now assuaged. You are the first man to have won my flight and _not_ wanted seconds in the flightroom.” She winked.

He let out another weak, stuttering laugh. “R’enh will be…relieved…to know why that was,” he said as his eyes once again looked into some unseen, mental distance. “We fought, A’len and I. Over…” he said in fragments. “ Today’s mistake. Over all of my mistakes. Over…” No, they had not fought precisely about K’mai just yet but it was a near thing. It was only a matter of time. I’serin hung his head. “I do not know what to do, Saibra,” he admitted in a very small voice. “I…have spent my life, lying. Hiding. And now…”

“And now you don’t have to hide. You’re the _Weyrleader_. You set the precedent. People will follow your lead. If anything, once word starts to travel, your K’mai may find himself in competition with some other blue and greenriders around the Weyr.” Saibra placed a warm hand on his knee and squeezed it. “Who knows, there may be others who were afraid, too, but when they see the Weyrleader unafraid of who he is… You might inspire them to be unafraid, too.”

The thought of so many others _knowing_ so publicly, so soon terrified him. But the thought of others being unafraid to be themselves -- a privilege he felt had been denied to him…

Maybe there was hope to be had there.

Maybe.

I’serin inhaled a shaky breath. “I am not as brave as you give me credit,” he said. “I…” He had so much to think about. So much to do. So much to still be afraid of. But he felt as though something had irrevocably shifted, a thing had been born that could not return to its shell. “Say noth-” he started to say in rising panic, the same words he had said to K’mai on that first night, but he swallowed those words. Saibra gave him permission not to hide. He should take that offering. “You…may tell R’enh. But I…am not ready for others to know. Just yet.” He looked down at his bandaged hand. “I will own that I fought with my fa-- with A’len. He is most likely spreading discord about what happened. He has ever been one to express his displeasure with my mistakes.” But it gave I’serin a bit of breathing room that A’len did not know about K’mai. “I will have to inform M’kayre and E’kavas that I will be unable to lead the next Fall. Assumedly.” His expression looked to her for her dragonhealer’s opinion.

“Yeah, you’ll need a few stitches in a very inconvenient place for holding riding straps and throwing stone.” Saibra assessed. “Listen, however long you want to keep your sleeping habits to yourself is up to you. I certainly won’t say a thing until you do.”

His shoulders slumped in relief. “I…thank you,” he murmured sincerely. “You have shown me grace and understanding that I did not expect to receive. I…will do my best to…” He motioned to his hand. “Avoid outbursts like this again.”

The Weyrwoman’s smile was gentle. “Next time, come to my office. I’ve a few figurines that smash marvelously when you throw them. Just ask my son.”

Last updated on the May 27th 2025

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To Calm a Hurricane