Disclaimer: Anne McCaffery owns Pern. I am merely a humble fan who is running out of interesting ways to phrase disclaimers.
AN: Well, In a Position to Persevere is giving me nothing but headaches, but at least I've managed to squeeze something out of the muse. So while you're waiting for the next chapter (which I might finally be getting somewhere on. Maybe), have some fluff. A bit of forewarning: contains unmarked POV shifts. Hey, it's not that important in third person, and Anne does it all the time in the books.
Many thanks to my lovely beta, moviemom44, for convincing me that this was worth posting and helping me to improve it considerably. Enjoy, and please review!
Spare Me From Overcurious Dragons
Shortly after the end of Dragonflight
You are thinking about mating again, the bemused comment broke into Lessa's thoughts.
Yes… she prompted, wondering where Ramoth was going with this.
Why do you mate so much more often than I do? the queen continued curiously.
Oh. That's where this was going. Occasionally dragons made efforts to better understand their humans, often with rather amusing results. …Though somehow it seemed considerably more amusing when she was overhearing it from the weyrlings than when it was her own queen asking the awkward questions. Oh shells! Spare me from overcurious dragons, she thought, but very quietly because Ramoth wouldn't understand the sentiment.
Uh, because I can? I don't know, Ramoth, it's just one of those things that are different, like me having to eat more often.
Ramoth seemed more or less satisfied by that partial explanation, and for a moment Lessa thought she was off the hook.
No such luck. I have mated once, and I clutched. You have mated many times, but you have never clutched. Why have you not clutched?
"Whatever is she saying to make you sputter so?" a low, amused voice asked. Lessa spun around to find her weyrmate lounging in the doorway.
How long has he been standing there? she thought frantically. Shards! Just when I thought this couldn't get any more uncomfortable… Then the vindictive streak that was still very much apparent in her personality prompted her to decide ruthlessly, Fine, let's see how he deals with this. "She wants to know why I haven't 'clutched'."
F'lar choked. But after a moment he sort of …shifted, as if seriously considering it. "You're opposed to the notion?" he queried softly.
She blinked. And then the images flashed, unbidden, through her mind, which surely must have just passed through his: of her body swelling with his child, of nursing a babe with thick dark hair and amber eyes. The idea was … surprisingly appealing. "No, I suppose I'm not."
He crossed the chamber in a few long strides and pulled her slender body against him. He tilted her head up towards him, studying the petite, delicate face that was so very dear to him. "I do so love you," he murmured tenderly.
She leaned in to him, relaxing in his embrace. "It's strange," she murmured, half to herself. "A few Turns back, or even six months, who ever thought we'd come to this?" Her gesture was expansive, indicating that she referred to both their relationship and the social order that they'd worked so hard to achieve.
"I had hoped," F'lar replied, but his wistful tone indicated that it had been a very thin hope indeed.
"Well, you always were best at making predictions," she commented – slightly tart, but a compliment nonetheless.
"In any case, it certainly was hard won," he went on.
A slight smile curved her lips. "All the more reason to enjoy it while we can."
"Yes, indeed, let us," he murmured huskily, bending to capture her lips.
She batted feebly at him, laughing even as she protested, "I didn't mean right now!"
"Oh?" F'lar arched one eyebrow at her in challenge, and asked casually, as if utterly unconcerned, "Why ever not?"
She sort of sputtered, and stopped, unable to come up with a reason. "Because… uh…"
"Too many hard questions today?" he teased.
Her eyes flashed with a mixture of amusement and frustration. "Oh, you!"
He wondered idly if that was supposed to be insulting. It wasn't much of a comeback.
"What are you smirking about?" Lessa demanded hotly.
"You're beautiful when you're angry," he replied calmly.
"I don't know why I put up with you," she muttered.
"Because you love me?" F'lar suggested, couching the provocative response in the most innocent tone he could manage – a favorite method of hers, as it happened.
"For some inexplicable reason," she grumbled. Then all at once she dropped the show of resistance; her voice turned gentler and the tension drained from her body as she relaxed against him once more. "But I do."
He would never understand her lightning shifts of mood, but he wasn't about to protest. "That's good to hear," he smirked, and kissed her deeply.
The last vestiges of resistance in her dissolved then, as she responded eagerly.
And as the age old rhythm overtook them, Lessa looked into her lover's eyes and saw clearly the child she now wanted very much to give him – with his father's dark hair and easy smile and her grey eyes and indomitable spirit.
He'll be beautiful – for a human, Ramoth said.