A Legacy is Born (1/2)
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: Corrin, Heather
Date Posted: 7th March 2026
Characters: Saibra, K'valdran
Description: K’valdran’s first Hatching as Weyrleader of Dragonsfall goes off without a hitch.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 2, day 1 of Turn 13
Notes: 63 and sunny; hatching takes place at sunrise
Tiny hues of pink and purple were the first stains across the sky of Dragonsfall Weyr that morning. The triple cliffs slumbered peacefully as liquid gold began slowly cascading from the top of the waterfall. Sunrise. As it had on the morning of Chioneth’s last flight, while the Weyr was peaceful, there was a thick tension blanketing the area, like the tension of a bow string drawn to its maximum.
The tension broke when the humming started. Firelizards startled and shot skyward, sprinkling the air with bursts of color as they swooped around in excitement.
Saibra was tumbling out of her temporary bed in the Hatching Cavern at a moment’s notice. A light sheen of sweat beaded her brow as she searched for her hatching attire. The weyr attached to the balmy Hatching Sands was also incredibly stuffy that morning.
While there was no gold egg on the sands this time, Saibra was pleased with the strong number, thirty-eight, and she looked forward to seeing the dragonets Chioneth and Karcalanth produced.
The Weyrwoman had carefully selected a green and brown dress to represent Dragonsfall’s colors. She thought to the flag in K’valdran’s office, and how she had joked to him she wouldn’t be caught dead in Dragonsfall brown. Yet, somehow, the tailor had taken the normally drab color and combined it in such a way with the green to make a fetching combination.
“Weyrleader,” she said with a smile of greeting. Her blue eyes swept over him, admiring the fine figure he cut in his hatching clothes.
“Weyrwoman,” K’valdran echoed. Titles were perhaps a formal choice, some found them cold, distancing, but to him it was practically an endearment. Titles such as these were a privilege to hold-- to hear, to say. He appreciated the word on Saibra’s lips. It underscored the meaning of the moment. He appreciated the rest of her too.
“I see we were of a similar frame of mind,” he said, taking in the weyrwoman in her new gown. “It suits you.”
That same day in his office he had admitted to never commissioning a brown tunic. Now he wore one proudly. At its base, it was the brown of the Weyr, but it had been embroidered with a pattern of bronze thread that gave it a sense of texture and a subtle sheen. Some clever black piping and a shoulder cape further served to make the bronze pop and emphasize the breadth of his shoulders.
Outside, the cavern was beginning to fill with the early and the eager, but K’valdran wasn’t quite ready to join them. He stepped deeper into the weyrwoman’s temporary quarters, allowing the door to fall shut behind him. “I brought you something to mark the occasion,” he said, presenting Saibra a slim lacquer case.
Inside was a delicate web of gold and glass. A necklace of incredible craftsmanship.
“Emeralds may be more traditional for Dragonsfall,” admitted K’valdran. “But I had the glass made from the sands of our hatching cavern and Far Island’s. I thought that’d be fitting.”
The Weyrwoman’s head tilted as she beheld the exquisite piece of jewelry. “K’valdran, it is beautiful, and thoughtful. Thank you.” Her eyes were bright as they swept back up to him. “Would you?” She indicated her neck.
“Of course.”
He stepped behind her, taking the necklace from its case with careful hands, the gold and glass catching the glow light. “Lift your hair,” he murmured.
K'valdran drew the cool chain around her throat, closing the clasp with a soft click. He was close, close enough the heat of him became distinct from the warmth of the cavern. Close enough that, when he spoke next, his breath brushed the shell of her ear. “Call if you need help with it later.”
A shiver raced down her spine as she considered the offer.
Circling back in front of the Weyrwoman, K’valdan looked immensely satisfied as he took in the combined effect of gown, gold and goldrider. “Beautiful.”
“I have something for you as well,” she said, turning and presenting him with a beltknife fit for a Lord Weyrholder of olde. The leather of the sheath gleamed in the light like a polished stone. Into the leather a master craftsman had tooled the Dragonsfall emblem. The blade itself was of no less quality, but crafted for use and not merely ornamentation.
Now it was K'valdran's turn to be touched. He drew the blade, turning it over in his hand and testing the weight and edge of it. “My father had one just like this… I'll bear it with pride,” he said, belting it on and setting aside his other knife to retrieve later.
Outside the humming was getting louder, the pitch and vibrato of it gaining in urgency. “It sounds like it's nearly time.” K'valdran straightened his tunic and the fall of his new blade, before offering Saibra his arm. “Shall we?”
---
The thrum of dragons and people in the Hatching Cavern was intoxicating as Saibra and K’valdran took their seats of honor. A hush fell over the crowd as the Candidates in their white robes filed onto the sands.
Chioneth, albeit reluctantly, stepped sideways, now giving everyone in the Cavern a clear view of the thirty-eight eggs nestled safely into the sands. A trill of applause and whistles rose from the crowd at the sight of the eggs.
In heights above the sands, bronze Karcalanth roared his approval, his pride, his pleasure.
“He is pleased,” K'valdran translated softly for Saibra. “And he should be. He and Chioneth gave us a formidable clutch.”
There was no wait, there was no tension or holding of breath, the dragonets were on no one’s time table but their own as eggs began cracking and splitting without warning.
Saibra had barely made it to her seat when a roar from the crowd announced the first dragonet had made its appearance. A bronze! A pleased laugh escaped the Weyrwoman as she clapped and glanced at K’valdran who was applauding heartily as well.
“A good omen,” he said.
The bronze was a dark, burnished color, as if his hide had been forged in fire. There was a ripple of appreciation and movement among the Candidates, but the solidly built dragonet seemed uninterested in any of them.
Chioneth’s golden nose neared the dragonet, as if they were conversing. The queen withdrew and settled her wings against her back. Apparently, all was well, but still the dragonet did not move.
So the honor of the first Impression went instead to one of the greens that hatched shortly after him. Shaking off the remains of her shell, she scrambled towards the candidates as if her life depended on it-- and it did. For in the sea of white robes she felt the one that would make her whole. }: E’rian! I found you! :{ Inarayth exulted. }: I found you and I will never leave you. :{
Saibra’s eyes slid away from the joyous face of the newly dubbed E’rian, and settled back on the bronze dragonet, but still he remained unmoved, surveying those gathered rather than moving toward them.
A vibrant blue dragonet spilled onto the sands next, his gleaming hide fading to darker hues of indigo beneath his wings and belly. “He’s so handsome,” Saibra commented in K’valdran’s ear as the blue, unlike his bronze brother, made a straight path toward one Candidate. Uncharacteristically graceful, it seemed as if the blue were floating on a breath of fresh air as he stopped in front of Olindrock.
}:O’rock, you are perfect. _We_ are perfect. We are meant to be.:{ Shaegerith gushed.
The initial bronze was still sitting on the sands, regarding the world with apparent disinterest. He was too deep within the nest of crackling shells and wobbly dragonets for the candidates to safely approach, but that didn’t stop several of the older, braver boys from trying to catch his attention. They clustered at the edge of the nest, waving and coaxing and hoping-- and drawing the ire of a dark, wiry brown.
He had hatched largely unnoticed, quietly uncoiling from a shell that had been slowly and methodically dismantled under the pressure of talons and teeth, and suddenly, he was there stalking up in front of the bronze hopefuls, flaring out his wings to block their eyeline to his shining brother, so all they could see was him. Him! He roared at them in squeaky admonishment, his eyes searching, finding-- }: Stop that, :{ brown Gorvagath hissed. }: I am all you need. :{
First K’thyr’s eldest Impressed, then R’vayn’s son. K’valdran applauded loudly for both boys, making a note to congratulate them and their fathers later.
Last updated on the April 1st 2026