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rivendellroseFandom: Babylon 5
Title: Shadows of the Past
Characters: Delenn, Dukhat, and Lennier. It's a Minbari love-fest over here. Well... not quite as much 'love-fest' as it might have been. But still.
Rating: PG-13ish
Disclaimers: Don't own it, don't make money off it, don't intend infringement. I just play with them.
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
oszras, who wanted to see some of Delenn and Dukhat’s backstory. I apologize for Lennier - he wouldn’t let me leave him out. Better him than Sheridan, I suppose.
The latter parts of this were written in part under the influence of a fierce cold. Please remember this, and be kind. Many thanks. I'm going to bed now.
(Also, if anybody knows of a good community or some such to post B5 fic to...? I'd love to get my writing out a bit more, but I'm still new and afraid to poke around too much for fear of the evil spoilers. I'll be getting S5 this weekend, though!)
If she had thought of the difficulties of combining their quarters, it was possible that Delenn would have been less eager to agree to John’s proposal of marriage. It wasn’t that she didn’t value the idea of living with him - naturally, the idea pleased her. It was the process of going through everything that both of them owned in an attempt to cut it down to an amount that could fit in one suite instead of two that bothered her. Fortunately, her own quarters had been deemed the logical choice for both of them, so at least her furniture and diplomtic files need not be moved, nor the more fragile of her pieces of artwork. But that still left the assorted detritus of four years on Babylon 5, as well as the treasured belongings of her past that she had brought with her to the station, and all of it had to be looked over, considered, occasionally recycled or given away, and space found for those items she chose to keep. It was not an easy process.
Fortunately, she had no need of doing it alone - while John sorted his own belongings in the quarters he would soon be vacating, Lennier had stayed with her, helping her to move the heavier items and go through her things. His presence and soft conversation made the process a good deal less tiresome, and it was a relief to be around another Minbari. Much as she loved John, English was still not entirely comfortable for her, and the need to explain certain items and processes would have put a strain on their relationship during an already disruptive time. And though she would never have told either man, she felt it important to spend time alone with Lennier for the moment, reassuring him that his place as her student and aide was still important to her, despite the changes in the rest of her life.
“We will not need two full sets of dishes... but I think that mine are the better choice to be kept,” she mused aloud, running her fingers along the delicate edge of a bowl. “John will want some of his, of course, but these are... nicer.”
Lennier, busy unpacking a set of boxes that had been in storage as long as Delenn had been aboard the station, nodded absently.
“Perhaps we shall get rid of the largest bowl... I fear it will only encourage John to try his hand at making flarn again. We won’t have time for cooking for some time, I expect,” she added, trying not to think about the horribly bland paste her beloved husband had made of the delicacy. “You would have more use of it, I think.” A moment passed, and her aide said nothing. “Lennier?” she prompted. “Do you want the bowl, or should I ask among the others?”
“I... Delenn?”
Lennier had sat back on his heels and was now staring at the bottom of the box as though it contained a Narkaleen Feeder. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off it.
“What is it, Lennier?”
“There are... papers. From...” He hesitated, then lifted a neatly-bound pile of thin paper from the bottom of the box. From the way he held them, it was clear he was afraid they would crumble if he breathed in the wrong way. When he spoke again, his voice was thin with awe. “Delenn, they are signed by Satai Dukhat.”
“Dukhat?” Delenn stood quickly and went to him, taking the fragile documents in her hands. Just as he had said, there was her mentor’s bold calligraphy - revolutionary though many of his policies had been, he had disdained computer pages in favor of hand-writing almost everything. What point is there to doing something if it will not be done by our own hands? she remembered him grumbling, watching over her as she copied a treaty that had been delivered by another councilmember, writing each clause carefully into the musty pages of his ledger. No wonder that the others have no true sense of things - they don’t feel the laws pass through their hands onto the page. Just feed it into the computer and forget.
She let her fingers trace the ink of his name, and the more delicate writing that preceded his - the work of her own, much younger hand. In a flash of memory, she saw Dukhat’s long, sturdy fingers reaching down to remove the pen from her loose, sleepy grasp, his other hand resting on her shoulder.
“I thought that all of Satai Dukhat’s documents had been recalled to the council’s private libraries.” Lennier glanced up at her, then averted his eyes abruptly, a stricken expression crossing his face before he could close it off into an impassive mask. He thought she had deliberately disobeyed the order, then... not an unsurprising assumption.
“I must have packed these away before his death,” Delenn reassured him. She tapped the top paper lightly with her fingernail and examined it closely. Sure enough, the date on the document was more than twenty years past. “I had forgotten them entirely... It was so long ago.”
“May I ask...?”
“What are they?” Delenn smiled at his curiosity and untied the delicate strip of fabric that bound the pages together. Of course he wanted to know - Dukhat was still revered, a figure of legend both to those who had known him and those who knew no more than the stories of his leadership. “Nothing momentous, I’m afraid. Lists of things to be done, my notes on the duties and lessons I had as his student...” She trailed off, finding a page tucked in the middle that was written entirely in Dukhat’s strong hand. “Letters... from when we were parted. He... had to keep me up to date on his proceedings, of course, so that I could keep his schedule and ensure that everything was properly handled.”
John would have believed this slight obfuscation, she expected. Lennier, however, knew all too well that it was not normal practice for a teacher to write letters to his acolyte... particularly when that teacher was the leader of the Grey Council. He blinked once, and looked down at the pages again - as much to give her a modicum of privacy as to examine them, she expected. “You were very close,” he murmured, understanding clear in his soft voice.
“Very,” Delenn agreed. It was difficult to keep her voice light, knowing what this meant to Lennier, and knowing all the more that she must not indicate that knowledge to him. If he saw that her hand trembled as she looked through the pages, Lennier did not comment. With a brief and silent prayer, she thanked him for his discretion, and for the way his silent presence beside her made it easier to look on these relics of the past.
The family of your blood and clan is the first teacher, the second your teachers here at temple, who guide you through childhood and youth, and try to mold the foundations of your study, she remembered one of the temple leaders telling her when she was nearing her ascension to her first calling, the time when young Minbari eventually found themselves taken under the tutelage of an older and wiser member of their future community, who they would serve in humble study and whose path they would follow. Third is your mentor, who will guide your way into true adulthood and understanding. It is this teacher who will determine most strongly the course of your future. No relationship but the choice of a mate is more vital to who and what you will become. Meditate, now, and pray that you find one who will guide you well in your path.
* * *
Emerging from the temple was a time of confusion, her teachers had warned - the steady, familiar rules and routines of her last many years of training would no longer structure her life, and there would be many new requirements and lessons to be learned. Understanding is not necessary, her former mentor reminded her, only obedience.
Every acolyte knew those words by heart from their first weeks in the temple. Mayell clearly thought that her impetuous and curious young student could use a reminder before recieving her assignment. It hurt a little to be thought so foolish, but Delenn had swallowed her pride and bowed deeply to her teacher and friend, who had guided her patiently through the last many years of her education. When she received the order sending her to the Grey Council’s ship, she understood much better what had worried Mayell - only a handful of acolytes in any year were chosen for such an honor, and those few were at risk for the greatest of dishonor to their temple and teachers if they failed. I will do my best to do them honor, Delenn told herself as she boarded the flyer that would take her to the great ship.
She got motion-sick for the first time in her life on the way. The pilot was very kind about it, but it seemed a most inauspicious start to the day, and she worried that it would reflect badly on her preparations. By the time she walked into the great, empty hall with the other two acolytes - young adults who she didn’t know, from other, distant temples - her hands were trembling so badly she nearly dropped the scroll that carried her orders.
They recited their vows of service to the council, bowed and listened while the council leader spoke at length about their new responsibilities... And then, as the council members departed, she recognized someone - the tall Satai Dukhat, who she had accompanied in the Dreaming the year before. As he approached, she quickly cast her eyes to the floor, as she’d been trained.
“Finally found your way off-world, did you?” he asked gruffly.
Delenn blinked and bowed, surprised to be addressed directly so soon after her arrival. “Yes, Satai.”
“And do you like your new post?”
She winced. “Yes, Satai.”
“Hmph.” His robes rustled - crossing his arms, she thought. “I hope you learn a few more words soon, then, or you’ll be of no use at all to us.”
“I hope only to serve the council with honor,” she stammered, and bowed lower still.
It almost sounded like he snorted. “Indeed.”
She didn’t dare look up until his footsteps had departed the hall, leaving her alone with the other acolytes.
* * *
Nearly a month passed aboard the council’s great ship before she saw him again, the morning that he pulled her into the council chambers to offer her opinion on the council’s decision about the Humans. She was convinced that her calling with the council was finished - surely the other council members would shun her, now, and in time she would be recalled to her temple in shame. The rest of her life would likely be spent sequestered in the temple, for fear that she would bring equal dishonor in a second placement. No one would take a risk on an acolyte who was so bold as to question the Grey Council.
She should have known, after their first conversation on the ship, that Satai Dukhat meant to cause trouble for her. Perhaps he resented her for seeing his past in the Dreaming... or, more likely, he simply didn’t think she deserved the honor she’d been granted by the temple guardians.
And then he told her that he meant to take her on as his own student.
After that, everything seemed to change - the other council members resented her, yes, but Dukhat was a good teacher. Strict, even harsh at times, but he never allowed her to get by on anything less than her best, and he constantly urged her to question assumptions and indulge her natural curiosity. More than that, he seemed to genuinely respect her opinions, which was a rare gift.
“Do you regret, now, that I dragged you into that debate?” he asked her several months later, while they prepared a schedule for the upcoming rituals of the new year.
“No, Satai.” She smiled. “I am grateful for the opportunity to learn from you.”
“Good. Half of those fools wouldn’t know potential if it sat on their heads and crowed like a linsha in the springtime.” He pushed aside his papers. “So - do you trust me enough, now, to take my advice on one more impropriety?”
Delenn blinked. “Satai?”
“That exactly.” He shook his head, fumbling around his desk with his pen held aloft. It’s tip was dulled, worn down by writing.
She held out the small knife to sharpen the pen.
“Ah. Yes.” He took the knife and set to paring down the tip.
“And the advice you were offering me...?”
He didn’t look up from the work. “I would like you to call me by my name, Delenn. I hear ‘Satai Dukhat’ all day in the council chambers. When I am out of them, I would like to be spoken to as a person, by someone with the wit and gall to interact with me as such. Now that you’ve gotten over the fear that I was likely to send you home on the next flyer if the sound of your voice offended me, I would like that person to be my student.”
It was a struggle against training not to protest with exactly the title he was disputing the use of. “I am not sure...” she began delicately.
“If you’re worried about the others, you need only do this when we are alone. I will not estrange you from them more than I have already done, at least not willfully.” He smirked and brushed aside the shavings, then set the knife back in its proper box on the table. “And if it offends you personally--”
“No. No, I... am only surprised. Dukhat,” she added, tasting the name in her mouth and finding it new without the accompanying honorific. “And I am much honored.”
“Hmph. There’s little honor in it - I only wish one person on this ship who doesn’t dislike me, or fear me to the point of refusing to lift their eyes. You have been a good student, Delenn - despite still being very young and foolish, mind you,” he added with a sly smile. “I hope that you will now be a good friend, as well.”
Unable to find words to answer this, Delenn pressed her hand to his chest, and was gratified when he returned the gesture. The heart that beat beneath her palm was so strong she could almost believe it the pulse of the universe itself. She bowed her head over his large palm, and let herself smile at the warmth that covered her heart.
* * *
Looking back, she saw it as the beginning of who and what she later became. It was not what she tried to do that evening that gave her this thought, but because of the confidence with which she attempted it - certainly there was nothing of the shy, terrified acolyte who had trembled before Dukhat’s visions in the Dreaming in the way that she let her fingertips trail lightly over his hand when she took this latest folio in an endless parade of documents from him, then looked up at him coyly, tilting her head just enough to see him while keeping her face bent to her work.
And there was little of the jaded, fierce councilor who had at first so much terrified her in the way his eyes now widened and his hand jumped at her touch. She felt a rush of unexpected power, and found that she enjoyed it.
“Delenn?” His voice sounded almost hoarse.
“It is late, Satai,” she murmured. It felt deliciously strange, now, to call him by his title, and she leaned on that with a lightly teasing tone. “Perhaps we should give up on our work and retire.”
“Delenn, you... no. This cannot be.” His voice was firm, now, and the foolishness of her actions came to her in a rush. How impertinent of her, a mere acolyte, and one very much indulged to begin with, to even hint at such intimacy!
“I’m sorry, Dukhat,” she said quickly. “Forgive me - I...” What explanation could she possibly offer? She gathered her papers and equipment as quickly as she could, flustered and horrified by her own actions. “I should never have--”
His hand, big and callused, caught her wrist, then released just as quickly. “Stop.”
She hung her head and clutched the papers as a warrior’s armor to her chest. Here, then, was the chastising she so richly deserved. Better now, she supposed, than to wait until the next day, unable to sleep or think of anything but how ashamed she was of her behavior.
“This was not your fault.” Delenn’s neck hurt from how quickly she lifted her head to stare at him in shock at this statement, but he raised his hand for silence and continued. “I am to blame. I ask your forgiveness, Delenn, for misleading you. It is the teacher’s responsibility not to direct the student astray, and the student is not at fault for following where her mentor leads. Even when that direction is uninentional.”
“Dukhat... Satai Dukhat,” Delenn corrected herself - it no longer seemed right to call him by his given name, not at that moment. “I was wrong to presume, I--”
For the first time since he took her as his student, a flash of Dukhat’s full, fierce temper was directed at her. “Are you not listening to me, Delenn? Pay attention! I have told you that I was responsible, that I was wrong, and I expect you to accept that. And I expect you to know that I do not apologize lightly,” he growled, the outburst seeming to have somewhat relieved his anger. “Now go. I will see you in the morning, and we will finish our work. We will not speak of this again.”
“I meant no offense, Satai,” Delenn murmured. “I should only have--”
“And I should never have encouraged this imepetuousness in you! Take your apology and go, Delenn. I am an old man, and my delusions shouldn’t touch you, nor put your future at risk.”
“There is no risk. It is not forbidden--”
“No, but neither is it encouraged, and you have already seen that I am far from popular among the council. I took you as my student, Delenn, because I saw in you a light that would be smothered by the others if they could. I will not be the one to cast a shadow on your destiny.”
A shiver tingled in Delenn’s fingertips. Destiny. The calling she had felt tugging at her since she was a small child, the impulse that had drawn her to work as hard as she could at the temple in hopes of winning the best assignment after, and then the rush she had felt in the council chamber two years before, a feeling of... familiarity, of coming home. Being in that darkness, under those lights, had terrified her, yes, but as she found her voice under their stare, she knew that it would someday be her place to take in her own right. And Dukhat was part of that future - of that she was certain.
“You will not,” she told him, unsure even as she spoke the words of where she found this boldness. “You have been the light that guides my steps, Dukhat. You always will be.”
His scowl softened a little, then, and he shook his head. “Be careful of flattery, Delenn, it doesn’t suit you. Good night.”
She bowed to him and quietly left. Whatever Dukhat thought of it, she did not doubt that her words had been the truth, and that certainty settled in her stomach to comfort her despite her shame at her behavior. She didn’t sleep that night, but stayed awake praying and meditating, trying to find the clarity to understand where her thoughts and feelings had gone wrong.
* * *
The mourning period for Satai Aydell had just begun when several of the members of the council pulled her aside and asked her into the council chamber to take his place. She was terrified, but as she stepped into that darkness again and saw Dukhat in the center of the room, she knew that her time had come. She inclined her head toward him as she took her place, and straightened with pride when he nodded his head slightly in return.
“Summoned, I come,” she recited as she had been coached. Her voice sounded uncomfortably quiet in the open, dark space, and she struggled for a moment with her instinct to shy away from the attention of the nine figures around her. “In Valen's name I take the place that... has been prepared for me.” She faltered for a moment, closed her eyes, and caught the thread again. “I am become Grey. I stand between the candle and the star.”
“We are Grey,” Dukhat affirmed, and Delenn was sure that she heard pride in his voice. “We stand between the darkness and the light. Welcome, Delenn.”
The subjects to be debated that day, and for the next several meetings, were simple, and Delenn wondered if they had temporarily shelved any more controversial discussions to give her time to adjust to the her new position. On one day they remained in the chamber for only an hour before Dukhat dismissed the session.
“You’ve done well so far,” he told her a bit gruffly as soon as they had gotten far enough away from the chamber to allow for casual speech.
Delenn smiled and shook her head, the lowered cowl of her hood still an unfamiliar tickling against her neck. “I am glad that you don’t think the worker caste will rebel because of my vote to repair the east bridge of the capitol,” she teased.
“Not yet, at least.”
They walked the rest of the way to her quarters in silence, and he accepted her invitation in, and then the cup of tea she offered.
“You should know that I am proud of you, Delenn,” he told her, his voice strangely quiet. “Perhaps I do not say it enough. You are a credit to your clan, and I am honored to be your mentor.”
Delenn was so stunned by the unexpected praise that she could say nothing for a moment, and only bent her head over her tea. “Thank you.” Silence fell again, but Delenn felt unspoken words hanging in garlands all around them.
In time, she knew, they would speak - they were both too bold, too impetuous to let propriety and embarassment hold them in check for long. And what conclusions would that conversation bring them to? That much she couldn’t guess, but they had time. Dukhat would always be a part of her life, she was sure of that, and beyond that little seemed to matter. She smiled at him, refilled his tea, and let the universe carry them where it would.
* * *
Delenn rested her fingertips on the old paper as though it was the skin of a lover, as though she might still feel Dukhat’s strong heart pulsing in these pages if she touched them in greeting. And for a moment it confused her when she felt an answering touch on her shoulder. A warm hand, an anchor in the present, calling her back. Reminding her without words of the sentiment he had repeated so often in so many ways. You are not alone.
She turned to Lennier and offered a sad smile, the most she could give, then took his hand in hers and lowered it to rest over her heart, clasping it gently there as she watched him. Have I done what is right for you, my good friend? Have I lived up to this sacred calling among all the other duties that have fallen to me?
As a student, she hadn’t understood the depth of this burden - she had not seen the strain it must have put on Dukhat, great leader though he was, to be so completely responsible for another’s life and progress. And that chance had been stolen from her. What might have happened, if we had not met the humans when we did? If we had met them weeks later, months later, or if it had not been the council ship at all? Her love for Dukhat had never been the love of a mate - of that she was certain. They would never have married, and her destiny would still have been tied to John’s. But a dalliance would not have been out of the question, and she wondered what it might have changed.
Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything. It was fruitless to question fate too closely. Dukhat was dead, and these letters were all that remained of the awestruck infatuation of a young woman for her intense, beloved teacher. More importantly, they were all that was left to her hands of her teacher’s great wisdom - she would have given much, now, to have Dukhat’s advice, his stern lectures and probing, insistent questions that always dragged her around to the answers she least expected or least wanted to admit aloud. And now she had a student of her own, this gentle aide who was both a comfort and, now, a source of wistful sorrow at her side. They were not as he wished they could be, she knew that now. It had taken too long for her to see beyond his loyalty and devotion, and for that - for all the times she had asked service of him that must have been nearly torture - she was more sorry than she could ever tell him. To talk about it would shame him, and do neither of them any good. Her path was chosen. His as well he refused to turn from. And so it was better simply to remain silent on the subject.
I understand. For what little it is worth, I understand.
The papers still weighed in her hand, and she realized that Lennier was waiting for her to say something. “We will bind them again, and find a safe place for them,” she told him. “Among your things, perhaps. There is no knowing when I will next return to Minbar, and I would rather have them in your hands than worry that in time they may be lost from our people.”
“You would not lose them.” He seemed frightened, though whether by the thought of her not returning home or of taking something so precious into his own possession, she couldn’t tell.
She smiled again and touched his cheek. “Do this for me, Lennier. For me, and for Minbar - many will say, if they discover that I have them, that I am not of our people anymore. They will never say that of you. Take care of them.”
It seemed right, as he took the papers from her, bound again and wrapped in soft cloth, and tucked them against his chest. The past would be safe, untouched by whatever trials the coming years of reunion would bring for her and John. Dukhat had always counseled her to follow her instincts, and in this she honored him.
They returned to the cleaning and sorting, but Delenn’s mind remained caught between past, present, and future. Perhaps he will find in those letters the words that I cannot speak, she thought. Or at least he may find comfort in Dukhat’s wisdom, as I always did. Past and future would help to look out for each other, and, between them, perhaps the present had the opportunity for hope.
Title: Shadows of the Past
Characters: Delenn, Dukhat, and Lennier. It's a Minbari love-fest over here. Well... not quite as much 'love-fest' as it might have been. But still.
Rating: PG-13ish
Disclaimers: Don't own it, don't make money off it, don't intend infringement. I just play with them.
Notes: For
oszras, who wanted to see some of Delenn and Dukhat’s backstory. I apologize for Lennier - he wouldn’t let me leave him out. Better him than Sheridan, I suppose.The latter parts of this were written in part under the influence of a fierce cold. Please remember this, and be kind. Many thanks. I'm going to bed now.
(Also, if anybody knows of a good community or some such to post B5 fic to...? I'd love to get my writing out a bit more, but I'm still new and afraid to poke around too much for fear of the evil spoilers. I'll be getting S5 this weekend, though!)
If she had thought of the difficulties of combining their quarters, it was possible that Delenn would have been less eager to agree to John’s proposal of marriage. It wasn’t that she didn’t value the idea of living with him - naturally, the idea pleased her. It was the process of going through everything that both of them owned in an attempt to cut it down to an amount that could fit in one suite instead of two that bothered her. Fortunately, her own quarters had been deemed the logical choice for both of them, so at least her furniture and diplomtic files need not be moved, nor the more fragile of her pieces of artwork. But that still left the assorted detritus of four years on Babylon 5, as well as the treasured belongings of her past that she had brought with her to the station, and all of it had to be looked over, considered, occasionally recycled or given away, and space found for those items she chose to keep. It was not an easy process.
Fortunately, she had no need of doing it alone - while John sorted his own belongings in the quarters he would soon be vacating, Lennier had stayed with her, helping her to move the heavier items and go through her things. His presence and soft conversation made the process a good deal less tiresome, and it was a relief to be around another Minbari. Much as she loved John, English was still not entirely comfortable for her, and the need to explain certain items and processes would have put a strain on their relationship during an already disruptive time. And though she would never have told either man, she felt it important to spend time alone with Lennier for the moment, reassuring him that his place as her student and aide was still important to her, despite the changes in the rest of her life.
“We will not need two full sets of dishes... but I think that mine are the better choice to be kept,” she mused aloud, running her fingers along the delicate edge of a bowl. “John will want some of his, of course, but these are... nicer.”
Lennier, busy unpacking a set of boxes that had been in storage as long as Delenn had been aboard the station, nodded absently.
“Perhaps we shall get rid of the largest bowl... I fear it will only encourage John to try his hand at making flarn again. We won’t have time for cooking for some time, I expect,” she added, trying not to think about the horribly bland paste her beloved husband had made of the delicacy. “You would have more use of it, I think.” A moment passed, and her aide said nothing. “Lennier?” she prompted. “Do you want the bowl, or should I ask among the others?”
“I... Delenn?”
Lennier had sat back on his heels and was now staring at the bottom of the box as though it contained a Narkaleen Feeder. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off it.
“What is it, Lennier?”
“There are... papers. From...” He hesitated, then lifted a neatly-bound pile of thin paper from the bottom of the box. From the way he held them, it was clear he was afraid they would crumble if he breathed in the wrong way. When he spoke again, his voice was thin with awe. “Delenn, they are signed by Satai Dukhat.”
“Dukhat?” Delenn stood quickly and went to him, taking the fragile documents in her hands. Just as he had said, there was her mentor’s bold calligraphy - revolutionary though many of his policies had been, he had disdained computer pages in favor of hand-writing almost everything. What point is there to doing something if it will not be done by our own hands? she remembered him grumbling, watching over her as she copied a treaty that had been delivered by another councilmember, writing each clause carefully into the musty pages of his ledger. No wonder that the others have no true sense of things - they don’t feel the laws pass through their hands onto the page. Just feed it into the computer and forget.
She let her fingers trace the ink of his name, and the more delicate writing that preceded his - the work of her own, much younger hand. In a flash of memory, she saw Dukhat’s long, sturdy fingers reaching down to remove the pen from her loose, sleepy grasp, his other hand resting on her shoulder.
“I thought that all of Satai Dukhat’s documents had been recalled to the council’s private libraries.” Lennier glanced up at her, then averted his eyes abruptly, a stricken expression crossing his face before he could close it off into an impassive mask. He thought she had deliberately disobeyed the order, then... not an unsurprising assumption.
“I must have packed these away before his death,” Delenn reassured him. She tapped the top paper lightly with her fingernail and examined it closely. Sure enough, the date on the document was more than twenty years past. “I had forgotten them entirely... It was so long ago.”
“May I ask...?”
“What are they?” Delenn smiled at his curiosity and untied the delicate strip of fabric that bound the pages together. Of course he wanted to know - Dukhat was still revered, a figure of legend both to those who had known him and those who knew no more than the stories of his leadership. “Nothing momentous, I’m afraid. Lists of things to be done, my notes on the duties and lessons I had as his student...” She trailed off, finding a page tucked in the middle that was written entirely in Dukhat’s strong hand. “Letters... from when we were parted. He... had to keep me up to date on his proceedings, of course, so that I could keep his schedule and ensure that everything was properly handled.”
John would have believed this slight obfuscation, she expected. Lennier, however, knew all too well that it was not normal practice for a teacher to write letters to his acolyte... particularly when that teacher was the leader of the Grey Council. He blinked once, and looked down at the pages again - as much to give her a modicum of privacy as to examine them, she expected. “You were very close,” he murmured, understanding clear in his soft voice.
“Very,” Delenn agreed. It was difficult to keep her voice light, knowing what this meant to Lennier, and knowing all the more that she must not indicate that knowledge to him. If he saw that her hand trembled as she looked through the pages, Lennier did not comment. With a brief and silent prayer, she thanked him for his discretion, and for the way his silent presence beside her made it easier to look on these relics of the past.
The family of your blood and clan is the first teacher, the second your teachers here at temple, who guide you through childhood and youth, and try to mold the foundations of your study, she remembered one of the temple leaders telling her when she was nearing her ascension to her first calling, the time when young Minbari eventually found themselves taken under the tutelage of an older and wiser member of their future community, who they would serve in humble study and whose path they would follow. Third is your mentor, who will guide your way into true adulthood and understanding. It is this teacher who will determine most strongly the course of your future. No relationship but the choice of a mate is more vital to who and what you will become. Meditate, now, and pray that you find one who will guide you well in your path.
* * *
Emerging from the temple was a time of confusion, her teachers had warned - the steady, familiar rules and routines of her last many years of training would no longer structure her life, and there would be many new requirements and lessons to be learned. Understanding is not necessary, her former mentor reminded her, only obedience.
Every acolyte knew those words by heart from their first weeks in the temple. Mayell clearly thought that her impetuous and curious young student could use a reminder before recieving her assignment. It hurt a little to be thought so foolish, but Delenn had swallowed her pride and bowed deeply to her teacher and friend, who had guided her patiently through the last many years of her education. When she received the order sending her to the Grey Council’s ship, she understood much better what had worried Mayell - only a handful of acolytes in any year were chosen for such an honor, and those few were at risk for the greatest of dishonor to their temple and teachers if they failed. I will do my best to do them honor, Delenn told herself as she boarded the flyer that would take her to the great ship.
She got motion-sick for the first time in her life on the way. The pilot was very kind about it, but it seemed a most inauspicious start to the day, and she worried that it would reflect badly on her preparations. By the time she walked into the great, empty hall with the other two acolytes - young adults who she didn’t know, from other, distant temples - her hands were trembling so badly she nearly dropped the scroll that carried her orders.
They recited their vows of service to the council, bowed and listened while the council leader spoke at length about their new responsibilities... And then, as the council members departed, she recognized someone - the tall Satai Dukhat, who she had accompanied in the Dreaming the year before. As he approached, she quickly cast her eyes to the floor, as she’d been trained.
“Finally found your way off-world, did you?” he asked gruffly.
Delenn blinked and bowed, surprised to be addressed directly so soon after her arrival. “Yes, Satai.”
“And do you like your new post?”
She winced. “Yes, Satai.”
“Hmph.” His robes rustled - crossing his arms, she thought. “I hope you learn a few more words soon, then, or you’ll be of no use at all to us.”
“I hope only to serve the council with honor,” she stammered, and bowed lower still.
It almost sounded like he snorted. “Indeed.”
She didn’t dare look up until his footsteps had departed the hall, leaving her alone with the other acolytes.
* * *
Nearly a month passed aboard the council’s great ship before she saw him again, the morning that he pulled her into the council chambers to offer her opinion on the council’s decision about the Humans. She was convinced that her calling with the council was finished - surely the other council members would shun her, now, and in time she would be recalled to her temple in shame. The rest of her life would likely be spent sequestered in the temple, for fear that she would bring equal dishonor in a second placement. No one would take a risk on an acolyte who was so bold as to question the Grey Council.
She should have known, after their first conversation on the ship, that Satai Dukhat meant to cause trouble for her. Perhaps he resented her for seeing his past in the Dreaming... or, more likely, he simply didn’t think she deserved the honor she’d been granted by the temple guardians.
And then he told her that he meant to take her on as his own student.
After that, everything seemed to change - the other council members resented her, yes, but Dukhat was a good teacher. Strict, even harsh at times, but he never allowed her to get by on anything less than her best, and he constantly urged her to question assumptions and indulge her natural curiosity. More than that, he seemed to genuinely respect her opinions, which was a rare gift.
“Do you regret, now, that I dragged you into that debate?” he asked her several months later, while they prepared a schedule for the upcoming rituals of the new year.
“No, Satai.” She smiled. “I am grateful for the opportunity to learn from you.”
“Good. Half of those fools wouldn’t know potential if it sat on their heads and crowed like a linsha in the springtime.” He pushed aside his papers. “So - do you trust me enough, now, to take my advice on one more impropriety?”
Delenn blinked. “Satai?”
“That exactly.” He shook his head, fumbling around his desk with his pen held aloft. It’s tip was dulled, worn down by writing.
She held out the small knife to sharpen the pen.
“Ah. Yes.” He took the knife and set to paring down the tip.
“And the advice you were offering me...?”
He didn’t look up from the work. “I would like you to call me by my name, Delenn. I hear ‘Satai Dukhat’ all day in the council chambers. When I am out of them, I would like to be spoken to as a person, by someone with the wit and gall to interact with me as such. Now that you’ve gotten over the fear that I was likely to send you home on the next flyer if the sound of your voice offended me, I would like that person to be my student.”
It was a struggle against training not to protest with exactly the title he was disputing the use of. “I am not sure...” she began delicately.
“If you’re worried about the others, you need only do this when we are alone. I will not estrange you from them more than I have already done, at least not willfully.” He smirked and brushed aside the shavings, then set the knife back in its proper box on the table. “And if it offends you personally--”
“No. No, I... am only surprised. Dukhat,” she added, tasting the name in her mouth and finding it new without the accompanying honorific. “And I am much honored.”
“Hmph. There’s little honor in it - I only wish one person on this ship who doesn’t dislike me, or fear me to the point of refusing to lift their eyes. You have been a good student, Delenn - despite still being very young and foolish, mind you,” he added with a sly smile. “I hope that you will now be a good friend, as well.”
Unable to find words to answer this, Delenn pressed her hand to his chest, and was gratified when he returned the gesture. The heart that beat beneath her palm was so strong she could almost believe it the pulse of the universe itself. She bowed her head over his large palm, and let herself smile at the warmth that covered her heart.
* * *
Looking back, she saw it as the beginning of who and what she later became. It was not what she tried to do that evening that gave her this thought, but because of the confidence with which she attempted it - certainly there was nothing of the shy, terrified acolyte who had trembled before Dukhat’s visions in the Dreaming in the way that she let her fingertips trail lightly over his hand when she took this latest folio in an endless parade of documents from him, then looked up at him coyly, tilting her head just enough to see him while keeping her face bent to her work.
And there was little of the jaded, fierce councilor who had at first so much terrified her in the way his eyes now widened and his hand jumped at her touch. She felt a rush of unexpected power, and found that she enjoyed it.
“Delenn?” His voice sounded almost hoarse.
“It is late, Satai,” she murmured. It felt deliciously strange, now, to call him by his title, and she leaned on that with a lightly teasing tone. “Perhaps we should give up on our work and retire.”
“Delenn, you... no. This cannot be.” His voice was firm, now, and the foolishness of her actions came to her in a rush. How impertinent of her, a mere acolyte, and one very much indulged to begin with, to even hint at such intimacy!
“I’m sorry, Dukhat,” she said quickly. “Forgive me - I...” What explanation could she possibly offer? She gathered her papers and equipment as quickly as she could, flustered and horrified by her own actions. “I should never have--”
His hand, big and callused, caught her wrist, then released just as quickly. “Stop.”
She hung her head and clutched the papers as a warrior’s armor to her chest. Here, then, was the chastising she so richly deserved. Better now, she supposed, than to wait until the next day, unable to sleep or think of anything but how ashamed she was of her behavior.
“This was not your fault.” Delenn’s neck hurt from how quickly she lifted her head to stare at him in shock at this statement, but he raised his hand for silence and continued. “I am to blame. I ask your forgiveness, Delenn, for misleading you. It is the teacher’s responsibility not to direct the student astray, and the student is not at fault for following where her mentor leads. Even when that direction is uninentional.”
“Dukhat... Satai Dukhat,” Delenn corrected herself - it no longer seemed right to call him by his given name, not at that moment. “I was wrong to presume, I--”
For the first time since he took her as his student, a flash of Dukhat’s full, fierce temper was directed at her. “Are you not listening to me, Delenn? Pay attention! I have told you that I was responsible, that I was wrong, and I expect you to accept that. And I expect you to know that I do not apologize lightly,” he growled, the outburst seeming to have somewhat relieved his anger. “Now go. I will see you in the morning, and we will finish our work. We will not speak of this again.”
“I meant no offense, Satai,” Delenn murmured. “I should only have--”
“And I should never have encouraged this imepetuousness in you! Take your apology and go, Delenn. I am an old man, and my delusions shouldn’t touch you, nor put your future at risk.”
“There is no risk. It is not forbidden--”
“No, but neither is it encouraged, and you have already seen that I am far from popular among the council. I took you as my student, Delenn, because I saw in you a light that would be smothered by the others if they could. I will not be the one to cast a shadow on your destiny.”
A shiver tingled in Delenn’s fingertips. Destiny. The calling she had felt tugging at her since she was a small child, the impulse that had drawn her to work as hard as she could at the temple in hopes of winning the best assignment after, and then the rush she had felt in the council chamber two years before, a feeling of... familiarity, of coming home. Being in that darkness, under those lights, had terrified her, yes, but as she found her voice under their stare, she knew that it would someday be her place to take in her own right. And Dukhat was part of that future - of that she was certain.
“You will not,” she told him, unsure even as she spoke the words of where she found this boldness. “You have been the light that guides my steps, Dukhat. You always will be.”
His scowl softened a little, then, and he shook his head. “Be careful of flattery, Delenn, it doesn’t suit you. Good night.”
She bowed to him and quietly left. Whatever Dukhat thought of it, she did not doubt that her words had been the truth, and that certainty settled in her stomach to comfort her despite her shame at her behavior. She didn’t sleep that night, but stayed awake praying and meditating, trying to find the clarity to understand where her thoughts and feelings had gone wrong.
* * *
The mourning period for Satai Aydell had just begun when several of the members of the council pulled her aside and asked her into the council chamber to take his place. She was terrified, but as she stepped into that darkness again and saw Dukhat in the center of the room, she knew that her time had come. She inclined her head toward him as she took her place, and straightened with pride when he nodded his head slightly in return.
“Summoned, I come,” she recited as she had been coached. Her voice sounded uncomfortably quiet in the open, dark space, and she struggled for a moment with her instinct to shy away from the attention of the nine figures around her. “In Valen's name I take the place that... has been prepared for me.” She faltered for a moment, closed her eyes, and caught the thread again. “I am become Grey. I stand between the candle and the star.”
“We are Grey,” Dukhat affirmed, and Delenn was sure that she heard pride in his voice. “We stand between the darkness and the light. Welcome, Delenn.”
The subjects to be debated that day, and for the next several meetings, were simple, and Delenn wondered if they had temporarily shelved any more controversial discussions to give her time to adjust to the her new position. On one day they remained in the chamber for only an hour before Dukhat dismissed the session.
“You’ve done well so far,” he told her a bit gruffly as soon as they had gotten far enough away from the chamber to allow for casual speech.
Delenn smiled and shook her head, the lowered cowl of her hood still an unfamiliar tickling against her neck. “I am glad that you don’t think the worker caste will rebel because of my vote to repair the east bridge of the capitol,” she teased.
“Not yet, at least.”
They walked the rest of the way to her quarters in silence, and he accepted her invitation in, and then the cup of tea she offered.
“You should know that I am proud of you, Delenn,” he told her, his voice strangely quiet. “Perhaps I do not say it enough. You are a credit to your clan, and I am honored to be your mentor.”
Delenn was so stunned by the unexpected praise that she could say nothing for a moment, and only bent her head over her tea. “Thank you.” Silence fell again, but Delenn felt unspoken words hanging in garlands all around them.
In time, she knew, they would speak - they were both too bold, too impetuous to let propriety and embarassment hold them in check for long. And what conclusions would that conversation bring them to? That much she couldn’t guess, but they had time. Dukhat would always be a part of her life, she was sure of that, and beyond that little seemed to matter. She smiled at him, refilled his tea, and let the universe carry them where it would.
* * *
Delenn rested her fingertips on the old paper as though it was the skin of a lover, as though she might still feel Dukhat’s strong heart pulsing in these pages if she touched them in greeting. And for a moment it confused her when she felt an answering touch on her shoulder. A warm hand, an anchor in the present, calling her back. Reminding her without words of the sentiment he had repeated so often in so many ways. You are not alone.
She turned to Lennier and offered a sad smile, the most she could give, then took his hand in hers and lowered it to rest over her heart, clasping it gently there as she watched him. Have I done what is right for you, my good friend? Have I lived up to this sacred calling among all the other duties that have fallen to me?
As a student, she hadn’t understood the depth of this burden - she had not seen the strain it must have put on Dukhat, great leader though he was, to be so completely responsible for another’s life and progress. And that chance had been stolen from her. What might have happened, if we had not met the humans when we did? If we had met them weeks later, months later, or if it had not been the council ship at all? Her love for Dukhat had never been the love of a mate - of that she was certain. They would never have married, and her destiny would still have been tied to John’s. But a dalliance would not have been out of the question, and she wondered what it might have changed.
Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything. It was fruitless to question fate too closely. Dukhat was dead, and these letters were all that remained of the awestruck infatuation of a young woman for her intense, beloved teacher. More importantly, they were all that was left to her hands of her teacher’s great wisdom - she would have given much, now, to have Dukhat’s advice, his stern lectures and probing, insistent questions that always dragged her around to the answers she least expected or least wanted to admit aloud. And now she had a student of her own, this gentle aide who was both a comfort and, now, a source of wistful sorrow at her side. They were not as he wished they could be, she knew that now. It had taken too long for her to see beyond his loyalty and devotion, and for that - for all the times she had asked service of him that must have been nearly torture - she was more sorry than she could ever tell him. To talk about it would shame him, and do neither of them any good. Her path was chosen. His as well he refused to turn from. And so it was better simply to remain silent on the subject.
I understand. For what little it is worth, I understand.
The papers still weighed in her hand, and she realized that Lennier was waiting for her to say something. “We will bind them again, and find a safe place for them,” she told him. “Among your things, perhaps. There is no knowing when I will next return to Minbar, and I would rather have them in your hands than worry that in time they may be lost from our people.”
“You would not lose them.” He seemed frightened, though whether by the thought of her not returning home or of taking something so precious into his own possession, she couldn’t tell.
She smiled again and touched his cheek. “Do this for me, Lennier. For me, and for Minbar - many will say, if they discover that I have them, that I am not of our people anymore. They will never say that of you. Take care of them.”
It seemed right, as he took the papers from her, bound again and wrapped in soft cloth, and tucked them against his chest. The past would be safe, untouched by whatever trials the coming years of reunion would bring for her and John. Dukhat had always counseled her to follow her instincts, and in this she honored him.
They returned to the cleaning and sorting, but Delenn’s mind remained caught between past, present, and future. Perhaps he will find in those letters the words that I cannot speak, she thought. Or at least he may find comfort in Dukhat’s wisdom, as I always did. Past and future would help to look out for each other, and, between them, perhaps the present had the opportunity for hope.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-09-13 07:05 am (UTC)Hope that helps!
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Date: 2006-09-13 07:50 am (UTC)Sensitive Bunch- http://community.livejournal.com/sensitivebunch/
a B5 writing comm
The Firing Line - an episodiac writing comm
http://community.livejournal.com/thefiringline/
Universe Today - http://community.livejournal.com/universe_today/
The best one so far, she updates reguarly. Fics, vids, icons etc. I think you have to email her for it to be put in. Really very good.
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Date: 2006-09-13 06:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-13 07:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-13 06:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-13 07:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-13 07:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-13 07:43 am (UTC)I love it, I think I re-read it twice. And I totally forgive you for putting Lennier in there just because you wrote Dukhat's voice perfectly. I could hear his voice, oh man it was perfect.
And I love how you had Dukhat afraid his reputation would taint Delenn were she to involve herself with him. Plus the way she was raised in temple and how they look at their callings. And Dukhat can I say again how much I loved Dukhat?
The fact of what-if between both stories is just so poignant, and that no they might not have been destined to be mates but they could have had something. And if they had been mates it could have turned out a lot worse for the Humans.
I love this so much. It really is just, gah, I can't put into words how much I love this sentance.
Plus, the way you handled the student/mentor relationship was perfect. I know we had talked about the comparisons of the mate relationship verses the mentor relationship and you did very well in setting the boundries between the two.
And I liked the emphasis that you put in the difference between Sheridan and the Minbari way of her life. Her love of him is strong no matter her past and the events in it. Even though, and you know my feelings about Sheridan, you gave her so much dignity in those feelings. I don't think that made any sense but I'm just...GAH. I can't even explain it. I just loved it.
Also I loved how you had her acknoledge Lennier's feelings but not want to shame him by speaking out. The burden and joy of teaching him and the hope that she hadn't betrayed him by being loved by him since she obviously didn't have the same feelings for him came out perfectly in this story.
Oh god I have a lot more to say but I'm going to go back and read it again.
Did I tell you how much I loved this fic or you for writing it? XD
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Date: 2006-09-13 06:32 pm (UTC)Dear gods, if they had actually been mates I have no doubt that humanity would've been destroyed. Delenn would never have recanted, I think.
The heart that beat beneath her palm was so strong she could almost believe it the pulse of the universe itself.
It's not too much? I was soooo worried about that line - I love it, but I was terrified of it being just way over the top.
It was funny - I actually went into the fic with the intention of writing them as sexually involved. Then as I started writing it, Dukhat rebelled. I just couldn't get him to go along with it, and then once he'd refused the one time, I couldn't get Delenn to bring it up again. And then that became part of the story, so... I guess it worked out for the best? I swear, sometimes I think I have only the most miniscule control over how these things work - it's disconcerting, but I go with it.
Poor Sheridan, he gets kind of pushed out in the cold on this one - it's a warm fuzzy coccoon of Minbari love and angst, and he's just not invited. ;) I'll make it up to him, though... sort of. I've been working on something about the Minbari (and Delenn, of course) from his POV for a few weeks, now. It's morbid and bizarre, and it's hard to write because his brain is like a puppy that's always running off into the bushes and getting distracted by random shit. It's impossible to keep him on topic, so the damned story is all over the place. But it's been fun.
Her acknowledging Lennier's feelings... you're to 'blame' for that one, man. After our chat last week, I can't pretend she doesn't know anymore. And I think she would really be upset by that, and by all that it implied... that's a huge responsibility, on top of all the other responsibilities she already has. "Burden and joy" is exactly what it is for her, I think... basically like raising a child, except without the early parts. Just the frustrating adult bits, when the kid is out in the real world and you can't necessarily solve all their problems. o_O
I'm glad you liked it! ♥
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Date: 2006-09-13 07:21 pm (UTC)Exactly. If she and Dukhat had been mate 'no mercy' is right, Humans would have been completely obliterated.
No gods, no. That line, man, when I read it it just smacked me in face went down my throat and splashed in my belly. It made me see how *much* she loved him mentor and as a possible lover. She just loved him and that line was perfect for the story.
Yeah the characters the story and are usually to stingy to give it back. :) But I can see it both ways were the weren't in a physical relationship and where they were in one. They both loved each other you can tell so really either way it doesn't come out badly done.
I can't wait for the Sheridan fic. It always amazes me that you can write him out of all the characters on the show, he's the one I cannot write. His head is so hard for me to get into and why I'll never know. But I can't wait to see how you write him and him with Delenn. Btw, how is that Lumati/Delenn fic coming along?
Accepts the fact that I've tainted you forever. :D
I just keep thinking damn that sucks to be her. Because in a way I would think she would think she had failed him in a way. Or maybe not but something like that. I would think she would think that sometimes she hadn't done all she could to protect him and whatnot. Sometimes I think that anyway.
Oh I did, I loved it!
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Date: 2006-09-13 09:22 pm (UTC)It got all the way to the belly, huh? I must've done good. ;) Seriously, though, I did think of it as a way to show her love for him, and also to get across just how... larger than life Dukhat seemed to be. He struck me as the kind of guy who would seem like a force of nature, especially to someone in a position like Delenn's at that point.
I thought I'd have a hard time with Sheridan, but he seems oddly easy so far. The ones I'm scared to try are Londo and G'Kar... I'm too scared to even put forth an effort with them, yet. Fortunately I don't know what I'd do with them if I did try, so I'm safe for the moment.
Randomly, the easiest character for me to write? Marcus. Of all the crazy things... I just find it so damned easy to slip into his mind. And I love writing for him - he's got such a wonderful, quirky way of saying things.
Gods bless Delenn, she would think she's failed him. There's such an ethic of responsibility in their culture, I would think it would be a case of the teacher taking a degree responsibility for anything the student does. There's a lot of guilt there, I think - even before, realizing that she's very much tainted him by association, from the perspective of the other Minbari, and especially now, knowing his feelings for her. Poor woobies. ♥
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Date: 2006-09-13 11:17 pm (UTC)He was a force of nature just by his personality which Delenn learned that from him. Perhaps she would have learned to be forceful later on in her life, but she learned it far earlier and in a more difficult way than I think she would have wanted too.
For me there really is no reason to write Londo and G'Kar. JMS, Peter and Andreas did a spectacular job in making their feelings, emotions and thoughts out there to be seen that I really can't do anything better or different to their storylines or character points.
Those two had the most perfect storyline and it was done so well...how can I even begin to do anything more with it. That's usually when I do write things A) if the character has something I want to explore deeper (and for those two the only time I want to explore anything in their relationship is in Season 1 or Season 2). Or B) if the character just pops into my head with an idea and won't let me sleep at night. For them though it was just perfection to watch.
Weirdly enough Londo is the easiest for me to write, I just see him and hear him my head a lot.
But I've written G'Kar piece once as well. But any Londo and G'Kar pieces I dabble in or try to at any rate are from the first season. One was a season two G'Kar piece but that just focused on his journey to Z'ah dum. And that was just a character/thought study-thingy.
Yeah really long ramble just to say Londo is the easiest character for me. Should I just delete all that? :)
Marcus does have a wonderful way of putting things but that's my main problem with him I don't have enough of the quirky wordage to even make him remotely realistic. I once tried but he sounded like a emo kid from Dawson's Creek. Angsty McAngsterson.
Yeah, there's a lot of repressed guilt and angst going on in the show but I have decided it is really between G'Kar, Londo and Delenn for the tie in the Angst-O-Thon. Sometimes I think they try to out do each other just for the hell of it.
Aww woobies. Just because I haven't said it in awhile I love my woobie Corwin. I'm so gonna have to write a fic about him and another crew member just sitting down for a beer and talking about the crazy shit that goes down on that station. I just can't figure out which crew member he should talk to, I want it to be someone who is at least shown in the show but damn if I can come up with someone who had a name or isn't dead.
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Date: 2006-09-13 11:46 pm (UTC)Marcus is too perky to come off as all that angsty, in my mind. We're talking about a guy who leaned, fascinated and enthralled, over the sleeping form of the woman he loved... and then woke her up and cheerfully informed her that he'd totally broken his word and let her sleep double the amount he'd promised he'd wake her after. He angsts, but he does it in such a bippy, cheery sort of way that it almost doesn't count. ;)
It really is, isn't it? Poor things, they attract all the angst. And for some reason just thinking of Londo right now makes me think of the blooper reel you sent me - I watched it again last night while I was having my broth, and Peter is just so adorable. The whole gag with the map makes me laugh every time.
You so should! What about Zack? I could see him and Zack being buddies in a "god this place is crazy and we're the only normal ones" kind of way. Assuming the normal lasts, of course. o_O
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Date: 2006-09-14 12:43 am (UTC)Exactly. The minute I re-read what I had started I knew it wasn't him. Maybe that's why I can't do Sheridan either, their both so damn happy all the time. Give me the angst I can work with people. :D
Oh did I tell you that I found out there are blooper reels on the box sets of seasons 2, 3, 4, and 5? Go here and click on B5 links to find the easter eggs: http://www.tv-timewarp.co.uk/dvd_easter_eggs/
Oh man I loved the whole 'ducket? fuck it, ducket' gag. Peter is my woobie too but not in a scary way, just in a funny adorable way.
Hmm, Zack? I read a fic that was a short drabble set a few years after S5 that had Corwin and Zack drinking together. I don't want to rip off someone's idea or anything. Granted it's not what I wanted to do with the characters but...wouldn't that be breaking a fanfic rule or something? I'd kinda feel skevvy about doing it in a way. But since I don't put my stuff out there I guess it would be okay?
Yeah bascially the premise is that Corwin and someone else just end up at a bar or some kind of restaurant. They wind up talking like anyone else after work, it ends up on them giving sort of a pov of all the crap that happends to them on a daily basis, stuff we didn't see on the show but you just know was just as hilarious.
Corwin: -And then that whole thing with the Drazi deligation-
Unknown person: Oh, God don't get me started, you didn't have to go in a re-fix all the shit they busted up during that "relgious ceremony". And I don't want to even know what the purple crap was on the floor-
Or you know something like that, very basic idea and all. It's just been something that's been bumping around in my head for awhile.
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Date: 2006-09-13 07:42 pm (UTC)It feels a bit repetitive to begin all my comments on your fic with some variant of 'wow, I loved this!', but there's honestly no way to rephrase that here, so: Wow, I loved this. I don't think I've ever read any fic with Dukhat that got him, and what he meant to Delenn, so gorgeously right - this just fits perfectly into canon, and I loved the gesture of Delenn passing his letters (and by extension, that relationship) onto Lennier at the end. And young!Delenn, with the way she sees Dukhat and the utter confidence she has in her own future destiny, is wonderful.
(Also, you have to see Season 5 one of these days. It's S5 where the fandom seems to split on Delenn and Lennier's relationship, and I'd love to know what you make of their story there.)
If you don't mind, could I plug this to
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Date: 2006-09-13 08:47 pm (UTC)I'm so glad that Dukhat and his relationship with Delenn came off right - it's scary writing a character off only one episode, especially one who's so important! I love the contrast between how in awe of him she had to have been at the beginning, and how comfortable she would almost have to have been toward the end, by virtue of her being raised up to the Grey Council, and by their constant closeness and familiarity with her as his aide. I find that whole student/teacher aide/mentor dynamic just fascinating - it requires such intimacy, while still being so heavy on the power relationship.
(I'm getting it from the library this weekend! And yes... I've gotten that impression, from bits and pieces, as well as the distinct impression that something goes Very Wrong. I got spoiled a bit pretty early on about some of that... but the rest, and the context, is still a mystery to me. I'm kind of... excited and scared to see it through, all at the same time.)
I'd be delighted, thank you!
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Date: 2006-09-14 09:42 pm (UTC)it's scary writing a character off only one episode
Yeah, I know that feeling! I've written B5 fic about Branmer, who only turns up in one episode - as a missing corpse. But there's enough said about him to make him sound interesting, and in a way it's easier if he doesn't have an on-screen canon presence to live up to, especially one as strong as Dukhat's. (Have you seen In the Beginning, by the way? It's one of the TV-movies - the best one, imho - about the Earth/Minbari war.)
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Date: 2006-09-14 10:05 pm (UTC)I assume this most-hated-character is Lochley? I already have practice hating her from another series the actress was in, so it should be interesting... And any time the whole fandom agrees on something, it's automatically a fun thing to watch.
Okay, yeah, you win with the Branmer fic. And the Shal Mayan fic, now that I think of it... And no, I haven't seen "In the Beginning!" That was one of the reasons I was so scared to write Dukhat - I know everybody else in the fandom knows more about him than I do! As soon as I finish S5, I figure I'll rent "In the Beginning." It looks like the only worthwhile movie.
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Date: 2006-09-16 10:31 am (UTC)I think it's more difficult to write a character that has been on-screen, if only briefly, than to work with a blank slate - Branmer's fun because all we get about him is some of his history plus the fact that Delenn and Neroon both thought very highly of him (apparently enough to come pretty close to starting another war between them, at any rate). Dukhat's a lot more difficult... he turns up briefly in one of my fics (an S5-spoilery one), and he only gets a very few lines partly for that reason. (Although this fandom needs more Dukhat fic, curse it all.) No worries about ItB, though - your Dukhat here fits in perfectly.
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Date: 2006-09-18 06:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-19 02:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-19 11:10 am (UTC)Be careful of flattery, Delenn, it doesn’t suit you.
Perfect line.
Plus I'm so happy to read Dukhat fic!
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Date: 2006-09-19 05:33 pm (UTC)