Fic: In the Light of Two Moons, pt 4.5

[rivendellrose]

Title: In the Light of Two Moons, pt 4.5
Previous parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.
Authors: hearts_blood and rivendellrose
Rating: PG
Pairing: Delenn/Neroon
Word Count: 6365
Notes: Pre-series. Words/phrases in Minbari are inspired by the Jumpnow Minbari Lexicon, but we've played extremely fast and loose with some of them.



Delenn had no objections to spending a fine summer day outside with the young man most of the other acolytes called 'that Star Rider boy,' but she had to admit that today she was confused. "You seem like you have a distinct purpose today," she ventured. "You are walking very fast."

"A Warrior always walks with a purpose," Neroon declared over his shoulder, but he courteously slackened his pace so that she could keep up.

"Where are we going, Neroon?"

He pointed to a small grove of trees at the furthest edge of the temple grounds. "I think that will be best."

"Best? For what?"

"You'll see."

Delenn knew what Mayan would say to that.

The little grove was cool and secluded, and the ground underfoot was carpeted with layers of grass and leaves. Neroon poked at the ground with the toe of his boot. "This should do nicely." Delenn watched, perplexed, while Neroon produced a small utility knife and cut two young, straight saplings. He measured one against Delenn and cut it to match her height. "I'm going to teach you something of the pike," he said, trimming the leaves from the makeshift staffs.

Delenn laughed. "Why would a simple priestess need to know the denn'bok?"

Neroon did not smile as he rounded the ends of the wood with his knife. "My father died when I was three months old. I have spent my life among women who could put me flat on my back with a flick of their wrists. But there is almost nothing to you. I'm always afraid that I may break you if I once touch you ungently by accident." He held out the shorter of the two staffs. "Besides, even a simple priestess should know how to defend herself." His lips curved upwards. "Just another lesson to broaden the mind."

Delenn scowled playfully at his challenge, and took the staff.

He showed her first how to stand properly, correcting her stance and posture with light touches on her shoulders and back, nudging her feet with his own. "How does it feel?"

The nearness of him was intensely distracting. "Tiresome," she admitted. Her arms ached already, and they had so far done nothing.

"That is because you use your muscles for nothing more strenuous than lifting books." Neroon took up a stand opposite her, and raised his weapon. "Mirror my movements as best you can."

Slowly, he walked her through a practice spar, explaining each stroke and step in the manner of an intricate dance, correcting her blows and the placement of her feet. After an hour, he finally allowed her to rest.

"I think," she said, sitting down to rub her strained calves, "that my body has grown new muscles for the express purpose of making them hurt."

"You should more properly have begun learning this art when you were ten years old." Neroon relaxed easily against a tree. He had taken off his heavy coat and laid it on the grass, and his muscles were lean and tight under his thin shirt. "But it's never too late to start."

Delenn's expression was thoughtful. "I didn't know your father had passed beyond the veil."

"He was killed in a border skirmish with the Dilgar shortly after I was born. My mother taught me my first denn'bok forms. She is shorter than you, but she can fight circles around me."

"Ah. Then I suppose I should not be complaining about your teaching techniques." Delenn leaned heavily on her staff and rose to her feet. "I must make a poor showing against your clan-sisters."

"Immensely poor. But they were born to the life—it is their business to fight. I will simply sleep better when I eventually leave the temple, knowing that you can protect yourself against whatever may come."

"Until you can return to protect me yourself, I suppose."

He offered her a slight bow. "I would never presume so far." Delenn took his arm to walk gingerly back to the temple. "Will you be willing to keep learning?"

The young priestess considered her aches and pains, and opened her mouth to say no. Then she recalled the feather-light touches of his hands on her body, and the snapping energy in his black eyes as he showed her his art. "I would like to continue," she said, and then added, "after I have had a few days to recover. And a visit to the wris'nemin would not be amiss," she added, thinking wistfully of the little steam-room attached to the female dormitory.

She distinctly heard a soft, appreciative growl from her companion. She blushed, but only a little, and tucked her arm more tightly into his.

***

As summer drew toward its height, the glorious hot days increasingly drove everyone in the temple out of doors. Summer was not long enough to waste. On one particularly bright and welcoming day, Delenn and Neroon decamped immediately after their afternoon classes to retreat with books and snacks to their hidden grove at the edge of the temple grounds.

Casting off his unseasonably heavy armored coat, Neroon threw himself down on his stomach on the soft, springy grass, and opened his book. Delenn sat back against a smooth-skinned tree and closed her eyes, letting his rich voice wash over her. She slipped away into sleep, and when she was lulled back into wakefulness, Neroon's arm was around her shoulders.

His smile down at her was as drowsy as she felt, and it seemed a natural thing for Delenn to run a finger over the top of his crest, to feel the sun-bleached velvet against her skin, and to tilt her head up for a kiss.

His lips were warm, warmer than the clear air around them, and his hands were as light as ever as they moved over her back; she could feel them through her thin summer robe, almost as though she were wearing nothing...

Delenn gasped and shuddered as his fingers made contact with the sensitive ren'helasae along her spine, and Neroon drew back at once. They stared at each other, she flushed and he blushing furiously. "Forgive me," he said gruffly, unable to meet her eyes. "I did not--"

Without either of them knowing quite how it happened, Neroon was suddenly flat on his back against the rustling grass, and Delenn was astride him.

"You did say you were used to women who could put you on your back," she smirked, and kissed him deeply, stretching her slim body along his lean one.

Once again, soft, rhythmic sound thrummed up from Neroon's chest, intoxicating and sweet to Delenn's ears. She wanted to hear more. Tentatively she touched his lips with her tongue, and he let her in willingly. He tasted like the spice tea he drank every morning; now she could feel the humming in her own bones.

His hands were firm against her lower back, but when she moved to unfasten the throat of his shirt, he broke away. "Delenn," he gasped softly, "stop."

"But you want this, as much as I do." His eyes were like obsidian, gazing up at her; his heart and lungs thundered against her sternum. "You want me."

"Oh," he breathed. "I do. As much as you want me." Neroon sat up, so that Delenn was half in his lap. "But I am not ready. Not yet." He caught her cheek in his hand as she tried to turn away. "Ah'fel--" They both blushed at the endearment. "One day, priestess," he whispered, his fingers trembling against her face, "I will be yours to command. But not yet."

When she could breathe normally, Delenn folded his gloved hand between her own and pressed it to her heart. "Then I shall wait for you."

***

His coat thrown carelessly over his shoulder, Neroon walked Delenn back to her room in preparation for saying good night, and let out a wistful little sigh as they walked through the unusually empty corridors. "Is something wrong?" Delenn asked.

"The solstice is nearly upon us," said Neroon softly. "Almost everyone has gone home for the celebration, or is getting ready to go home." He did not trouble to hide the longing in his voice. "You will be leaving soon."

"Only for a week." She squeezed his arm and leaned against him as they slowed. "There is no chance that your mother will be on Minbar for the summer solstice?" Neroon shook his head. "At least... as least you have Branmer to mark the day with."

"Yes... that is a comfort." He sighed. They had come to Delenn's small room in the female dormitory. "You should go in. Your poet friend must be wondering why you're late again."

Delenn shook her head with a smile. "No, Mayan left for home early this morning." She laid her hand upon the latch, a friendly 'Good night' ready on her lips... "Neroon," she said, in a voice that was both bold and hesitant, "would you... would you like to sleep here tonight?"

His black eyes opened wide. "Delenn..."

"Not to... do anything. Just... to sleep. With me."

Both their faces flushed red, and Neroon coughed sharply, cutting off the gentle rumble coming from his chest. "But what if someone should find us?"

"There's no reason why they should, so long as you're not seen."

He grinned a little. "No one sees me unless I want them to." He followed her into her bedroom.

Neroon hung his coat neatly on a peg on the wall, and stayed staring at the rough stone until Delenn had finished changing for bed. Then he pulled off his boots and gingerly laid down beside her. The bed she usually shared with Mayan was certainly large enough to hold a lean boy instead, especially when that boy's arms had drawn Delenn snug against his chest.

Her nightclothes were even thinner than the robes she had worn that day, and he could feel the scales of her spine through his gloves, ruffling and flattening softly under his hand as she breathed. Unable to help himself, Neroon let his fingers drift a few inches down the line of scales; Delenn made a sound that was half gasp and half pleasurable hum. "Neroon?"

"Yes?"

"...Do that again."

Very gently, he did so, trailing the very tips of his fingers down her spine and back up over the blue splashes surrounding them, making airy circling motions that tickled her left shoulder blade but seemed to tease everywhere else. She curled her hands into his shirt, muffling her gasps in his chest as they grew louder. "Too much?"

Delenn managed to shake her head. It was not enough, not nearly enough, but she knew now that this was as far as he would go. Her skin blazed, and she wondered through a strange fog how it was that her nightclothes had not burst into flames. "Please... don't stop."

Only when she was shuddering uncontrollably did Neroon finally lay his hands flat on her shoulders, holding her tightly until she could breathe without moaning. "You asked me once," he rumbled low in his throat, "if I found you appealing. Have I answered that question?"

"I am convinced," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and pressing a fervent kiss to his throat.

"Delenn..."

She looked up into his black eyes, large and liquid and soft in the low light, and brushed her fingers across his lips. He caught her hand gently; twisting onto his side, he put her hand on the muscles of his back.

Her fingers seemed to know what to do all on their own, as they stroked and probed his back through the fabric of his shirt. He trembled and flinched under her touched, and his thrums and soft growls were almost intolerably sweet. She tugged at the cool cloth. "I want to touch you..."

He jerked his head once, his lips barely leaving hers. "No."

"Please..."

"Delenn, no."

Desperate to feel something, Delenn pressed her hand to the base of his crest, and dipped her fingers briefly beneath his high collar to brush over the bare scales there. Neroon gasped sharply and caught her hand. "Stop, ah'fel," he said hoarsely. He dropped his head to hers, staring into her eyes as he struggled to catch his breath.

Delenn bit her lip hard. "I--I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just..."

"I know. Delenn, I know." He squeezed her hand tightly. "But we cannot. I cannot. I want to, more than you know... There are times when I am tempted almost beyond all reason... But I cannot, not yet."

Lowering her eyes, Delenn nodded. "Do you... wish to leave?"

"I would much rather stay... if I can trust you?"

"You can. I promise."

They snuggled down chastely together, with Neroon curled around Delenn, her head pillowed on his chest. There was no need for a blanket in the early summer heat; their two bodies together, still enflamed, were almost too warm for comfort, and neither one slept until their skins had cooled. For Neroon, at least, it was the most restful sleep he'd had all year.

***

The bright, cold light of early morning woke Delenn very early, but Neroon was already awake, his black eyes watching her with a warm attention.

"Could you not sleep?" Delenn asked.

"I slept well. But I should leave, before the others wake."

"There aren't many people left in the dormitory, now..."

Neroon laughed softly. "Trying to keep me here? Will you keep me entranced until I am captured by the enemy, cunning priestess, or are you only hungry to see if I really can escape this place unseen while your confederates walk everywhere around us?"

"You're the one who made that boast. But I won't make you prove it." Delenn sat up and stretched, watching with some amusement as Neroon's glittering black eyes traced the shape of her body through her nightclothes. "Mayan would choke on her tongue to hear you speak that way. Like a hero from an old story. I think sometimes she is still surprised to be reminded that you can read."

Neroon snorted. "It is not my fault if your friend believes every lie spoken about my caste. As for speaking, I'm only comfortable with words around people I know well."

"I know. And I'm glad you count me among those."

"Of course. But... I really should leave." He leaned forward and kissed her quickly, first on her lips, then on her forehead. "You leave today for home?"

Delenn nodded. "Soon. I should dress, finish packing, and go to the transport station."

"Then I will not see you again before you leave." He pressed a gloved hand to her heart, and kissed her one last time. "Be well, Delenn. I will watch the suns, and think of you." And with that, he stood, grabbed up his coat, and slipped noiselessly out the door. Long after he was gone, even on the transport home to Yedor, Delenn felt the touch of his hand and his lips, and for the first time wished that she could have stayed at temple as well, rather than returning to her beloved home.

***

Morning did not dawn on the solstice, as far north as Yedor - the suns simply continued their low loop, climbing back into the sky after their dip toward the horizon the night before. After that, the day only grew brighter and warmer. By the time Delenn and her father went out for the celebrations, the suns were high in the deep blue sky and the day was warm enough that Delenn was immediately glad she'd worn only her lightest summer robes.

Yedor bustled on a normal day - on a festival day, it fairly boomed with activity. Everywhere crowds of people milled and talked and laughed, bright red and yellow banners fluttered from buildings and spires, and a thousand different smells and sights and sounds warred for Delenn's attention. A troupe of dancers in bright yellow robes whirled and pirouetted only a few feet away from a pavilion with banners advertising fortunes told and omens interpreted. Every temple door they walked by was cast open, the smell of incense pouring out and the sound of chanting or singing or bells on the air. Every shrine was decked in red and yellow ribbons for the occasion.

"Do you have anything particular you want to do?" Clarenn asked his daughter.

Delenn blushed. "I want to buy a present for a friend."

"For Mayan?" Clarenn asked.

"No, another... a boy. He is studying with us this year."

"The Warrior you've mentioned. Yes, I have heard some mutterings about that. So he is a friend to you?"

Delenn looked away, embarrassed, and pretended interest in a group of performers walking by, their faces thick with paint that exaggerated their features and gave them a wild, exotic look. "He's very lonely," she mumbled. "His mother is far away off-planet, and his father has gone beyond the veil... he lives with his clan-brother who works at our temple, so he didn't have anywhere to go for the holiday. I thought I should bring something back for him, so that he feels less forgotten."

"He stayed at the temple, then?"

Delenn nodded.

"Hmm. Perhaps next year you should invite him and his clan-brother both to stay with us. We don't have much room, but they would be welcome..."

Delenn's heart ached at the thought, but she shook her head. "Neroon will be leaving us after this year. He has his own training to complete."

"Ah, I see. Well... There will be time, I'm sure, in the future, if you remain in contact.. What kind of gift are you looking for?"

"Something small." Delenn stood on her toes to look around them, unaware of the fond smile her father was regarding her with. "Just something to say... to say..."

"That you were thinking of him?" Clarenn suggested gently.

"Yes. I know!" Delenn caught her father's hand, tugging him toward a vendor's stall on the other side of the crowded street. Thick red buvah'ja clustered, glimmering like dew, on every surface in the vendor's trays.

"Is this is a treat for your friend, Delenn, or for you?" Clarenn asked, laughing.

"For Neroon." Delenn cast a serious little glare at her father. "He loves buvah'ja. His clan-brother gave him some, once, and he shared it with me."

"Then it is a memory of a pleasant moment between you?"

Delenn blushed, thinking of how embarrassed she had been several times that night, but also how happy. "Yes."

"Then it is a good gift." Clarenn reached for the purse tucked into his robe, but before he could remove it Delenn was counting out her own coins onto the vendor's table. "Delenn..."

"It is not a good gift if I don't buy it myself," Delenn told him softly.

"You were to use that money for yourself, ah'iersa..."

"I am." Delenn accepted the bag of spice candy from the merchant with a polite little salute and bow, tucked it into the bag she carried on her shoulder, and turned back to her father. "It will please me to give them to him."

"Making him happy... makes you happy?" Clarenn asked.

Delenn nodded, though the heat on her cheeks was not all from the suns.

Clarenn sighed, and tucked her small hand into his as they walked on. "I remember feeling the same, twice in my life."

"Twice?"

"Twice. Once, when a very clever and very beautiful young woman I met in temple walked with me. And once with a very shy and pretty little girl who has now grown too big to need her father's help with things."

Delenn squeezed his hand and smiled. "Mother... Mother was very beautiful?"

"As beautiful as summer," Clarenn agreed. "You are very like her, Delenn. You have her grace about you, and her green eyes."

As they walked on through the streets, Delenn felt as light as if her feet walked on the thin, wispy clouds that dotted the sky above them. She could not have been happier... but maybe for the presence of her Warrior boy. Still, there was nothing to regret - he would be happy with Branmer, and she would see him again in just a few days, and time with her father was just as precious a gift to her, after so many months away. She and her father ate a simple lunch of grilled vegetables and bread, watched as performers dramatized scenes from the ancient histories, and sat on the temple steps to listen to a poet perform teela.

"Someday," Delenn said as the man moved away to repeat his performance in another part of the market, "that is what Mayan wants to do."

"Perform in the market?" Clarenn asked. His face was serious, but his eyes glittered with amusement, and Delenn poked him fondly in retaliation.

"No, no. She wants to be a poet, a composer and singer of teela. She's very good already. I wish I had as clear an idea of what I want to do..."

"Destiny is a thing we can't force, Delenn. Whatever you are meant to do, you will find it in your own time. And if you are as wise as I think you are, you will make it something that pleases and fulfills you."

"A quiet temple somewhere..."

"And a man? Or woman," he added casually, though his eyes on Delenn told her he suspected it was the former.

Delenn blushed. "Perhaps..."

Even as they spoke, a new performance began on the square. Delenn looked up... and immediately blushed even brighter than before. A phalanx of Yedor's Warriors, stripped to the waist and marked all over in fierce red and yellow paint, set up a... well, she supposed it could be called a dance? Several off to the side beat on drums and chanted - nothing like the hauntingly beautiful songs she had sung with Neroon and his clan-brother, but a rough, hard litany that was more rhythm than melody. As for the movements, there was a great deal more stamping of bare feet and clapping of gloved hands and clashing of sticks than she had ever associated with dance before... and then there was the fire. One man - tall and broad, with what seemed like all his exposed skin painted red, strode into the midst of the group with a flaming brand held aloft... and each other warrior lit the ends of the stave he himself carried from that one flame, until all of them whirled and leaped and mimed frighteningly realistic pike battles with each other's fiery staffs.

"I remember," Clarenn said, close to her ear so as to be heard over their drumming and singing and shouting, "not so many years ago, when you were so afraid of the fire dancers that you would hide your face against my shoulder until they were gone." He laughed. "I think your opinion of them may have changed, now?"

Delenn did hide her face, then, but only for a moment, and when she lifted her head again she was laughing with him.

***

The break for the summer solstice was sadly short, but even without much time, Delenn found that she became used to being at home again with her father. All her old childhood habits returned, and she fell into a comfortable routine of waking up with him for morning prayers, and seeing him off for his work after a bit of breakfast, then reading or studying for part of the day and spending the rest, perhaps, out in the city visiting museums and parks, or calling on family friends who she did not often have the chance to visit with anymore. In the afternoons she returned to their apartment and made a simple dinner, or at least started it so that her father would not have to do all the work when he returned from the temple.

Two days after the solstice, with only one full day left before she returned to her studies, Delenn took care to return home early in the afternoon and make as good and as put-together a meal as she was able. It wasn’t much - bread and a vegetable stew, with fruit to finish - but it was plenty for their purposes, and Clarenn was pleasantly surprised by the effort his daughter had put in.

“Is there something I should know about?” he teased gently as she made tea after the meal.

“Can a daughter not be conscientious of her father, when she is soon to go back to temple for another half of a year?”

“Of course.” Clarenn smiled at her. “And she can also avoid saying something by asking rhetorical questions. Out with it, Delenn. You are nearly a grown woman, you needn’t fear bringing up serious matters to me, particularly when our time together is so short.”

Delenn frowned over the steaming cups of tea as she carried them to the table. As she spoke, she stared fixedly into the steaming, sweetly-scented water. “The friend that I mentioned on the solstice - Neroon, the Warrior who is studying with us this year... I did not tell you the whole truth of that. I didn’t mean to deceive you - nothing formal has been said. But I wanted you to know... I see him as more than a friend. And he says he feels the same for me. I know he is a Warrior, but...” She trailed off, lost, and looked up at her father. His expression was very distant, and, she thought, also very sad.

“I wondered if that might not be the case,” he said softly. “It’s in your eyes when you speak of him.”

“Are you... are you unhappy?”

Clarenn offered his daughter a wan smile. “I would be a poor father, ah’hiersa, if I did not worry where this will lead you. A life between castes is a hard one, and I fear your training and work will always draw you in opposing directions. But I would also be a poor father if I didn’t see how happy the thought of him makes you, or understand that, in ways I cannot always anticipate, my little girl will grow up soon enough whether or not you choose a mate immediately. You love the boy?”

Delenn felt her cheeks burn. “I do.”

“And you trust him?”

“I do, yes. He is...” She struggled to think of a way to explain. “He is rough in his ways and words sometimes, but always kind to me, and he respects me a great deal despite our differences. He… he is teaching me to fight with a pike.” She laughed softly at the memory of their lessons and how awkward and foolish she felt holding the weapon, particularly in comparison to Neroon’s practiced and elegant displays. “He says he will feel better, when he leaves our temple, knowing that I can defend myself.”

“And do you teach him anything in return?”

“I help him to understand our philosophy assignments sometimes,” Delenn admitted. “He is very clever, and knows more about history than anyone I know, but he is unused to philosophy and writing essays about it. He has already grown quicker with the subject,” she added, eager to reassure her father if he got the idea that the boy was not intelligent.

“And what about your time outside of classes? Do you only study together?”

Delenn blushed. “I showed him the museum, and we shared our favorite subjects there… and we read together, and spend time in the Star Temple. Neroon’s clan-brother is the keeper of the temple, and Neroon knows the names and stories of many of the constellations, and songs of his clan about them. I watch him practice his fighting forms, and we walk in the gardens and the city. Nothing very exciting - the same things I do with Mayan, I suppose. But I like being with him. He… gives me his cloak when we walk and it grows cold.” All of it, everything they had done, spoken together suddenly felt poor and little, but Delenn still felt oddly proud, particularly to share these little moments with her father.

Clarenn’s smile became a good deal more honest as he listened to his daughter list the little joys of her courtship. He bent over her and kissed her forehead, then leaned his cheek against the top of her crest. “He sounds to me like a fine young man.”

***

The next day was the last of the holiday rest period, and Delenn packed up her belongings into her little satchel again, and walked in the warm shadow of her father’s tall shape to the transport station after breakfast.

“You will keep me up to date on what happens with your friends, Delenn? And with this young Warrior of yours, too?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good. If there is another chance before he leaves, think about inviting him home with you.” Clarenn smiled down at his daughter as her eyes lit up at the idea. “If you think he would not be too bored by our quiet life.”

“Oh, no! He was excited when he heard that I grew up in Yedor. I think he would be pleased to be invited.”

“Good. Then do so, if you wish.” Clarenn pressed his hand to his daughter’s heart, and clasped hers to his with his free hand, then bent and kissed the top of her head again. “Be well, Delenn. Take care of yourself, and write me often. My days are too quiet here without my little girl’s voice to fill them. But I am proud of the way you are growing, even if you are doing so too far away.”

The transport was quiet - most travelers were returning from the countryside to the capitol, rather than the other way around - so Delenn had plenty of time to finish her holiday reading and then relax into quiet contemplation of the countryside as it hurried by outside the windows. Bright flowers and leaves colored the landscape during the heat of summer, and the rivers rushed high with water melted from the snowy peaks above the valley. The temple, when she arrived back, was full already with her fellow students, exuberant from their time at home, and all eager to talk to each other about the times they had passed over the holiday.

Delenn met up with Mayan sitting on the steps outside the library with a tall, gawky young man in the robes of an acolyte priest, his lap piled high with books. This, then, was Ashan - the young man Mayan had not wanted to think of herself as desiring. Delenn supposed she could see why. Even in repose, he looked awkward - limbs everywhere and seeming too long and sharp for his body, and large, long-fingered hands that he didn’t seem to know what to do with. His eyes pale brown eyes sparkled almost amber in the sunlight, though, and seemed to follow Mayan’s every move with a quiet warmth that made Delenn wonder if perhaps the feelings Mayan disregarded so easily might be returned, and held far more closely, in the young librarian’s heart.

Mayan greeted her friend with a cry of delight, scrambling to her feet and hugging Delenn as if she’d been gone months, not merely a week. Once introductions had been made the three students sat comfortably for a while, talking about their holidays. Mayan had visited her parents at a new dig in the far eastern peninsula, and was full of exciting descriptions of all that they had found there, which Ashan encouraged with interested and well-informed questions. Delenn was happy to let their talk wash over them, putting in only an occasional question or remark of her own, and enjoyed the cheery chatter until suddenly she noticed a straight, grey-clad shape leaning against one of the nearby buildings, watching them.

Mayan followed her gaze and growled softly. “Not now, Delenn, please. I haven’t seen you in a whole week. You can talk to the Star Rider later, can’t you?”

“He’s alone. And was alone the whole week.”

“Well, that’s his decision, and his problem, then, isn’t it? He could have gone home like everyone else.”

Delenn pressed her lips together, knowing full well that he could not, but not sure whether that information was something Neroon would be ashamed to have others in the temple knowing.

“And Master Branmer was here with him, anyway,” Mayan continued. “So he wasn’t really alone. He’s always so grumpy about people being around, anyway. He probably enjoyed having the temple grounds to himself. He could stalk around and scowl to himself, and practice his fighting moves wherever he wanted, without bothering any of us or us bothering him.”

“I could bring him over here. We could all talk.”

Mayan made a face. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

Delenn sighed. There was no arguing with Mayan when she got like this, she had learned. “I’ll talk to you later, I promise.”

Mayan muttered something to Ashan as Delenn stood, but she didn’t care. The wry half-smile that bloomed on Neroon’s stark, solemn face as she walked over to him was more than enough in exchange for Mayan’s annoyance. “How was your solstice?” she asked brightly.

“Quiet. But peaceful,” he added, seeming not to want her to feel sorry for leaving him. “I was able to practice a lot more than usual, and I got through all the reading for our philosophy class without any trouble.”

“Good!”

“How was your father?”

Delenn smiled. “Very well. We went out into the city for the solstice celebration. I… got you this.” She dug around in her satchel for a moment, and retrieved the little sack of buvah’jah. The fat little red droplets glistened in the sunlight as she handed the bag over to him.

“Delenn…”

“I wanted to. You shared yours with me, and I… was thinking of you. There was a display of fire-dancing in the city while we were out - the Warriors of Yedor dress in red and yellow and paint themselves all over, and fight… well, mock-fight, at least, with burning staves instead of denn’bok.” Delenn blushed, remembering the bare backs and chests of the dancers and her father’s gentle teasing.

“I saw something like that in Kannor, many years ago,” Neroon agreed. “It’s a traditional way to welcome and honor the sun’s strength. I… wish I could have seen it with you, though.” He opened up the bag and held it out to her, then took one himself after she had popped one of the sweets in her mouth. He looked about to say something else, but got distracted suddenly by something behind her. “Your friends are waiting for you,” he said softly.

Mayan had stood up, too, now, and crossed her arms over her chest as she watched them. Ashan was watching her with a slightly worried expression.

Delenn sighed and shook her head. “I told her I would talk to her later.”

“Do you want to go back now?”

Delenn thought for a moment. She wanted to believe that if she led Neroon back to the steps they could all talk together - there was no reason they should not. Neroon’s love of history would make the story of Mayan’s parents’ dig interesting to him, and Ashan seemed like a polite enough young man that he would make no trouble. But Mayan, on the other hand… “No. If she cannot be polite and social, she can wait. I wish… But she will not listen.”

Neroon touched her arm lightly. “I’m sorry, Delenn.”

“It’s not your fault.” She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and turned away, walking toward the poky little herb gardens behind the Star Temple. They were not attractive, or open enough for games, so the two of them often found peace there from the other students. After a moment’s silent walk, they found a quiet area under an ancient tree where they sat down, and Delenn curled up against Neroon’s side, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Does he know about me?” Neroon asked suddenly. “Your father, I mean. Did you… have you told him about… us?”

Delenn tilted her head to look at him, surprised. "Of course. That is not a secret I could imagine keeping from him."

"And... what does he think?" Neroon seemed to steel himself for the worst, at this question, as if he was afraid Delenn would be admitting that her father had forbade her to speak with him any further. She could feel tension in the muscles of his side and stomach, as if he prepared himself not just for words but for a physical blow, and was relieved that she could soothe him on that point, at least.

Delenn smiled sadly. "He is sorry that his child is grown up enough to consider courting, but pleased that she is happy."

"He is not... displeased by the idea of his daughter being one day courted by a Warrior?"

"My father is a very simple man, Neroon. He does not possess the same opinions of Warriors that so many seem to. He is a little displeased by the idea of his daughter being one day courted by any male. But he trusts my judgment. If I say you are the one, then he will accept you." Delenn shifted around so that she was sitting in Neroon's lap, with her arms around his neck. "Unlike what you have told me about your mother," she teased. “I think that is where we may expect some parental anger, once you have told her about me.”

A muscle in Neroon’s jaw twitched as he clenched it. “That may be. But she will get used to it.”

“Do you think?”

“She’ll have to.” He leaned his cheek against Delenn’s crest as she nestled against him. “My mother is a stubborn woman, but I am her son, and no less stubborn. She will be unhappy, and may even be angry. Until she meets you. Then, I think, she will see what I have seen, even if it takes some time for her to admit to seeing it.”

(Continued in Part 5)

Comments

[jenn-calaelen.livejournal.com]

Very interesting story! I look forward to reading more.

I like the depth of your worldbuilding in the background of the story. It is interesting to see this as another possible way that the characters' lives could have gone.

[rivendellrose.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much! I'm glad you're enjoying. And this week's chapter (http://rivendellrose.livejournal.com/840894.html) is up now!

The world-building really is amazing amounts of fun. There's so much room within the series canon for speculation, so it feels like there's a lot to explore. ♥