Another Night of Barely Breathing

Writers: Halyonix, Iluva
Date Posted: 13th May 2026

Characters: K'thyr, Tsatya
Description: K’thyr’s brought back to happier times
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 2, day 8 of Turn 13

K'thyr

Notes:
Mentioned: E’rian, T'sarun
~*~

He was dreaming. He knew he was. But for the moment, he leaned into the dream, because it felt so good to be with her. Just like it always felt.

Snow had been drifting down in soft, silent flakes, for once untouched by harsh winds, loosely dusting the darkening cliffs of Dragonsfall. Their weyr was toasty and warm from the small fire that crackled cheerily in the hearth, tiny pops echoing into the subdued stillness of their home.

A soft gasp greeted him first.

"Look! There he is!" Her voice was one of hushed excitement, beaming as she pulled herself from the glow. Her hair was tied back but starting to rebel at this hour, loosely catching the firelight, and the tiny hand clasped piously between her thumb and forefinger rose, waving excitedly up to K'thyr.

Tsatya let out a pleased sigh.

She raised the bundle in her arms so the little face nestled there could blink tiredly up at him, too. “There's daddy."

Their babe gurgled, belly full of milk. Then, dark eyes finding K'thyr's face, a tiny curve of a smile appeared.

"I was about to send Inessath down looking for you. Eometh was being most unhelpful," she admonished playfully, clearly just happy he was home. “You're just in time to say goodnight.”

“Forever late, I know,” K’thyr answered with a jovial grin as he slid into their space. One arm snaked around Tsatya’s waist, tucking her close, while the other hand went to gently touch Tsaetherian’s plump cheek. “How was he today? Not too much to handle, yes?”

Tsatya sighed softly, head settling against the solid press of his chest, snuggling in. “Oh, he was so good. He always is. He found his voice a lot today. Dad was playing peek-a-boo earlier and you should have heard the little _squeals_ coming out of him. He loved it.” Then she added, giggling, “They both did. He’s such a softie for him, you know what he's like-- it's not exactly his way. I think he actually caught me staring a few times. But look at you,” she murmured, “how could he not be?”

K’thyr’s grin warmed, even though Tsatya couldn’t see it. He loved how T’sarun, Tsatya’s father, was so involved in their budding family’s life. It chased away the shadows in his heart more than he realized it would. “Who would have thought that hard-assed T’sarun would melt over a toddler?” he quipped. “He’d never admit it, of course.”

“He’d sooner jump _between_.” Tsatya agreed, laughing a little. “And he’d never let the weyrlings see it. He’s convinced they’d just take it as permission to cook up more trouble.” She smiled at the thought of him, then up at K'thyr, whose warmth put the fireplace to shame.

She adjusted the fold of Tsaetherian's blanket, tucking it just under his little double chin. “How was your shift? Eometh said it was busy?”

“A little. If Mariyath’s rider hadn’t tried to improvise during rope drills today, we would have had a quiet day. That collision shouldn’t have happened and I’m sure a Wingleader somewhere is giving him a thrashing. It took a stern warning from Eometh to make Mariyath sit still enough for me to set the bone.” K’thyr shook his head. “Blueriders. Always having to prove something to everyone else.”

“Poor thing.” She tsked, some of that motherly softness still in her voice. “It’s hard for some of them, I think. Most blueriders don't get the same chances the bronzes and browns do, but it’s a shame his rider would risk something like that. Mariyath’s such a fast flyer; he'll hate being grounded.” A soft rumble from their dragons’ ledge concurred. Inessath. Tsatya smiled, a private thought obviously being had between the pair, and her exhale was almost a laugh again. After a moment her eyes refocused, looking up at K'thyr like he could hear the dryness of her green's observation.

As Eometh went to shower affections upon his green mate, K’thyr grinned as he asked, “Does she have an opinion on that too?” His hand slid down Tsatya’s hip before settling on the small of her back. Maybe the next time Inessath rose, if Eometh caught her, they could spend a little time for themselves. They were both busy but K’thyr did not want the romance to ever feel like it was fading.

“Always.” Tsatya chuckled. She leaned fully into the touch, like she couldn’t get enough, mirth twinkling bright in her green eyes. “She’s of the same mind about blues. They deserve a few more chances now and then.” Her hand reached up to cup his jaw, fingertips teasing towards his ear. “But a big, solid brown has always been more our taste.”

A small mumble from the bundle in her arms, as if to remind them he was indeed still here, drew her gaze down. Tsaetherian yawned, his mouth forming a tiny ‘o’ as his dark eyes grew heavy. It was getting late. “You know, I think he needs a kiss from you almost as much as I do.”

K’thyr gave her a pleasant kiss before saying, “I’ll take him and get him settled down. You’ve had him all day. My turn to parent.” He gathered the little bundle of baby into his muscular arms, bouncing slightly as a melodic hum gathered in his chest. He swayed towards the crib, doing that little baby dance that parents did as they walked through a space. He kissed Tsaetherian’s soft head lovingly. “Here’s hoping he gives us another full night of sleep. That was a welcomed surprise last night,” he said to his weyrmate as he cuddled their son.

“It _was_.” She watched them fondly for a long moment before drifting away to tidy her hair. She went to the kitchen, the sounds of tea being poured into big mugs carrying across the cozy main room.

“Those little lungs got plenty of exercise today, so he should sleep just fine,” she added. Then she was on the couch with a mug, the tray of biscuits, and already helping herself. “I’m so glad you made it home at a good time.”

He knew that the biscuits would be fresh. That the mug would be warm. That after he put Tsaetherian down in his crib, they would sit there for the rest of the evening, talking contentedly. Basking in their abundance.

But the edges of the scene began to blur. Her voice started to sound further away. A rousing K’thyr made a mental grab for the dream, desperate to stay in that blissful, perfect moment but it fell apart like sand through his fingers.

He woke to sheets that smelled like him. Only like him. A bed that was too big for one person. Tears gathered at the corners of his closed eyes. Eometh, sensing his rider’s sorrow, pressed lovingly against K’thyr’s mind but no love from his dragon would bring back the one person he still wanted to see after all of these Turns.

“I miss you,” he whispered.

Last updated on the June 4th 2026

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Another Night of Barely Breathing