Daring Swordfights
Pagerell is the second son of the Lord of Kimmer and his first wife, a scion of Benden Hold's ruling family, sister to the Lord Holder of Benden. Growing up in such a privileged setting as the 'spare heir', Pagerell didn't lack in education and the means to pursue his own interests as a youth. He had a handful of siblings of various ages, an eldest brother, a two sisters near his own age (one step, one half), as well as a younger brother.
Pagerell's biological mother passed away from sickness soon after he was born though it was not directly connected to his birth. His father remarried quickly to another woman with profitable connections and while it wasn't a passionate romance, both business minded adults found satisfaction in their union. His stepmother took on the task of raising him alongside her own daughter born only a couple months prior (from a dissolved marriage that also outwardly appeared to have no connections to her new arrangement). Within the household the family was raised as one unit and with no internal conflict, the external gossip eventually died down. While Pagerell was still very young, his stepmother added two new siblings to the mix and all five were raised together with no real differences between those of their respective first marriages and those of the second.
The siblings were given an expensive education by a hired harper, taught well in the courtly skills of music and culture, exposed to a variety of crafts and other skills (his parents seeking signs of natural gifts or brilliance that should lead any of the youngers to apprenticeship to a craftshall). Pagerell showed an average aptitude give or take in most areas, though no desire to be a crafter. On the other hand, nearby Benden Weyr held a lot of romanticized mystery to the young man and eagerly awaited every Search that came through their hold where he and his younger siblings would be presented along with the rest of the eligible children.
In time he got his wish and with a sizable purse and a trunkload of 'basics' his parents gladly shipped him off to the Weyr with the understanding that if he didn't Impress it was no hair off of anyone's backs. He would either become a rider and thus honor his family, or come back home and most likely make a good marriage to extend their families trade contacts.
Candidacy was a culture shock to say the least. Initially he treated it as a novelty and was delighted by the 'horror' of doing base chores and manual labor. He went through phases of sullen resentment and indignation of course especially when it came to not understanding why drudges couldn't do some of the tasks they were assigned. It was their duties after all was it not? Why would the Weyr host so many drudges if they were just going to make their future dragonriders toil instead? He never meant to offend... and was sincere in his apologies if offense was given, but that's how it was in the holds. Drudges did drudgework, crafters crafted, holders managed the holds. Everyone had their job and none did the job of another. It went against his upbringing and while he could reluctantly admit that no real harm seemed to come from it... it didn't feel right.
Weyrlinghood was an improvement to be sure. Yes there were still chores, but now the world seemed to right itself, no small part due to the presence of Venaith in his life. Venaith was reasonable. Everything made sense to Venaith and he was back in the familiar comfortable box of knowing exactly where he stood in comparison to others.
Neither saw what was coming or even suspected that things might have gone wrong. Pagerell had faith in the Weyrleaders and the decisions they made. They'd be able to come to a compromise with the Lord Holders. Page himself wasn't at all convinced that Thread was going to come back despite the glow of the red star on the horizon. He and Venaith would both be quite glad to hear that it wasn't. Neither liked to think of what would be required of them should it return. Because Pagerell believed it was gone, Venaith felt secure in the rightness of his bonded and didn't fret over it either. Still, Pagerell felt that while the holders were probably overreacting on their part, dragons were still useful and quite wonderful after all, he was sure everyone would be able to see reason after they talked it out.
He didn't expect to have a blade pressed to his throat at breakfast. He didn't expect that halfway through his morning klah (extra sweet with a splash of milk) to feel a burning torrent of pain come across his bond as Venaith screamed in rage, his own voice echoing that of his dragon's. The fraction of a second of startled hesitation on behalf of his attacker was enough to see Pagerell slipping out of his attackers grasp, sharp pain mingling with panic as the blade left it's mark.
Page didn't even turn before he desperately bolted for the door, joining the press of bodies attempting the very same act. Friend or foe Page had no idea who was who as he was shoved back and forth, eventually coming into the chaos of the weyrbowl where dragons joined in, unable to defend themselves against the human attackers yet still trying to reach their grounded riders.
Venaith dropped from the sky and landed hard on an overturned cart as Page emerged from within the caverns of Benden. The bronze weyrling stumbled as his hind leg refused to bear his weight, the once bright hide coated in green ichor as it poured from a deep wound. As soon as Page hauled himself onto Venaith's back the bronze launched them both out of reach of blades.
Venaith didn't take them between immediately though. He circled low in the bowl, calling to his fellow weyrlings and those dragons he looked up to, seeking to help them in some way regain their riders. There was little he could do though as a set of coordinates was supplied at the same time as a spearhead lodged itself in the membrane of Venaith's wing. The bronze blinked between without a second thought.
Page was already unconscious when against odds the black of between disappeared in a bright flash of sunlight. Venaith held on long enough to recognize the shape of a dragon rising to meet them before he too faded and went limp.
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