Telling the Other Dad
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: Iluva, Sia
Date Posted: 13th August 2025
Characters: Varethos, T'mhas
Description: Varethos talks to his other father about leaving candidacy
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 9, day 22 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: M'thos, M'rhas, Lemhask
Fianwyth took Varethos up to his fathers' weyr, landing gently on the ledge and offering a leg like she did for all the inexperienced holder folks. Varethos hadn't needed it since he was ten, but he appreciated the gesture. She knew something was up, even if she probably didn't really understand it. He thanked her and scratched her eyeridges in payment, then turned to give Ghraisath the same treatment.
}: Tell your rider to be calm. :{ Fianwyth relayed to the bronze. She knew as much as M'thos did that T'mhas wouldn't be _angry_, of course, but this one was nervous enough that any kind of emotional exposition would bowl him right over.
"Dad, are you busy?" Varethos called into the weyr as he eventually stopped scritching the bronze, unaware of the conversation happening nearby. "Are you busy?"
Ghraisath’s eyes whirled with emphasis beneath Varethos’ hands. }:The oldest is here.:{ He informed T'mhas with great affection flowing across their link, though the rest he said in the same authoritative way he relayed his Wingleader’s orders, }:You need to be calm, though. Fianwyth says you must. He seems a little troubled.:{
There was a long pause before T’mhas answered. **Alright.** More curious than concerned at the moment, he called back “No!” from the kitchen. Then a second time - this time the boom of his voice echoing beyond the sink he was crammed under as he slid out and sat up, tossing the wrench aside. “In here.” He said when he caught the familiar steps on approach.
"I didn't know you could fit under the sink." Varethos said dryly. The words came out on impulse, and he shot his father a shy grin.
Finally straightening to his full height and wiping his hand in the kitchen towel, Tam returned the grin. “It ain’t easy.” He admitted with the punctuating flex of a bicep. It was one of the few times he hadn’t scraped or knocked anything, or gotten stuck, making it easier to squeeze the kid’s shoulder in both greeting and affection.
Varethos shifted under the weight of that gesture--warm, grounding, and familiar--but it only made the knot in his stomach twist tighter. He gave a weak little laugh, eyes dropping to the discarded wrench. "You should get one of the technicians to do that next time." He cleared his throat a little, awkwardly and nervously. "Do you have a moment to talk?"
“Ah I don’t mind doin’ it.” T’mhas said with a half-smile. “Yeah, if it’s any worse I'll probably have a technician look at it.” However, watching his kid shift, clear his throat, almost hesitate, had him squeezing Varethos’ shoulder again and gesturing to the table, if he’d like to sit. “Yeah, of course.”
Varethos sat, but he didn't quite settle; his posture too stiff, his hands fidgeting in his lap. He hated this part. The anticipation. Not knowing how his father would react. He knew T'mhas loved him, but Varethos also knew how proud he had been when each of them had become candidates. How thrilled he was when M'rhas Impressed, even when he'd punched Z'renh and gotten himself grounded from his own hatching feast.
“I, um.” He exhaled hard through his nose, eyes up to the bronzerider before darting away again. “I told M’t"uh, I told Dad already, but I need to tell you too. I'm withdrawing my name from candidacy.” He rushed the next part, to fill the space before T'mhas could. "Not because anything is wrong or, I'm not in trouble. I need to focus on my studies. I'm getting too old to wait around the barracks, and I can't focus enough on my journeyman knots like this. The Weyrharper thinks I could get my knots in the next six months or so if I just buckle down. Then I can request to stay here, or go on circuit nearby. And I know that's probably disappointing but--"
He cut himself off again, looking down at the table like it might swallow him up and make this easier. "I didn't want Dad to have to tell you, or Lem or someone blurt it out without thinking."
T'mhas didn't try to speak or interject, just letting the kid tell him in his own words, at his own pace.
He still believed that irrespective of color Varethos would Impress. He hadn't realized quite how little Varethos still believed it would happen - how deeply the practicality had set in to offset the current prospects. There was still time, and Vare could still end up with his knots as well as Impress his dragon before actually aging out. M’thos himself had been on the cusp of leaving candidacy when Fianwyth found him.
As hard as it was (and easy as it was for T’mhas to say when he’d Impressed his first Hatching), time was all they had to give it. They didn’t decide these things. But Tam didn’t quite see the Turns and many rejections weighing down on the kid until now.
Now Varethos had to make other decisions, and had left little space for argument between them. Though the kitchen light caught on his glossy hair, it also multiplied the shadows ringing the kid’s eyes. Ghraisath urged him to remain calm and Tam pinched between his eyes in annoyance, not needing the reminder as a few too many thoughts fell into place. He let the feeling come, as disconcerting as it was. His own father would have flipped, and indeed had when T’mhas had announced the Searchdragon’s findings - smug, spiteful and not much older than Varethos’ age. Maybe that was why his dragon wanted him calm.
“Well, that’s alright.” He answered slowly, when he was sure Varethos was finished and his mind made up. “I get it. Look, whatever you wanna do is fine. You're a great kid and you’re already a fine Harper.” Tam spoke with a restrained undercurrent of earnestness, wanting that to sink in so badly, not wanting to push.
Varethos' heart pounded in his chest in the brief silence between them, and it was only the telltale look in his father's eyes that hinted that the reaction was (mostly, likely) due to an unheard conversation with Ghraisath. He exhaled slowly and tried to come down from the badly-released adrenaline. "Thank you. Dad had all these stories about being on circuit with Fianwyth, and how great it was…I'll just have to hoof it, instead. Qelhelias really seemed to enjoy it."
Varethos didn't say that he did the math. Dad and Fianwyth would never be able to be a travelling harper again, unless he or Fianwyth were injured badly enough that they could never fly 'Fall. And even if he _did_ Impress, if the Pass ended when the history books said it would, he would be almost sixty. He could maybe get a decade of circuit, if he survived. If the Pass ended on time. If, if, if. Too many of them.
“Yeah, Fianwyth's hard to beat.” T'mhas’ nod was one of sympathy. It was hard to keep that disappointment away when you were a weyrbrat and grew up steeped in expectations and the familiarity of dragons, too. When people you knew were already on their paths, had their dragons. Tam felt for him. This wasn’t the kind of rash or irresponsible decision a parent would panic over - quite the contrary, this sort of thing happened because of time, and too much of it being unfulfilled. It was painstakingly thought out, the result of repeated rejections.
But was their kid trying to reassure him, or himself?
“So, you’ll be out of the barracks, then. Where’re you gonna stay? Crafter quarters…” Tam hardly thought Varethos would be itching to move back in with his parents at his age.
"Once I get my knots." Varethos answered. "Mom has extra space for now. I put in a request for my own space in the crafter area, but there's not a lot of space in the Weyr."
Varyana. Tam wondered how M'thos had taken that particular fraction of the news, how he felt after the kid left and all the pieces carefully recounted. Still, he understood this, too. What man wanted to share a room with a six turn old? One who snored like an old man when exhausted, to boot.
Though it wasn't what he thought their eldest's independence would look like, not by far, it did also made sense. Varethos was a fine Harper - patient, diligent, creative - and there was no accounting for the decisions of dragons.
“Mm yeah, and it's even tighter with the Holdless in the lower caverns.” T'mhas added, “Well, you know you're always welcome here, even for a night.”
A pained look quickly crossed the boy's face. He knew that, and it wasn't his father's fault, but thinking about moving back into the childhood nursery at nearly twenty made it feel more like he was a failure than he was moving forward. "I know." He said instead. His mother had been active in his life, of course, but the makeshift guest space in her quarters didn't have the same painful familiarity as what was now Tamerel's room.
"And Dad still has his Journeyman knots, it just means there might be two of us wailing on that stupid horn." Varethos hastily continued.
T'mhas watched Varethos’ expression flicker, an ache he couldn't quite name opening in his chest. “Vare, I’m not disappointed, or anything. There’s nothin’ you could do that’d make me or your dad be disappointed. I’m just… well, I'm sorry. And I love you.” Ghraisath’s spirited croon of agreement punctuated the short pause, with Tam pushing his chair out and raising a huge arm. “_We_ love you. Alright? Now c’mere, gimme a hug.”
"I know." Varethos repeated. "I did want a dragon. And you and Dad love it so much, it's hard to step back from it." Still, he stood when his father did and let himself be pulled into a bone-crushing hug. He was tall, but still comically dwarfed by T'mhas. It was stupid, maybe, but the knot in his stomach loosened just a little. Enough that the air came easier, and the thought of the barracks-- emptying his trunk, walking out for the last-- didn't feel like it was going to crush him.
Last updated on the August 29th 2025