Sixteen
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
Date Posted: 25th June 2025
Characters: T'mhas, Malaka
Description: M’rhas’ parents discuss his impending graduation into the Wings
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 9, day 24 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: M'rhas, M'thos, I'serin, L'val
The numbers from yesterday’s ‘Fall sat on his desk alongside the Infirmary list, and T’mhas was trying to make his handwriting legible enough to read again when he wasn’t so tired. It hadn’t been a bad ‘Fall by any means, not compared to others. A few minor scorings, a blue with a wrenched wing, one rider grounded for the next two sevendays. Quite manageable. He tossed the stylus down and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, reaching for Ghraisath’s steadiness a little to keep the weariness at bay.
A knock came through the door.
He looked up and tried hard not to frown.
Malaka stood half-in, half-out, one hand still precariously holding the handle. “T’mhas, do you have a minute?”
“Sure.” He answered automatically, albeit enthusiasm did not follow. “What’re you doin’ here?”
Shutting the door quietly, she crossed the room and sat across from him. Her brows were knit, her tone deliberately even. But the air was like a dry forest whenever they were in the same room together - the slightest, simplest thing could ignite it into something devastating.
“I need to talk to you.” She admitted quietly, earnestly.
“M’rhas?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
T’mhas sighed. “What’s he done?”
“Nothing. Well, not that I know of, anyway.” She paused, as if summoning the words. “I’m just worried about what he’s about to do. He’s so young. And I’m proud of how he’s done in training. He’s done so well. But this all feels like it’s happening a little too fast.”
T’mhas sat back in his chair, his expression turning pensive as the weight of her worry pulled at something in his chest. “He say anything to you?”
“No. Of course not. Not to _me_.” She exhaled sharply, hands fidgeting in her lap. “But I have to say something or I’ll lose my mind. He’s going up there in a few days and I can’t handle the thought of him…” She didn’t - _couldn’t_ complete the thought, just shutting her eyes against the surge of emotion.
T’mhas softened a little more. “Merry’s been with him every step of the way. If he didn’t think he was ready, if he doubted him or Alzaryth for even a second, do you think he’d let him fly up there to his death?”
“No.” But a shiver shook through her slight shoulders, like passing through /between/ in her chair. “But he _just_ turned sixteen, T'mhas. He’s still a boy.”
“I _know_.” T’mhas bit back, far harsher than intended, but it unnerved him as well. Sent a deep, aching, chilling wave through his bones to think of their son doing what rider ten Turns his senior had been doing since the start of the Pass. And that there were still three kids Standing, still waiting for their chance before the Pass was over. “I know you’re scared. I’m not real happy about it, either. Not really. I'd keep him on the ground til he's eighteen if I could. But we both know how well _that_ would go.”
“If anything happens to him-” she warned.
“I know.” He said, cutting her off. There was nothing more to say. Only a deep fear they reluctantly shared.
“Could you…” She hesitated, eyes searching his, “Could you talk to I’serin?”
“And say what, exactly?” Tam asked, tone clipped.
She just blinked at him, like the answer was blatantly obvious to them both. “That he’s too young. Sixteen is _too_young_. Not just for _our_ son, for any of them. There aren’t enough holes in the Wings to justify it, even with that horrible ‘Fall a few months back.”
T’mhas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Faranth Malaka. You want me to walk into I’serin’s office two days before he’s supposed to graduate and make a sharding scene?” He immediately reached for Ghraisath again for steadiness, and more patience, as he often did when dealing with M’rhas’ mother. Not only that - he understood what she was saying, what she was giving voice to inside him, too; most of their class hadn’t faced Thread until they were nearly thirty " and even then, so many had met a gruesome end. They had no way of knowing what they were facing after the ease of the Interval - and although at least his son and his class did, it was barely a comfort.
There was no way of stopping time. He knew that the day all his children claimed their right to Stand was the day that possibility became real - that they too might take to the sky.
Tam had to drag himself away from that knife-edge. It didn’t do any of them any good to dwell on worst-case scenarios. It was the death of logic. The fear would burrow too deep and fester even deeper if he let it. But, still, it sat loud and heavy against his skull, even as he said quietly, “He’s gonna be as ready for it as any of ‘em, Mal.”
The color in her face broke. Her eyes welled up with bitter, terrified tears, the glassiness blurring the green. “Oh, T’mhas.”
“Hey,” He frowned, rising from his desk. For the first time in a long, long time he reached for her hand, holding it gently. “Look. I ain’t happy about it, either. Not really. I definitely wish he was older. Even another Turn or two. Just to get his head on right.” He swore under his breath. “But we can’t stop it now. And he’s not gonna appreciate us meddlin’ in this, not when everyone else in his class is graduating.”
“No,” She admitted, “He’d hate that we’re even talking about him like this.”
“I dunno if he’d believe we were talkin’ about it in the same room.”
That earned a smile, small and rueful. “Desperate times.” Still, her worry didn’t budge. Its hooks had sunk in deep, so much so she looked a little ill, sick with worry. Her bowed shoulders, her eyes ringed like she had slept poorly, maybe hadn’t slept at all.
“He _is_ a good rider, you know.” T’mhas finally admitted, not sure who he was trying to comfort anymore. “Alzaryth sure makes him think a lot more. Actually take his shardin’ time before he does somethin’. Never thought that day would ever come.” He hadn’t been so sure about the young blue at first- a bit twitchy and nervous and flightier than a green sometimes, but somehow they seemed to balance each other out. The dragons knew, even - or perhaps especially - when people didn’t.
Malaka sighed as she wiped her eyes, tucking long strands of red hair behind her ears. “I’m just so worried something’s going to happen to him, T’mhas. I don’t know what I’d do if he…”
“Hey. I _know_.” He said, harsher than intended, his grip on her hand a little too rough. “I saw a draft of their Wing assignments. He’s going to Alpine. He’s gonna have me flyin’ over him, and you right under him, and a whole Wing of his own lookin’ out for him. So, there’s no better place for him and his blue. L’val’ll hear anythin’ the second it happens.”
Drawing a deep breath, Malaka studied his expression. He could feel her looking for cracks, hints, reasons to doubt how the future would turn out. And maybe there were a few. Tam didn’t know, but he had to believe it would work out - because he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, either.
“I just don’t know.” She whispered. “So much can go wrong in Threadfall, even when everyone is where they’re supposed to be, doing what they’re supposed to be doing. He’s…”
“A stubborn little shit.” T’mhas said, grinning.
She laughed at that, a sweet, genuine sound. The tension eased between them. “We’re havin’ him and the boys for supper tomorrow.” He added. “Come over. Pick his brain a little, give him all your motherly advice and worries so he knows who’s gonna skin him if he messes up.”
Malaka wrinkled her nose. “A room full of smelly men. How tempting.”
“Only a couple of ‘em really stink. Tamerel’s gettin’ a bath tonight.”
They talked a little longer - more civil, more tender, more honest with each other than they had in a long time. When Malaka finally dried her eyes, she apologized for interrupting and slipped out quietly, the door clicking closed behind her.
T’mhas returned to his desk again with a grunt, long legs stretching far beneath his desk as he dragged a hand through his thick hair. His blue eyes drifted to the Infirmary list, the names he’d just reviewed.
And suddenly every name looked like his son’s. He shoved the page aside, off the desk, away.
Yanking his desk drawer open, out came a bottle. And a glass.
Last updated on the July 15th 2025