A Better Way (2/3)
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: Corrin, Duskdog
Date Posted: 10th September 2025
Characters: Sybana, Zaphare
Description: Sybana asks for help
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 8, day 5 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: Alengar, Drenorik, Varethos
The room was quiet now, the faint crackle of embers in the hearth filling the silence where once there had been gasps, laughter and desperate, breathless sounds Sybana could hardly believe had come from her own lips. They lay together in exquisite exhaustion, Zaphare’s arm heavy about her waist, their legs tangled beneath the furs. The simple intimacy of it was nearly as shocking as the act itself had been-- and just as pleasurable.
She hadn’t expected such pleasure. Hoped for it, yes. Expected it, no. A thrill ran through her even now, exhilarating and terrifying all at once. She was relieved-- relieved it hadn’t been awful, that it hadn’t truly hurt, that she had done what she’d set out to do. But she was also confused, confused by the sweetness of it, the ease-- it felt _wrong_ to have found it here, with Zaphare. With a woman.
She couldn’t possibly desire Zaphare. She didn’t feel remotely the same about her as she had about Alengar or Drenorik or even the men in The Weyrwoman’s Choice. But Sybana couldn’t deny the way those deft hands and that clever mouth had made her feel, the way she’d eagerly arched into each touch and every kiss. It always felt good to be wanted, and with Zaphare she had felt that and more.
It was only ever meant to be homework. A step on the stairs of duty that she _had_ to surmount as a diligent goldrider. A way to safely prepare for whichever bronzerider that claimed her. It didn’t feel so safe anymore.
But she didn’t get up to leave.
“Thank you,” she whispered at last, breaking the silence. “That was… very informative.
Zaphare laughed softly. Her voice was a little throatier in intimacy, in moments of laziness and quiet ease, her cadence of speech less sharp. “I’m glad you feel _informed_. If that’s what we’re calling it these days.” Her grin, though, was still sharp and toothy. “Maybe I should be thanking you, too. You’re even more gorgeous like this, you know. You made it a pleasure, _and_ you didn’t get up and run off, even though I know this isn’t really your… um, _thing_.”
Sybana smiled, shyly sweet rather than sharp, as she blushed at the compliment. It felt all the more heady in this strange new environment. “Well… Lingering is important, isn’t it? Besides, you utterly exhausted me. I had no idea one could be… _informed_ so many times. Or in so many ways.”
Zaphare laughed again, brighter this time. She couldn’t help but bask in the praise at least a little. “There’s a lot more to it, a lot more to do, than a lot of people think. I’m pretty sure I still haven’t discovered _everything_ -- and I guess I hope I never do, because the _finding out_ is such a rush.”
She found herself playing idly with one of Sybana’s curls, twirling it gently around one finger. “Do you feel any more ready for boys, though? They’re usually not as good as _me_ of course, but they can be a lot of fun.”
“I can’t believe there’s _more_,” Sybana murmured. “Though I suppose there must be.”
She lay in thoughtful silence for a moment, increasingly conscious of all the ways that they touched, but the fingers in her hair were doing no more harm than they had between her legs so she remained complacent in the comfort of the closeness.
“I feel… more ready than I was before,” she admitted. “Not that that’s saying much. The bigger problem is that I don’t _know_ any of the boys. Not really, not well enough to ask them or trust them. Not like I did you. But you… you Know them, don’t you?” She was quite wanton after all. “Who would be a good option?”
Zaphare had actually already given this some thought. (And, if she were to be honest, some _thought_. Imagining Sybana with other people had both bothered and excited her, depending on how she was feeling in the moment whenever she entertained the idea.) She’d had time to weigh what approach she thought might be best, and who could handle it.
And she just kept coming up with one name, a name she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to give. It was stupid, she knew. Jealousy had no place in the Weyr, or in her own life (Faranth knew she would have thrown a fit if anyone started getting possessive of _her_), but she felt what she felt. It warred with her desire to imagine the admittedly very pretty picture of them together.
(Maybe too pretty. Would she be a fool to push a girl both prettier and more refined and important than herself at a boy who might very well decide he liked her better than he liked Zaphare? He wasn’t the type to be a jerk about it, but well… a man only has so many candlemarks in a day, and so much attention to give. It wouldn’t be his fault, really.)
But she didn’t own him _or_ Sybana, nor did she want to be owned _by_ either of them, and it would be better not to entertain stupid feelings that would definitely do more harm than good. Sybana deserved the help.
And… if nobody knew she felt anything, it didn’t really count, anyway. No harm, no foul.
“Varethos,” she said.
“Your Varethos?” Sybana echoed, surprised. She remembered Zaphare warning her off that beautiful boy when they first met.
“He knows what he’s doing, but he doesn’t get all puffed up and offended if you tell him what you want. He can be gentle, but he doesn’t have to be if you decide you don’t need that anymore.”
“He does sound… suitable,” said Sybana. “But are you certain? I thought you were sweet on him. I wouldn't want to-- there are others, surely.”
Sweet on him? Zaphare almost choked. It wasn’t like _that_. Ridiculous. No. She’d never been sweet on anyone in her life, and didn’t aim to start now.
It was just… she…
Whatever.
“No, he’s not… well. It’s not like he’s my _husband_ or weyrmate or whatever. I don’t own him, and he doesn’t own me. We just have fun together, that’s all. Besides,” and she finally glanced back up, sly, “_maybe_ you’re special and _maybe_ you wouldn’t be the worst person to share with.”
It was true. She wouldn’t be. Better Sybana, with Zaphare’s permission, than anyone else. (She tried not to think too hard about whatever and _whoever_ else Varethos got up to. It didn’t matter, right? So long as he was available whenever she wanted him.)
That was not the answer Sybana had been expecting. Not entirely denial, but not entirely admission-- and she had no idea _what_ to make of being Special and worth sharing with, so she defaulted to the one thing you could always fall back on: good manners.
“Well, thank you,” she blinked, a bit stunned, before continuing more earnestly. “That’s really very kind. I won’t get in your way after, I _promise_. I just need _someone_ to help me before Galgi rises. Someone good and safe and discreet. …He _will_ be discreet, won’t he?”
And Zaphare, would she?
“He will be,” Zaphare assured her. “And just to make sure, in case he has those weyrborn rocks in his head where they forget that not everybody’s open about that stuff, I’ll threaten him before anything happens. So long as he knows that’s what you want, he’ll take it seriously. He’s… a good guy. Too good for me, probably, ha! He almost makes me forget that men are terrible.”
But Sybana didn’t laugh. Actually, she looked a little… sad. “Zaphare did something Happen with you and a man? At the weyr, or before?” This wasn’t the first time Zaphare had talked like that.
Last updated on the October 3rd 2025