Shameless

Writers: Devin, Estelle
Date Posted: 17th December 2025

Characters: M'sar, D'miran
Description: Mesarian challenges Damiran to a wager
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 12, day 10 of Turn 12

Damiran was in time to join the late morning class with the rest of the candidates and head for lunch afterwards. Some of those he remembered from his last Hatching had Impressed or aged out, but there were a few familiar faces still and he caught up on the news, including all the details of Galgaith's flight and the presence of the holdless. It didn't get any better the more he heard about them, but at least they seemed to stick to their own kind.

When they were released from the last class of the day, he still had to check in with the headwoman's staff and by the time he got back to the barracks, there were a few candidates around, some reading, writing letters or dozing on their bunks, others chatting or doing small cleaning and mending jobs. Damiran reached down his bag from the top bunk and started to neatly fold away the few clothes he'd brought with the candidate robe he'd been given.

"Well helloooo," Mesarian said as he leaned against the bunk.

Damiran looked up from where he was kneeling by the clothes chest. He didn't recognize the other candidate, so he must have been Searched since the last Hatching. "Hello?"

"Haven't seen you around. You must be fresh off the Search dragon." And fresh meat for Mesarian.

"Fresh off the dragon, but I was Searched a few Turns back. I go back home between clutches to help out, since I'm more use there than sitting through the introduction to weyrlife class yet again. Just got back today." He straightened and offered a hand. "I'm Damiran."

"Mesarian." His touch lingered. "Hard working type, hmm?"

"I hope so, else I won't make a very good dragonrider," Damiran said. "They say the training's hard, on top of taking care of the hatchling."

Mesarian nodded as if he cared. "We should have a little fun before then, shouldn't we?"

"We should!" The dark-haired boy relaxed, his expression brightening. "They had a party last time, out by the Star Stones, but it was before I got back to the Weyr. I heard all about it but never got to go. Are you planning something?"

"I was thinking something more . . . private." M'sar's eyelids lowered slightly as he looked Damiran over.

The other Candidate looked confused. "A private party?"

Mesarian leaned closer. "Have you ever been with a man?"

"I...what?" Damiran gaped at him, at first too astonished at being asked such a question, by someone he'd met less than two minutes ago, to be offended.

"Don't act so shocked, this is the Weyr, you know. We could have so much fun together." Mesarian brushed a hand against Damiran's chest.

The young man drew back from the touch as if he'd been burned, nearly stumbling over his bag. "But we only just met!" His cheeks flushed in anger and embarrassment at his own reaction, and he glanced around to check if any of the others had seen. "Is this a joke? Some kind of game to see who can shock the holder?"

"What, you want me to court you?" Mesarian snickered. "I can bring you flowers after if that'll make you feel better."

"I - that's not what I..." Lost for words, Damiran resorted to glowering at him. "You should be more careful around strangers! I could have been anyone. How do you know I'm not one of those holdless criminals?"

"Wouldn't care if you were. I bed holdless criminals all the time." Mesarian grinned at him, wondering if playing with the holder boy might be more fun than shagging him. "I am one."

"You're one of _them_?" He hardly knew what to think, half embarrassed at his own mistake and half furious, that a holdless man would approach him in such a brazen manner. Anger began to win out. "Aren't you ashamed?"

Mesarian snorted. "Never."

"Well, you should be. You've been honored with the chance to Stand and redeem yourself, make your life worth something, and all you do is hang around the barracks and...proposition people!" Damiran's voice rose in heated outrage.

"My life _is_ worth something." Anger flashed in Mesarian's eyes. "It's _mine_! And while I'm waiting for my dragon, I'm gonna enjoy myself getting laid by as many hot men as I can. I'll even go for acceptable ones like you."

The holder flushed. Acceptable?! "With that attitude you'll be waiting a long time," he snapped. "Dragons choose honorable riders who come to fight and serve their Weyr. They don't want thieves and layabouts."

"Dragons choose whoever they want. Even holdless. I ain't afraid to fight Thread," Mesarian lied.

"Hah." Damiran let out a sharp breath of contempt. "I doubt that. You can't even face up to an honest day's work."

"You think working in a field all day is gonna make you better for a dragon instead of someone who already knows how to fight?" All those holders and even some of the weyrfolk thinking they were better than Mesarian. Well, he'd show them.

The holder boy scoffed. "Dragonriders fight by flaming Thread from the skies. They don't brawl and knife each other in the back. It's hardly the same."

"Yeah? You think playing around in the dirt is the same as riding a flaming dragon?" Mesarian crossed his arms.

"Of course not. But I know how to put in the effort to learn," Damiran retorted. "I'll bet I'd pick up those skills faster than you and your friends ever could. You can't lie and cheat your way into a Fighting Wing."

Mesarian's eyes glinted. "How much?"

He was thrown off by that. "What do you mean, how much?"

"How much do you bet on it?"

"You want to _bet_ on our training?" Damiran was outraged at the very idea. "Where's your sense of respect? Of duty? We haven't even Impressed yet!"

"_You_ said you'd bet you'd pick up dragonriding skills faster than me." Mesarian crossed his arms. "So put your marks where your mouth is, holder."

Damiran frowned. If he knew anything, it was not to wager with a holdless man; that was a good way to lose your marks to a swindler. But how could he lose? Even if he didn't Impress this time, the dragons certainly wouldn't want someone like Mesarian. "I've got five marks. Have you even got that much?"

"I'm good for it." Mesarian didn't have that much, but that didn't matter because he wasn't going to lose. "Five marks it is."

"To do what?" Damiran was already having some regrets, though he'd rather have given up his Candidate knots than admit it. "We can't exactly ask the Weyrlingmaster to judge."

That was true. Mesarian frowned as he tried to think of something Damiran might accept. "One holdless, one holder. And one weyrbred. They can decide which of us learns faster. How 'bout that?"

The holder narrowed his eyes, trying to spot the catch, but it seemed reasonable enough. The holdless would obviously vote for Mesarian, but the others should be fair, and that was two to one. Plus, there were only fifteen eggs, so the chances were neither of them would Impress anyway.

"O - kay," he said reluctantly. "And if you don't Impress and I do, I won't even hold you to it."

"Same for you, hold boy."

Damiran's contemptuous expression showed what he thought of the likelihood of that outcome. "Fine. You're on." He held out a hand to shake.

Mesarian gripped it, squeezing harder than he needed to. Before he let go, he rubbed a thumb along Damiran's hand as a smirk curved his lips.

The holder froze, eyes widening, and then he jerked his hand away and clasped it behind his back, as if the touch had scalded him. "You're completely shameless!"

"I am." Mesarian laughed. "If you want to see just how shameless, come see me sometime." He blew Damiran a kiss.

"The Red Star will freeze over first," Damiran snapped, and turned away to continue unpacking, trying to put the holdless Candidate's mocking smile out of his mind. He wished he hadn't staked all his marks on that foolish bet. Even though he couldn't see how he'd lose, he felt uneasy about the whole business. This wasn't how his coming to the Weyr was supposed to go.

Last updated on the December 20th 2025

Welcome to Triad Weyrs!

Shameless