Chapter Text
“There’s a hatching at High Reaches, and they’re letting me stand,” Karathael announced to their parents during lunch time. “It should be in the next few days. The Search dragon is collecting me and Shenette tomorrow morning.”
“Excuse me?” Karalea said, nearly choking on her salad. “Wasn’t that where those two gold dragons…?”
“Killed each other? Yeah. But there’s another one on the sands almost ready to hatch.”
“You want to be a weyrwoman?” Thaeleron piped in, perplexed. Karathael had never mentioned it to him before, and riding a gold dragon didn’t fit in with what he knew about his youngest child. “You know that’s a… a… lady job, right?”
Karathael nodded. “I know, Pop. Shenette really wants to Impress the queen. I think she’d be good at running a Weyr. She’s smart, and organized, and they always say that weyrwomen have to be pretty.”
“Good for Shenette. What about you?” Karalea asked, waving her fork in Karathael’s direction. “You’re watching from the stands? Coming back when it’s over? Don’t sit too close. Hatchings are dangerous, you know.”
“No. I’m going to stand as a Candidate - white robe and everything. When else would I get to experience a dragon hatching up close? Hardly anyone dies anymore.” They waved off the possibility. Shenette had already looked into it, and standing during a hatching was significantly safer than working anywhere in the Smithcraft Hall. Being an actual dragonrider was another story, but they weren’t going to mention that unless they had to.
Karalea was not convinced. “Don’t tell me you’re going to try to Impress a green. You know girls don’t ride fighting dragons.”
“Yes, Mother. And you know I’m not a girl,” Karathael retorted. It was bad enough to be misgendered without being infantilized along with it, but Karalea did not seem to care how much that particular word irked them. “I realize that I’ve got Thread’s chance in a Weyr of Impressing the queen and even less of Impressing any other color. That’s ok. I’m surprised they’re even letting me try, but the Search Dragon seemed intrigued… and I’m planning to stay there, dragon or not.” They squared their shoulders.
Thaeleron’s usual half-grin turned resolute as he held his fork up, mid-bite. “You want to stay? And do what? If you don’t ride the queen?”
“Yes, Pop. I’m going to stay, and I’ll do whatever they need me to do. I’m not afraid of hard work, and there’s a whole lower cavern full of people that don’t have dragons. Like you always say, a hall needs more than masters. A Weyr needs more than weyrwomen, too.”
Karathael paused. They could practically see the gears turning in their father’s head. “I’d love you to come to the Hatching to see us off, if you would. The Weyrlingmaster said that each of us gets one dragonload of guests for the hatching and the feast afterwards. But you’d be it. Shenette wanted to invite her grandparents, but… well…”
“They’d need a hoist on either end,” Thaeleron nodded in understanding. Granny Shorka had a better chance of breaking a hip than mounting a dragon, and Gramps couldn’t operate his wheel-mobile on the stairs to the Hatching Grounds. Thaeleron bit into his bacon, chewing it thoroughly before answering. “We’ll go. Your mother will tell Granny and Gramps what happened as soon as we get back.”
“What!?” Karalea flashed her husband a look of irritated surprise. She was usually the one making big decisions, leaving him to follow along. “We’re not letting her go to the Weyr, Thaeleron. You know what kind of people live there. What they do. And High Reaches, no less! We couldn’t send anyone for her when she changes her mind!”
Their father swallowed another bite before answering. “She tried your way, and it didn’t work out. Let her try her own way. She won’t be alone, and if she hates it, she can get a ride back.” Karathael nodded at Thaeleron’s logical thinking, grateful he was on their side. They were prepared to go either way, but they’d rather have their parents’ blessing than not.
“Your sister always said those girls were too close, and now look what’s happened. They’re running away to the Weyr together,” Karalea knowingly half-whispered to her husband, always on the lookout for a scandal. Thaeleron didn’t reply, keeping his thoughts to himself.
Karathael rolled their eyes. “Its not like that, Mom, but say what you want. I’m going to pack. I’ll be back to say goodbye before we leave in the morning.”