Post-canon Stef
Jan. 11th, 2013 08:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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last_herald_mageComing Home, part 2
Reporting to Treven had been strange; there was no other way to describe the uneasy way he looked at a Randale-less throne. He had presented himself before Treven before, once, when he returned from Sorrows and asked for his commission to Karse, but he had not been sane, exactly. This time, he was all too aware of the figures missing from the Audience Chamber.
For the moment, he stood off to the side; he had already told Treven everything of essence, but simply leaving after speaking seemed impolite. Had he known the backwater lords would be speaking about declining geese populations, he might have risked the offense simply to avoid the flood of memory, especially the maudlin, melancholic variety. Although I enjoy a well-cooked goose as much as anyone, so I suppose their complaints are relevant.
Almost none of the faces were the same as that moment he first came in to play for Randale. Only Tantras and Joshe, really, and both seemed more prominent figures of authority than ever before. Part of me feels for them… neither one really asked for or wanted such high placement. With Vanyel gone, a mass of complex magical and seemingly mundane tasks had to be divided up or simply eliminated—somewhat inevitably, but to the danger of Valdemar’s general security. Yet it seems that in some cases, our fears might have been exaggerated. And the question remains whether all that power actually helped us, or rather caused our enemies to seek out and train mages who, combined, were an equally powerful weapon.
Not that he doubted Vanyel, but much to everyone’s surprise, the kingdom had not fallen into pieces with his death. Actually, it’s his political prowess they seem to miss more than anything. So many relationships carefully nurtured with key political figures—many of them women who won’t have anything to do with someone who isn’t the great and beautiful Firelord. Plus, he was so goddamn brilliant in treaty writing; Treven and Tran together can’t fill that void. He sighed inaudibly. That was heading down a track he didn’t want to go down at the moment, not with Tantras shooting rather concerned glances his way.
The surface thoughts will give way to my deeper unrest… His time on the Border had been cathartic in the sense that he had been too busy to think, and time, regardless of how deep the wound, always did do some healing. But on his trip back, he’d begun to truly feel the weight of the task Vanyel assigned him, and to entertain some darker thoughts… The unfairness of the request, mostly. Savil told me Vanyel would have slit his wrists to the bone after ‘Lendel died—or rather, did slit them—and it was only ‘Fandes who saved him. Gods know I don’t have a ‘Fandes. Hells, uneasy as his familial relationships were, at least he had one. What do I have?
The answer was easy, and short. A roommate and close friend; a dying mentor—Breda’s dazzle headaches had been symptomatic of a deeper imbalance, and the Healers gave her no more than a year or two; the daughter, friends, and relations of his lifebonded. Those are his people, not mine. Breda’s my Savil, and he had her almost his whole life. He hated the self-pitying thoughts, and he wasn’t one to tend toward whining, but he couldn’t help his analytic reflexes. Spend any time on the street, and you learn to weigh the pros and cons of a situation as easily as breathing. Fact is, he spent twenty years in isolated mourning with a helpful, caring circle of family and friends. Now I’m to do the same… it wasn’t just the uneven parallel that bothered him. If he thought more deeply about it, he knew he would come to the true ache—he knew he was going to die, and didn’t tell me. He sat there and let me mend his clothes as if it fucking mattered.
Now Tantras was looking truly concerned, his eyes narrowing as he watched Stefen from the other side of the audience chamber. Tran would have to notice, of all people. Tantras was one of Vanyel’s friends who had always been the most welcoming of Stefen, and the most forthcoming. He was also one of the people who kept watch over Stefen during the year after the Ice Wall, and, from the look in his eye, considered his task unfinished.
“… and that’s why we are requesting that a sector of land be set aside as a preservation,” the lord concluded, rubbing plump hands together. Treven nodded to the scribe, who duly noted the request, before standing.
“That concludes today’s Audience,” he said, a bit stiffly. Formality didn’t come naturally to him, never had. “I look forward to hearing further requests tomorrow.” A few lords looked disappointed, but most faces were satisfied. Good. No enemies yet, not here anyways. Too many Councilors or minor nobles had striven to take advantage of Randale’s death to advance their holdings beyond decreed land tracts or to employ previously banned policies, believing Treven’s hands would be far too full for him to bother watching what they were doing. Of course, none of them knew he had been groomed for this position since childhood. He’d been watching Randi work for years. Stefen had seen their resentment at being told what to do by a man who, typically, was the same age as their sons; when traveling back from Karse, he’d noted the general feeling of every holding he passed through. Most were loyal, still, but the conscription of the nation’s young men, in combination with Treven’s youth, had caused a bit of disquiet.
They don’t understand how lucky they are to have him. Well, they will. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t noticed Tantras until the man was virtually on top of him and he quickly refocused on the room around him. Everyone was gone, save a few servants who were cleaning up bits of discarded parchment and rearranging the room for tomorrow’s morning audience.
“Stefen,” Tantras said warmly, taking his hands. “Good to see you back, and safe.” Despite the warmth in his tone, there was worry; Stefen sensed and heard it. “We heard stories from soldiers and returning Heralds; your gift has proved inordinately helpful. Valdemar can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.”
He shrugged, discomfited by the praise. I’ve never been comfortable with it; I’m certainly no hero. I do this because Van asked me to, and because I don’t know what I’d do otherwise. Although… he supposed he did derive pleasure from helping others, but didn’t everyone? The time and power to be altruistic is a gift in and of itself. I’m not sure that makes me heroic; plenty of people wish they could be so helpful. “I did what I could,” he finally replied, meeting Tantras’ eyes.
A mistake, for he could instantly tell Tantras was reading him. And those warm brown eyes were far too much for him to resist.
“I believe that,” Tantras said quietly. “But I’m not sure it’s brought you any true peace.” He paused and cocked his head. “Has it?”
“I’m not planning on throwing myself under the next carriage, if that’s what you’re asking,” Stefen replied, a bit defensively. Here we go again, Tran trying to drag personal information out of me.
“It wasn’t.” Tantras sounded more amused than annoyed. “I do worry about your happiness, though, Stef. Or lack thereof.” He hesitated.
“What makes you think I’m unhappy?”
“The waves of bitterness fairly flying out of you during the whole goose speech, for one.” Shaking his head, Tantras continued, “I can imagine any number of reasons for that. I can’t imagine anyone not being bitter, in your circumstances. But the strange thing was, the more I watched you, the more I had the impression you weren’t bitter toward the crown, or the Karsites, or the Councillors… or even Treven and Jisa, for having the bond you lost.” He laid a hand, ever so lightly, on Stefen’s shoulder. “Your bitterness has a much closer target.”
No sense denying it now. But Gods, I hate when he pries more out of me than I intended to give. “I suppose it does.”
“Stefen…you need to make peace with your memories, and you haven’t. You’ve never even looked at what Vanyel left you…” he trailed off at the sharp look in Stefen’s eye.
“I didn’t have the courage until now.” Turning away, Stefen said, “Don’t try to give me advice about emotions you can’t possibly understand. You… don’t know everything. “
“I know some things,” Tantras said softly. “I’ve lived longer than you, and I’ve lost people too. You know that, Stef. Don’t bite my head off for worrying about you, or for caring about Van, even post-mortem.” He took Stefen’s shoulders and spun him back around to face him. “You aren’t doing yourself any favors carrying all that negative feeling around.”
“Oh? And what do you suggest I do?”
“Go find out what bits of Van you might still have.” Tantras guided him firmly toward the door. “You know the way. Down the hall, to the right, second left, third door on the left.”
“You’ve been there?”
“I helped Lord Withen move the chests.” He looked past Stefen, over his head. “After all, I filled one of them.”
no subject
Date: 2013-01-13 03:44 am (UTC)I love your analytical!Stef here, and the way that sets up the standoff with Tantras; he's already decided how completely screwed he is and is no longer open to persuasion on this point. It's kinda interesting that Tantras chose to go at him in public, which I think just makes it easier for Stef to keep his defences up.
Seeing his supposed heroicness during his nice relaxing visit to Karse as entirely self-serving - yes. I tend to assume that Stef's quest will isolate him for that kind of reason; no one knows the true cause of his actions so he can end up feeling like no one really knows him, and meanwhile he knows things about the world that he can't share with anyone. He could easily get ever-more off-kilter from other people, because, knowing too much truth will drive you mad.
Breda :( It makes a weird amount of sense, though. other details I love; the bit about magical escalation, yesssss. MOAR OF THIS FIC PLS.
no subject
Date: 2013-01-15 11:44 am (UTC)Stef is SO not sane and definitely off-kilter; how could he not be? Plus, the two glimpses we have of him post-Vanyel's death in canon are suicidal and just plain WEIRD, so I figure it's justified.
More is in the process of happening, but slowly; this one takes more time than the fun UST 1200 word fics!!
no subject
Date: 2013-01-15 03:37 pm (UTC)I headcanon that Stef can't die and that he can reflexively more or less stop himself from feeling pain, so him being dogged by suicidal tendencies is a special kind of torment. I guess I love the analytical because he's got that inner calculator, and sometimes it's going to be tallying up the hurts rather than the boons. I think of him as cynical rather than whiny, and I think that happens here because he's not bemoaning the things that make him bitter, just measuring and perceiving them.
Forever Alone!
Date: 2013-01-16 06:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-12-02 08:42 pm (UTC)