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last_herald_mage2019-02-11 08:27 pm
Finding Our Way Back, Part IV
***
August, Vanyel had recently decided, was not one of his favorite months. The cloying scents of Haven’s close-packed houses seemed to waft past even the Palace gates, mingling in the humid and leaden air. Though he sweated little ordinarily, his light linen shirts stuck stubbornly to his back in this weather, and he still refused to remove them in public, particularly in light of his irritating and ever-growing fame. Or should I call it notoriety? Since not everyone is entirely comfortable with a single man who’s capable of leveling Haven. The thought struck him that his teenage self had once sought such notice, and he almost scoffed aloud. How naïve I was. It only begs the question as to whether any of my decisions were good ones…
He supposed he should count himself lucky to still be stationed here, rather than tramping along the unbearably warmer Karsite border, but there was something far too stifling about the endless, exhausting mundanity of his daily routine. Council meetings, mage work to check our Borders and resolve any minor or major problems I can, Circle meetings, my duties as a member of the Web, Court attendance, more Council meetings…he surprised himself, at times, with how adept he’d grown at negotiating treaties, placating dissatisfied lords, and defending Randale’s policies. I would never have thought of myself as a strong public speaker. Yet it had become easier, almost, than being himself. Yfandes had laughingly called it his “Great Herald-Mage” persona years ago, a title he infinitely preferred over the one the Court had coined for him. The Ice Mage. I wonder what Tylendel thinks of that.
He slapped himself mentally for letting his thoughts wander into such foolish grounds, dangerously close to memories of one night, eons ago, when he’d let himself be comforted from that cold. No. It’s fine the way it is. He’d avoided Tylendel as well he could the past three months; their duties rarely overlapped, and the other man seemed to have stopped trying to surprise him at sparring or dining or any other opportune moment. He wondered, abstractly, if he should feel upset by Tylendel’s apparent loss of interest, but the mere thought of letting himself be touched with such abandon again drew his walls up, sharp and high. I even think he might have found someone else, and good for him. A small (jealous?) voice inside him whispered there won’t ever be anyone else for him truly, just as there won’t for you; it’s a lifebond, fool, but he ignored it resolutely. He’d glimpsed Tylendel hand-in-hand with a handsome Herald he knew to be shaych by rumor alone, and he assumed Tylendel had done what he’d told him to. It would be the first time he truly obeyed one of my requests.
The chapel bell rang once, twice, thrice, and he sighed, pulling himself out of his musings on the sofa. I suppose I’d better put on a new shirt for afternoon Court. As he stood reluctantly, body a bit sore in unexpected places—Tran is getting better at anticipating my tricks in the salle—a soft knock at the door jolted him into motion. Am I late? I can’t be late. Randi said quarter past, today.
A sturdy blonde lad stood at the door, hand trembling a bit as he handed Vanyel a slip of paper. “Milord Herald-Mage,” he murmured, bowing deeply. “A message from the king.”
He ignored what might be either hero-worship or deferential terror, his eyebrows rising as he scanned the text, and the familiar brush of Tantras’ mind against his shields confirmed the hint of worry fluttering through his stomach. :Van. Council Room, now.:
Shutting the door behind the page, he stripped and changed his shirt quickly, grimacing, as he always did, at the uneven, rough feel of his skin. What in the hells? I would have Felt an attack—I’ve got the Karsite Border trapped all the way down the line—
He wasted no time striding down the hall, his long legs taking him quickly around the maze-like corridors until he reached the Council Room, whose door sat slightly ajar. He could Feel Jaysen, Savil, Randale, and Tantras’ presences inside, which confirmed his worry that whatever had occurred, it warranted a meeting of the Circle. And another—Tylendel?
Easing himself through, his suspicion was confirmed when those golden-brown eyes met his. He dropped his gaze quickly, making a short, ceremonial bow to Randale. “My king.”
“No time for that, Van.” Randale gestured toward an empty chair and he sat quickly. “Well. I know Tylendel’s not in the Circle, but it would be pointless to hold two meetings, so he’ll sit in. Tantras, fill them in.”
Tantras sighed. “Sharia-- our Heraldic relay midway between here and Hardorn, stationed near Trevale, Spoke me half a candlemark ago about a dire Mindcall for help from our Herald directly on Hardorn’s border. The Mindcall, she said, mentioned something about demons before slipping away from her in a cry of agony.”
“That’s—” Vanyel pointed at the map. “That’s awfully far north for Karsite demons.”
Tylendel didn’t speak, merely nodded in agreement. I sometimes forget he spent almost as much time out there as I did.
“Well, I thought so as well, but Sharia said she Felt something in the other Herald’s mind before he dropped the link—a sense of formless evil, of an insatiable hunger—and it reminded me of what you said that last time, Van.”
He nodded his head slowly. “That does sound like demons.” He shot Randale a piercing look. “And you want me to investigate?”
“You and Tylendel,” Randale amended, catching and holding his gaze. :Van, I know you have some sort of history with him, but I don’t like you going after demons alone, not after what you reported from the Border.:
:Does it have to be Tylendel?: He tried to keep any petulance out of his Mindvoice, and continued seriously. :Randale, I can’t explain, but it honestly might distract me from my mission.:
:He’s the only mage close to Adept-level besides you and Savil, and we can’t send her out to Hardorn!: Randale’s weak Mindvoice broke and slipped away under the strain of Speaking for so long. He continued out loud. “It’s simply too dangerous for a lone Herald.”
Vanyel glanced again in Tylendel’s direction, only to be met with an unwavering gaze and folded arms. When he spoke, his voice was subdued. “So we’re to be partners in this. Will Vanyel work with me?”
Savil grimaced at the bluntness of the question, Jaysen rubbed his forehead tiredly, and Tantras looked confused. “Why wouldn’t he?”
“Oh, just stop wasting time with this nonsense,” Savil muttered, shooting them both a reproachful gaze. “We’ve lost half our mages with this damned war already, I’m an arthritic old woman, and Tylendel’s the only one who can contain demons besides you, Van. Tell me, what happens if the mage raising them is adept level, or blood path, or both? You’ll manage him and the demons at once? Rubbish.” She snorted. “You’d be possessed before you had a chance to finish your casting.”
:Trust Savil to provide reassurance.: He thought drily to Yfandes, who answered with an amused snort.
:What a send-off. But Van…I don’t like it. You’re right that you don’t think as clearly when he’s involved.:
Her tone was gentle, not reproachful, which took some of the sting out of the comment. I try so hard to keep my past pains from distracting me. :I know. Randale and Savil make good points, though. Who else could safely come? And it wouldn’t be smart to go alone.:
He could hear the resignation in her voice. :True.:
“All right, then.”
Savil raised an eyebrow at him in surprise. He shrugged. “You made your points. We’ll go together. I presume we can’t Gate, because whoever this is would then know we were there, and I’d be weaker than a newborn kitten. I imagine we’ll be riding out the East Trade Road. When do we leave?”
“Now?” Randale looked apologetic. “I can’t have demons ravaging the farmlands on the eastern border, not after how the southern lands suffered during Karse. Those are our people. Plus, at the risk of sounding callous—”
“The harvest,” Jaysen finished. “Yes, it would be disastrous.”
“I guess we’ll need a candlemark to throw our things together.”
Tylendel again nodded silently, oddly deferential. Is he recognizing my authority?
“Best of luck.” Randale chewed his lip worriedly. “From Tran’s report, you’ll need it.”
***
Even knowing that their journey would likely culminate in a horrendous and terrifying fight against unnatural creatures from the Abyssal plane, Tylendel was far from unhappy. I spent weeks trying to get close to Vanyel, then more trying to give him his space and hoping he’d either grow jealous or miss me, and nothing worked. I hadn’t banked on Randale forcing us together. Though Vanyel didn’t seem much inclined to talk. He rode ahead at the same relentless pace they had all day—not a gallop, because the Companions could never hold that more than a few candlemarks, but something uncomfortably past a trot—clad only in his shirt and breeches rather than full Whites, his nod to the unbearable heat that seemed to make Tylendel appear much more disheveled and sweaty. His hands held the reins in a lax, graceful mastery that matched the elegant line of his back, and his hair fell in a carelessly perfect throw, the thick white streaks only serving to enhance his otherworldly beauty.
Gods, I know I have my charms, but he’s almost too handsome to look human. It was as if the years they’d been apart had taken every good aspect of him, physical or emotional, and refined it to shine light and true over the shadows he knew still lived in the deeper recesses of Van’s mind, so that he was but a refracted reflection of that troubled adolescent Tylendel had loved. He wasn’t wrong the first time we spoke that there are many things about him I don’t understand. Like how in the hells he’d become so confidently authoritative since his uncertain and directionless youth. Besides the obvious insecurities he hinted at that night. But those seemed confined purely to the sexual realm; honestly, watching Vanyel at Court had been like witnessing an incredibly competent stranger. I first thought it was an act like the one he had when he first came from Forst Reach, but no. This wasn’t an act, exactly, and it certainly wasn’t a vain and selfish way of obtaining social gratification. It’s as much who he is now as any other bit of his personality—first in the Circle, savior of Valdemar. I suppose he always had it in him; he just never had any cause to show it. Did I not give him space to?
He didn’t share such thoughts with Gala; though they’d grown ever closer over than years since he’d almost done the unforgivable—and perhaps had, to Vanyel—she had told him that besides the tiresomely repetitive nature of his inner reflections, she wasn’t sure anything but time would help him now, and that she certainly couldn’t betray her confidences with Yfandes to provide him insight.
Hence my hopeful—probably wishful—thinking about the potential for this mission. He let his gaze linger on Vanyel again, easy enough to do when he rode a few steps behind, and sighed internally at the delightful way his lean muscles moved under his Whites. He looks so damned good, I could die from temptation alone. Just like I nearly did, three months ago. I don’t know how he stands it—I can’t help but think he must have at least some of the attraction I do. And his fading memories were less than satisfactory replacements for true contact.
As he wiped the perspiration from his brow yet again, he took in the generally rumpled state of his clothing with a touch of dismay. Not that I could hold a candle to him right now. Well, there were plenty of others who did actually find him appealing, more than appealing, and he wasn’t made of stone; he felt a slight bit of remorse tremble through him at his indiscretions of the past month. Besides, he’s the one who told me to…in that first letter and yet again this spring…
And each time, the sex was unbearably lacking. Quentin was a Herald, too—I’d hoped we’d be more compatible, considering our inclinations matched so very well-- but the memory of the other man’s lips parting below him in slight pants of pleasure brought him only a lingering sensation of shame and regret. The same sensation that seems bent on following me no matter what I do or how much time passes since Krebain.
Mouth twisting, he shoved the memories aside and forced himself to focus on the present. Noting the dwindling late afternoon light, he judged them to be at least four candlemarks out of Haven. It’ll be nightfall in half a candlemark.
:How are you holding up, dearest?:
Gala’s Mindvoice sounded surprisingly energetic. :Fine, Chosen. I’ve had a surprising amount of rest recently. And it’s good to be on the road with ‘Fandes.:
:At least one of us is having a stimulating conversation.: A hint of bitterness crept into what he’d meant as light-hearted banter, and he Felt a wash of sympathy.
:’Fandes says she’s trying to get him to loosen up. It’s not easy.:
:It never was.:
Gala’s chuckle tinkled through his mind as she picked up the pace so he was parallel with Vanyel, Sending him an image of an inn he presumed was fairly well on their path.
“Vanyel?” His tone sounded even more timidly hesitant than he’d intended, and the other man turned in his saddle to look at him with some surprise. “I know you’re in charge here, but Gala seems to think there’s an inn we should stop at while we’re still on civilized grounds.”
“Oh.” His face went momentarily blank, then he nodded. “Yes, it’s not out of the way at all, and she’s right. We should get a decent night’s rest. We’ll be riding hard again tomorrow and the day after.”
He urged Yfandes forward again then, a clear hint that he had no intention of continuing the conversation. Maddeningly polite and impersonal. I suppose that’s his technique. It reminded him so exactly of that first Vanyel he’d met leaving Savil’s rooms, though without the supercilious sneer. How can he forget all we had?
Locked in his bitterness and self-reproach, the encroaching darkness suited his mood and lulled him into pointless ruminating. They were two candlemarks past sunset when Gala’s voice broke through his clouded mind, sounding a bit past concerned.
:’Lendel? We’re here.:
:Sorry, love.: He was genuinely contrite. Looking up, he noticed a lamppost casting a yellow light on a battered sign that read “Traders’ Rest,” and peered past it to make out the hint of a large, white-washed building. :I’m glad you can finally stop.:
:Just…talk to me, all right? This mission matters more than whatever it is the two of you need to work out, and I don’t want you to get so wrapped up in your remorse that you lose track of it.: She paused and he Sent her a wave of acquiescence.
“I’ll take the Companions to the stables, if you wouldn’t mind speaking to the innkeeper.” Vanyel’s voice sounded tired, and he had already dismounted, Yfandes’ reins steady in his hands. Those hands…
“For two rooms?”
Vanyel just looked at him.
“I mean, yes, of course, two rooms.” He was sure Gala didn’t mean to be laughing at him, that would be rude even for her. Right?
“Good then.” He hesitated, just a moment, silver eyes glinting in the faint light. “See you inside.”
***
It was too late for any ordinary traveler, and the innkeeper clearly knew he was a Herald on a mission. He’d already ordered meals for him and the partner he’d mentioned, called a maid to fluff the pillows in two of the upstairs rooms, and told Tylendel he’d have a breakfast and lunch packed for him at first light. God bless competent innkeepers. I’ll have to mention him to Randale for a letter of commendation.
He was expressing his effusive thanks when the door opened to admit an unfairly impeccable-looking Vanyel, who instantly drew the eyes of the few customers who remained awake. He seemed unsurprisingly discomfited by their scrutiny, but squared his shoulders nonetheless, and walked directly toward them. “Good evening,” he said quietly, holding out a hand to the innkeeper.
“Welcome,” the innkeeper returned, clasping it warmly. “Herald…?”
“Vanyel,” Van supplied quickly. “Vanyel Ashkevron.”
The man’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Vanyel Ashkevron? Herald-mage Vanyel Ashkevron? The hero of Sun’s Peak? First in the Heraldic Circle?”
It was certainly unexpected. I mean, I knew he was known, but this is a bit much—
Apparently not, for the eyes already trained on Vanyel all seemed to widen in an equally absurd manner, in—fear? Admiration? I’m not sure which, but it sure as hells doesn’t feel comfortable in here anymore. And Vanyel was staring determinedly at the floor.
“Yes, that’s me, but it’s nothing, really…I’m just an ordinary Herald—”
“If I’d known you were coming, I would have prepared a meal in advance—this is just standard fare—”
Oh gods, he must be dying. Indeed, Vanyel looked decidedly put-off. “It’s more than fine, innkeeper. Anything richer would probably have made me ill. Please, just…treat me as you would any other customer.”
The innkeeper looked at him dubiously, and though the others made a show of turning their eyes away, far too many still followed Vanyel the moment he turned his back. Tylendel rubbed his brow tiredly. I guarantee I never imagined that my adult life would consist of following Vanyel around as the world fawned at his feet. In fact, I think I once thought he’d be following me. But he prodded the thought with a bit of distaste, for if anything was true of his adolescence, it was this: I always hoped to spend my days near him.
He sighed.
Dinner was a quiet affair; Vanyel didn’t seem inclined to speak and he certainly didn’t seem capable of relaxing under the discerning eyes; as soon as they’d finished, he thanked the innkeeper and went directly to his rooms, leaving Tylendel little choice but to do the same. And we leave at first light, so.
They both murmured polite goodnights before entering the neighboring rooms, and as Tylendel fell into his cold, empty bed, the thought crossed his mind that sleeping this close to the man he so desperately wanted was a special sort of torture.
***
To say the next two days of travel were arduous would be an understatement. Tylendel debated wiping away the sweat with his handkerchief for what felt like the hundredth time, but the traces of grime staining its once-white pleats were less than inviting. Even Vanyel seemed to be wilting under the strain, his hair damp and matted, his shirt sullied.
They’d left the inn at first light, as planned, and had traveled at break-neck speed the entire next day after Tantras had Mindspoken Vanyel that there’d been another attack. They’d spent a less-than-restful night in a Waystation infested with some sort of insects and had set out just before dawn this morning. At this rate, they’d reach the Border by sunset. A candlemark from now.
He could tell Vanyel was only half aware of his surroundings; their last short break, he’d told Tylendel in between gulps of water that he’d been Farseeing for any sign of the demons since they came within range. He wished he could help, but it wasn’t one of his Gifts. No, I only have three Gifts, which I suppose is already more than most Heralds, but. Between Vanyel’s extraordinary capacity for distant Mindspeech, his candlemarks of Farseeing, and the strength of the shields he’d set around the two of them, Tylendel was witnessing first-hand what he’d long known in theory: Vanyel’s Gifts and magical capabilities far exceeded his own. And I never mastered the Adept tests. Not enough control…
Gala was side-by-side with Yfandes now, and both Companions had slowed enough to allow them to converse; Tylendel could only assume Vanyel had seen something. Sure enough, the other Herald blinked once, twice, before turning still-disoriented eyes on Tylendel. “I saw them.”
“The demons?”
“Yes. At a farm, a league ahead. They were…feasting…” His grimace and queasy look indicated just what he meant by feasting, and Tylendel shuddered. It must already be too late, or he’d be urging us forward.
“Did you see the mage?”
“No.” Vanyel sounded frustrated, and he pushed his hair back from his brow, scowling at it in irritation. “I was looking for him. I stumbled upon the demons purely by accident. He wasn’t anywhere nearby, not that I could See.”
“So he sent them out with a target, and stayed within some sort of shielded structure on his side of the border.”
That earned him his first look of approval. “Good thinking. That’s what I presumed as well.”
Tylendel had to say it. “I suppose great minds think alike.”
The corner of Vanyel’s mouth twitched, which was more than worth it.
***
Where is he? Hellfire. The reaction-headache was more than throbbing now, and Yfandes’ worry prodded at his senses, but he knew his limits. Over-using my Farsight won’t have any effect on my Mage power, if it comes to a fight tonight. Which he doubted. He had the unpleasant feeling the demons would be returned to the Abyssal plane by the time they arrived, and the mage would be as elusive as he’d been all day. Fabulous. The thought of spending a week patrolling Hardorn’s border for half-devoured remains is simply exhilarating.
They rounded a corner and the deceptively tranquil-looking homestead that he’d spied from afar came into clear view, comprised of a stables, several outbuildings, and a main hall with a thatched roof. That’s the one. He suppressed another involuntary shudder as Yfandes slowed to a stop and he stretched his Othersight out into the buildings. Dear gods, there’s nothing but bones left. The demons had cleaned even the blood off the walls. And I don’t want to think about how. As he’d suspected, they were long gone; there wasn’t even a trace of them to follow outside the main hall.
“It’s safe,” Vanyel said quietly to Tylendel, who was looking about nervously. I didn’t realized Gala had drawn so close. “They’re gone.”
“Sorry. I’m not usually so jumpy—I had a bad experience last time I met with these…creatures.” The remembered terror evident in Tylendel’s eyes sent sympathy surging unexpectedly through Vanyel, and he’d set a comforting hand on his shoulder before he realized what he was doing. He dropped it as if burned. Stick to words, Van. You can speak to him.
“I can imagine. It wasn’t exactly pleasant for me, either.” He looked up at the darkening sky and around at the desolate fields stretching into the horizon. “And I hate to say it, but I think we’ll have to camp here.”
“Is it—is it clean?” Tylendel’s voice was barely above a whisper. Gods, he’s so different—I thought he’d be trying to take charge; tell me what to do. Instead, he’s as submissively diffident as a Trainee.
“They don’t leave much in terms of remains.” Sliding off Yfandes, Vanyel walked her over to a trough by the stables, where she gulped readily at the remaining water. He tried not to be too disturbed by the vast, empty fields echoing with unnatural quiet—fields that had been full of livestock a few candlemarks ago. For the first time since we left Haven, I can safely say I’m glad I’m not alone. Even if it is ‘Lendel. His inner self whispered back the “even if” with a touch of mocking laughter, and he very purposefully moved his mind away from that treacherous thought—that he was, in fact, quite glad it was ‘Lendel; that Tylendel would always offer a sense of security—false security, he shot back at himself with remembered lightning, and his mind quieted.
“Come on. Let’s check the larder for any stores.”
They found a treasure trove of dried meat and fish, jams and jars of preserved fruits, that made Vanyel rethink the simple farmers he’d thought this family to be. They must have been large-scale producers, and he mentally reviewed the size of the fields and pastures, the luxurious stalls of the stables. Hardly farmers, truly. Closer to Forst Reach, without the grandeur of a keep or “noble” name—which made him also wonder how many bones they’d soon uncover.
Once they’d taken enough fodder for the night and morning, they made their way back to the main building guided by Vanyel’s bobbing mage light, hesitating only when they came before the door. Tylendel caught his eye, and Vanyel found himself entirely unopposed to letting him take his hand as they stepped inside. It was warm, and dry, despite the muggy weather, its strength a welcome focus away from whatever they might find. I like it, and he winced at the careless thought, though again, a part of him murmured—he seems so different, though. Almost as if we could--
“It’s so—there isn’t any—”
“I know,” Vanyel murmured tiredly, dropping the hand. The hall was immaculate, save for what looked like sticks littered here and there. “But mind the floor,” and Tylendel’s gaze dropped downward to the not-sticks that numbered at least a hundred. He winced.
“I suppose we could eat in the bedrooms.”
***
It was grim, and glum, and entirely unromantic, but Tylendel had been in worse places than a featherbed with Vanyel Ashkevron. He chanced a glance at the other side of said bed and hid a smile. So even the Great Herald-Mage gets hungry. Vanyel was entirely focused on their makeshift dinner, methodically and single-mindedly making his way through the little pile of foodstuffs. But not without his manners. He’d already devoured his own portion with much less ceremony, hunger returning the moment they left the hall.
“And what are you staring at?” Vanyel’s voice sounded so light-hearted, so ordinary, that Tylendel’s hands shook under the blanket before he spoke. He almost sounds like before—
“You.” He couldn’t hide the smile in his voice. “You’re still so meticulous about everything. I remember how you complained of my half-eaten sausage rolls—”
He stilled, not meaning to fall into memory so quickly, but Vanyel’s eyes had widened, twinkled, and he was smiling. “I know. You haven’t changed either,” and he turned an amused gaze toward the crumbs littering Tylendel’s side of the bed.
“I would never have made a proper noble’s son. You, on the other hand—”
“Oh gods, as if my father was so pleased by my manners. You know very well he just thought it another way I was far too like Mother…” Vanyel trailed off, as if he’d said too much, his eye shuttering a bit.
“He must not think it anymore.” He didn’t care if he was prying; he was desperate to continue this conversation, their first real conversation, and one Vanyel finally seemed invested in. Maybe because it’s not about us.
“You think a few songs have made my father revise his view of me?” Vanyel swallowed his last bite of bread and scoffed. “Not last I visited, though that was four years ago. Maybe we’ll defeat these demons, and we’ll finally reconcile?”
The sarcasm in his tone set a small smile to Tylendel’s lips, despite the subject matter. Family. Gods, Staven. It still hurt, and he lowered his gaze, not wanting to ruin the bantering tone of their conversation.
“I’m sorry.” Vanyel sounded suddenly bashful. “That was surely tactless of me. We’ve never talked about it, but ‘Lendel…”
“It’s fine.” He waved a hand and stood up from his nest of blankets to walk toward the window. “I started the conversation.” It doesn’t hurt near as much as losing you, Van. He almost said it, as the moon dipped behind a tree outside and the starlit fields blended black thoughts into the horizon.
He heard a rustling behind him, and the hand on his arm took him aback. “I know, but I wasn’t thinking.” There was real, genuine warmth in Vanyel’s voice, sympathy and caring he didn’t remember having heard since---since so long ago, his mind lost its way back.
He couldn’t help but turn to face him. The dim glint of distant stars lit only his sharp cheekbones, the bright silver of his eyes, the unnatural white in his hair, and Tylendel sighed slowly. “Van…”
They were both filthy, and sweaty, and coated in more than dirt and dust, but Vanyel’s lips had never tasted sweeter, opening beneath his as he caught, welcomed the kiss.
When they broke for breath, Vanyel was trembling, shaking, such a contrast to the poised man on the Palace dais, and Tylendel knew he had to stop. I can learn from my mistakes. “Hey.” He set hands to his wrists, clasped them, held him steady. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to—you’re in control, ashke. I just—” and he tried not to let his voice break, tried not to burden Van with how very, very much he wanted him—“will take whatever you can give me, whatever you can handle. A kiss from you…”
Vanyel was looking at him in wonderment. “I never thought you’d…you’ve changed, ‘Lendel.” And to his utter shock, he laid his head against Tylendel’s chest, straight against his stuttering heartbeat. “If you can wait—can let me tell you when—”
“I can,” he assured him, with a certainty that stopped his heart. I will wait as long as you need me to. However many months, years—for you, anything.
The dazzling smile Vanyel bestowed on him set it beating again. “I’ve missed you.”
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Seeing Van go from ambivalence toward Lendel to really seeing his vulnerability & being drawn in by that vulnerability is lovely - like all the horror is showing their power to change the relationship. What a sweet promise to end on.
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Yeah I always remember how freaked out Van still was from demons in Promise, so I headcanon that they must be quite disturbing. This, I guess, is demonsbane 2.0? (note that I didn't have anyone call him demonsbane yet...).
Thank you and I'm glad it felt sort of natural. That's what I've been having the most doubt about.
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I also really enjoy the various people missing context on the situation. Randi's "I know you have some sort of history with him" â clearly he doesn't know the full story! And Tantras, "Why wouldnât he?â And then Savil's annoyance/impatience comes across so clearly, like, you've got a job to do, just be professional about it!
I like Tylendel's reflections on Vanyel's Court persona, and how he thinks that it isn't exactly an act. "Itâs as much who he is now as any other bit of his personality".
The glimpses of the Companions here are also really amusing. "He was sure Gala didnât mean to be laughing at him, that would be rude even for her." Ahaha I'm sure she is though. Her and Yfandes both. I wonder if they're doing any scheming behind the scenes to try
You also do the creeping-horror really well! "The demons had cleaned even the blood off the walls. And I donât want to think about how." And the "not-sticks". Love it.
Also, omg, "I guarantee I never imagined that my adult life would consist of following Vanyel around as the world fawned at his feet" had me laughing out loud.
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I mean, yeah, all I really want to write is Tylendel reflecting on how different Vanyel is because I just love writing about people observing Van for some bizarre reason.
The Companions were actually easy to put in for once! Sometimes I forget about them for entire fics and am like, oh yeah, I guess I should stick in some talking horses at some point.
Glad you liked it! Looking forward to your next parts...!
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Writing about people observing Vanyel is, like, one of my favourite things ever lol
Interesting take on LHM AU
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