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Jan. 1st, 2012 07:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rapacityinblueTitle: Lives Past
Fandom: The Last Herald Mage series
Spoilers: Magic's Pawn and Price, respectively.
Rating: R
Summary: Five Times 'Lendel fell out of love (andone two times he fell in.)
Pairing: 'Lendel/Nevis, 'Lendel/Vanyel
Word Count: 5,239
Warnings: emotional abuse, incest if you squint
Notes: 500 Themes Prompt 3: Flashes of Euphoria. Sloppy, unbeta'd, but not pornfic! I think I'm growing as a person.
1.
He doesn’t think it’s a good idea, and what’s more, he knows Staven doesn’t either. Stav, who thinks that he’s a good liar, has never been able to hide things from his twin. And for all Stav says that they aren’t doing anything wrong, his voice is low and he only brings it up in their room. After dark, when they lie in bed, tugging at the blankets and kicking each other in the shins, Stav circles around to the subject again, and again. He thinks he’s subtle, but ‘Lendel knows him, knows the quaver in his voice, knows that Stav doesn’t really believe the words he’s saying.
Their mother would kill them if she even imagined what they were contemplating. She says they’re too young to be thinking about those things. She tells them to direct their thoughts to prayer. ‘Lendel doesn't know how he feels about that, but he knows he doesn’t want to do what Stav is saying, either. Something like that, it shouldn’t be shared. It’s not a game they can play. It’s an adult thing, and neither of them is an adult.
But in all his life, he’s never said no to Stav -- only about using his Gift, the one no one else knew about. Their father likes to laugh about it, likes to trot out tales about how even as toddlers, Stav was the leader. Stav decided what they would play. Stav took all the best toys. Their father laughed, because he said it proved his firstborn son was a real leader, so manly. He never said anything about his second son, what that meant about ‘Lendel by comparison, but ‘Lendel was smart enough to figure it out.
He still can’t say no to Stav. And deep down, he thinks that the reason his twin wants him there, that Stav is as scared as he is, and that’s why he’s pushing this so hard. So eventually he says fine, he’ll do it, but they aren’t telling anyone, ever, and Stav agrees. All they have to do then is wait.
No one in the holding would dare try. Everyone knows who Stav is, and they know how old he is, even though he looks so much older. They have to wait until their father has guests. No one from the neighboring holdings, no close friends. No one who would recognize Stav or be intimidated by their father’s power. When he’d agreed, he’d thought it would be months, maybe even years, before someone came through who found one of them attractive enough.
As it turns out, it only takes a few weeks. She's a lady coming to see his mother, and either she doesn't know or doesn't care that Stav is only twelve. If the looks she gave him at dinner weren’t enough to convince them of it, the note she slips under their door makes it absolutely clear.
Of course she wants Stav, they all do, and he tries not to feel jealous about it. The idea of a girl actually choosing him -- he wants it, he does, but there's something about it that makes his stomach twist up.
His stomach is twisting the same way now as he settles into his blankets. He’s been up three times already to check that the door is really locked, in case anyone comes looking. They’d put about that Stav was in bed with a headache after dinner, to try and divert attention to him, and it makes sense that ‘Lendel would join him as soon as he could. After all, if one of them has a headache, they probably both have it, and Stav never lets his twin stray too far.
It's been a long time since he’s needed to close his eyes to be with Stav through the bond, but it's unsettling to see through two sets of eyes at once. The images layer over each other, wavery and unsteady, and his mind rejects what it's seeing as impossible. There's no way for two objects to share one physical space, and his conscious reacts violently to the illusion.
Giving in to the inevitable, he closes his eyes so he can focus more clearly on Stav’s image. He's in a body that feels almost as comfortable as his own. His twin is sprawled out over the bedclothes, very bare, in the manner that the note had invited. He feels that uncertainty nagging at Stav’s belly, much stronger now that the time is actually here and he's exposing himself this way. Sees, through Stav’s eyes, the surprise as she enters her chamber and finds him there. Sees the pleasure that follows it.
She's a distant friend of their mother’s, roughly the same age, and ‘Lendel buries a deep feeling of disappointment. He should be grateful that Stav is letting him do this at all, let alone that his twin wants him here. He should be grateful that the opportunity has come at all. The woman moves to the bed in the graceful slink of a cat stalking its prey, but the effect doesn't make his belly twist with uncertainty anymore. Something else, and he doesn’t know if it's Stav feeling it, or him. The first flutters of excitement began to rise inside him.
With the way Stav has posed himself, it doesn't take her long to shed her clothes to match. It's the first time for both of them, seeing an entirely bare female body that isn't a painting or a sculpture. Her hair falls over her shoulders in dark, thick waves, a harsh contrast to the pale skin of her chest. Pink nipples poke through the curtain, erect to show their appreciation, and ‘Lendel feels Stav’s very physical response to the sight. His own body flushes with shame and embarrassment as he realizes that he's getting hard, too, and he isn’t even alone. Staven can feel it through the link.
He has shared almost everything with his brother, but not this. They sleep in the same small room, shared a bed, and have seen each other bare every day since they came out of their mother’s womb, but he still keeps his shields tightly up whenever an embarrassing stray thought or desire creeps into his mind. He’s lain in bed, listening to Staven touch himself, sick with fear that his twin will realize he's was awake.
Now there's absolutely no hiding his response to the sight of another human’s body, no matter how much he might want to. She moves toward him -- toward Staven -- her hips swaying, drawing their eyes to the center of her body. When she reaches the bed, she folds her long legs under herself and leans over. Her hair makes a curtain around them, shielding away any other eyes, and she leans in for the briefest brush of her lips against Staven’s.
The way their bodies fit together, the way her skin feels against his (Staven’s) is more than ‘Lendel could every have imagined. It manages to exceed all his expectations and yet somehow fall flat, as if there’s something missing. Something he doesn’t even know he wants.
Stav doesn’t feel that way. Stav is ecstatic at the press of a smooth thigh between his own, the feel of a breast beneath his hand. Any reservations ‘Lendel has are flooded by his brother’s enthusiasm. Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s slowly, guiltily, sliding a hand beneath his own covers to palm the heat and hardness between his own legs. The feeling is just one more pleasure that feeds into the loop corsing through Staven’s body, even though it wasn’t part of the deal. He simply can’t resist.
And then, the fire consumed his mind, and all he knows is pain.
2.
The walls of his chamber are stone. They do nothing to stop the thoughts and emotions that batter him every day. Not his own -- he can handle his own -- but whoever passes by his door, whoever stands guard, whoever brings a meal. He feels their hatred and repulsion, sometimes their pity, and most of all, their fear.
Stav has always been the leader. More emotional, more impulsive, and more prone to lashing out than his younger brother. ‘Lendel is used to going unnoticed. He’s come to depend on it, and now this. Everyone notices him now. They can’t not, with the way he picks thoughts from their brains and throws their own emotions back in their faces. He falls asleep and wakes in a circle of wreckage, with no dreams, no memories, not even a hint of what caused it.
Except it’s him. He doesn’t know how, or why, he only knows that somehow he is at the center of all this destruction. That he can move objects with his mind, that he can hear thoughts and share every feeling in the entire holding. There’s no explanation for it, no reason for it, that they’ve been able to find in any book. Maybe I am possessed.
The thought is dark, and haunting -- he’s heard it in so many minds that he can no longer tell whose idea it is. His father has thought it before. His mother certainly believes it, and hasn’t bothered to try hiding it. And it seems that even his own heart had accepted it, now. It certainly provides a neat and tidy explanation for everything, from the sudden “abilities” to the fits. It's unavoidable.
Except that as soon as he recognizes the thought, he's bathed in an extreme rush of love. If he closes his eyes, he sees it as a gold and glowing wave that seems to wash over and around him. He could never mistake the “feel” of his twin, and he's learned the sound of Staven’s voice in his head. He feels, as much as heard, the fierce denial in Stave’s thoughts, and he clings to that reassurance. Stave swirls with oranges and golds now, when ‘Lendel looks at him, and he projects a warmth that makes the younger twin ache to curl up and sleep in the comfort and safety he offers.
Ignore them. Whatever they say. You aren’t a demon. You’re my brother.
3.
The silence in his mind is numbing. He’s forgotten what it means to have privacy, to have quiet, even inside his own mind.
Not too quiet. He can still feel Staven through their mind bond -- a flow of energy he’s learned to identify as a channel, now. When he dares, he can push out, and at least feel where people are -- when he dares. And he doesn't dare often.
It had started perfectly. Gala looked into his eyes and said just three words, and then it was quiet and peaceful. He spent three perfect days reveling just in being calm, without having to feel the pressure of anyone else’s emotions or thoughts pushing at him. Three perfect days on the road, sleeping in inns where the people didn’t whisper behind him, or just out under the stars with Gala for a pillow.
When they’d reached Haven it had all started to sour. The introduction with the queen was bad enough, but Gala insisted. All new Heralds were presented to the queen. The court was a large, busy room that hummed with conversations, spoken and not. Gala, relaxing in the field, was too weak to shield him as completely without the physical contact they’d been sharing before. Especially around this many people, this many other active mind gifts.
He only held the queen’s attention for a few minutes, but he was shaking by the time they led him from the audience hall. And his “interviews” with the arms master and tutors went even worse. His father had discontinued his entire education when his “failings” had become apparent, though his brother’s had continued unhindered. There wasn’t much his tutors could say if Staven insisted Lendel stay in the room, or let him eavesdrop via their bond, so his academics, at least, were fairly well advanced. And yet, he still had only a very vague grasp on what they were discussing in history, none at all in religions. His arms training was an entirely new fiasco. He made a fool of himself trying to demonstrate what Staven had taught him, second hand. Stav had done his best, running drills and even letting him sit in with the mind link during lessons, but the harsh reality was that there was only so much one half trained youth could teach another. The woman armsmaster was kind, assuring him that he was half again as good as the plowhands and farmers’ sons coming in newly chosen -- which only made it worst.
And none of it compared to meeting the woman who was supposed to be his mentor.
He hears Savil Ashkevron before he ever sees her, arguing with someone behind a closed door. Arguing about him, he's almost sure of it.
"Biggest suite or not, Jays, all my rooms are full. What do you want me to do, put him in with Dominick? It will be a year, at least eight months, before he and Shylin move on."
The voice that answered her is low, male, and sounds like it has only the briefest relationship with being apologetic and is trying hard now to do a convincing imitation. "I'm full, Tran's full, even Lancir's doubling up these days, Savil. And you have to take this one. I know you just got Mardic, but this one's got four gifts, and his mage gift alone is more powerful than any two trainees we've had come in in the past year."
With every word between the two, 'Lendel hunches himself further down into his chair. They dodn't want him here, either, whether for the same reasons or different ones -- it hardly matters. As soon as they hear about him from home... His father must have sent messengers, and while they couldn't keep pace with Gala, they can't be far behind, either. They'll send him back home...
Never, Chosen. Her voice is bright and soft in his mind, and it warms him like only his connection to Staven ever has before. They would never turn you away.
He clings to those words, curls himself up around them, and doesn't care if he looks like a spoiled, sullen child when his so-called mentor finally emerges from her rooms.
She's already going grey at the temples, and the years when she might have hoped to pass as attractive were obviously long past. She's let them go without a backwards glance, it seems, she wears no cosmetics and her hair is pulled back from her face as tightly as it can be, displaying a sharp nose and widow's peak. Everything about her is sharp, nothing like the pampered, rounded court ladies who'd held increasingly less interest for him at home. He doesn't let it intimidate him; holds her eyes as she stalks toward him. Her grip on his chin was gentle, despite everything else, as she tilts his chin up to look at him.
"So you're our latest problem child," she says, still searching him with a hard gaze. "Huh."
That's it, the entire inspection. She releases him and walked away, leaving behind her a boy more confused and fearful than he’d been walking in the door. Unthinking, Lendel reaches for her --
And receives a mental “slap” so hard it sends the inquisitive tendril of power fleeing back into his mind. Savil’s voice follows, sharp but not mean. Heralds ask first, boy.
Nursing his ego like a child does their hand after they've been smacked away from a cookie jar, he closes himself away from her and settles into a mighty sulk. He stays there, too, determinedly shouldering everyone away as he eats his meal and moves into his room with the apologetic Dominick. Savil’s suite is brand new and elegantly furnished but the room is bitter cold, a hard wind pushing through the garden doors. “Don’t worry,” Dominick assures him. “We’re two-a-bed now, but that will all change when they finish construction on the new wing of the collegium. This suite was part of the first wave. You’ll get one of the other rooms to yourself."
Stefan answers the older boy’s earnest words with a shrug, climbing into his side of the bed and staring hard at the wall.
Dominick lets him, that's was the worst of it. He doesn't try to push ‘Lendel into conversation, just respects his wishes and settles into a chair, where he reads quietly. The sudden loneliness of it all sweeps over him; the distant thoughts and emotions push at the edges of his mind, and he reaches for Staven --
--And finds Gala instead.
Give them time, Chosen, she says. Just a little time. Let them know you, and they’ll come to love you as I do.
4.
As a Herald trainee, he isn’t required to bother with court. As he’s been all but disinherited, he has little interest in bothering with court. It's much more pleasant, most nights, to take dinner with the collegium, or bolt down whatever's left in the room if he has late lessons or practice. He’s learned, in the last seven months, that he doesn’t really favor fighting or mage-work with a lump in his belly. He’s learned a great deal in the last seven months, the least of it about himself.
He’s known he's shay’a’chern for a long time -- since before The Incident, he sometimes thinks, though he hadn’t been willing to admit it to himself or anyone else, then. But it's become clear in the three years after that the attraction to women simply isn’t there. He's heard other men joke about it, he looks at the bodies, and he doesn’t feel any sort of feel or repulsion. He doesn’t feel anything at all. Here, for the first time, he's surrounded by people his own age, and he's free to explore relationships without having every stray thought or feeling shoved into his face.
And he’s learned that not only does he prefer men, he isn’t ashamed of it. Here at the collegium, he has an ability he’d never had at home, living in Staven’s shadow. He can stand up for himself. When he'd first arrived, he’d simply gloried in being shielded, in receiving Gala’s unconditional love earning Savil’s praise. Now he has friends, and if someone talks about him behind his back, or calls him names, he's able to do something about it.
And maybe it has gotten around, maybe that's why they recognize him at court when he can’t tell them apart for pay.
If he’d gone to formal dinners more frequently, if he’d simply kept his ears open, maybe he’d have heard about Nevis before the boy had found him and sunk his fingers in. But ‘Lendel has never been prone to gossip, and the other trainees respect that, and besides, no one really thought Nevis would try with a trainee when he's still working his way through the court.
It happens slowly, carefully, so much so that ‘Lendel never realizes he's being seduced until he looks back on those long summer afternoons. Nevis seemed completely genuine. Sometimes, 'Lendel wonders if maybe he didn’t have a touch of projective empathy himself, to keep his “victims” fooled. He’d seemed so earnest.
There's no denying that he’d been flattered when Nevis had first approached him, near the fence separating the Field from the stable paddocks. His shoulders slumped, his eyes down, staring at the grass between his feet rather than meeting ‘Lendel’s gaze. “I thought maybe you’d understand. Because they say you’re --”
He was very pretty when he blushed, ‘Lendel could’t miss that. Only now, he’s learned that Nevis knows it, too.
He’d bought it all, hook, line, and sinker. He’d told himself that no matter how pretty the boy was, he wouldn’t take him to bed. It would be a violation of trust when Nevis had come to him for help.
But the more time they spent together, the more certain Nevis became, until he was no longer a boy who seemed confused and hurting. Until he was as sure, as confident in his desires, as Tylendel was himself. And, gods all help his stupid, fat head, he’d thought he’d done it. He’d congratulated himself for being so virtuous. For helping a young, lost lordling find his way. When Nevis kissed him, he was proud.
It's not until later that he learns exactly how many conquests there'd been between that first meeting in the field and the morning he’d woken to Nevis’s head on his pillow. It's weeks before he's finally able to see the seduction for the viciously executed ploy that it was. But it's only a few hours from that morning 'til Nevis’s big, earnest eyes are focused on the newest young lady, just arrived to court. It's only a few hours until he tells ‘Lendel exactly how finished “they” are. If there had ever been a “they” in the first place.
But that isn’t the part he fights to remember. It’s not Nevis’s voice, cold and quiet, as he tells ‘Lendel not to come near him again. That he’s already registered a complaint with the court and the collegium, that they won’t let ‘Lendel entrap anyone else. He doesn’t remember Savil’s hands petting his hair as she soothed him with words and thoughts. He doesn’t remember the girl after him, or the girl after her, or the boy who’d come next, all of them discarded as quickly as they’re gained.
He remember earnest, cornflower blue eyes and a wide smile and the gentle pressure of a head against his shoulder. He remembers what it should have been, and not what it was.
5
It’s Nevis all over again, and Savil isn’t the only one he has to assure that he won’t make the same mistake. Donni barely leaves his side the first week that Vanyel is there, and where Donni goes, Mardic follows -- even though he wears an expression that’s somewhere between dazed and simply resigned as they trail ‘Lendel to class, even to meals.
“I’m not likely to make the same mistake twice,” he tells her, emphasizing his words with a broad wave of his hands. She giggles and swerves back as the roll he’s holding jabs perilously close to her face. “And unlike you, I’m not apt to lifebond to the first pretty face that comes along.”
Donni jabs a sharp elbow into her lifebonded’s ribs. “Are you going to let him talk to me like that?”
Mardic, who is mostly engrossed in his history text, barely responds to the nudge. He looks up and gives his normal laconic shrug. “You know how 'Lendel feels about me. That’s the heartbreak talking, Don, not him. You won me; be gracious about it.”
‘Lendel, taking his cue, clasps his hands to his heart and swoons. “Oh, Mardic, how can I go on without you?” Because it’s easier than thinking about Vanyel.
Pretty, pretty Vanyel, who he’s half convinced is soul-wounded and half sure is just another con artist. ‘Lendel’s watched him in lessons, trying hard to catch up to the others, and knows how he’s taken to hiding in his rooms and haunting the suite like a shy kitten. But then he’s at court, preening for his little clutch, and it all seems to fade. He’s putting on a good enough act for one of them, and maybe it’s the sycophants. Maybe Vanyel, with his pale skin and dark hair and those eyes, maybe Vanyel really does just want to be left alone. Someone else can find out. He isn’t going to be hurt again.
+1
Thanks to a quirk in the collegium education system, Van is at roughly at the same place in his history course that ‘Lendel was when he came here two years ago. He was done with that particular lesson a few months ago, and so he’s perfectly suited as a tutor. To the outside world it must seem odd why Vanyel worries so much about excelling in his classes when he doesn’t care about anyone else’s opinion. ‘Lendel knows that he won’t risk expulsion from even a single class if it would mean being pulled home by his father.
And really, keeping his lover there is a goal he can get behind. Losing his lover now would be nothing short of catastrophic, like if his bond with Stav were ever severed, or if he lost Gala --
But that doesn’t stop him from kicking the history text out of the way as he presses Vanyel down to the soft sheets of his --their -- bed. Hurting and hiding or not, some of Vanyel’s “act” was anything but. It’s no surprise to know his lover really is a peacock, picking the fabrics and colors that will show him off best. Right down to his linens. There’s no doubt that the way his skin glows against the deep tan is intentional, or that that’s why his hair stands out in stark, bold lines on the pillow sham. And there’s something in the back of Vanyel’s eyes, a glint, that tells ‘Lendel he knows just how he looks. ‘Lendel doesn’t have to use his empathy to feel the deep satisfaction radiating off his lover.
“You are very vain,” he tells the younger boy, with a growl in his voice to make it clear exactly how he thinks Van should be punished, and Van only laughs, tilting his head back to arc the bare line of his throat toward his lover.
‘Lendel takes advantage, exactly as he's meant to, pressing his lips to the white skin. Vanyel had grown up on a border holding, and ‘Lendel knew from experience that it doesn’t make for an easy life. There are bandit skirmishes, weapons training, even simple field and farm work that leaves their marks on a body, especially one as fair and delicate as Van’s. But Van’s skin in’t just smooth; he's remarkably unscarred and beautiful enough to break hearts. And he does just that, if the rumors coming out court were to be believed. Van’s careful flirtation with every eligible girl in his circle has led to every idea from a prearranged marriage to a great tragedy to a secret lover he’s hidden away somewhere.
If only they knew how right they were, ‘Lendel thinks, grinning into Van’s skin as he kisses and licks the hollow of his throat. Except that ‘Lendel is secret, yes, but not particularly hidden.
“What are you thinking?” Van rarely misses anything having to do with him; it's flattering to know he has so much of the younger boy’s attention. He pulls back from his task to meet silver eyes, a slow smile curving his lips.
“That you’re beautiful,” he answered honestly, delighting in the way Van’s cheeks went red, and they move together.
+2
So this is dreamtime.
He’d expected something more spare, but the room he’s in is lushly furnished. ‘Lendel settles himself in a chair, noting the way the cushion gave beneath him and how the crushed velvet felt against his fingertips. In fact, it didn’t seem like there was much to separate dreamtime from the world he’d left. Except, of course, that I’m dead now.
Reasonably, that thought should be more upsetting than it is. In fact, it didn’t bother him at all. For the first time in weeks he feels a growing sense of peace, a firm conviction that things will turn out right. In fact, it’s all he feels, unless he thinks about Vanyel.
That’s when the grief crushes over him, forcing past the warmth and comfort that’s surrounded him since he came here, and he turns over the Shadow Lover’s words again. Heralds are granted a choice.
But I’m not a Herald.
It’s enough, maybe, that the bell tolled for him. He can take a new form and return, do things right this time. Go back, and actually fix the oaths that he’d broken this time around --
Or he could have Vanyel again.
”What if I don’t want to go back at all,” he asked, a careful distance back. He saw too much of his lover in the tall, shadowed form -- his cheekbones, and the way his hair fell.
Death was supposed to be a lover, but he didn’t move toward Tylendel and ‘Lendel stayed far back as well. Now that his heart and mind were calm, he wasn’t ready for that particular embrace.
“Then there are other options. But they are not the ones you’ll choose.”
Being a Herald meant putting the needs of his country ahead of his own, and he’s already proven himself an abysmal failure at that. But at the same time, their conversation made it abundantly clear that he is not being offered a second chance at his life. Can he go back, without Stav or Gala, to the promise of Van eventually --
But without knowing who he is, without him recognizing me. I wouldn’t even be me.
He’s not sure he can live through an entire lifetime, just a shadow in someone’s heart, waiting for the right moment to emerge. Even before he’d been chosen, he’d always needed a purpose, a plan, and Gala had given him direction years before he’d ever met Vanyel.
He’d lost that, lost all of it, when he’d lost his twin. In many ways it’s enough just to have it back now.
But eternal limbo had not been one of the “options” Death had offered him. The luxury to simply not make a decision wasn’t open to him, and so here he is. Duty without Vanyel, or Vanyel without duty?
It can’t be that cut and dried. Certainly his years with Savil have shown the hundreds of ways to serve queen and country, without being a Herald outright. And yet his love is very singular, and distressingly mortal. And in danger, now, because of ‘Lendel’s own actions. Even if it took him years to work his way back to Van’s side, could he really give his lover any less? And, in that pursuit, was there any reason he couldn’t help his country as well?
The dreamtime room is empty except for him, and has been since the Shadow Lover left him with his decision. ‘Lendel speaks to the empty air, feeling the certainty settle in his gut as he does, backed by the blue and gold warmth he’d thought he’d lost.
“I know what I want.”
Fandom: The Last Herald Mage series
Spoilers: Magic's Pawn and Price, respectively.
Rating: R
Summary: Five Times 'Lendel fell out of love (and
Pairing: 'Lendel/Nevis, 'Lendel/Vanyel
Word Count: 5,239
Warnings: emotional abuse, incest if you squint
Notes: 500 Themes Prompt 3: Flashes of Euphoria. Sloppy, unbeta'd, but not pornfic! I think I'm growing as a person.
1.
He doesn’t think it’s a good idea, and what’s more, he knows Staven doesn’t either. Stav, who thinks that he’s a good liar, has never been able to hide things from his twin. And for all Stav says that they aren’t doing anything wrong, his voice is low and he only brings it up in their room. After dark, when they lie in bed, tugging at the blankets and kicking each other in the shins, Stav circles around to the subject again, and again. He thinks he’s subtle, but ‘Lendel knows him, knows the quaver in his voice, knows that Stav doesn’t really believe the words he’s saying.
Their mother would kill them if she even imagined what they were contemplating. She says they’re too young to be thinking about those things. She tells them to direct their thoughts to prayer. ‘Lendel doesn't know how he feels about that, but he knows he doesn’t want to do what Stav is saying, either. Something like that, it shouldn’t be shared. It’s not a game they can play. It’s an adult thing, and neither of them is an adult.
But in all his life, he’s never said no to Stav -- only about using his Gift, the one no one else knew about. Their father likes to laugh about it, likes to trot out tales about how even as toddlers, Stav was the leader. Stav decided what they would play. Stav took all the best toys. Their father laughed, because he said it proved his firstborn son was a real leader, so manly. He never said anything about his second son, what that meant about ‘Lendel by comparison, but ‘Lendel was smart enough to figure it out.
He still can’t say no to Stav. And deep down, he thinks that the reason his twin wants him there, that Stav is as scared as he is, and that’s why he’s pushing this so hard. So eventually he says fine, he’ll do it, but they aren’t telling anyone, ever, and Stav agrees. All they have to do then is wait.
No one in the holding would dare try. Everyone knows who Stav is, and they know how old he is, even though he looks so much older. They have to wait until their father has guests. No one from the neighboring holdings, no close friends. No one who would recognize Stav or be intimidated by their father’s power. When he’d agreed, he’d thought it would be months, maybe even years, before someone came through who found one of them attractive enough.
As it turns out, it only takes a few weeks. She's a lady coming to see his mother, and either she doesn't know or doesn't care that Stav is only twelve. If the looks she gave him at dinner weren’t enough to convince them of it, the note she slips under their door makes it absolutely clear.
Of course she wants Stav, they all do, and he tries not to feel jealous about it. The idea of a girl actually choosing him -- he wants it, he does, but there's something about it that makes his stomach twist up.
His stomach is twisting the same way now as he settles into his blankets. He’s been up three times already to check that the door is really locked, in case anyone comes looking. They’d put about that Stav was in bed with a headache after dinner, to try and divert attention to him, and it makes sense that ‘Lendel would join him as soon as he could. After all, if one of them has a headache, they probably both have it, and Stav never lets his twin stray too far.
It's been a long time since he’s needed to close his eyes to be with Stav through the bond, but it's unsettling to see through two sets of eyes at once. The images layer over each other, wavery and unsteady, and his mind rejects what it's seeing as impossible. There's no way for two objects to share one physical space, and his conscious reacts violently to the illusion.
Giving in to the inevitable, he closes his eyes so he can focus more clearly on Stav’s image. He's in a body that feels almost as comfortable as his own. His twin is sprawled out over the bedclothes, very bare, in the manner that the note had invited. He feels that uncertainty nagging at Stav’s belly, much stronger now that the time is actually here and he's exposing himself this way. Sees, through Stav’s eyes, the surprise as she enters her chamber and finds him there. Sees the pleasure that follows it.
She's a distant friend of their mother’s, roughly the same age, and ‘Lendel buries a deep feeling of disappointment. He should be grateful that Stav is letting him do this at all, let alone that his twin wants him here. He should be grateful that the opportunity has come at all. The woman moves to the bed in the graceful slink of a cat stalking its prey, but the effect doesn't make his belly twist with uncertainty anymore. Something else, and he doesn’t know if it's Stav feeling it, or him. The first flutters of excitement began to rise inside him.
With the way Stav has posed himself, it doesn't take her long to shed her clothes to match. It's the first time for both of them, seeing an entirely bare female body that isn't a painting or a sculpture. Her hair falls over her shoulders in dark, thick waves, a harsh contrast to the pale skin of her chest. Pink nipples poke through the curtain, erect to show their appreciation, and ‘Lendel feels Stav’s very physical response to the sight. His own body flushes with shame and embarrassment as he realizes that he's getting hard, too, and he isn’t even alone. Staven can feel it through the link.
He has shared almost everything with his brother, but not this. They sleep in the same small room, shared a bed, and have seen each other bare every day since they came out of their mother’s womb, but he still keeps his shields tightly up whenever an embarrassing stray thought or desire creeps into his mind. He’s lain in bed, listening to Staven touch himself, sick with fear that his twin will realize he's was awake.
Now there's absolutely no hiding his response to the sight of another human’s body, no matter how much he might want to. She moves toward him -- toward Staven -- her hips swaying, drawing their eyes to the center of her body. When she reaches the bed, she folds her long legs under herself and leans over. Her hair makes a curtain around them, shielding away any other eyes, and she leans in for the briefest brush of her lips against Staven’s.
The way their bodies fit together, the way her skin feels against his (Staven’s) is more than ‘Lendel could every have imagined. It manages to exceed all his expectations and yet somehow fall flat, as if there’s something missing. Something he doesn’t even know he wants.
Stav doesn’t feel that way. Stav is ecstatic at the press of a smooth thigh between his own, the feel of a breast beneath his hand. Any reservations ‘Lendel has are flooded by his brother’s enthusiasm. Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s slowly, guiltily, sliding a hand beneath his own covers to palm the heat and hardness between his own legs. The feeling is just one more pleasure that feeds into the loop corsing through Staven’s body, even though it wasn’t part of the deal. He simply can’t resist.
And then, the fire consumed his mind, and all he knows is pain.
2.
The walls of his chamber are stone. They do nothing to stop the thoughts and emotions that batter him every day. Not his own -- he can handle his own -- but whoever passes by his door, whoever stands guard, whoever brings a meal. He feels their hatred and repulsion, sometimes their pity, and most of all, their fear.
Stav has always been the leader. More emotional, more impulsive, and more prone to lashing out than his younger brother. ‘Lendel is used to going unnoticed. He’s come to depend on it, and now this. Everyone notices him now. They can’t not, with the way he picks thoughts from their brains and throws their own emotions back in their faces. He falls asleep and wakes in a circle of wreckage, with no dreams, no memories, not even a hint of what caused it.
Except it’s him. He doesn’t know how, or why, he only knows that somehow he is at the center of all this destruction. That he can move objects with his mind, that he can hear thoughts and share every feeling in the entire holding. There’s no explanation for it, no reason for it, that they’ve been able to find in any book. Maybe I am possessed.
The thought is dark, and haunting -- he’s heard it in so many minds that he can no longer tell whose idea it is. His father has thought it before. His mother certainly believes it, and hasn’t bothered to try hiding it. And it seems that even his own heart had accepted it, now. It certainly provides a neat and tidy explanation for everything, from the sudden “abilities” to the fits. It's unavoidable.
Except that as soon as he recognizes the thought, he's bathed in an extreme rush of love. If he closes his eyes, he sees it as a gold and glowing wave that seems to wash over and around him. He could never mistake the “feel” of his twin, and he's learned the sound of Staven’s voice in his head. He feels, as much as heard, the fierce denial in Stave’s thoughts, and he clings to that reassurance. Stave swirls with oranges and golds now, when ‘Lendel looks at him, and he projects a warmth that makes the younger twin ache to curl up and sleep in the comfort and safety he offers.
Ignore them. Whatever they say. You aren’t a demon. You’re my brother.
3.
The silence in his mind is numbing. He’s forgotten what it means to have privacy, to have quiet, even inside his own mind.
Not too quiet. He can still feel Staven through their mind bond -- a flow of energy he’s learned to identify as a channel, now. When he dares, he can push out, and at least feel where people are -- when he dares. And he doesn't dare often.
It had started perfectly. Gala looked into his eyes and said just three words, and then it was quiet and peaceful. He spent three perfect days reveling just in being calm, without having to feel the pressure of anyone else’s emotions or thoughts pushing at him. Three perfect days on the road, sleeping in inns where the people didn’t whisper behind him, or just out under the stars with Gala for a pillow.
When they’d reached Haven it had all started to sour. The introduction with the queen was bad enough, but Gala insisted. All new Heralds were presented to the queen. The court was a large, busy room that hummed with conversations, spoken and not. Gala, relaxing in the field, was too weak to shield him as completely without the physical contact they’d been sharing before. Especially around this many people, this many other active mind gifts.
He only held the queen’s attention for a few minutes, but he was shaking by the time they led him from the audience hall. And his “interviews” with the arms master and tutors went even worse. His father had discontinued his entire education when his “failings” had become apparent, though his brother’s had continued unhindered. There wasn’t much his tutors could say if Staven insisted Lendel stay in the room, or let him eavesdrop via their bond, so his academics, at least, were fairly well advanced. And yet, he still had only a very vague grasp on what they were discussing in history, none at all in religions. His arms training was an entirely new fiasco. He made a fool of himself trying to demonstrate what Staven had taught him, second hand. Stav had done his best, running drills and even letting him sit in with the mind link during lessons, but the harsh reality was that there was only so much one half trained youth could teach another. The woman armsmaster was kind, assuring him that he was half again as good as the plowhands and farmers’ sons coming in newly chosen -- which only made it worst.
And none of it compared to meeting the woman who was supposed to be his mentor.
He hears Savil Ashkevron before he ever sees her, arguing with someone behind a closed door. Arguing about him, he's almost sure of it.
"Biggest suite or not, Jays, all my rooms are full. What do you want me to do, put him in with Dominick? It will be a year, at least eight months, before he and Shylin move on."
The voice that answered her is low, male, and sounds like it has only the briefest relationship with being apologetic and is trying hard now to do a convincing imitation. "I'm full, Tran's full, even Lancir's doubling up these days, Savil. And you have to take this one. I know you just got Mardic, but this one's got four gifts, and his mage gift alone is more powerful than any two trainees we've had come in in the past year."
With every word between the two, 'Lendel hunches himself further down into his chair. They dodn't want him here, either, whether for the same reasons or different ones -- it hardly matters. As soon as they hear about him from home... His father must have sent messengers, and while they couldn't keep pace with Gala, they can't be far behind, either. They'll send him back home...
Never, Chosen. Her voice is bright and soft in his mind, and it warms him like only his connection to Staven ever has before. They would never turn you away.
He clings to those words, curls himself up around them, and doesn't care if he looks like a spoiled, sullen child when his so-called mentor finally emerges from her rooms.
She's already going grey at the temples, and the years when she might have hoped to pass as attractive were obviously long past. She's let them go without a backwards glance, it seems, she wears no cosmetics and her hair is pulled back from her face as tightly as it can be, displaying a sharp nose and widow's peak. Everything about her is sharp, nothing like the pampered, rounded court ladies who'd held increasingly less interest for him at home. He doesn't let it intimidate him; holds her eyes as she stalks toward him. Her grip on his chin was gentle, despite everything else, as she tilts his chin up to look at him.
"So you're our latest problem child," she says, still searching him with a hard gaze. "Huh."
That's it, the entire inspection. She releases him and walked away, leaving behind her a boy more confused and fearful than he’d been walking in the door. Unthinking, Lendel reaches for her --
And receives a mental “slap” so hard it sends the inquisitive tendril of power fleeing back into his mind. Savil’s voice follows, sharp but not mean. Heralds ask first, boy.
Nursing his ego like a child does their hand after they've been smacked away from a cookie jar, he closes himself away from her and settles into a mighty sulk. He stays there, too, determinedly shouldering everyone away as he eats his meal and moves into his room with the apologetic Dominick. Savil’s suite is brand new and elegantly furnished but the room is bitter cold, a hard wind pushing through the garden doors. “Don’t worry,” Dominick assures him. “We’re two-a-bed now, but that will all change when they finish construction on the new wing of the collegium. This suite was part of the first wave. You’ll get one of the other rooms to yourself."
Stefan answers the older boy’s earnest words with a shrug, climbing into his side of the bed and staring hard at the wall.
Dominick lets him, that's was the worst of it. He doesn't try to push ‘Lendel into conversation, just respects his wishes and settles into a chair, where he reads quietly. The sudden loneliness of it all sweeps over him; the distant thoughts and emotions push at the edges of his mind, and he reaches for Staven --
--And finds Gala instead.
Give them time, Chosen, she says. Just a little time. Let them know you, and they’ll come to love you as I do.
4.
As a Herald trainee, he isn’t required to bother with court. As he’s been all but disinherited, he has little interest in bothering with court. It's much more pleasant, most nights, to take dinner with the collegium, or bolt down whatever's left in the room if he has late lessons or practice. He’s learned, in the last seven months, that he doesn’t really favor fighting or mage-work with a lump in his belly. He’s learned a great deal in the last seven months, the least of it about himself.
He’s known he's shay’a’chern for a long time -- since before The Incident, he sometimes thinks, though he hadn’t been willing to admit it to himself or anyone else, then. But it's become clear in the three years after that the attraction to women simply isn’t there. He's heard other men joke about it, he looks at the bodies, and he doesn’t feel any sort of feel or repulsion. He doesn’t feel anything at all. Here, for the first time, he's surrounded by people his own age, and he's free to explore relationships without having every stray thought or feeling shoved into his face.
And he’s learned that not only does he prefer men, he isn’t ashamed of it. Here at the collegium, he has an ability he’d never had at home, living in Staven’s shadow. He can stand up for himself. When he'd first arrived, he’d simply gloried in being shielded, in receiving Gala’s unconditional love earning Savil’s praise. Now he has friends, and if someone talks about him behind his back, or calls him names, he's able to do something about it.
And maybe it has gotten around, maybe that's why they recognize him at court when he can’t tell them apart for pay.
If he’d gone to formal dinners more frequently, if he’d simply kept his ears open, maybe he’d have heard about Nevis before the boy had found him and sunk his fingers in. But ‘Lendel has never been prone to gossip, and the other trainees respect that, and besides, no one really thought Nevis would try with a trainee when he's still working his way through the court.
It happens slowly, carefully, so much so that ‘Lendel never realizes he's being seduced until he looks back on those long summer afternoons. Nevis seemed completely genuine. Sometimes, 'Lendel wonders if maybe he didn’t have a touch of projective empathy himself, to keep his “victims” fooled. He’d seemed so earnest.
There's no denying that he’d been flattered when Nevis had first approached him, near the fence separating the Field from the stable paddocks. His shoulders slumped, his eyes down, staring at the grass between his feet rather than meeting ‘Lendel’s gaze. “I thought maybe you’d understand. Because they say you’re --”
He was very pretty when he blushed, ‘Lendel could’t miss that. Only now, he’s learned that Nevis knows it, too.
He’d bought it all, hook, line, and sinker. He’d told himself that no matter how pretty the boy was, he wouldn’t take him to bed. It would be a violation of trust when Nevis had come to him for help.
But the more time they spent together, the more certain Nevis became, until he was no longer a boy who seemed confused and hurting. Until he was as sure, as confident in his desires, as Tylendel was himself. And, gods all help his stupid, fat head, he’d thought he’d done it. He’d congratulated himself for being so virtuous. For helping a young, lost lordling find his way. When Nevis kissed him, he was proud.
It's not until later that he learns exactly how many conquests there'd been between that first meeting in the field and the morning he’d woken to Nevis’s head on his pillow. It's weeks before he's finally able to see the seduction for the viciously executed ploy that it was. But it's only a few hours from that morning 'til Nevis’s big, earnest eyes are focused on the newest young lady, just arrived to court. It's only a few hours until he tells ‘Lendel exactly how finished “they” are. If there had ever been a “they” in the first place.
But that isn’t the part he fights to remember. It’s not Nevis’s voice, cold and quiet, as he tells ‘Lendel not to come near him again. That he’s already registered a complaint with the court and the collegium, that they won’t let ‘Lendel entrap anyone else. He doesn’t remember Savil’s hands petting his hair as she soothed him with words and thoughts. He doesn’t remember the girl after him, or the girl after her, or the boy who’d come next, all of them discarded as quickly as they’re gained.
He remember earnest, cornflower blue eyes and a wide smile and the gentle pressure of a head against his shoulder. He remembers what it should have been, and not what it was.
5
It’s Nevis all over again, and Savil isn’t the only one he has to assure that he won’t make the same mistake. Donni barely leaves his side the first week that Vanyel is there, and where Donni goes, Mardic follows -- even though he wears an expression that’s somewhere between dazed and simply resigned as they trail ‘Lendel to class, even to meals.
“I’m not likely to make the same mistake twice,” he tells her, emphasizing his words with a broad wave of his hands. She giggles and swerves back as the roll he’s holding jabs perilously close to her face. “And unlike you, I’m not apt to lifebond to the first pretty face that comes along.”
Donni jabs a sharp elbow into her lifebonded’s ribs. “Are you going to let him talk to me like that?”
Mardic, who is mostly engrossed in his history text, barely responds to the nudge. He looks up and gives his normal laconic shrug. “You know how 'Lendel feels about me. That’s the heartbreak talking, Don, not him. You won me; be gracious about it.”
‘Lendel, taking his cue, clasps his hands to his heart and swoons. “Oh, Mardic, how can I go on without you?” Because it’s easier than thinking about Vanyel.
Pretty, pretty Vanyel, who he’s half convinced is soul-wounded and half sure is just another con artist. ‘Lendel’s watched him in lessons, trying hard to catch up to the others, and knows how he’s taken to hiding in his rooms and haunting the suite like a shy kitten. But then he’s at court, preening for his little clutch, and it all seems to fade. He’s putting on a good enough act for one of them, and maybe it’s the sycophants. Maybe Vanyel, with his pale skin and dark hair and those eyes, maybe Vanyel really does just want to be left alone. Someone else can find out. He isn’t going to be hurt again.
+1
Thanks to a quirk in the collegium education system, Van is at roughly at the same place in his history course that ‘Lendel was when he came here two years ago. He was done with that particular lesson a few months ago, and so he’s perfectly suited as a tutor. To the outside world it must seem odd why Vanyel worries so much about excelling in his classes when he doesn’t care about anyone else’s opinion. ‘Lendel knows that he won’t risk expulsion from even a single class if it would mean being pulled home by his father.
And really, keeping his lover there is a goal he can get behind. Losing his lover now would be nothing short of catastrophic, like if his bond with Stav were ever severed, or if he lost Gala --
But that doesn’t stop him from kicking the history text out of the way as he presses Vanyel down to the soft sheets of his --their -- bed. Hurting and hiding or not, some of Vanyel’s “act” was anything but. It’s no surprise to know his lover really is a peacock, picking the fabrics and colors that will show him off best. Right down to his linens. There’s no doubt that the way his skin glows against the deep tan is intentional, or that that’s why his hair stands out in stark, bold lines on the pillow sham. And there’s something in the back of Vanyel’s eyes, a glint, that tells ‘Lendel he knows just how he looks. ‘Lendel doesn’t have to use his empathy to feel the deep satisfaction radiating off his lover.
“You are very vain,” he tells the younger boy, with a growl in his voice to make it clear exactly how he thinks Van should be punished, and Van only laughs, tilting his head back to arc the bare line of his throat toward his lover.
‘Lendel takes advantage, exactly as he's meant to, pressing his lips to the white skin. Vanyel had grown up on a border holding, and ‘Lendel knew from experience that it doesn’t make for an easy life. There are bandit skirmishes, weapons training, even simple field and farm work that leaves their marks on a body, especially one as fair and delicate as Van’s. But Van’s skin in’t just smooth; he's remarkably unscarred and beautiful enough to break hearts. And he does just that, if the rumors coming out court were to be believed. Van’s careful flirtation with every eligible girl in his circle has led to every idea from a prearranged marriage to a great tragedy to a secret lover he’s hidden away somewhere.
If only they knew how right they were, ‘Lendel thinks, grinning into Van’s skin as he kisses and licks the hollow of his throat. Except that ‘Lendel is secret, yes, but not particularly hidden.
“What are you thinking?” Van rarely misses anything having to do with him; it's flattering to know he has so much of the younger boy’s attention. He pulls back from his task to meet silver eyes, a slow smile curving his lips.
“That you’re beautiful,” he answered honestly, delighting in the way Van’s cheeks went red, and they move together.
+2
So this is dreamtime.
He’d expected something more spare, but the room he’s in is lushly furnished. ‘Lendel settles himself in a chair, noting the way the cushion gave beneath him and how the crushed velvet felt against his fingertips. In fact, it didn’t seem like there was much to separate dreamtime from the world he’d left. Except, of course, that I’m dead now.
Reasonably, that thought should be more upsetting than it is. In fact, it didn’t bother him at all. For the first time in weeks he feels a growing sense of peace, a firm conviction that things will turn out right. In fact, it’s all he feels, unless he thinks about Vanyel.
That’s when the grief crushes over him, forcing past the warmth and comfort that’s surrounded him since he came here, and he turns over the Shadow Lover’s words again. Heralds are granted a choice.
But I’m not a Herald.
It’s enough, maybe, that the bell tolled for him. He can take a new form and return, do things right this time. Go back, and actually fix the oaths that he’d broken this time around --
Or he could have Vanyel again.
”What if I don’t want to go back at all,” he asked, a careful distance back. He saw too much of his lover in the tall, shadowed form -- his cheekbones, and the way his hair fell.
Death was supposed to be a lover, but he didn’t move toward Tylendel and ‘Lendel stayed far back as well. Now that his heart and mind were calm, he wasn’t ready for that particular embrace.
“Then there are other options. But they are not the ones you’ll choose.”
Being a Herald meant putting the needs of his country ahead of his own, and he’s already proven himself an abysmal failure at that. But at the same time, their conversation made it abundantly clear that he is not being offered a second chance at his life. Can he go back, without Stav or Gala, to the promise of Van eventually --
But without knowing who he is, without him recognizing me. I wouldn’t even be me.
He’s not sure he can live through an entire lifetime, just a shadow in someone’s heart, waiting for the right moment to emerge. Even before he’d been chosen, he’d always needed a purpose, a plan, and Gala had given him direction years before he’d ever met Vanyel.
He’d lost that, lost all of it, when he’d lost his twin. In many ways it’s enough just to have it back now.
But eternal limbo had not been one of the “options” Death had offered him. The luxury to simply not make a decision wasn’t open to him, and so here he is. Duty without Vanyel, or Vanyel without duty?
It can’t be that cut and dried. Certainly his years with Savil have shown the hundreds of ways to serve queen and country, without being a Herald outright. And yet his love is very singular, and distressingly mortal. And in danger, now, because of ‘Lendel’s own actions. Even if it took him years to work his way back to Van’s side, could he really give his lover any less? And, in that pursuit, was there any reason he couldn’t help his country as well?
The dreamtime room is empty except for him, and has been since the Shadow Lover left him with his decision. ‘Lendel speaks to the empty air, feeling the certainty settle in his gut as he does, backed by the blue and gold warmth he’d thought he’d lost.
“I know what I want.”
(no subject)
Date: 2012-12-01 03:34 pm (UTC)This is really good; there's so little done with Tylendel's backstory. I love his first interaction with Savil, she seems like the kind of person who could rub anyone the wrong way until you got to know her, lol. And I like the way Tylendel approaches Vanyel with a lot more trepidation than he appears to in canon. Thank you for posting this, it was a very happy surprise when I mistyped the url for
(no subject)
Date: 2012-12-02 01:12 pm (UTC)Thank you for taking the time to read! I'm really glad you enjoyed it!! I've got a backlog of stuff to post on here, and I think some of it may be lhm, so you're welcome to stick around. I'm rapacityinblue on tumblr and I post updates there when I post, so :3
Thank you again for reading and commenting!
(no subject)
Date: 2012-12-02 06:14 pm (UTC)Awesome! I am excited to find someone else posting in this fandom! (please stop by the comm one of these days, we've got ongoing rec and prompt posts, if, you know, you have any recs or prompts to add (or maybe a fill dare I hope!) /shameless plug :X
(no subject)
Date: 2012-12-02 09:26 pm (UTC)I'll be sure to do so, thanks! I've also rped Lendel a few places. It's great meeting other lhm fans!
(no subject)
Date: 2019-01-24 02:27 am (UTC)