These stories only make sense, if you have read the three Valdemar books called the Last Herald Mage series by Mercedes Lackey. This chapter is based on book 3 Magc's Price. The story is about Vanyel meeting his lifebonded lover Tylendel the second time around in the shape of the young bard Stefen. And again, this will probably be confusing to the reader, if you have no idea what Heralds, Companions, Hawk brothers (Tayledras) or the kingdom of Valdemar are, or who Vanyel, Tylendel, Yfandes, Savil, or Stefen are. Yfandes or 'Fandes is Vanyel's Companion, the 'magic horse' that chose him to be a Herald.
Parts of the book relating to Van and Stef getting involved are cited, and also some bits and pieces of the dreams and interactions between the two lovers after their first time together. The signature -o- means that a large bit of the cited text from the book has been omitted, but sometimes sentences or paragraphs have been dropped here and there without this indication. A few explanations matked with * have been added.
Dreams, thoughts and Mindspeech are in italics, and in addition Mindspeech is shown between : text : signatures as in the Valdemar books. Shaych is slang for gay, and ashke and ke'chara are Tayledras for beloved and dearest.
As for the ages of the protagonists Stefen was eighteen when he met Vanyel according to something Vanyel's nephew Medren (age twenty) said as he told Van about the young Bard. This was several months before they became lovers, and Vanyel was in his mid-thirties at the time.
Vanyel and Stefen, part I
Medren watched his uncle out of the corner of his eye. Vanyel had the kind of fine-boned, ascetic face that aged well, with no sign of wrinkling except around the eyes and a permanent worry-line between his brows. His once-black hair was thickly streaked with white, but that wasn't from age, that was from working magic. -o-
For whatever reason, the silver-streaked hair, when combined with the ageless face and a body that would have been the envy of most of Medren's peers, made Vanyel's appearance confusing -- even to those who knew him. Young-old and hard to categorize. Add eyes the color of burnished silver, eyes that seemed to look right through a person, and you had the single most striking Herald in Whites... Medren frowned again.
And the least approachable.
Vanyel was as beautiful as a statue carved from the finest alabaster by the hand of a master. But thanks to that absolute control, he was also about as remote and chill as that same statue.
Which is the way he wants it,
Medren sighed.
And in some ways Vanyel was absolutely right, in that he couldn't afford close emotional relationships, due to the fact that people he cared about could be used as a target. If Vanyel had been the marble statue he resembled, his isolation would likely have been a good thing.
But he wasn't. He was a living human being, and one who would not admit that he was desperately lonely.
To the lowest hells with that,
Medren thought.
If he doesn't find somebody he can at least talk to besides Savil, he's going to go mad in white linen one of these days. He's keeping everyone else sane, but who can he go to? Nobody, that's who.
Medren gritted his teeth.
Well, we'll see about that uncle. If you can resist Stefen, you're a candidate for the Order of Saint Thiera the Immaculate.
Some Bardic Journeymen might have objected to being roomed with Stef, for the younger boy was shaych and made no bones about it -- but not Medren.
Not with Vanyel for an uncle,
Medren reflected with tolerant amusement.
Not that Stef's anything like Van. If uncle's a candidate for the Order of Saint Thiera, Stef's a candidate for an Order of Brothers of Perpetual Indulgence! No wonder he writes good lovesongs; he's certainly had enough experience!
-o-
Vanyel hung back when they'd gotten to the room Medren shared with the boy, prompted by the feeling that Stefen might be uneasy in his presence.
Vanyel's first impression was one of fragility. Stefen was slight; had he been a girl, he'd have been called 'delicate'. He was a little shorter than Vanyel and as slim. That didn't matter, though -- Vanyel could tell that Stef's appearance was as deceptive as his own. Stefen was fineboned, yes, but there was muscle over that bone; tough, wiry muscle.
I wouldn't care to take him on in a street fight,
Van observed, eyes half-closed as he studied the boy.
Something tells me he'd win.
Dark auburn hair crowned a triangular face; one composed, at first impression, of a pair of bottomless hazel eyes, high cheekbones, and the most stubborn chin Van had ever seen.
He looks like a demented angel, like that painting in the High Temple of the Spirit of Truth. The one that convinced me that knowing too much truth will drive you mad...
Vanyel watched carefully as Stefen listened to Medren's plans. Once or twice the boy nodded, and some of that wavy hair fell into his eyes. He brushed it out of the way absently, all his attention given to his roommate.
He was tense; that was understandable. Vanyel was very glad that he had chosen to keep himself out of the way now. The boy was under quite enough pressure without the added stress of Herald Vanyel's presence. Van was quite well aware how much he overawed most of the people he came in contact with.
:'Fandes, what do you think of this youngster?
He felt her looking out of his eyes and felt her approval before she voiced it.
:I like him, Van. He'll give you everything he has, without holding back. He has a very powerful Bardic Gift, and he does indeed have a secondary Gift as well that is nearly as powerful. It's something like MindHealing, but very specific. I can't tell you more than that until I See it in action:
* Stefen turns out to have a gift for singing pain away, which is very much needed, because Valdermar's king, Randall, is ill and in so much pain he can hardly function. The first time Vanyel and Stefen actually meet is right after Stefen's first session with the king, where the young Bard has worn himself out. Vanyel takes Stefen back to his rooms to help him deal with the injuries to his fingers. They end up talking and having dinner together and getting fairly drunk. Too inebriated for Stefen to walk back to his own room. And though the Herald is aware that the Bard has a spot of what Van terms 'hero-worship', he suddenly realizes that it's something more than that.
Van became aware, painfully aware, that Stefen was looking at him with an intense and unmistakable hunger. He flushed and tried not to look in the boy's eyes.
Damn. Damn, damn, damn. If I let him stay -- it's not FAIR, dammit! He's too young. He can't possibly know what he wants. He thinks he wants me, and maybe he does, right now. But in the morning? That's another thing altogether.
He Felt Stefen's gaze, like hot sunshine against his skin. Felt the youngster willing him to look up. And stubbornly resisted. The boy was too young; less than half
his
age. And the boy was infernally attractive...
Damn it all, it's not fair...
Stefen could hardly believe it. He was in Herald Vanyel's private quarters; the door was shut and they were quite alone together. He could tell that Vanyel was attracted, he sensed it in the way the Herald was carefully looking to one side or the other, but never directly at him, and in the way Vanyel was avoiding even an accidental touch.
Yet Vanyel wouldn't
