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Vanyel and Savil had only been back in Valdemar for a couple of months when the weather turned brisk, then cold, announcing start of the Sovvan season. The Palace and Collegium were decorated with seasonal leaf boughs, apples, and harvested gourds. Ribbons of orange and brown threaded through the garlands that appeared over every archway in the Collegium. The scent of spiced cider wafted through the hallways, and small groups of Bardic students practiced seasonal songs in every out of the way corner they could find.
Vanyel hated it.
No one remembered Tylendel. No one even spoke of him directly, especially not to Vanyel. Perhaps they spoke of him to Savil, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to ask.
The day edged closer—the first anniversary of the most horrible day of his life, and the day everything changed. He wasn’t sure if it was for the better.
With a free afternoon on the day before Sovvan, Vanyel took a walk. He wanted to remember the good times, not the bad. Yfandes joined him, silently shadowing him as only a Companion could.
But the grotto that was once their secret haven had people in it—he could hear soft music before Yfandes blocked him with her neck. He peeked in anyway, wondering if the place had changed.
Two girls, one in the light green of the Healing trainee, the other in the rust of Bardic, rested together on a blanket, well wrapped in cloaks and scarves. The young bard plucked away on an ancient lute that was barely in tune, and the other girl had one arm around her love and a chin resting on her shoulder, watching her fingers on the fretboard. Their faces pressed together, noses a little red from the cold.
Some other lovers had found their secret spot. For a brief moment, anger flared within him, almost instantly swamped by sadness. Vanyel turned away, followed by Yfandes.
:Lovers have been trysting there ever since the palace was built.:
“I know. It just, it was our place, even more than Savil’s suite.”
:It was also where Tylendel felt Staven die.: Yfandes’ mind-voice said softly, kindly.
Vanyel remembered the fear of Tylendel losing control of his powers at the moment of Staven’s death and dropped his head. “Yes. It was.”
Together they walked back to the Herald’s wing.
~*~*~*~*~
While they were with the Tayledras, the suite had been thoroughly cleaned, and there was no obvious trace of Tylendel’s presence in the room. His schoolbooks were in the library, scattered through the shelves. His trainee uniforms returned to the common store for the next newly Chosen to use. Anything personal was either discarded or hidden away.
:Look in your top drawer: Yfandes said. She was snug in the Companion’s barn, munching away on some warm mash with apples. :I think you might find something there.:
Van opened the top drawer of his storage chest. There, next to his socks and smallclothes, was a carefully folded stack of handkerchiefs. He took one out, and saw the TF in blue, carefully embroidered by one of ‘Lendel’s cousins. He remembered the day when Tylendel had handed him a handkerchief, when Van first saw the TF covering the picked-out places where the family crest once was.
Vanyel staggered into the suite, covering his bloody nose with his arm and hoping Savil wouldn’t see him. Or anyone. He felt like a fool, having been tripped by an unseen person while leaving the classroom. Luckily, he didn’t have any more classes that day, and made his way to the suite to clean up.And Tylendel was there, hovering a little, but helping him to clean up and soak his shirt in cold water so the bloodstain wouldn’t set. He handed Van a handkerchief for the slow trickle of blood from his nose, and Van almost refused, because he could see the embroidery.
“It’s okay,” said Tylendel, “Handkerchiefs are meant to be used.”
Vanyel swallowed the sob that rose in his throat at the memory.
A light tap on the door made him look up to see Aunt Savil at the door. She held a silver-bordered invitation in her hand. “Van? You all right?”
The question made him smile a little. “Not really. What’s going on?”
She gestured with the card. “Our presence has been requested at the Queen’s Sovvan banquet tomorrow night.” Savil came into the room and sat next to Vanyel. She put one hand gingerly on his shoulder, as if she expected him to flinch away. He didn’t. “She would like all of the Herald-Mages to attend, as we have guests from Hardorn and Rethwellan and they are very comfortable with magic. The Queen would like us to talk to their mages, see what we can learn from them.”
Just the idea of being social, being political, turned Vanyel’s stomach. Part of him wanted to lash out at Savil for even thinking that he would want to do this. Instead, he let his control over his Empathy slip a little, letting some of his pain and sorrow leak out. “I don’t think I’d be very useful.”
Savil nodded slowly. “Lock it down, Van.” When he did, she nodded again. “As a matter of fact, I agree with you. Those mages from Rethwellan will look at you and see an amateur, not an Adept.”
“I don’t think I can really celebrate Sovvan. Not with banquets, or masked balls, or any of it. Not after Tylendel.”
Savil rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “Me neither. But as a Senior Herald-Mage, I’m required to be there. You were invited primarily as a courtesy.”
Vanyel leaned into her arm, feeling very young. “I just…it’s been a year, and for me, it could have been yesterday. I just can’t celebrate the day he died, Aunt Savil, I just can’t.” He took deep breaths and concentrated on not letting his control slip.
“Anniversaries are hard, I know. I’m not looking forward to this either, but at least I’ll be busy, have something else to concentrate on.” She patted his shoulder, and Vanyel could feel her affection for him.
“Would you…” Van paused, not sure how to tell her what part of him wanted so very much. “Would you stop by after, if it isn’t too late? After the party?”
She smiled at him and rubbed his back again. “Of course.”
~*~*~*~*~
The next day, Vanyel tried to keep busy. Though classes were cancelled for the holiday, he was able to find one of the Weaponsmaster’s assistants to spar with in the morning, and in the afternoon, he and Yfandes went for a long ride out to the home farms and back.
After giving Yfandes a thorough grooming, Vanyel returned to the Herald’s wing for a bath. Most of the Heralds were either going to parties or standing watch as needed, and had bathed earlier, so the room was blissfully free of other people.
Once back in the suite, Vanyel found a covered tray and a note from his aunt. ‘Van—requested some of your favorites and his for tonight. Will stop by after. S.’
He lifted the cover and found a variety of meats, cheeses, and bread, potatoes in jackets, roasted squash, and several apple turnovers. There was also a warmed pitcher with spiced cider, ready to pour.
Vanyel was astounded by the thought put into this simple dinner. All of it was food that comforted him, and it was what he needed tonight of all nights—comfort.
Though he didn’t feel particularly hungry, he put together a plate and ate methodically. As he ate, he suddenly felt like he was starving, as if the food woke a part of him that needed the fuel to keep going. Vanyel was too well-mannered to gobble, even when he was alone, but the food and cider disappeared quickly.
The exertion of the day, along with the big meal, made him feel sleepy. Vanyel banked the fire and put out the lanterns, before crawling into bed, Tylendel’s handkerchief in his hand. He rested his cheek against it, wishing it was Tylendel’s hand, shoulder, arm, any part of him that he could curl up against.
A wave of sorrow and depression washed over him, though he managed to keep himself shielded. “Oh, ‘Lendel,” Vanyel whispered to the handkerchief, “I wish you were here.”
The small scrap of fabric and his pillow were damp by the time he fell asleep.
~*~*~*~
He was in a forest, much like the ones surrounding the Tayledras Vale, all green leaves and shafts of sunlight dappling the path before him. The air was warm, and the breeze whirled around him.
There was a clearing ahead of him; he could see the sun on the grass and the brightness of the open space. Vanyel strode quickly along the path, eager to see who was in the clearing. Someone was waiting for him, he knew somehow.
Someone special.
Vanyel burst into the clearing, a grassy meadow bathed in sunlight, with green grass and multitudes of tiny, brilliant flowers scattered throughout. A figure stood in the very center of the space, surrounded by a golden glow, with tiny firefly lights sparking around it. At first misty and ethereal, the being coalesced into a slim figure with dark blond hair and familiar stance.
“Tylendel,” breathed Vanyel, and the figure turned and it was him, it was. They ran towards each other, crashing together in the clearing in a tight hug.
Tylendel was there, solid arm about Vanyel, and he could barely believe it. Van took his face in his hands and kissed him deeply before resting their heads together. “I missed you, I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too,” said Tylendel, and they kissed again, over and over, until they toppled into the grass, tangled together.
Vanyel couldn’t stop touching Tylendel. “You’re here, you’re really here,” Van said, tracing his fingers over his mouth and cheekbones. “You’re…”
“Shhhh,” Tylendel held a finger to Vanyel’s lips. “Don’t say anything about it. Just let me be with you right now.”
Vanyel nodded and pulled Tylendel close. They cuddled and kissed and loved for an eternity, or a moment -- Vanyel wasn’t sure which -- until finally Tylendel met his eyes with a serious expression.
“Van,” he said, “I’m sorry. For all of it.”
“All of what?”
“Everything. Everything I put you through, after Staven. I shouldn’t have done it. I should never have used you so terribly.” Tylendel looked so sad.
Vanyel kissed his forehead. “”Lendel, it’s okay. I said yes to all of that. I could have said no.”
“But you didn’t, and now…”
“Now we’re together again.” Vanyel smiled widely and felt like he was filled with light and magic and love. This was where he was meant to be, together with Tylendel.
Tylendel shook his head slightly. “Only for tonight. Only in this liminal space where souls can meet and be refreshed.”
“But…” started Vanyel, and Tylendel pressed his finger to Vanyel’s lips again.
“If you get angry or upset, you’ll disturb the peace of this place, and you will be removed. Understand?” Vanyel nodded and breathed, using a centering mental exercise to calm himself. Tylendel watched him carefully and smiled when he was serene. “Now, I have some important things to tell you, but you won’t remember them, not clearly.”
Vanyel took another deep breath. “I’m ready.”
Tylendel cupped Vanyel’s hands in his. “This isn’t going to be easy, ashke, You have a long, hard road ahead of you. You’ll be lonely. It is going to be very difficult. But I have faith in you, and at the end, I’ll be there.” Tylendel laughed a little, and stroked Vanyel’s hair. “You won’t recognize me, but I will be there.”
“I’ll always know you, ‘Lendel.”
“No, you won’t.” Tylendel’s smile was heartbreaking and sad, and Van could see the tears standing in his eyes. “But it’s all right. I won’t know me either.”
“I don’t understand,”
“You will, someday,” Tylendel looked up, as in answer to some call that Vanyel couldn’t hear. “One moment, please!” He turned back to Vanyel. “Trust Yfandes. I should have trusted Gala, and that led to so many problems. Your Companion is there for you, to be the friend you can always depend on.”
He stood, leading Van to stand as well, and kissed him thoroughly. “I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t say so more often, before. You deserved so much better.”
“I didn’t want better,” said Vanyel, “I only wanted you. I love you, ‘Lendel, always.” He clung to his beloved, his lifebonded, and for a moment there were solid arms around him.
Then they disappeared. All of his pain and sadness, abated briefly by Tylendel’s presence, crashed down on Vanyel, and the light-filled meadow vanished.
~*~*~*~*~
Vanyel sat up in bed with a gasp. In a moment, Yfandes was in his head, calming him down, and Savil was at the door, quickly knocking before opening it to enter his room. She was still in her Formal Whites and went directly to his side. “Van, what is it? A nightmare?” She wrapped her arms around him, and he let himself be held.
“No, not a nightmare,” said Vanyel. He tried to slow his racing heart, but it wasn’t happening. “A dream, I think.”
Savil whispered soothing nonsense to him and rubbed his back. Slowly he found his center and felt steady enough to speak.
“I felt him, Aunt Savil. I felt Tylendel. It was like he was right next to me, speaking to me.” Van shook his head and the feelings faded. “I think he said something important, but I can’t remember.”
Savil gathered him closer, heedless of her Formal Whites and tangled bedclothes. “There are stories about the dead returning to greet their loved ones on Sovvan night. Never happened to me, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Tylendel found a way, somehow, to be with you.”
Vanyel felt like he did when he was a child being comforted. Between Yfandes’ presence in the back of his mind, and Savil’s hand rubbing his back, the loss that had welled up inside of him quieted.
‘I miss him so much,” said Vanyel.
“I miss him too, my dear,” Savil replied.
Together, they remembered the young man they loved and lost and now mourned. Though the rest of Valdemar, even the Heralds, might want to forget him based on his worst moment, Vanyel knew that he and Savil would honor Tylendel at his best, as the talented, mischievous, kind, and loving Trainee. They would not let the truth of him be forgotten.