Vanyel figured it out about a candle-mark before the word came from the servants that the king had sent another Herald to represent the crown with the Lineas situation. It was impossible not to notice the buzzing in his head that meant his lifebonded was drawing near.

He was there to meet Tylendel at the front gates, along with the usual gaggle of children and servants. They embraced briefly - nothing that could give Vanyel's father pause, sadly enough, although Withen's greeting was extremely stiff.

"I'm here by request of the Lineans and Herald Lores," said Tylendel. "They wanted a non-Ashkevron at the border. The king begs me to reassure you all that he trusts you absolutely and this is merely a political act."

:What's going on, 'Lendel?: asked Vanyel. :Randi's never hesitated to call people out when they're being short-sighted and judgemental before. We don't have enough Heralds to go around.:

:Exactly what I said, love, save that Randi needed to give me a break and decided that this job was the best way to do it. I'm deadly close to burn-out, don't you know.:

The apple flavour of laughter in Tylendel's mind-voice told Vanyel he was joking about this last, although Vanyel could feel the same bone-deep weariness in him that he felt in himself. :This isn't going to make him very popular with my father,: Vanyel pointed out. :But gods, I am glad to see you.:

Tylendel sends him a wordless pulse of affection, then turns his attention back to Vanyel's parents. "I apologise for the lack of notice," he said.

"Not at all," gushed Treesa. "I'll have the servants make you up a room immediately. We can't have a Herald staying with the Guard."

"Then I'm very sorry for the imposition," added Tylendel, with another impish smile.

:I'm going to bet it's as far away from my room as possible,: sent Vanyel, amused.

:If your father has any say in it, I'm not taking that bet,: replied Tylendel. He surveyed Vanyel with a critical eye. "You look like hell," he said out loud. "I thought you were supposed to be taking a quiet rest."

"Circumstances got rather out of my control," said Vanyel. "As you well know."

"Well, one of my other orders is, and I quote, to 'make damn sure Vanyel gets that rest he needs'." He turned to grin at Vanyel's parents. "No offense meant to you, I'm sure, but in Haven we all know Van would work himself to death if he didn't get an intervention every now and then."

Withen shifted uncomfortably. "He's got a good work ethic," he said, although he didn't quite sound like he meant it.

:You wouldn't be mad if I slapped your father, would you?: sent Tylendel wistfully. :Gala says I can.:

:Like Herald, like Companion,: Vanyel Mindsent back. :And I would mind, a little. He's my father.:

:He's a pompous ass who can't accept that sometimes children grow up to follow paths that aren't the ones that were set out for them,: replied Tylendel. :But you're right. He's your father. I'll be nice.:

—

Vanyel's prediction was correct - when he queried one of the servants that evening, it turned out that Tylendel had been placed in the guest room that was about the furthest from Vanyel's as possible.

:You could pull rank and have him moved, if you wanted,: pointed out Yfandes.

:Tashir's in the room closest mine,: Vanyel reminded her. :It's not like 'Lendel actually has to use his room.:

Yfandes sent him the mind-equivalent of a conspiratorial wink. :Gala says he's at least as tired as you are and even more in need of a rest, so don't keep him up too late.:

:Gossipping wenches,: replied Vanyel fondly.

About half a candle-mark later, Tylendel knocked softly on Vanyel's door. Vanyel closed the door behind them and just held him, resting his head on Tylendel's shoulder and feeling him breathe.

"I'm sorry about Father," said Vanyel, pulling away a little. "I wasn't expecting him to be quite this ungracious."

"I knew what I was getting into, Van. And it's not your fault. Your mother, at least, seems to be susceptible to flattery."

"Oh gods," said Vanyel. "Was she playing the Game with you?"

"And loving it. Sometimes I wonder if she's actually forgotten I'm her son's lover."

"She's playing by the rules that applied when she was a girl," Vanyel reminded him. "It's different now, but she has no way to know that."

Tylendel nodded in understanding. "I tried to catch that young problem-maker of yours but I couldn't even get near him," said Tylendel, sitting on the edge of Vanyel's bed and tapping his feet in a frustrated sort of way. "He took one look at me and fled."

"You're not the only one," said Vanyel. "I can't get him to talk to me half the time either. Jervis is the only one he opens up to."

Tylendel shakes his head. "It's more than that. He's afraid of me - not everyone, me in particular."

Vanyel thought about that for a moment. "That's interesting," he said. "Because you look pretty alike. Usually people are more comfortable around people who look like them." He paused. "Except... His father disinherited him because Tashir didn't look like him. He looked like his uncle."

"Vedric," said Tylendel. "You think he's afraid of me because I look like his uncle?"

"Gods," said Vanyel. "That is not a happy thought. Is it just fear, or is it anger as well?"

Tylendel shrugged. "Just fear, I think. He stays well away from me." He paused. "Do you really think he looks like me?"

Vanyel nodded thoughtfully. "I never knew you as a teenager, but I can only imagine you looked just like him. And Savil agrees."

"Strange," said Tylendel. "I don't think my family has any connection to Lineas. Or Baires, for that matter."

Vanyel shrugged. "Just one of those freak coincidences or random outcomes of nature. Look how I turned out, when the rest of my family look like plough horses."

"I like the way you turned out," said Tylendel, leaning back and giving him a lazy smile.

"Gods," said Vanyel. "Did I already mention I missed you?"

"I don't mind hearing it again. I missed you. We should request Randi only assign us in pairs for the future."

It was impossible, but they spent several moments contemplating the notion. "With Karse quietening down a bit, maybe we'll get to spend some time in Haven," said Vanyel thoughtfully. "Together. I can't even remember the last time we slept in the same bed."

"It wasn't Haven," said Tylendel promptly. "That inn in Sandstroke, when you were on the way back to the border and I was dealing with that situation in Jkatha."

"I knew I could trust you to remember that," he said, grinning. "Hedonist."

"It was a very nice inn room," said Tylendel.

"Oh yes? What colour were the sheets?"

"It was nice because it had you in it." Tylendel leant in close and cupped Vanyel's cheek in his hands. "You make any room decadent."

"Don't," groaned Vanyel, settling his hands around Tylendel's waist so that he knew Vanyel didn't mean he should stop. "You sound like one of mother's love ballads."

Tylendel grinned, then leaned in for a kiss.

"Remind me to give Randale a thanking gift," murmured Vanyel, a little while later.

"Bah," said Tylendel, still running a finger gently up and down Vanyel's side. "He owes you for Jisa."

Vanyel grinned. "Maybe I owe him for raising her to be such a delight. Did you get to see her before you left?"

Tylendel nodded. "She's certainly inherited at least some of your gifts."

"Which is funny, because I certainly didn't have any gifts when I was her age."

Tylendel rolled over to look at the ceiling. "No, I suppose you didn't." His tone was calm, but beneath the surface Vanyel could feel emotions roiling.

"But I wouldn't want to change a thing," said Vanyel firmly. "Except that I'd like to see you more often. You shouldn't have made me so powerful."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time."

They lay in silence for a while, sleep still seeming far away. Vanyel cleared his throat. "Did you get to meet my nephew? That boy is a delight."

Tylendel shook his head. "Medren, you mean? We were introduced but we haven't really spoken."

"He has Bardic gift," said Vanyel. "I'm getting father to send him to the Collegium as soon as possible. He has no future here, but with that gift and that voice he'll have a fantastic future as a Bard."

Tylendel rolled over to look at him searchingly. "I wish you could have had that," he said, slowly.

"I'm not gifted; I can sing and play but I can't compose," Vanyel reminded him. "I let go of that dream a long time ago. I'm happy being a mildly-talented musician; don't worry so much about me, love."

"Just as long as spending time with your family hasn't convinced you you need to give it all up again," said Tylendel.

"Gods, no," said Vanyel. "Apparently you've made me contrary. The longer I'm here, the more I want to be as outrageous as possible." He shrugged. "At least father listens to my opinions on politics now. He never would before."

"You would never have offered them," Tylendel pointed out gently.

"And my brothers actually give me respect," continued Vanyel, ignoring Tylendel's all-too-accurate summation of his character.

"Good," said Tylendel, squeezing his hand tightly. "You deserve it."

—

"Uncle Van," said Medren a few days later, during the music lessons that were becoming a regular occurrence. "Why is grandfather so rude to Herald Tylendel?"

Vanyel blinked. "I've been a little preoccupied with Tashir," he reminded his nephew gently. "As well as on enforced bed rest. What's Father been doing?"

"He won't talk to him at dinner," said Medren. "And he's always being really short with him." Medren hesitated a moment. "I tried asking Jervis about it but he just muttered something under his breath and told me to ask you about it."

"Well," said Vanyel, "I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised. Father holds him responsible for a number of things that aren't really his fault." Plus a few that technically are his fault, not that I’d ever tell either of them that.

Medren shook his head, confused. "Like what?"

"Me becoming a Herald, for one thing."

"But you're a hero!" Medren protested. "There are songs about you and everything. And Heralds don't get to choose, anyway, it's the Companions."

Vanyel shook his head. "Father doesn't really understand that. He thinks I've shirked my duty as heir."

"That's silly," said Medren. "I know I'm proud to have a hero for an uncle." He flushed and began re-tuning his lute.

Vanyel smiled at him. "Thank you, Medren."

"Is that really all?" asked Medren.

"There's also my being shaych," Vanyel added, for honesty's sake.

Medren looked even more bemused. "How is that Herald Tylendel's fault?"

Vanyel took pity on his nephew's confused face. "Tylendel and I are lovers, Medren."

"Oh!" said Medren, turning red. "I didn't know." He turned his face to his lute for a moment. "How long have you been together?"

He'll have to work on that neutral expression, thought Vanyel, but he's not doing so badly. "Almost six years now," he said out loud.

Medren started. "Six years? And grandfather is still treating him like that?"

Vanyel sighed. "I think perhaps if we were more open about it he might have the chance to adjust," he said. "But too many of our allies have taboos about same-sex relationships, and the King needs us to be able to take diplomatic missions. Our friends know, but we mostly keep it to ourselves."

Medren frowned. "That's not very romantic," he declared.

And I haven't even told you we're lifebonded, thought Vanyel. "Sometimes responsibilities have to come before romance, I'm afraid," he said. "Don't let that stop you writing all the sappy love songs you want once you get to Bardic, though. Love songs always sell."

The mention of Bardic was enough to change the subject completely, as Medren's expression shifted between delight and sheer terror at the thought of his upcoming move.

—

"That Herald friend of yours, Tylendel," said Jervis. "The one Haven sent."

Vanyel raised his eyebrows. This ought to be interesting.

"He's the one, isn't he? He couldn't be any other, not with the way Withen's treating him."

Vanyel nodded carefully, watching for Jervis' reaction.

Jervis snorted. "He's a right idiot, that father of yours," he said. "And I've told him that any number of times. And from what I've seen of that Herald, you've done pretty well for yourself. Withen should be proud to accept him as son-in-law. I would be."

Vanyel blinked, then blinked again.

"I know we ain't always been on the right foot, Van, and we haven't had the chance to talk proper-like since you became a Herald. But I've got your back. You've got a good head on your shoulders and you're far better off a Herald than following your father's footsteps. I may be just be an old Merc, but I can see potential and you'd be wasted as a Lord Holder."

After leaving Jervis, Vanyel wandered towards the stables, lost in thought. He was going to have to raise the issue with his father at some point - the Heralds needed the support of the people, and the reason behind Withen's disrespect for Tylendel was only known to a select few. It just wouldn't do to have a Lord Holder treating a Herald-Mage with contempt.

He just had no idea how to broach the topic.

In the end, Withen took it out of his hands.

"About this friend of yours," began Withen. "I really don't think it's appropriate to—"

Vanyel held up a hand. "I'm sorry. Are we talking about Herald-Mage Tylendel here?"

Withen blustered for a second. "Of course we're talking about the Herald—"

"The Herald that King Randale sent as his official representative," Vanyel interrupted. "Since he can be trusted to be a neutral party where, as a border estate, the Ashkevrons might be considered by the ignorant as potentially compromised."

"Well, yes, but—"

"Father, are you second-guessing a royal order?" said Vanyel, starting to enjoy this.

"There's no reason to send him—"

Vanyel feigned confusion. "No reason to send one of his closest friends, whom he knows he can trust, and who also happens to be one of the most powerful Herald-Mages in the Circle?"

"If he's so important he wouldn't waste him on a trumped up—"

"Herald Tylendel has just returned from a border stint, just like me," Vanyel interrupted again. "He's not in any condition for combat at present, but Randale can't afford to have Herald-Mages sitting around with nothing to do, so he chose to send him here rather than risk being forced to assign him to something that might push him past his limits." Withen just looked confused, so Vanyel decided to resort to metaphor. "Would you rather send a wearied horse out to battle or let it carry your sister to the markets?" Although not your actual sister, he added silently. Savil can handle any horse she likes.

"Well, no, but—"

"So since King Randale sent Herald-Mage Tylendel to be his representative, don't you think you should start showing him some respect?" said Vanyel.

"All right, Van, you've made your point," muttered Withen.

"Thank you, father. Was there anything else?"

"That horse of Meke's..."

Vanyel groaned.

—