Savil was more than content to leave Vanyel's recovery for Tylendel to keep an eye on. "You've at least got some Empathy," she'd said with a sigh as they sat together with tea and cookies. "I hardly know how to deal with the boy, for all that I want his happiness. And I'll have enough to handle, between the rest of the family getting notified and this situation you left me with."
It was Savil, after all, who was forced to actually conduct the investigation that Tylendel had pretended she'd been involved in. The monastery was closed down with various outcomes for the inhabitants. Uninvolved people who wished to be moved elsewhere were; those who were involved in child-trading were tried. Underage novices were sent to Haven to be rehabilitated, and similar services were at least offered to the older ones. Messengers were sent to the families of those involved, both to track down missing persons and to alert relatives. Some had been unaware of the full extent of things beyond the monastic education, others may have deliberately 'lost' their children. That, too, needed to be assessed.
The unfortunate side effect of that was that Vanyel's relatives had needed to be alerted with all the rest. All in all a headache for Savil.
"Sorry, teacher-love," Tylendel said playfully. She gesticulated at him irritably with a cookie and he snatched it out of her hand and ate it. "You're just much more famous than I am, you know."
"It'll stay that way if you keep giving me credit for the absurd things you do," Savil said and sighed again.
He laughed it off, but his smile faded quickly. "About his family... do you think they're going to do anything?"
"I expect Withen'll have words for my interference, though I doubt he intended any harm to befall Vanyel," Savil said, resting her chin on her hand. "Believe me, I'm not likely to let that pass. The boy's of age; Withen's got no say here, and I don't intend to see Vanyel want for anything if Withen goes through the bother of casting him out."
"I adore you," Tylendel said, and dodged her hand as she swatted at him.
"What's with you lately?" she asked, and laughed. "You're so invested in him."
She was right, he knew. It was more than just wanting to save Vanyel. More, too, than his pretty face. He kept feeling like he was so close to seeing who Vanyel could be, and wanted that so much. Even though it wasn't any of his business.
"It's nothing," Tylendel said.
That conversation took place three weeks after Vanyel had come to Haven; on the fourth week, Withen showed up, storming up to Savil's suite. Even though it had been ages since Vanyel could have heard him, as soon as they heard the first angry shout, the banging on the door, Vanyel obviously recognized his voice and went white as a ghost. Almost without thinking about it, Tylendel rose, stepping between Vanyel and the door.
"Let me in! Savil, you've got my son in there!"
Savil rose from her chair, looking between Tylendel and Vanyel. A little embarrassed at his first impulse, Tylendel turned slightly and glanced behind him. Vanyel's eyes were huge in his face, a hollow fear on it.
"Shall I send him away, Vanyel?" Savil asked, her tone mild.
"Savil!" Another hammering of a fist on the door.
Vanyel opened his mouth, and no words came out. Tylendel tried to give him a comforting smile. "It's up to you, Vanyel," he said. "If you don't want to talk to him, that's fine. There'll be other times whenever you're ready. And if you do want to talk to him, we can make sure things don't get out of hand."
They both watched him as he hesitated, and then he bit his lower lip and drew himself up a little straighter. "No," Vanyel said finally. "I don't want to talk to him. I'm... I'm not ready to talk to him. I feel like I should but—if he talks to me now, I don't think I can stand up for myself—"
Savil nodded once, firm. "That's that, then. 'Lendel, you take Vanyel back to his room and talk to him a bit; I'm sure there'll be shouting. I'll deal with Withen."
Tylendel smiled at Vanyel again, and this time it came much more easily. He was overcome with a feeling not unlike pride, but it wasn't a personal pride. This wasn't his doing; it was Vanyel's. Vanyel had been the one to know his limits. Vanyel had been the one to speak up to say he wasn't prepared, rather than to try to do the vain thing and face his father down.
"Come on," he said, and Vanyel blinked at him rapidly, then flashed him a return smile before vanishing into his room.
It was so fast that Tylendel thought how easily he could have missed it. That bright moment, that beautiful lighting up on his face. Vanyel had read the happiness on Tylendel's face and reacted to it. And, like a flower getting watered for the first time, he blossomed.
Tylendel thought his heart might stop.
Following Vanyel into his room happened without him even thinking about it, and he shut the door behind himself. Vanyel had sat on the bed, and for a moment, an electric tension hung in the air between them.
And then Tylendel got hold of himself, forcing himself to ignore that feeling. It wasn't something he should even consider offering. He took a seat with Vanyel and searched for another topic of conversation.
Vanyel was the one who spoke first: "I think," he said. "I'm thinking I might... go over to Bardic sometime? I used... I used to be really good. I'm not anymore. My father's armsman broke my arm, and I don't have feeling in that hand properly. A-and I haven't played for years. I gave up on becoming a Bard a long time ago but..."
"That doesn't mean you have to give up music," Tylendel said. If Vanyel wanted to avoid the subject of his father, he was happy to oblige. "Are you sure, though? Going over there could be painful if it's something you really wanted."
"I'm scared," Vanyel said. He looked down at his hands, like he was trying to see something in them, then up at Tylendel again. "But... even if I can't have what I want... shouldn't I see if I can have something?"
"You're amazing," Tylendel heard himself say, and then fought the urge to clap a hand over his mouth, embarrassed.
Vanyel's eyes widened, then hardened. He thought he was being made fun of, that much was clear. "Why would you say that?" he muttered.
"I just mean..." Tylendel searched for something to make it better, but could only find the truth. "You've been through so much and you're trying anyway. On your own, you're trying."
"I'm not—Lancir said I should—"
"It's still your choice. Music. Not talking to your father. They're your decisions and... it makes me really happy," Tylendel finished, a bit lamely.
The sounds outside had quieted; Savil must have convinced Withen to at least take it away from the doorway. Tylendel rose, feeling too awkward to stay. "I mean it," he said, as he headed to the door. "Vanyel, you're working hard on recovering, and of course I'll notice that."
He slipped through, hoping he'd made himself sound at least a little more competent, and on the other side, put his hands over his face. What had possessed him to say that? Vanyel was working hard, but was still recovering. Even praise could be read in the wrong way if said carelessly. There was still a lot of reason for Vanyel to doubt people's intentions toward him.
The next day had another knock on the door, and Tylendel feared that Withen had come back, but the arrival this time was someone called Lissa Ashkevron. Vanyel didn't even wait to be asked. As soon as he heard the name, he dashed to the door, flinging it open.
The girl on the other side was dressed in guardsman blues, and looked like how Savil must have looked at Tylendel's age. Her face had rough, severe lines, that sharp hooked nose, but she was laughing, smiling. She scooped Vanyel into a hug and the two clung together.
"Finally," she said, muffled into Vanyel's shoulder. "I've been looking for you for so long, Van, but Father wouldn't say anything about where he'd sent you to be educated. I'm sorry—"
He was laughing too, tears in his eyes. "Not your fault, Liss. I'm just so glad to see you again...!"
The sight of them clinging together, the sound of Vanyel's wet laughter, made something clench in Tylendel's chest. Vanyel was the most open that Tylendel had seen him, happy and relieved. Perhaps he'd go off with Lissa, Tylendel thought. If not now, when he was healed. Perhaps that would be for the best. Everyone needed family.
Regardless, this is intruding on something private, he reminded himself, and retreated to his room before he could examine his feelings too closely.
:Someone's getting attached,: Gala noted slyly.
:Quiet, you. I just want to see him doing well for himself.:
FILL: Tylendel/Vanyel - Orders - 7/?
It was Savil, after all, who was forced to actually conduct the investigation that Tylendel had pretended she'd been involved in. The monastery was closed down with various outcomes for the inhabitants. Uninvolved people who wished to be moved elsewhere were; those who were involved in child-trading were tried. Underage novices were sent to Haven to be rehabilitated, and similar services were at least offered to the older ones. Messengers were sent to the families of those involved, both to track down missing persons and to alert relatives. Some had been unaware of the full extent of things beyond the monastic education, others may have deliberately 'lost' their children. That, too, needed to be assessed.
The unfortunate side effect of that was that Vanyel's relatives had needed to be alerted with all the rest. All in all a headache for Savil.
"Sorry, teacher-love," Tylendel said playfully. She gesticulated at him irritably with a cookie and he snatched it out of her hand and ate it. "You're just much more famous than I am, you know."
"It'll stay that way if you keep giving me credit for the absurd things you do," Savil said and sighed again.
He laughed it off, but his smile faded quickly. "About his family... do you think they're going to do anything?"
"I expect Withen'll have words for my interference, though I doubt he intended any harm to befall Vanyel," Savil said, resting her chin on her hand. "Believe me, I'm not likely to let that pass. The boy's of age; Withen's got no say here, and I don't intend to see Vanyel want for anything if Withen goes through the bother of casting him out."
"I adore you," Tylendel said, and dodged her hand as she swatted at him.
"What's with you lately?" she asked, and laughed. "You're so invested in him."
She was right, he knew. It was more than just wanting to save Vanyel. More, too, than his pretty face. He kept feeling like he was so close to seeing who Vanyel could be, and wanted that so much. Even though it wasn't any of his business.
"It's nothing," Tylendel said.
That conversation took place three weeks after Vanyel had come to Haven; on the fourth week, Withen showed up, storming up to Savil's suite. Even though it had been ages since Vanyel could have heard him, as soon as they heard the first angry shout, the banging on the door, Vanyel obviously recognized his voice and went white as a ghost. Almost without thinking about it, Tylendel rose, stepping between Vanyel and the door.
"Let me in! Savil, you've got my son in there!"
Savil rose from her chair, looking between Tylendel and Vanyel. A little embarrassed at his first impulse, Tylendel turned slightly and glanced behind him. Vanyel's eyes were huge in his face, a hollow fear on it.
"Shall I send him away, Vanyel?" Savil asked, her tone mild.
"Savil!" Another hammering of a fist on the door.
Vanyel opened his mouth, and no words came out. Tylendel tried to give him a comforting smile. "It's up to you, Vanyel," he said. "If you don't want to talk to him, that's fine. There'll be other times whenever you're ready. And if you do want to talk to him, we can make sure things don't get out of hand."
They both watched him as he hesitated, and then he bit his lower lip and drew himself up a little straighter. "No," Vanyel said finally. "I don't want to talk to him. I'm... I'm not ready to talk to him. I feel like I should but—if he talks to me now, I don't think I can stand up for myself—"
Savil nodded once, firm. "That's that, then. 'Lendel, you take Vanyel back to his room and talk to him a bit; I'm sure there'll be shouting. I'll deal with Withen."
Tylendel smiled at Vanyel again, and this time it came much more easily. He was overcome with a feeling not unlike pride, but it wasn't a personal pride. This wasn't his doing; it was Vanyel's. Vanyel had been the one to know his limits. Vanyel had been the one to speak up to say he wasn't prepared, rather than to try to do the vain thing and face his father down.
"Come on," he said, and Vanyel blinked at him rapidly, then flashed him a return smile before vanishing into his room.
It was so fast that Tylendel thought how easily he could have missed it. That bright moment, that beautiful lighting up on his face. Vanyel had read the happiness on Tylendel's face and reacted to it. And, like a flower getting watered for the first time, he blossomed.
Tylendel thought his heart might stop.
Following Vanyel into his room happened without him even thinking about it, and he shut the door behind himself. Vanyel had sat on the bed, and for a moment, an electric tension hung in the air between them.
And then Tylendel got hold of himself, forcing himself to ignore that feeling. It wasn't something he should even consider offering. He took a seat with Vanyel and searched for another topic of conversation.
Vanyel was the one who spoke first: "I think," he said. "I'm thinking I might... go over to Bardic sometime? I used... I used to be really good. I'm not anymore. My father's armsman broke my arm, and I don't have feeling in that hand properly. A-and I haven't played for years. I gave up on becoming a Bard a long time ago but..."
"That doesn't mean you have to give up music," Tylendel said. If Vanyel wanted to avoid the subject of his father, he was happy to oblige. "Are you sure, though? Going over there could be painful if it's something you really wanted."
"I'm scared," Vanyel said. He looked down at his hands, like he was trying to see something in them, then up at Tylendel again. "But... even if I can't have what I want... shouldn't I see if I can have something?"
"You're amazing," Tylendel heard himself say, and then fought the urge to clap a hand over his mouth, embarrassed.
Vanyel's eyes widened, then hardened. He thought he was being made fun of, that much was clear. "Why would you say that?" he muttered.
"I just mean..." Tylendel searched for something to make it better, but could only find the truth. "You've been through so much and you're trying anyway. On your own, you're trying."
"I'm not—Lancir said I should—"
"It's still your choice. Music. Not talking to your father. They're your decisions and... it makes me really happy," Tylendel finished, a bit lamely.
The sounds outside had quieted; Savil must have convinced Withen to at least take it away from the doorway. Tylendel rose, feeling too awkward to stay. "I mean it," he said, as he headed to the door. "Vanyel, you're working hard on recovering, and of course I'll notice that."
He slipped through, hoping he'd made himself sound at least a little more competent, and on the other side, put his hands over his face. What had possessed him to say that? Vanyel was working hard, but was still recovering. Even praise could be read in the wrong way if said carelessly. There was still a lot of reason for Vanyel to doubt people's intentions toward him.
The next day had another knock on the door, and Tylendel feared that Withen had come back, but the arrival this time was someone called Lissa Ashkevron. Vanyel didn't even wait to be asked. As soon as he heard the name, he dashed to the door, flinging it open.
The girl on the other side was dressed in guardsman blues, and looked like how Savil must have looked at Tylendel's age. Her face had rough, severe lines, that sharp hooked nose, but she was laughing, smiling. She scooped Vanyel into a hug and the two clung together.
"Finally," she said, muffled into Vanyel's shoulder. "I've been looking for you for so long, Van, but Father wouldn't say anything about where he'd sent you to be educated. I'm sorry—"
He was laughing too, tears in his eyes. "Not your fault, Liss. I'm just so glad to see you again...!"
The sight of them clinging together, the sound of Vanyel's wet laughter, made something clench in Tylendel's chest. Vanyel was the most open that Tylendel had seen him, happy and relieved. Perhaps he'd go off with Lissa, Tylendel thought. If not now, when he was healed. Perhaps that would be for the best. Everyone needed family.
Regardless, this is intruding on something private, he reminded himself, and retreated to his room before he could examine his feelings too closely.
:Someone's getting attached,: Gala noted slyly.
:Quiet, you. I just want to see him doing well for himself.:
:Uh-huh.: