Vanyel slept eventually, eyes stinging and throat dry, fingers curled up tightly and knotted in the sheets. His cheeks felt raw and his dreams were dark—unfamiliar and disorienting, like the bed was pitching beneath him even as he slept.

He was drawn out of a restless sleep by the sound of the door closing and the sensation of a warm body carefully sliding under the covers next to him.

"Ashke…?" Tylendel murmured, although Vanyel had remained very still.

Right. His Gifts. There was no fooling 'Lendel into thinking he was still asleep.

"Mmh," Vanyel said, rolling over and hoping that the dimness masked his reddened eyes. "Welcome back." Then, hesitantly— "Where's Staven?"

Tylendel chuckled softly, reaching out to stroke a hand over Vanyel's silky hair. Vanyel felt himself shudder, leaning into that touch with aching neediness, craving that connection, that reassurance. "He decided he didn't want an empty bed t'night either, so he's off keepin' himself warm." His voice was very slightly slurred, with the very careful enunciation of someone who's drunk and trying very hard to keep anybody else from noticing.

"Is that alright…?" Vanyel ventured carefully. He could just make out Tylendel's quizzical look—felt him stiffen somewhat, then chuckle, tugging Vanyel closer to his chest.

Vanyel leaned against Tylendel, letting out a long, shaky breath and drinking in the sensation of Tylendel's strong arms around him with more hunger than he could have imagined. I need you. I need this.

"'Course it's alright. What's wrong with enjoying himself a li'l? It gets awfully boring at home, with the same people, half of 'em ones he wouldn't spit at sideways after what happened with me. He deserves something nice." A slight pause, then Tylendel's voice grew a bit more serious. Almost cautious. "… why?"

Vanyel swallowed hard. "Nothing! I was just making sure you were alright. I heard Aunt Savil yelling when I left…"

"Oh, that's nothing different than usual," Tylendel exhaled. "You don't need t' worry about it, Vanyel. There's some things that can't change. I love Savil, but she doesn't like Staven for some reason, an' I told her I wasn't going t' put up with any of it—"

He was getting angry just remembering it. Vanyel could feel it radiating off of him even as Tylendel tightened his arms, keeping Vanyel squeezed close to him.

He felt like he couldn't breathe.

After a long moment, though, Tylendel forced himself to relax, nuzzling into Vanyel's hair, exhaling heavily. Vanyel could smell the wine on his breath.

"S'fine," Tylendel sighed. "I'm sorry, love."

"… it's a lot of stress for you," Vanyel ventured carefully. "When two people you care about don't get along. You must feel pretty torn."

"I guess," Tylendel said hesitantly, that sense of pressure starting to build again. "I just need t'support Staven. After everything he's done for me… I know what I have to do as a Herald, what Savil wants me t'be, but—she doesn't understand. She doesn't understand…" He shifted up one elbow far enough that he could squeeze Vanyel's shoulders, fingertips digging in so hard that Vanyel half-wondered if he'd have bruises later.

Tylendel pulled back to look at him, earnestly trying to read Vanyel's expression in the near-darkness. "You understand, don't you?"

Vanyel stared back at him.

"—of course, 'Lendel," he murmured, after a pause. "He's your brother. Of course I understand how you feel."

It almost wasn't a lie, and Vanyel was rewarded with a dazzling smile that some dark part of him acknowledged that he absolutely didn't deserve.

"I'm so glad," Tylendel murmured, leaning in to rest their foreheads together. "Van… I love you so much. I knew I could count on you. I know Staven is a bit overwhelming, an' this was a bit startling—I wasn't expecting it either, you know, even though we're bonded. He must've been intending to surprise me… don't know why. Ahh, but that's his way, though. But Van, it'll be alright. I got to introduce you. The two most important people in my life… an' Gala, of course, but she always has problems with him…"

He was rambling again, half-drifting. Vanyel took the opportunity to lift his hands carefully to Tylendel's face, brushing back those curls and leaning forward to brush their lips together briefly.

Tylendel fell silent with a soft exhale, lips moving very softly against his.

I love him so much, Vanyel thought, the feeling like a piercing ache in his chest. I can't be mad at him. I need to do whatever I can. To protect this as much as I can.

To protect—him?

"… Gala doesn't know," Tylendel muttered, eyes closed, lips only inches from Vanyel's and only moving slightly. "About my bond with Staven. She knows about it," he added, before Vanyel could say anything, "but not… mmm. Savil, too. You know, most bonds like that, they weaken with distance. Ours never does. All I need t'do is think about him, and I'm there. He's always there… they can't know! If they knew, they'd take it away from me, and then I'd be—"

He fell silent, just staring at Vanyel.

Vanyel stared back at him, equally wide-eyed and frozen, then slowly licked his lips, trying to find his voice. "I won't tell anybody," he promised. He thought about Gala pressing warmly against him while he wept bitterly; he recalled Savil's exhaustion, her praise, her gentle hand on his hair. "I won't tell them about it, 'Lendel, don't worry. You're safe."

They love you too, he thought. Why do you think they'd be worried about something like that, if not to protect you?

Tylendel looked so heartbreakingly relieved that Vanyel could swallow his guilt, forget his concerns, at least for now.

Almost.

"I love you. I love you. Vanyel, my beloved…" Tylendel started to stroke Vanyel's hair again, shifting to get more comfortable, limbs tangled with his. "I'm so happy with you. I hope Staven can understand. I wanted to tell him all about you, but we were—we were out, and I couldn't. But he knows how I feel, you know? Because we're bonded. He has t' like you, because I love you."

Vanyel nodded and smiled, and didn't believe it at all. "I want for him to like me," he said hesitantly. "I'm sorry if I said anything to make either of you angry, earlier."

"Angry?" Tylendel blinked, then kissed Vanyel's forehead. "I could never be angry at you. You're perfect. An' beautiful. My lovely peacock."

His fingers were beginning to trail down Vanyel's neck, amorously toying with his hair. Vanyel felt the mood shift abruptly, just as Tylendel ducked his head to press an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of his jaw, breath hot.

"…let me show you how much?"

Vanyel wanted. His body was responding, a fuzzy sort of warmth spreading through him, chasing away the chill from earlier. He let out a soft gasp in return, automatically turning his head to find 'Lendel's lips with his own, easing into a deep kiss. Tylendel's broad hands were warm on his shoulders, trying to find their way under his nightshirt. Tylendel's knee was sliding between Vanyel's legs, his muscular thigh offering purchase to grind. Tylendel's tongue was heavy in Vanyel's mouth, moving in long, slow drags, sweet with the taste of—

Vanyel broke the kiss with a gasp like a drowning man coming up from underwater and pressed one hand to Tylendel's chest. He lifted the other to Tylendel's lips, fingertips tracing there, fighting a smile that somehow threatened to surface in response to the comically confused look on Tylendel's face. Vanyel tucked back a curl twisted like a question mark that was dangling in front of Tylendel's nose.

"I love you," he said softly. "But it's very late. And it'd be very poor form if you fell asleep in the middle."

Tylendel scoffed, but seemed to acknowledge the sense of this as he felt his eyelids threatening to droop again. "I wouldn't… nnh. Gods, you keep me sensible. I probably would. Then I'd leave you hanging, and I'd never forgive myself."

Vanyel laughed a little, genuine, thumb smoothing across Tylendel's cheek. He watched the gentle humor dancing in 'Lendel's eyes. He gazed at the heavy shadows cast by his long, thick blond lashes. He tangled his fingers in 'Lendel's curls and drank in the sight of 'Lendel breathing softly from between slightly parted lips, still wet from kissing Vanyel so sweetly.

He thought about 'Lendel's goodness, the part of him that wanted to be a Herald—was going to be a Herald. Vanyel thought, both with admiration and dismay, about that part of Tylendel that he couldn't quite understand. He thought about 'Lendel's arms around him as they studied together, slept together, ate together—that protective embrace that seemed to block out everything else and make the painful world outside seem somehow irrelevant.

Vanyel had never even dreamed that he would find anybody that fit so perfectly against him, filling all of his emptiness with warmth and love, smoothing out the parts where he was sharp and broken.

"I love you," he said quietly, even though Tylendel had already started to drift off. The trainee still smiled in response, eyes still closed, and flopped back to get more comfortable in his usual bed-devouring sprawl.

I love you, Vanyel's thought echoed his words as he curled under the blankets, pressing his face into the pillow. "I love you," he murmured again.

Tylendel was already fast asleep, and still didn't answer.

"I need you," Vanyel whispered into the dark.

***
He woke up with a gasp, breathless and confused.

It wasn't yet morning; the dim light filtering in through the curtains was barely brighter than it had been when he'd closed his eyes. It was so quiet that he could clearly hear the occasional snatch of trembling nightingale song from as far away as the grove.

So, what just—?

He felt, more than heard, Tylendel shifting behind him. Vanyel didn't need to roll over to realize that Tylendel was lying curled on his side at the far edge of the bed rather than pressed up against Vanyel like he'd gotten accustomed to. He was shifting occasionally. Rhythmically.

As Vanyel listened, frozen, the rustle of cloth against skin began to be more pronounced, picking up volume and speed.

He heard Tylendel's breath hitch, and all of a sudden Vanyel knew—

Tylendel's beautiful brown eyes, pressed tightly closed. His teeth, catching at his full lower lip, struggling to keep himself from raising his voice. His arm, trapped uncomfortably underneath himself as the other draped over his own side, wrist twisted . His long fingers, sliding down into his own nightclothes, twisting through the damp curls at the juncture of his thighs.

Relief, then. His wide palm rubbed at his aching cock, and his breath shuddered—

Vanyel heard that much—that sharp, keening inhalation. He was frozen in place, hardly daring to move, to breathe. He didn't know why. He didn't need to look. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

This isn't that weird, he thought deliriously. It's absolutely fine if he—I mean, we all touch ourselves. I did turn him down. He probably just—

Tylendel's hand was moving more frantically now. Vanyel felt his cheeks burning. His skin felt alternately hot and cold. Yes. It's fine! No, something's different. Why? He could feel, he could feel—

Tylendel was right there beside him, but for some reason Vanyel could no more turn over to touch him than he could if Tylendel were on the other side of the Palace grounds.

On the other side of the Palace grounds. With—

Murmuring pressure seemed to build and build before finally coming to a head, bursting, and Vanyel blessedly managed to hide his own soft, shuddering cry under the much louder gasp torn free from Tylendel's throat. Vanyel yanked at the sheets next to his head, trembling as it pressed down on him—seemed to pluck him like a harpstring and leave him vibrating.

He heard Tylendel's soft, shuddering breath into the quiet room, clear as a bell:

"Staven…"

Tylendel was quiet after that. A few moments later, he shifted, wiped himself off, tried to move around to get comfortable. There was a long moment where he suddenly seemed to pause—like he was focusing. Looking, listening for something—

Vanyel pressed his eyes tightly closed and tried to block him out. Willed Tylendel not to catch him, not to notice Vanyel's uneven breathing, the tight line of his shoulders, the trembling of his fingertips that he couldn't stop.

Perhaps it worked. Perhaps Tylendel was too spent and drunk and exhausted to notice. He simply let out a sigh, then finally seemed to go still.

Vanyel stared into the darkness until he was certain that Tylendel was asleep—until he could hear the other boy's breathing even out, catching on a soft snore.

And then he simply continued to stare, gazing out somewhere into the dark, mind reeling, until finally sleep claimed him and there was blessedly nothing else.