Work Text:
Medren walks through the polished halls of the palace with some trepidation. A summons from the King's own could only mean a few things, most of which involved Stefen.
When he knocks, he hears a high-pitched squeal on the other side of the door. Opening it, he sees little Chalie sitting on a brightly colored quilt, enthusiastically smashing blocks together.
Behind the desk, Jisa looks up from mounds of paperwork and gives him a wan smile. Medren pauses. Sometimes, when the light struck her just right, she reminded him of Uncle Van. He just could never put his finger on how.
Sighing, he steps over a block and into the office. "Bad day?"
"He’s isolating himself again. Can you go check on him?" She shakes her head. "He'd been doing so much better, after that cute healer I had hoped—" Another squeal cut her off.
"He's never going to be better, you know that."
"I know that, it's just on days like this, it's like it's not him. He was always so—" She makes a broad gesture before continuing, "so Stef."
Medren shakes his head with a quiet sigh. "He's still Stef, there's just less of him now."
Medren walks into his uncle's old room. At times like this, he wished that Stef had been forced to move out. It had seemed a kindness to let him return to the rooms he shared with Van, but now it seemed to be holding him back. Although what it was holding him back from Medren couldn’t tell you.
Blinking into the gloom, he sees a small, hunched figure in 'his' chair, still sat across from one forever waiting for its owner.
"Hey," he calls quietly. Depending on how lost Stefen was, it wasn't hard to startle him. There had been only once when Medren had tried to shake him awake. Stefen— somewhere between dreaming and awake—had thought he was Vanyel. It had lasted only a heartbeat, then the small, soft smile dropped off his face.
That had turned into a bad week.
Today, though, he saw movement in this chair, so he crossed over to the windows. With deliberate purposefulness, he opened the curtains.
Behind him came a quiet voice, so raw that he doubted anyone would ever guess that it was one of the finest Bards in the kingdom. "Van loved to open the curtains. It was so annoying when I was trying to sleep in."
"He did. He told me that after living with the Hawkbrothers, he always had to have fresh air every day." With that,t Medren cranked open a few of the windows, the late summer breeze just enough to stir the stale air. "You met them, didn't you? Back home?"
Stefen makes a noncommittal noise behind him. Turning, Medren hid his wince at Stef's condition. "Now, I'm calling for dinner, and you're going to go get cleaned up."
"Yes, ma."
Stefen's sarcasm aside, it took Medren channeling all of his mother to get Stefen moving. As Stefen disappeared out the door, Medren squashed his anxiety. After that last trip north, Stefen had sworn that he didn't have intentions of ending his life anymore. Even so, Medren worried about the temptations a forgotten razor in the bathing room might present to a man in Stefen's mindset.
Medren was just portioning out plates when Stef finally returned. Glancing over, he saw that Stefen didn't look much better now than he did unbathed- every line of him radiated pain and misery.
Still, Medren wasn't a trained performer for nothing. "There you are, you have to feel better, all cleaned up." He waited to see if there would be some comment about the kyree or that one hot springs trip, but all he got in return was a short snort, and Medren met his always distant eyes. There’s just less of him now.
Sitting, he passed Stefen his plate and relaxed slightly when Stefen actually started to eat. Once he was more than halfway done, Medren finally cleared his throat. "So, you know my rooms in the new wing, they're quite airy. Overlooking the Companion's field is nice as well." Medren paused, but Stefen kept eating. "Gendy next door is getting married—you've heard that?" Stefen nodded vaguely. "She's moving out—"
"No."
"Stef—"
"No, Medren, we've discussed this."
"Stef—"
Stefen's voice takes on a high whining note, "Stef, move on Stef. It's been a month, Stef. It's been six months, Stef. It's been a year, Stef. Isn't it weird living with all of his stuff, Stef? Isn't it weird living with the Heralds, Stef?" With a great sigh, he drops his plate with a clatter on the table, then slouches back in the chair like a puppet with cut strings.
"Are you done?" At Stef's short nod, Medren took a deep breath and gazed firmly at the table between them. He hasn't been looking forward to this, but it was long past time to say it. I really am turning into my mother.
"Uncle Van is never coming home." Across from him, Stefen makes a short noise like a wounded animal. "I wish that he would. Every pair of boots I hear walking down the hallway makes me want to look to the door, but he is never coming home. I can't imagine what it's like for you, sitting here, day after day like you're waiting on him."
Taking a second to collect himself, Medren risked a glance at Stefen, but he was looking at a point somewhere over Medren's right ear. He wasn't crying. Medren would worry less if he were. "When you got back, you told me that you would live. Stefen, this isn't living."
Stefen still didn't reply, and Medren reached out to clasp his hands, offering what little solace he could. The pair lapsed into silence as the shadows grew long and the room dim.
"You mentioned the Hawkbrothers."
Medren started, thrown by the seeming non-sequitur and the dry rasp of his friend's voice. Looking over, he could just make out his backlit figure in the twilight gloom. "Hawkbrothers?"
"Earlier."
"Oh yes, with the windows."
"They don't know about—" Stef's breath hitched. "I don't know how to tell them. Van knew, Sa-Savil knew, but they're—"
"It's been five years, surely they would have realized," Medren said gently, wondering where Stefen was going with this. In these moods, there was never any way to tell.
Stefen shook his head. "It's important. Brightstar is—was—" Stefen shook his head again.
Medren waited to see if there were any more before venturing, "Not many people seek them out. Maybe you could ask the traders? They might know."
"I've tried that. But I had a thought, earlier, in the baths. The kryee could. I'm almost sure of it. If they couldn't, then they would know who could."
"The kyree? The wolf-creatures you ran across just south of the Pass?" Medren considered this from every angle. This was perhaps not the worst idea; it would get Stefen focused on something and away from Haven. Maybe it would even bring some closure. "Well, it's been five years. Maybe it's time for a memorial trip."
"Memorial trip?" Stefen's eyes refocused on Medren from that point just over his shoulder. Looking, Medren only saw Van's odd collection of masks.
"A trip to the north. You'll have to leave soon, winter comes much sooner that far north, but you should still be able to make it by fall. And then on the way back, you can sing your new songs about heroic Heralds. We've mostly been concentrating on the south so far."
Stefen nodded, looking more animated than he had all evening. Maybe this would do him some good. One thing is for certain, Medren is not looking forward to explaining this to Jisa.