~*II:Disclaimer:II*~
Well, I obviously don't own anything that has been created by Mercedes Lackey,
also known as Misty. Van, Stef, 'Fandes, Florian, Conal, or Gala, they are all
the creating of Misty. And Bermuda ain't mine either. That is a real island
that—last I heard, it may have changed by now—belongs to England. The idea
that Bermuda is Heaven is also Misty's. Now, there are some people who are
proud to be an American that believe that I am writing rubbish. First of all, if
you are going to insult me, my writing, or flame me for some reason, please,
great, good gods PLEASE! Do so correctly. There is nothing more annoying then
trying to figure out what someone's problem is with what I write. Also, Misty
would _not_ be shocked. Hell, she wouldn't even care. She doesn't read
fanfiction because that's the fasted way to get her ass sued for stealing
someone else's work. So, it really doesn't matter what I write, because
she's not going to read it. I write what I do because I like what I'm
writing, and I want to share what I write with everyone else here. I don't
care if you like it or not, just give me someone to work with, people. Anyways.
So, I'll let you all go and read the next chapter of Bermuda. Oh! This is also
dedicated to my friend, Watershadow, who wanted closure for Gala and
'Lendel…
Vanyel stretched and encountered no stiffness or soreness, and reveled in it.
Being dead certainly had its advantages. And finally have Stefen was an added
plus. The volley ball game yesterday had been fun, but the events after had been
even more fun…
Stefen murmured in his sleep, and Vanyel looked over at him. He was so like his
past self, yet so different. His sun-streaked auburn locks strewn over the
pillow they shared and mingled with his own silver-streaked blue-black tresses.
"Stef," Vanyel whispered into his lover's ear. "Wake up a little,
hmm?"
"Mmm…" Stefen responded, slowly opening his hazel eyes.
Vanyel held his breath at the beauty before him. He even has some of
'Lendel's features…
Stefen smiled sleepily and snuggled closer to the former Herald. "What is it,
_ashke_?"
Vanyel wrapped his arms around the former Bard and rested his chin on Stefen's
head. "We have company today," Van replied.
Stefen looked up at Vanyel, one arm resting under his temple, and the other
draped over Van's hip. "We do, don't we?"
Vanyel nodded and began to climb out of the huge, crimson canopied and
coverleted bed. He heard Stefen chuckle wickedly behind him, and before he had
his wits about him, he found himself pinned beneath the young man.
"Stef—"
"Shush," Stef whispered at Van's lips. "We don't have to get up,
yet…"
Vanyel chuckled and met Stef's lips as he wrapped his arms around the other
man's waist. "True," he said, reluctantly puling away, "but if we start
now, we won't stop for some time."
Stefen sighed and let Vanyel up. "I know."
Vanyel laughed and made his way to the wardrobe they shared, and pulled out two
pairs of breeches and two shirts. They had long ago decided that they both
preferred the clothing of the small island, and would only wear the tunics and
trews that they were used to in life. The breeches that they both don on now
were a tight, blue canvassed weave, with belt loops, and at least five pockets.
Why someone would need that many pockets, Van wasn't sure he wanted to know,
but hey…
The shirts were twins of one another; only Van's was white, and Stef's
scarlet. They were just tight enough to cling to both their torso, and had no
side seams, which was a miraculous wander in Van's mind. The sleeves were
short and the shirt's design was quite simple, forming an "T."
Knock, knock, knock.
"Come on in Florian," Vanyel called as he turned around and finished
righting his shirt. The little door opened to caress the both of them in the
island breeze.
"I am _not_ Florian," Yfandes sniffed. She tossed her dark, black hair and a
merry little fire kindled in her sapphire eyes. She wore white, form-fitted
breeches and her shirt was of a white clingy material. Her feet wore a dark gray
strappy sandals.
Vanyel chuckled. "Sorry, love," he smiled his reply. "We were expecting
them imp about now. He lost the game last night and his bet. He owes us a day in
the practice ring."
Stefen laughed. "Yes, I think with the two of us we _might_ be able to give
him a good work out!"
Yfandes made her way to the vanity that the two men shared and tossed him the
soft bristled brush. The former mage caught it easily and began to drag it
through his tangled black main. "You'd think you'd at least know your own
Companion when she knocked, damned Herald."
Vanyel attacked a particularly stubborn knot as he laughed. "You're right,
love. I'm sorry," he tossed Stefen the brush and kissed Yfandes delicately
on the nose. "Can you ever forgive me?"
Yfandes sniffed again. "I'll think about it." Her eyes began to dance at
her bond mate.
"Hey, try not rub that damned bond of yours in, will you?" came a young
voice from the door.
Vanyel and Yfandes smiled fondly at a young boy, who in turn, smiled at them.
His dark hair was that of the color of dead leaves, and his eyes were the same
sapphire as Yfandes. He also had dressed casually in the clothing of the little
island, the same blue breeches and white shirt as Vanyel.
"I agree," Stefen remarked, coming to the boy's side. "You two are as
bad as lifebond couple!"
Yfandes rolled her eyes and Vanyel shook his head. "You're one to talk,
_shay'kreth'ashke_" Vanyel retorted.
Florian chortled a little. "Still, he is right. I never got to Choose, and he
never got Chosen."
Stefen sighed a little. "Yes, I was. Twice, if you think about it."
"What?" Florian asked, for the life of him all too confused. "How is that
possible? I thought the Herald-Companion bond was eternal, and Stef was a
Bard."
"I was also a Herald, before I was a Bard," Stefen told him, sitting in a
chair next to the open door.
"Stefen was Herald-Mage Tylendel Frelennye," Vanyel added quietly. "He
died when Gala, his Companion repudiated him…" Vanyel sat on the bed as he
tried to pull his hair into a braid to keep it out of his face for the upcoming
weapons practice.
The three friends all grew a silent and haunted look on their faces. Stefen
dropped his head and held it in his hands, sighing softly at the past memories
that weren't exactly his. Vanyel dropped his hair, unfinished, and strode to
the former Bard's side. He knelt and took one of his lover's hands in his
own and kissed the knuckles gently.
"She forgave you," Vanyel murmured, so that only Stefen could hear him.
"Even before she died, she forgave you, she told you that."
"After that," Yfandes continued the story. "When Van and Stef lifebonded,
the bond that Van and I share was extended to Stef. It was the same with Van and
'Lendel, with the bond extending from Gala through Tylendel to Van."
"I didn't want a new Companion after Gala," Stef spoke up, lifting his
head a little to look as Vanyel. "So, I decided I'd never be born a Herald
again."
"But the legend goes that the Death Bell cried for you, and you were buried in
full White," Florian was still confused and was voicing it. "Didn't Gala
forgive you?"
"Of course I did," said a soft voice from behind the boy-Companion. The
child jumped and knocked into Yfandes. A plain girl, not much older than
Florian, with chestnut curls falling in her face chuckled at the startled boy.
She wore white Daisy Dukes and a green strappy shirt. Her feet were bare.
"I…don't get it…" Florian's head snapped from Gala to Stefen and back
again.
The group looked all together perplexed. "I guess you don't know yet,
childling," Yfandes murmured quietly.
Gala leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. "Florian," Gala said
to him. "When a Companion repudiates her Herald, she condemns not only her
Herald in life, but the both of them in death as well, for all eternity."
"So, the Herald-Companion bond is forever broken, and will never be
salvaged," Stefen put in, looking at the former Companion as he rested his
elbows in his knees.
"And with our lifebond, in a way, 'Fandes is also Stef's Companion,"
Vanyel supplied. "Do you see, now?"
Florian nodded slowly. "Yes, I think so."
Gala smiled, "Well, I'm off, children," she said giggling at the
obviousness of her youth. "Just came by to warn you Conal's at it again."
Vanyel rolled his eyes. "He knows how They hate it when he does this. Is he
using that 'I got lost,' again?"
Gala chuckles. "No, this times it's "Heaven is just so big! I forgot that
Velgarth Heaven in over here!'"
The small aggregate of friends all laughed. The sidhe was a common source of
that as of late. Leave it to an elf.
Well, you two," Gala intoned maternally, but her eyes danced mischievously.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
There was a chorus of "And what wouldn't you do," "You do everything,"
"You _rude_ little bitch," and "That's nice Gala. Give them more lee way
than they already have."
Gala left with her giggling in her wake, and singing in their minds, :…down to
Co Como. We'll get there fast and then we'll take it slow…:
Well, I obviously don't own anything that has been created by Mercedes Lackey,
also known as Misty. Van, Stef, 'Fandes, Florian, Conal, or Gala, they are all
the creating of Misty. And Bermuda ain't mine either. That is a real island
that—last I heard, it may have changed by now—belongs to England. The idea
that Bermuda is Heaven is also Misty's. Now, there are some people who are
proud to be an American that believe that I am writing rubbish. First of all, if
you are going to insult me, my writing, or flame me for some reason, please,
great, good gods PLEASE! Do so correctly. There is nothing more annoying then
trying to figure out what someone's problem is with what I write. Also, Misty
would _not_ be shocked. Hell, she wouldn't even care. She doesn't read
fanfiction because that's the fasted way to get her ass sued for stealing
someone else's work. So, it really doesn't matter what I write, because
she's not going to read it. I write what I do because I like what I'm
writing, and I want to share what I write with everyone else here. I don't
care if you like it or not, just give me someone to work with, people. Anyways.
So, I'll let you all go and read the next chapter of Bermuda. Oh! This is also
dedicated to my friend, Watershadow, who wanted closure for Gala and
'Lendel…
Vanyel stretched and encountered no stiffness or soreness, and reveled in it.
Being dead certainly had its advantages. And finally have Stefen was an added
plus. The volley ball game yesterday had been fun, but the events after had been
even more fun…
Stefen murmured in his sleep, and Vanyel looked over at him. He was so like his
past self, yet so different. His sun-streaked auburn locks strewn over the
pillow they shared and mingled with his own silver-streaked blue-black tresses.
"Stef," Vanyel whispered into his lover's ear. "Wake up a little,
hmm?"
"Mmm…" Stefen responded, slowly opening his hazel eyes.
Vanyel held his breath at the beauty before him. He even has some of
'Lendel's features…
Stefen smiled sleepily and snuggled closer to the former Herald. "What is it,
_ashke_?"
Vanyel wrapped his arms around the former Bard and rested his chin on Stefen's
head. "We have company today," Van replied.
Stefen looked up at Vanyel, one arm resting under his temple, and the other
draped over Van's hip. "We do, don't we?"
Vanyel nodded and began to climb out of the huge, crimson canopied and
coverleted bed. He heard Stefen chuckle wickedly behind him, and before he had
his wits about him, he found himself pinned beneath the young man.
"Stef—"
"Shush," Stef whispered at Van's lips. "We don't have to get up,
yet…"
Vanyel chuckled and met Stef's lips as he wrapped his arms around the other
man's waist. "True," he said, reluctantly puling away, "but if we start
now, we won't stop for some time."
Stefen sighed and let Vanyel up. "I know."
Vanyel laughed and made his way to the wardrobe they shared, and pulled out two
pairs of breeches and two shirts. They had long ago decided that they both
preferred the clothing of the small island, and would only wear the tunics and
trews that they were used to in life. The breeches that they both don on now
were a tight, blue canvassed weave, with belt loops, and at least five pockets.
Why someone would need that many pockets, Van wasn't sure he wanted to know,
but hey…
The shirts were twins of one another; only Van's was white, and Stef's
scarlet. They were just tight enough to cling to both their torso, and had no
side seams, which was a miraculous wander in Van's mind. The sleeves were
short and the shirt's design was quite simple, forming an "T."
Knock, knock, knock.
"Come on in Florian," Vanyel called as he turned around and finished
righting his shirt. The little door opened to caress the both of them in the
island breeze.
"I am _not_ Florian," Yfandes sniffed. She tossed her dark, black hair and a
merry little fire kindled in her sapphire eyes. She wore white, form-fitted
breeches and her shirt was of a white clingy material. Her feet wore a dark gray
strappy sandals.
Vanyel chuckled. "Sorry, love," he smiled his reply. "We were expecting
them imp about now. He lost the game last night and his bet. He owes us a day in
the practice ring."
Stefen laughed. "Yes, I think with the two of us we _might_ be able to give
him a good work out!"
Yfandes made her way to the vanity that the two men shared and tossed him the
soft bristled brush. The former mage caught it easily and began to drag it
through his tangled black main. "You'd think you'd at least know your own
Companion when she knocked, damned Herald."
Vanyel attacked a particularly stubborn knot as he laughed. "You're right,
love. I'm sorry," he tossed Stefen the brush and kissed Yfandes delicately
on the nose. "Can you ever forgive me?"
Yfandes sniffed again. "I'll think about it." Her eyes began to dance at
her bond mate.
"Hey, try not rub that damned bond of yours in, will you?" came a young
voice from the door.
Vanyel and Yfandes smiled fondly at a young boy, who in turn, smiled at them.
His dark hair was that of the color of dead leaves, and his eyes were the same
sapphire as Yfandes. He also had dressed casually in the clothing of the little
island, the same blue breeches and white shirt as Vanyel.
"I agree," Stefen remarked, coming to the boy's side. "You two are as
bad as lifebond couple!"
Yfandes rolled her eyes and Vanyel shook his head. "You're one to talk,
_shay'kreth'ashke_" Vanyel retorted.
Florian chortled a little. "Still, he is right. I never got to Choose, and he
never got Chosen."
Stefen sighed a little. "Yes, I was. Twice, if you think about it."
"What?" Florian asked, for the life of him all too confused. "How is that
possible? I thought the Herald-Companion bond was eternal, and Stef was a
Bard."
"I was also a Herald, before I was a Bard," Stefen told him, sitting in a
chair next to the open door.
"Stefen was Herald-Mage Tylendel Frelennye," Vanyel added quietly. "He
died when Gala, his Companion repudiated him…" Vanyel sat on the bed as he
tried to pull his hair into a braid to keep it out of his face for the upcoming
weapons practice.
The three friends all grew a silent and haunted look on their faces. Stefen
dropped his head and held it in his hands, sighing softly at the past memories
that weren't exactly his. Vanyel dropped his hair, unfinished, and strode to
the former Bard's side. He knelt and took one of his lover's hands in his
own and kissed the knuckles gently.
"She forgave you," Vanyel murmured, so that only Stefen could hear him.
"Even before she died, she forgave you, she told you that."
"After that," Yfandes continued the story. "When Van and Stef lifebonded,
the bond that Van and I share was extended to Stef. It was the same with Van and
'Lendel, with the bond extending from Gala through Tylendel to Van."
"I didn't want a new Companion after Gala," Stef spoke up, lifting his
head a little to look as Vanyel. "So, I decided I'd never be born a Herald
again."
"But the legend goes that the Death Bell cried for you, and you were buried in
full White," Florian was still confused and was voicing it. "Didn't Gala
forgive you?"
"Of course I did," said a soft voice from behind the boy-Companion. The
child jumped and knocked into Yfandes. A plain girl, not much older than
Florian, with chestnut curls falling in her face chuckled at the startled boy.
She wore white Daisy Dukes and a green strappy shirt. Her feet were bare.
"I…don't get it…" Florian's head snapped from Gala to Stefen and back
again.
The group looked all together perplexed. "I guess you don't know yet,
childling," Yfandes murmured quietly.
Gala leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. "Florian," Gala said
to him. "When a Companion repudiates her Herald, she condemns not only her
Herald in life, but the both of them in death as well, for all eternity."
"So, the Herald-Companion bond is forever broken, and will never be
salvaged," Stefen put in, looking at the former Companion as he rested his
elbows in his knees.
"And with our lifebond, in a way, 'Fandes is also Stef's Companion,"
Vanyel supplied. "Do you see, now?"
Florian nodded slowly. "Yes, I think so."
Gala smiled, "Well, I'm off, children," she said giggling at the
obviousness of her youth. "Just came by to warn you Conal's at it again."
Vanyel rolled his eyes. "He knows how They hate it when he does this. Is he
using that 'I got lost,' again?"
Gala chuckles. "No, this times it's "Heaven is just so big! I forgot that
Velgarth Heaven in over here!'"
The small aggregate of friends all laughed. The sidhe was a common source of
that as of late. Leave it to an elf.
Well, you two," Gala intoned maternally, but her eyes danced mischievously.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
There was a chorus of "And what wouldn't you do," "You do everything,"
"You _rude_ little bitch," and "That's nice Gala. Give them more lee way
than they already have."
Gala left with her giggling in her wake, and singing in their minds, :…down to
Co Como. We'll get there fast and then we'll take it slow…: