Well, the title kinda sucks, but I wasn't sure what else to call it. This is about Mercedes Lackey's character Vanyel, from her Last Herald-Mage books (and as such, the character, et cetera are copyrighted by her)--and is just what he might have been thinking about one night while visiting Forst Reach, after having lived in Haven for many years.

I stand beside the fire
at my long-abandoned home,
At rest for once, relaxing,
since I do not have to roam.
The flames dance just like courtiers,
in Haven's castle grand,
And burn just like my anger
at my father's ruthless hand.

Growing up at Forst Reach was
like growing up in Hell,
And still those demons haunt my dreams
like an evil witch's spell.
My father wanted me to be
the man that I could not,
And still just barely glimpses
all the lessons life has taught.

I know you cannot be a thing
that is just not who you are--
He haultingly accepts that,
now that I've stopped many a war.
But still I see his flashing eye,
the questions he won't speak,
And remember just the torture
of one boy small and weak.

I tried to please my father--
and Jervis--what a fool--
But gave up fin'ly one dark day,
in my armour hard and cool.
"Forst" is "frost" misspelled,
and frost was once my shield,
And still today it hurts to think
of the love that made it yield.

Another love I've found at last--
my dad still thinks it's wrong--
Asleep upon my bed of old,
a man of Bardic song.
While here I test the nighttime's length,
and sleep escapes my eyes,
Burned off by the fire,
frightened by my sighs.

Too well I know the price
that magic must demand,
Too well I know the pain
that magic can command.
No release I've found to date
for my past of pain and fear,
And still my hell is solely in
the walls in this house here.

I stand beside the fire
at my long-abandoned home,
At rest for once, not moving,
since I do not have to roam.
The flames are hypnotizing,
and warm upon my thighs,
As I wait for sleep to come,
and close my bloodshot eyes.