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Assassins.
In the castle.
In his home.
Attacking his friends, his allies…
He’d lived a version of this once before and while it was nowhere near the blood bath from five years ago, he felt like the edges of his world were crumbling around him as he struggled to stay in the present.
It could’ve been Cassandra they were after. They could’ve killed her. The terrible, unhelpful thought popped up in his mind and it nearly took his breath away.
“Fuck,” Percy hissed, his hands curling uselessly into fists. Realistically, he knew everyone was safe, had seen it all with his own eyes, and held it together so brilliantly while they’d taken stock after the Rakshasa attack.
But now, in his workshop alone, he found himself listening for Sylas’s voice, Ripley’s cruel laugh, anything…anything…
Putting Vex’s broom down for a moment, he walked to the door of his workshop, thrust the door open, and there, stood poised to knock, was his sister.
“Cassandra?” he rasped. Looking her over, he started to assess her for injury, his heart slamming against his chest every agonizing second as he waited for something to be wrong. “Are you…are you hurt? Are you all right?”
“I’m not hurt, but I’m not all right.”
Her admission was so quiet that he figured anyone else would have missed it. But he was already feeling that way as well. With a sad smile, he murmured, “Nor I, sister dearest.”
“Are you…did the assassins…” His sister hadn’t been afraid ordering the guards around, she hadn’t been afraid as she’d taken in what happened to Vax, but he could see the fear in her eyes now.
Percy allowed himself to stand perfectly still and let his sister check him over the way that he had just searched for injury, any sign of quavering voice or spot of red. “I’m fine,” he promised. “Just…” He ran his hand through his hair and looked about fruitlessly. “Just some ghosts I can’t seem to shake.”
“For better or for worse you aren’t alone in that.” Cassandra gave him a half-hearted smile, but he could already the toll the evening had taken on her. She shifted nervously from foot to foot before asking softly, “I know you’re working on something...” She paused again, shoulders drawn up as if she were afraid she’d be rejected. “Can I stay with you for a little while, Percy?”
His workshop normally was a sacred place, where very few if none were allowed to enter. It was the place he went to clear his mind, to keep himself present and focused. The work he did was dangerous, and it needed all of his attention. But somehow he knew, if he shut Cassandra out now, he would just spend the rest of the night worrying about her.
And maybe having a living, breathing de Rolo beside him would quiet some of the ghosts in his head for the evening.
“Of course,” he told her, and his heart warmed at the way her eyes lit up. “Shall I make you some tea?” He stepped back to let her into his workroom. Her eyes seemed to eagerly soak up every bit of what was in there, and it reminded him of the pudgy-faced toddler who had watched him with the most awe-inspired look on her face when he gifted her something new.
“I’m working on something for Vex’ahlia,” he began explaining, closing the door behind them. “Every time she does something reckless on this flying broom of hers, I lose seven years off of my lifespan.”
“No wonder your hair is so grey,” Cassandra quipped, settling down in a comfortable chair in the corner of Percy’s workshop. She tucked her knees against her chest, looking at her brother curiously. “I’ve learned that none of you in Vox Machina are particularly careful.”
There was a haunted look in her eyes when Percy handed her the tea.
Sighing, he sat across from her. “No,” he admitted with a wry but fond smile. “We are not careful, and that’s not liable to change, I suppose. And while the danger hasn’t changed, while what we do hasn’t changed much…” He folded his fingers together as he formulated what he wanted to say next.
“Before, it was my revenge that kept me going. I was not allowed to die because I hadn’t killed the Briarwoods, hadn’t killed Ripley. And while I still haven’t killed Ripley…there are so many things I have to atone for. And I’m finding more and more…that I would’ve died for my revenge. But this life is something I’m starting to think I want to live for.”
“You can’t die,” Cassandra murmured childishly. He looked at her, quirking an eyebrow, and she added, “I already have enough around here to do. The amount of paperwork alone your death would cause would probably take weeks to finish.”
“I know.” In spite of himself, his voice softened as he sat across from his sister. “If it’s too much…”
“What? You’ll take it? And then who will be there to shoot the dragons? Or fix things for your Vex’ahlia if you’re stuck here in Whitestone?”
“She’s not my—she’s just a ---!” Percy spluttered, leaning back in his chair. The more he protested, the higher his sister’s eyebrows went. She merely took a sip of her tea while Percy tried to control the redness of his face.
And then suddenly, her eyes were full of sadness. “Ginger?” she asked softly, putting the cup down.
Percy’s lip quivered slightly, his face falling. “I’d forgotten it was mother’s favorite until I tasted it the first time too. I like the sharp flavor, it…it keeps me awake more than anything, but also…”
“She used to tell me that if you gave yourself a moment, you could think your way through any problem. I remember if she ever needed to think of what to say next, she’d always sip on her tea,” Cassandra replied, putting the cup and saucer on a nearby table. “Only, her advice was used to figure out how best to surprise you or play a prank on Ludwig…”
“She used to tell me the same thing,” he recalled, leaning back into his chair. He ran a hand over his face. “She…when I would get stuck, she’d listen with rapt attention, even if she didn’t understand. And she said if there was ever a time where she wasn’t around…” He gestured helplessly back toward Cassandra.
Cassandra looked away for a moment, back over the door as if she expected another assassin to pop through at any moment. “Do you ever feel like it should’ve been one of the others? Vesper or Julian? Mother and Father? Instead of you and I.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “All the time.” Hastily, he clarified, “Me, though. Not you. I am so grateful that you survived that I am almost willing to become a servant of a deity, should one ever claim responsibility for your health and wellness…though, by that logic they’d also have a lot to account for and I would warrant a thorough explanation as to why they did not intervene on your behalf earlier before I pledged my fealty to them.”
She barked out a laugh in spite of herself, shifting a little closer to him as the smile on her face went from something tense to something soft and real. She knew better than to take Percy at his word when it came to serving a god, but she understood the intent behind his words and his meaning. “You should know I feel the same about you, brother…I am so thankful you survived. That’s why I was so terrified tonight…I wasn’t scared for me. I was scared for you .”
“Well, of us all, half the group has died once and they’ve all come back just fine,” Percy said glibly.
Cassandra looked at him for a long moment, before coming to a realization of her own. “Including your Vex’ahlia.”
“For the last time, she’s not my…” Percy started irritably, before sighing, running a hand over his face. “But yes. She…fell. And It was my fault.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” she protested.
“Unfortunately, it is. As is the truth of many, many other shameful things I am responsible for,” Percy said sadly, looking away. He didn’t even notice his sister watching him intently until she came over and wrapped her arms around him, gently putting her chin on his shoulder. “I’m sorry .”
“You can make it up to me by staying alive,” Cassandra whispered, burrowing her face in her brother’s coat for a moment. “You can’t die, Percy.”
“A de Rolo alone in the world is a terrible thing, isn’t it?” he responded, his voice just as soft as he held her close for a moment.
“It is. We don’t make good choices when we think we’re left alone to our own devices,” Cassandra agreed, curling in a little bit closer to him.
They’d both been without this connection for so long. Although he could tell that his sister was still skittish where physical touch and affection were concerned, she still leaned into it, knowing it was him, knowing she was safe. It was almost as if she could physically anchor him to her and keep her rooted to Whitestone as well.
Vox Machina had taught him, was teaching him, how to accept their affections though he was not quite the best at initiating it himself. But for his sister, the one link left of his family, he felt the need to try in a way that their family hadn’t really before.
If he was honest—though he could not entertain this thought often as he was sure it would bring him to his knees if he entertained this thought for too long—he had forgotten what his mother’s hugs felt like. The peal of Whitney’s laughter was faint, somewhat distorted by age and time and trauma. The furrow of Julian’s eyebrows when he was trying to figure something out, the way Ludwig liked to sing, the warmth of his father’s hand, Oliver’s little gasps of excitement when watching Percy work…
These were little things that he did not take for granted with Vox Machina. The curve of Vax’s smirk, the way Vex giggled when she found something particularly charming, the gleam in Grog’s eye before a fight, Scanlan’s way with words, Pike’s armored but still so gentle touches…
And he made sure to file away the weight of his sister in his arms as a thing that he would not take for granted either.
After all, he’d already lost her once, and he’d make damn sure not to do it again.
And if he could not ensure his safety in battle, he would make sure he could give her some memories to lock away for herself, something that cast him as anything other than the aloof older brother that kept himself at an arm’s distance from everyone.
“I love you very much, Cassandra,” he told her.
“Are you dying?” Cassandra laughed wetly, pulling away to look him over again. “Or perhaps you hit your head during the fight?”
“No, I just…” Percy sighed, equally as shaky as he looked over at her. “Feeling somewhat sentimental is all.”
“That’s so out of character for you.”
“Blame the others,” he muttered wryly, and she laughed, gently butting her head against his. He took a handkerchief and handed it to her. She dabbed at her eyes neatly before handing the handkerchief back to her brother.
He swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked out over Vex’ahlia’s broom. “I’ve nearly lost some of them before and after what we’ve lost…well, only a fool makes the same mistakes twice.” His voice became firm, his eyes flashing like steel for a moment before they softened. “I don’t want to lose you twice either.”
“You won’t lose me, and I know now that I am important to you, even if I let the Briarwoods convince me otherwise,” Cassandra whispered, and even though that was a promise she couldn’t make, it was a promise she was willing to try for. But unable to help herself, she added with a smirk, “Even if you do end up with your Vex’ahlia and I have to compete for your affections.”
It was worth it to see Percy turn bright red now, not even denying anything, just sputtering like an overheated teapot.
She expertly moved out of her brother’s arms to sit back in the chair and take her tea. “When you get married, you’ll have to serve the lemon cakes that we used to have in the summer, they’re my favorite.”
“I despise you,” Percy groaned, burying his hands in his face. He felt the kiss to the top of his head and he glowered up at his sister half-heartedly.
“You don’t,” she crowed triumphantly. “Good night, Percival.”
“Good night, Cassandra.”
On the day he married Vex’ahlia, in that small ceremony in Whitestone, he made sure to bake a lemon cake for Cassandra himself and give it to her.
Which, naturally, only ended with her hurling a pillow at him when she realized he’d gotten married without her there.