Chapter Text
In another lifetime, the bastard daughter of a mid-level diplomat is given away to a city-state with an ancient name and a monopoly on an interesting building material.
The de Rolos accept this gift, though they see it for the insult it is. They even accept her brother when he arrives, haggard from travel and wielding a dagger he does not yet know how to use. The de Rolos collect useful people; they do not know that it will be their downfall, but while they live, it is their strength.
Lord de Rolo makes it clear to Vex'ahlia that she is her own woman; he does not need to make it clear that he will marry her to Percival anyway. That is obvious to Vex from the start, and she doesn't know what to do other than pack it away, keep it as a thing to plan for later. If she wants to escape her fate, there is still time.
At first, Vax wants to flee, run back to their mother's side, and twice he comes to Vex with travelling clothes already on. Vex almost goes, but something pulls her away, holds her in Whitestone. She convinces Vax to be happy with letters from their mother, promises of a visit that Vex knows is unlikely. Their mother sent them to Syngorn for a better life, and Whitestone is much better than Syngorn. Surely this is preferable to living in a poverty that none of them have the power to lift, not until Vex has de Rolo money.
In the end, Vax would do anything for Vex, so they stay.
As the wedding draws closer, Vex learns. They teach her how to dance and dress and hold court. Vesper teaches her the bow, how to cooly lead her target and fire. She is taught the kinds of things necessary for good conversation, how to be interesting and polite and ornamental. These lessons are boring, but she understands their utility, knows that her poise may be all that she has to wield one day.
The most important things she learns, she learns with no teaching. She learns what it means to be feared. She learns what it means to be adored. She learns that the power of it is the same, the thrill that goes through her. She learns, as she does in every lifetime, how to wrap people around her little finger and exploit what comes of that without mercy.
Though she knows it was not her father's intention, she makes a good match for Percival. Their personalities complement each other; he seems to understand her taste for power, and it doesn't bother him in the slightest that she should enjoy what she's due. He interests her, and she finds herself looking over his shoulder while he works, listening to him talk, sharing a quiet moment here and there. She doesn't know if she loves him- she certainly doesn't love him like she loves Vax- and she doesn't know if loving him even matters. But she thinks for now she might let herself enjoy all of this.
And in yet another lifetime it ends like this: Vex'ahlia and Vax'ildan and every last de Rolo live happily but uneventfully in Whitestone for the rest of their days, dying peacefully after a long life.
That's a third lifetime, not the one we're discussing. Keep up.
In this lifetime, the corruption of the Briarwoods creeps into Whitestone like fog, insinuates itself before Sylas and Delilah even arrive. Professor Anders leads the way, and the rest of the monsters follow behind. And there is that night, the night that the Briarwoods sit across the table from the de Rolos, the night that Vex watches the head of Whitestone be messily sawed off. At the end, no one stands but Percy, Vex, and Vax.
It's only a few hours before Vex starts wishing she had died instead.
In her cell, she sits and she listens. She hears every moment of Percy's screaming, every time Vax begs Ripley for death. She swallows it up like poison, until it fills every inch of her, seeps into her blood, her very flesh. She knows even then that there is no going back from this, that something about her will be tainted forever.
Vax is the one that gets them out, clever, brave Vax who picks the lock and overpowers the guard. The time he buys them is enough for Percy and Vex, but not enough for himself; Vex watches him fall, and she vows in that instant to put an arrow through the Briarwoods for every single shaft that pierces him. She tries to go back and do it right then, damn the consequences, but Percy grabs her hand and they run and run and run.
They run until they can't, through streambeds and forests and farms, the ground under Vex's feet the only thing that makes any sense. They eventually collapse under a tree by a stream, a place that might be pretty if she had any ability to appreciate it. She holds tightly to Percy as they sleep, rousing over and over to make sure he's still there, that the only thing she saved cannot slip away.
She wakes up and the world has not ended; she wakes up and things are proceeding as usual, as if a piece of her heart has not been seared away, replaced with ash. Percy seems just as confused.
"We'll find your mother," Percy says. "Word will get to your father first that we're dead, and we might want to keep it that way."
"I don't care if all of fucking Syngorn thinks I died," Vex says. "The fewer people who know we got out, the easier it will be to keep from arousing those animals' suspicion."
"My thoughts exactly," Percy says. "To Byroden, then."
--
Weeks pass before they make it to Vex's childhood home, Byroden a shining beacon as they steal and haggle and cheat to get enough money to survive the trip. Most nights are just like the first one, where Vex clings to him jealously and wakes surprised that a new day has dawned.
Eventually they arrive in Byroden, and there is no Byroden.
Somehow, it feels easier; there is nothing left inside of her to feel sorrow or pain. She looks at the burned-out shell that was once her home, and it's like looking in a mirror, like anything good in her has been gutted.
Percy slips his hand into hers, and she squeezes it so tightly that it hurts.
--
A few more weeks pass as they wander, unmoored, no lodestar to guide them home, no home to be guided to. Vex wins a bow in a bet, and things are better after that, food and safety available in the woods as they try to piece some semblance of a life back together.
"I had a dream," Percy says one day, as they divide a loaf of bread that Vex bargained for. She almost makes a joke, but then she thinks of her own dreams, ink-black things that she would do anything to be rid of. "At least, I think it was a dream."
"What kind of dream?" Vex asks, nibbling at her bread slowly.
"I met something, or someone, made out of smoke," Percy says. "He promised me vengeance as long as I fed him the souls of the people who wronged me."
A cold feeling settles in Vex's stomach. "What did you say?"
He looks her straight in the eye. "I told him I wasn't doing anything without you."
"And what did he say?" she asks, rapt.
"He said he'll take both of us," he says. "After all, don't we both have it coming?"
Vex forces herself to take another bite of bread, to act as if she wouldn't leap at the chance. "Perhaps if it happens again, we should hear what he has to offer," she says, casually enough that Percy can decide for himself whether she's serious.
Percy doesn't say anything; he just studies her for a moment and goes back to his bread.
But the "dream" comes back, and this time Vex is in it too; she doesn't know how Percy mistook it for a dream, unless all his dreams are this bad. There is a swirling, smoky thing around them, filling every space, until all Vex can see is Percy's face in the darkness.
"You want revenge," a voice says. "I can see it in you."
"You wouldn't be here if we didn't," Vex says; she doesn't know if that's true, but she'd say anything to turn it back around on him, make him aware that she does this on her own terms.
"Perhaps," the voice says. "But I am here, and I will give you what you so desperately crave. All I ask is a pittance, something you were going to throw away."
Vex looks over, and she knows enough of Percy's tells to know that he's scared out of his mind. She realizes just then that she's not scared. She'd do anything to have power again, to wrest control of her life away from the fate she's been left with. If she can't have that, she'll take revenge any day of the week.
"You are bound together already," the voice says. "Bind yourselves to me."
"Yes," Vex says; she regrets her lack of hesitation when Percy doesn't say anything, but finally he reaches out, finding her hand even through the dreamlike expanse that surrounds them.
"Do it," Percy says, and Vex feels something flash within her, like the bond has been made physical. The smoke laughs, low and pleased, the sound shaking her resolve, but in moments she is awake, Percy next to her.
He reaches for her, because what's done is done. This was how it was always going to be, ever since her father gave her away all those years ago, ever since she stayed in Whitestone with Percy instead of running. This is the consummation that was always coming, sealing them together, though not under circumstances anyone could have anticipated.
She wakes with Percy beside her and a head full of plans.
It's a long story how the SHITs end up escaping from jail, part of a much longer story as to why they're together in the first place, but the important part is this: Pike, Keyleth, Tiberius, Scanlan, and Grog have just knocked out a set of guards and stolen a set of keys, and they are now making their way with all due speed towards the exit.
They turn down another long corridor lined with mostly empty cells, and Keyleth is starting to lose track of the hallways, unsure whether it's two or three more levels up before they hit freedom.
"Pardon me," a voice says from one of the cells. "But if you're mounting an escape, we'd love to join."
"We're old hands at escaping," another one says. "Don't let our current state fool you."
Keyleth pulls up short, looking for the source of the voices. "Who said that?" she asks warily.
"Over here," the first voice says, and she sees a man in shackles sitting against the wall of one of the cells. His hair is stark white, though he looks much too young for it. His clothes were nice once, but by now they show the evidence of having been repaired a few dozen times. Despite his shabby appearance, he holds himself straight and proud, like this is all a temporary setback instead of a dank prison.
"Hello there," Keyleth says, peering in at him, the rest of the group stopping to look. "And you are?"
"Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the third," he says, which is a lot of name for someone in a jail cell. He gestures across the way, to where another figure sits in chains, a woman in brown leathers with wide streaks of white in her black hair. "And this is my wife, Vex'ahlia."
"Charmed," Vex'ahlia says dryly.
"And if you wouldn't mind retrieving my gun and her bow, we'll happily pull our weight in any escape you might be planning," he says.
"What's a gun?" Grog asks.
"Excellent question," Percival says. "If you help us, I'll provide you with an extensive explanation. You seem like a clever one."
Grog draws himself up. "I am a high-minded scrawler," he says. He waves a hand imperiously. "Set them free."
"I think we should be a little more discerning in who we take with us," Scanlan says. "Not that it wasn't good to meet these fine folks, but we have business elsewhere."
"We can't just let them stay," Pike chides. "People are being left to die in here." She looks over. "Plus Tiberius is already letting them go."
Percival rubs at his wrists when the manacles come off, but he takes Tiberius's hand and lets himself be levered up. "My name is Tiberius Stormwind," Tiberius says. "I'm from Draconia." He waves his hand and most of the grime on Percival's clothing disappears. "Hmph. That's a bit better, yes. Right this way."
Tiberius does the same for Vex'ahlia, complete with introduction and prestidigitation, and she gives him a wink for his trouble. The first thing she does is go to Percival's side, putting a hand on his back as she studies her saviors with a keen eye. Percival puts an arm around her, holding her close to him for a long moment and kissing her hair. Keyleth almost wants to look away, because the moment seems so private, but it's over before she can.
"Well, shall we?" Percival says. "To the left is the warden's locker and the entrance to the tunnels, unless you want to try running out the front gate in the middle of the day?"
"See," Grog says, nudging Scanlan. "Intelligent people like us recognize each other." He executes what might be a bow. "Lead on, my fine gentleman."