#HJDKHDJKS I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS AAAAAA

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congrats on 5000 followers! for a prompt: what would have happened if vex said yes to saundor in the feywild?

…….this got….extremely tragic (but the ending is happy!!)

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They take Fenthras and go, knowing that the shadow of the Conclave loomed closer, an ever-present threat. They returned to Whitestone, found the ruins of Draconia, and soon made their way to the streets of Ank’harel.

“You look good, Stubby,” at one point, Vax jokingly said. “Sort of like a forest threw up on your head.”

“Hey, I was about to say that too!” Keyleth giggled. “It’s very…druid-y. Pretty.”

“Floral,” Scanlan added.

And Vex had laughed, a sweet sound as always, but now tinged with honeysuckle, a summer breeze.

And then, Percy died.

He collapsed into the sand and after the battle, Vex knelt at his side. The dryness of the beach cut like glass against her skin, the bite of saltwater stung at her eyes.

She cradled his head as the rest gathered close. She bent over him, weeping dew-silent tears.

The plea she made this time was different. She didn’t say—it’s yours⁠—instead:

“Don’t abandon me.”

Of course, for Percy, even that was enough.

(The strangest part is that Pike didn’t even cast the ritual. Something else presided over Glintshore that day, left vines threaded through the mist-white sand, through his hair, staining their sap to chalky hands.)

They still fall in love. Nothing would change that.

And eventually, the Conclave was destroyed. Raishan was hunted down. The bard gave his lament. The newcomer, so shiny, with his mechanical man, gave the group a once-over.

“Little Elf Boy!” he called Vax.

“…er…strange tree woman?” he tried on Vex.

She corrected him, but not because the title was wrong. Because even she had to insist, sometimes, to remember. To call herself “Vex’ahlia”—

(to move, to leap, to spin, to fly—and sometimes, but only sometimes—to take a breath in)

Then they went to Vesrah, and Vax’ildan died. Vex pondered the fragility of beating hearts and the funny part was, Vax didn’t argue. He’d had time to talk to his goddess, after all.

“Still, though, I’m glad she let me come back. You know. It always feels like our work is never done.”

Vex laughed. “I understand that. We still have to go to the Hells, right?”

“Gods, I wish you wouldn’t remind me. When did our lives get so ridiculous?”

They did go to the Hells, and they managed to come back. In the months afterwards, between bakeries and building cities, Vex and Percy had a long, muted talk.

They separated, for a while. They found their way back. They were married, in secret, in quiet, beneath the stars.

And then, the world ended. 

Vax told one last joke.

“Weird how we both ended up pledging our souls, eh? One to a goddess of death, one to a fairy.”

Vex snorted. “Way to make yours sound much cooler, brother.”

A moment’s pause. Then:

“Vex’ahlia…will I still see you when you die?”

She didn’t answer.

This joke wasn’t funny.

And in the end, as they had all known it would happen, Vax was gone.

He said he would tell their mother “hello.” That was good. Vex wasn’t sure she’d ever get the chance.

There was one last flurry of snowdrops, and feathers.

Time went on.

And in the end, as they had always wished it would happen, Vesper was born. A beautiful baby girl. She looked human enough, or as human as one might get with a half-elven, fey-touched, gods-blessed mother (and a frequently demon-visited father). She did end up with a penchant for druid magic, however, and all of the quarter elves’ ears were quite pointed.

“Still,” said Percy, one night, as they lay in bed. “None of them have…you know, bark skin, or anything.”

“…I don’t either, darling.”

A chuckle. A shifting of blankets, and—

“I know. But I would love you even if you did.”

She laughed, and it was gentle as a breeze. Clear and vibrant as a glowing summer day.

It never stopped being any less beautiful. Not even when time’s slow march dragged on. Not even when Percy’s smile carried wrinkles. Not even when nearly a century had passed.

In their last moments together, he’d reached up, brushed her cheek.

“I’ll wait for you, Vex’ahlia. I’ll always wait.”

She’d held his hand.

“Oh, darling. I won’t make you wait forever. I promise.”

He’d chuckled, and given her a kiss.

“Even if you did, I would love you, dear.”

She shook her head. “Percival, I promise.”

As she had known it would happen, he left too. 

Slowly, one by one, they all did—

—until that last day, years, decades, centuries later, on a windy clifftop, beneath the sun, in Zephrah.

“You look good,” Vex had joked, nudging Keyleth’s side. “Honestly, not a day over eight hundred.”

“The same could be said for you,” Keyleth rolled her eyes. “Now come on. Are you ready to move on?”

Vex felt an old, gnarled hand brushing hers.

“…is it silly that…even now, a part of me is afraid that this will hurt?”

Keyleth shrugged. “I think…fear is natural. But also, if you think about it, isn’t dying natural too?”

Vex felt a whisper of wind skip past her hair.

She took Keyleth’s hand. She managed a smile.

“Nothing more natural than you and me, right?”

Keyleth laughed, and soon, she joined in.

“Right.”

And together, they stood at the top of that mountain, as both of them, slowly, gently closed their eyes. The breeze flew by, picked up, carried leaves and swirled and swelled and grew into a gust that twirled, curled, grew up all around them, spinning and whirling and stretching to the sky—

And somewhere else, somewhere quiet, somewhere soft but just as warm, two pairs of eyes blinked open.

“Finally! Gods, we were almost getting worried.”

“Hello, darling.”

“Come on, you two! What’ve you been up to? Fill us in on what we’ve missed!”

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