#Whitney de Rolo

[essayofthoughts]

wolf siblings AU!! what do the sibs generally think of the other members of VM? who's their fave?

For the most part they like them! Vesper and Whitney don't particularly care for Scanlan's jokes (and seeing more obviously the effect those kinds of jokes have on his sisters when they can't do anything about it prompts Julius to rethink some of his scoundrel history) but everyone likes his music.

Whitney has a soft spot for both Vax and Keyleth, especially Keyleth because if she follows Keyleth around while she's foraging or gardening Keyleth will talk to her about what she's doing and for Whitney that almost feels like being a human again.

Cass and Oliver love Grog - he's so big and strong and they get to play fight with him to their heart's content when Julius gets tired of them. They also love Vax because of the shared chaotic little shit instinct.

Ludwig likes Keyleth, Pike and Vex. He liked Tiberius well enough for a while, enjoyed sitting with him while he enchanted things, but got snappy with him when he started getting more self-centered especially once the Briarwoods had visited. He likes being able to sit quietly with people though - while Keyleth gardens, while Pike tends her chapel, while Vex does the accounts. It's not always safe to be in Percy's lab, so having other options is nice. Plus Vex knows how to groom them, so they've all got a soft spot for her.

Vesper's favourite is Percy. Honestly, Vesper being a wolf is the first time Percy twigs that he is Vesper's favourite of her siblings - she sticks by his side more often than any of them - and yes, she was his favourite too, but he didn't think that was returned. Why would it be, he's him? But it's Vesper who keeps him company when none of the others want to move, it's Vesper who's sat at his side when they find out the Briarwoods have visited and are going to visit again, and it's Vesper's who's fur he buries his hands in when he has to recount what happened. Vesper loves her first little brother dearly, and she knows Julius will take care of the rest - someone has to take care of him.

Julius's favourites are Scanlan and Vax, though seeing - and smelling! - the effect of Scanlan and his jokes can have on people, the discomfort and all - makes him rethink a few things about his own prior behaviour. Vax he respects, because they're not too far off in age and both pride themselves on taking care of their siblings.

All of them have a soft spot for Vex, as the first one they met, and not a one of them minds her baby talking to them. They generally see it as kind of insulting, especially given Percy never babytalks to them and given most people assume they're ranger companions for him, you'd think they'd take cues from him - but with Vex... she babytalks to Trinket. They all know how much she loves Trinket. From her and her alone, it is the highest of praise.

Also she knows how to groom them well, and of all of them it's her and Keyleth who notice what of their traits aren't accurate to wild wolves, even ones which are companion animals. Of all of them, those two (especially given as the most perceptive they've seen the names on Percy's List) have the best chance of figuring out they once were people and thereby bypassing the curse keeping Percy from telling anyone.

Send me asks about my fic ideas!

[potatoesandsunshine]

de rolo children...........

[burr-ell]

current theory: oliver and whitney de rolo got adapted out of tlovm because their last words were "not very skibidi rizz of you" and "that's gas fam no cap" and percy retconned them out of the family line

[anonymousonlyanonymoud]

The Lost de Rolo Chp. 4

The Merchant

TW: TW: Murder, child murder, blood, panic attack, vomit

Previous Chapter

The Market Ward of Westruun was slowly becoming alive as the shops began to open and the chatter of the morning began to fill the streets.

Small crowds formed in front of stores while people began exiting taverns, either drunkenly stumbling home or leaving for whatever job that'd been found for the day.

And at the end of one of the darkest streets, coming out of a dilapidated tavern known for serving watered-down ale and food that was similar to mush, and having beetles in their beds, was Ciara de Rolo.

Her weathered and thin cloak was tightly pulled around her shoulders in a feeble attempt to keep the chill that had begun to set across the realm as the first flurry of snow began to fall. 

The signs of winter were all around the town as the preparations for Westruun's Winterscrest Festival were underway, but Ciara kept her head down to avoid looking at any decorations that would have been put up.

The last Winterscrest festival she'd celebrated had been before she lost everything.

It used to be a happy time for her, watching the Castle of Whitestone being transformed into a wonderland of celebrations as the surrounding city shared a festive joy.

Vesper had taken an interest in overseeing the festivities during the years before...

Both mother and father praised her for her work while Julius said he was grateful for not being the one in charge of parties as it would never look half as good as what she came up with.

Percy asked millions of questions regarding the construction that went on during the setup and would have to be pulled away multiple times from the head builders who had come to finalize plans with Vesper.

The twins had always rolled their eyes at Percy, teasing him about what he was asking. But Whitney and Oliver always looked with awe at what Vesper was able to accomplish.

Ludwig and Cass were filled with wonder at the way the city transformed. Their excitement built each day preparations were made while they used the progress being made as a calendar to count down the days till Winterscrest.

The excitement was infectious and spread throughout the city as the holiday drew closer, even the year the Briarwoods came.

They had been welcomed warmly along with that fucking doctor by her parents, and they repaid that kindness with murder.

Ciara no longer thought about her siblings' happiness when Winterscrest came around. Her mind instead was filled with Whitney's sobs of terror as she was ripped from their sister's arms by Captain Kerrion Stonefell. The man's laugh rang in Ciara's ears before he slammed Whitney's head against the wall. Her blood dripped down the stonework and stained her light brown hair.

Vesper's screams as Stonefell pulled her by her hair and threw her from the window. Ciara heard the sickening snap of bones as her sister's screams cut off. Stonefell continued to laugh as he dragged Ciara to that same window and forced her to look at Vesper's broken body in the courtyard below.

The laughter of children filtered through her head as a small group rushed past. One of the children fell into her side, unintentionally jerking the metallic right arm that the doctor had melded to her years ago. The rods and screws tugged at her skin which sent a sharp twinge of pain through the remains of the limb as she grimaced.

While attempting to blink away the image of her sister's broken body, Ciara sent a glare to the kids who ran off without looking back. 

A part of her, the old part of her that belonged to a young girl who had sat through hours of etiquette lessons with her siblings, the old part that was caged away in the back of her mind in a darkened room, wanted to scold the children for not looking where they were going. That it wasn't polite and they should apologize.

But the main part of Ciara, the part that had been fed on, tortured, ripped apart, and sewn back together with jagged stitches that left horrific scars, only glared as the kids scampered away. 

Ciara continued weaving through the growing crowds, not lifting her head as vendors began calling out for customers as their stalls went up. She heard all the sales pitches before, and it wasn't like she could afford the wares anyway. Ciara was ready to walk past and ignore the merchants until she caught a conversation that her freezing in her tracks,

"-a shop in Whitestone at some point. The tyrants who'd forcefully taken control five years ago are gone and, thankfully, dead. The city is now rebuilding and in need of new economics in the market," The de Rolo felt herself turn toward the voice and saw the person who'd caught her attention.

The voice belonged to a man with dark skin, hair in a half-ponytail with two short braids framing the side of his face, a braided goatee, purple robes with gold trim, gold jewelry, and a red sash around his waist to complete the look.

He was standing in front of a building that looked to be in the middle of renovations with four other merchants. Two humans, a halfling, and an elf. Ciara recognized them as members of the Westruun Merchant Guild. She'd stolen a thing or two from the halfling and spied on the elf. 

His sister was a cartographer who had married a diplomat in Syngorn. He only kept in touch with her and his niece. From what Ciara had found, he didn't have much love for his brother-in-law and rarely spoke to him. Which meant the Clasp no longer wanted anything to do with him.

The merchants were listening intently to the purple-clad man as he spoke about bringing business to Whitestone during and after the city was restored.

But what made Ciara turn cold with shock was when she heard the goateed man say,

"A council has been made, with a de Rolo at the head to rule Whitestone once again," 

A de Rolo? That couldn't be possible.

The de Rolo's were all dead.

Ciara knew they were dead.

She'd seen them, her parents, Julius, Vesper, Oliver, Whitney, and Ludwig. 

She never saw Percy or Cass alive after that dinner, but she heard them. The Briarwoods made sure she heard them scream.

Ciara heard her remaining family as she sat frozen in the cell The Briarwoods had shoved her in. Bound under a Hold Person Spell she was forced to listen as Ripley tortured Percy and Cass. 

She heard them.

Ciara heard Percy weakly insisting he didn't know what was below Whitestone before his voice became desperate as Ripley began cutting into their sister.

When the screaming stopped and Ciara was dragged away, Ripley would visit. The doctor would show her the hooks and tools that had been embedded in her siblings' mere minutes ago. Ciara was forced to listen as Ripley described how she tortured Percy and Cass before going on to say Ciara could stop it.

She just needed to tell Ripley about what was under Whitestone.

But Ciara hadn't, and still didn't, know what the woman was talking about.

And the screaming continued.

Ciara had each of their screams etched into her mind that she heard it everywhere. Even after she'd been taken from the dungeons.

And then, the screaming stopped. She was no longer tossed into a cell to listen as Ripley tortured her siblings. And because of that, a venomous hope leached into her mind, because despite all that she had witnessed, Ciara was naive enough to think that Percy and Cass had somehow escaped.

Until-

Until-

Anger bubbled to the surface as Ciara found herself standing in front of the goateed man with words that were spat with rage and vitriol flying from her mouth,

"Enough! Enough of these lies! The de Rolos are dead! All of them are dead!" 

The goateed man looked momentarily taken aback at Ciara rushing into his space, but he composed himself while leaning against the wall behind him. His arms crossed in front of his chest which made the bangles clink together,

"I can assure you, I speak no lies-"

"And I can assure you, you are!" Ciara hissed, but the man seemed nonplussed at her anger and merely raised a perfectly trimmed brow,

"You are quite confident that I am lying," 

"Because I know you are! Seven of them were killed in one night by the Briarwoods! And the two who were left alive were tortured and killed a year later!" Her voice was tapering out into a harsh whisper, "The only de Rolos left in Whitestone are the ones in the crypts!"

The man, despite the other merchants quickly making their exit, only began inspecting his nails before meeting her gaze,

"I admit, I've never been told the details about what happened. My friend was present for the events, and understandably, Percival hasn't wanted to explain how his family was murdered in front of him,"

Her whole body began to shake as her hands clenched,

"Percival is dead! I don't know who you've been talking to, who's been claiming to be him, who is using his name to rule, but Percival died years ago!"

Once again, as Ciara's anger rolled from her in waves, the man didn't seem bothered and continued inspecting his nails. But Ciara hadn't noticed how his gaze hardened as he began taking in the details of her.

Gilmore was beginning to put the similarities between the woman in front of him, and the gunslinger that followed Vax'ildan's sister around, carefully putting pieces of the puzzle together as he said,

"It is not Percival who rules Whitestone but his sister Cassandra," He tilted his head and gauged her reaction.

 The fire that had been raging inside Ciara turned to ice as the tremors racing through her tripled in strength while she felt her eyes begin to burn,

"Then whoever rules Whitestone is an imposter!" She hissed, "Both Percival and Cassandra de Rolo died! They were flayed and murdered!"

Her voice was shattered as her legs shook harshly and it was a wonder that Ciara was able to stay upright as her mind filled with the bodies of her siblings.

Of Percy and Cass who had been flayed by the doctor's hooks until they died and then thrown out into the courtyard in front of Ciara. Ripley had lit the torch and Sylas Briarwood had thrown it onto what remained of her siblings. 

Ciara had screamed. Screamed loud enough that she was certain her voice had reached beyond the Timberlands as what remained of her family became nothing more than charred bones. And when the fire had gone out, Delilah Briarwood had cast a magical flame that turned their remains to ash that blew away in the wind.

A hand was now on her shoulder and pulling her up.

Ciara had collapsed to her knees without realizing and the merchant was now leading her inside the renovated building behind them.

The interior was plain with empty shelves and display cases, a few rugs rolled up and crates stacked against the wall.

When the door shut behind them, the man snapped his fingers, and a table and two chairs appeared before the two. 

The young woman found herself now sitting across from the merchant who was staring at her with a critical gaze,

"Well," He began after a moment of studying her, "I suppose introductions are in order before questions are asked. I'm Gilmore, owner of Gilmore's Glorious Goods in Emon and of this soon-to-be-open store here in Westruun,"

The merchant, Gilmore, waved his hand in a flamboyant fashion that had small sparks falling from his fingers which made Ciara flinch back.

Gilmore then looked at Ciara as the sparks quickly dissipated and gestured toward her with an open palm and expectant look until she answered,

"People call me Bird,"

"I imagine due to your corvid friends there,"

She didn't need to look to know that Adrik and Nyx were peering in through the window. They were like two small shadows that followed her everywhere, no matter how many times she refused to acknowledge them,

"Suppose so,"

Gilmore hummed while resting his chin against his hand, "If I were to ask for your real name, I assume you would not give it,"

The tension that had slowly been ebbing away returned tenfold as Ciara leaned as far away from the man as possible,

"If I were to say you were right?" 

The merchant shrugged while leaning back in his chair, "Names have power. From the gods and fiends to the most ordinary of folk, a name can have a hold on someone. Whether to bind or summon a being of power, or simply be a shield for someone hiding,"

She should leave. Ciara needed to leave. She had a job that was given a deadline of two days, and she knew better than to slack off or be late. And this Gilmore was prying into open wounds that had festered and rotted over the years,

"What you're implying," Her voice was shaking, "Is wrong. It- It's all wrong!"

"Are you certain? Earlier you counted nine de Rolo's. Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't there ten in Whitestone? The lord and lady with their eight children? Why have you only counted seven children?" 

Her trembling hand found purchase on the short sword that hung at her hip as she whispered, "The eighth died. She died when her brother and sister's bodies were burned in front of her,"

Gilmore's eyes were trained on her with a look of sadness as he leaned forward,

"Then I'll speak to the ghost sitting across from me. And I'll tell her that her brother, Percival, is coming to Westruun-"

He was cut off by Ciara shoving away from the table, causing the chair she'd been sitting on to clatter to the ground, 

"No-he-He's dead! He's-" She darted out of the store without finishing.

The ravens that had been sitting at the window croaked and squawked in alarm when the door slammed open and Ciara stumbled out into the street.

She couldn't see the people around her, she couldn't see where she was going.

There were some shouts as she ran into things, but Ciara kept running until she skidded to a stop and fell to her knees in an alley.

A burning, acrid taste came hurtling up her throat and onto the ground in front of her as she only thought of the last two bodies. Of Cassandra and Percy.

The exposed muscle and bone had been barely covered by the remains of their formal wear. The remains of what they had been wearing to that fucking dinner!

They were dead. They were dead! 

They couldn't be alive because that would mean she would have-

More bile worked its way up Ciara's throat as her vision blurred. 

When the meager contents of her stomach had all been expelled from her body, Ciara coughed and gagged while wiping at her mouth. She managed to push herself up and saw someone standing to her right with a waterskin held out.

Ciara saw who had found her and took the skin, swishing the water around her mouth before spitting it out as the Spireling made himself comfortable on a few crates,

"You're taking a late start, Bird. Not like you," The halfling rasped.

She sat against the wall and tossed the waterskin back, "Got distracted. Nothing to worry about, Fetch. I'm going to leave now," 

"What did that man want?" The halfling questioned, "The merchant. He's new in Westruun,"

"No one,"

"Really? No one?"

"No one to me,"

Fetch scoffed and leaned toward her, "And despite that, one of your ravens stayed behind at his shop,"

She jerked her gaze toward the sky and only saw one raven settled on the roof across from her. Nyx's beady eyes met hers before darting to Fetch. If a raven could glare, Ciara was certain that Nyx would be. But Fetch was correct, Adrik was nowhere to be seen,

"I don't control where they go-"

"But they've been following you since you arrived in Westruun. And suddenly, one of them leaves your side? What. Did. He. Want?"

Ciara shook her head, "Nothing of consequence-"

"You expect me to believe that?" He leaned forward, "Are you trying to fly away, Bird?"

She unflinchingly met his gaze, "I'm not that stupid, Fetch. I learned my lesson from last time,"

Fetch only continued to eye her for a very long moment before standing,

"You better get going, Bird. You've already lost too much time,"

He disappeared as quickly as he came, leaving Ciara to shakily return to her feet.

With a shaky breath, she glanced up at Nyx who was hopping along the roof and ruffling her feathers, then began making her way toward the Western Gate.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

Perc'ahlia Week: Free/Random

we did it folks! thanks to everyone who participated in @percahliaweek, esp the good folks who organized this whole thing! it's been so much fun to explore these prompts! here's hoping i stick the landing.

Percival de Rolo III wakes up on his last day knowing that he will not see another dawn. It hardly scares him; if anything, his aching joints have been screaming for rest for ages now, each one creaking and stiff like an unwound clock. He doesn't know where the certainty comes from, only that it doesn't feel macabre or fatalistic. He is going to die today. Better get a move on.

He doesn't begrudge Vex'ahlia's stubborn insistence that he's fine. He doesn't begrudge Vex'ahlia's stubborn anything. He lets her perform her morning ritual as usual, lies still as she grips one of his hands in both of hers and pours into him every ounce of magic she has for the day. The healing doesn't work, because he is not injured, merely human. Still, he smiles and thanks her, and they both pretend that it made things better.

Over breakfast in bed (all of his breakfasts are in bed these days, as are all of his other meals, and in fact the vast majority of his time), he quietly asks her to gather their family. She freezes, her forkful of eggs halfway up to her mouth. His vision is not what it used to be, but she is so beautiful, the golden rays of Pelor's dawn sparkling in her hair, now more silver than brown. She has always glittered, something beautiful and wild, a dragon who made a hoard of his heart.

She sets her fork down. She does not look at him. She asks if he's sure. He says that he is. She believes him, because after seven decades, she knows he is not a liar. It is a feat, the way she schools her expression into something that doesn't shatter his heart in two. She smiles and kisses his cheek. "Of course, darling."

They come, because for the past year or so, they have been preparing themselves for this very thing. Keyleth is called first, and she takes it upon herself to gather the most far-flung. Percy misses most of their arrivals; his energy wanes quickly after breakfast, and he passes in and out of sleep until a pair of lips on his cheek stir him back to consciousness. "Hi, Grandpa."

Vesper's eldest, Whitney, helps him into a sitting position. He feels each and every one of his bones as he moves. Beside her, her husband, an elven man Percy remembers not trusting for years, holds their infant son. Whitney's eyes are red and swollen. "Mimi says you...wanted everyone here."

Percy lets out a coughing laugh; gods above, they're great-grandparents now, and Vex still hates being called grandma. "I don't think I have many goodbyes left in me, dear. Better to get them all out while I can."

She sniffs. "Can't...can't Aunt Kiki do something?"

Slowly, he reaches over to pat her hand where it rests on the bedspread. "Keyleth has done more for me than any man deserves, as has your grandmother, as has Pike. I have seen my share of sunsets and sunrises, Whitney. Time for...better eyes than mine to take a look."

Just then, the door to the master suite opens, and more de Rolos come spilling in like light through an open window. Wolfe is first, one arm around Gwen, clearly keeping her upright; Danny follows, his aunt Cassandra hobbling beside him, leaning heavily on his arm. Danny's followed by his son, Shaun, and Shaun's very pregnant partner, whose name Percy can't remember. It's disorienting, but not the first time Percy's memory has failed him. Once he had the sharpest mind in Whitestone, keen enough to make the inventions that set his home years ahead of the rest of the continent, technologically speaking, but most days now, his mind feels like a sieve, permeable, untrustworthy.

Still, he smiles as the rest of his family spills in, children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, twenty in all, not including Cass, who is given the chair right by his bedside. So many de Rolos, in a castle once entirely empty of them. Percy sees so much of the family he lost in their faces—his mother's eyes, his father's nose, Ludwig's jaw, Whitney's hair—and not for the first time, he knows what it means to be immortal in the most human way.

As they say their goodbyes, as they sniff away tears, as they promise him to do right by their family name, he knows that the legacy he has been chasing his entire life, one not stained with blood and black with smoke, has been a fool's errand. His family is not his legacy. They are people, just as he is, no more, no less. They will be great and they will be terrible and they will make mistakes and they will make the world a better place because the gods know that Percy has been far from a perfect man, but he believes he has done what he can to sow in their hearts the seeds of kindness, charity, empathy. He cannot claim them as his legacy because they are still building legacies of their own, ones that will reach far beyond his time in this realm.

He lets them kiss his cheek. He whispers his love, over and over, endless and true. He smiles and looks into each of their faces, hoping the sieve lasts long enough to carry him into whatever comes next.

.

He doesn't remember falling asleep, but when he awakes, the only de Rolo who remains is Cass. He can't see the white stripe in her hair anymore, because it is all white now. Her eyes are a soft blue, belying her almost complete lack of vision. Percy squeezes her hand. "You still with me, Cass?"

"You're asking me?" They both grin. "I've been trying to get rid of you for years. It's about time you got out of here."

"Yes, well, you remember how Mother used to scold me for being so slow to rise in the mornings."

"That's because you'd stay up until all hours reading."

"Which is why I'm so much smarter than you."

She rolls her eyes, and the air shifts, cools into something more melancholy. "Are you so sure it's now? You seem in such high spirits for a man convinced he's going to die today."

Percy doesn't know how to explain to her the knowing, the certainty in his bones that he could count the number of words he has left. He thinks of a night when they were young, far younger than they are now, when Cass would crawl into his bed during a thunderstorm, shaking and afraid. He tries to explain it the same way he explained to that little girl that the thunder wasn't going to hurt her. "The gods have seen my hubris, my cruelty, my ego throughout the years...and they have loved me anyway. How else do you explain this?" He gestures weakly with his free hand, and he knows that she knows he's not referring to the castle and its riches. "I awoke this morning with my wife beside me in the home that we built, and I felt their calling in my chest. I am not long for this world, Cassandra." Tears slip quickly and silently down her nose. "I'm not afraid. Whatever is coming for me, good, bad, or ugly, it was worth what I experienced here, with my family. With you. I should have died with the rest of our siblings, with Mother and Father, that terrible night. I didn't. Everything after has been...a gift."

"A gift for me." She brings his hand up to her mouth, kisses his papery skin with her thin lips. "Your children and grandchildren, they've been a gift to me, too. Thank you for giving me my family back, Percival."

He smiles, and new fatigue washes over him. His eyes blink slow and long, and she pats his hand. "Rest now, brother. You still have work to do."

He wants to argue, but the sleep rushes over him, dark and warm, like smoke.

.

When Percival de Rolo III awakens for the last time, he is very much not alone. Perched on his left side is Keyleth, timeless and ethereal. The circlet and mantle of her station are gone, and for a moment, they're kids again, the entire world at their feet. Her eyes are glassy, and he has to be impressed that she hasn't started crying yet.

Standing on the foot of the bed, each holding onto a poster, are Pike and Scanlan. Like Keyleth's, neither's face belies much of the past seventy-odd years, but he can't find it in himself to be jealous of all the life they have yet to live. He thinks himself lucky to have had this, such a perfect little slice of the world, fit exactly to size for him.

Between the two of them, already a blubbering mess, is Taryon, the only person in the room who looks the way Percy feels. His liver spots match Percy's, which must drive Tary crazy. He wonders if this is harder or easier for him, given that Tary has already been grieving Lawrence these past six years or so. He hopes that Tary can be of use to Vex, though if he had to guess, he'd think Keyleth is better suited to the task.

Because she is also here, his heart, his Vex'ahlia. She sits at his right hand, where Cass had been earlier, and gently runs her fingers over the inside of his wrist. She has never been anything less the most beautiful creature he's ever seen, and not for the first time, though perhaps for the last, he thanks the gods for allowing her to be his. Well over half a century together, and he knows by the tremulous bob of her throat and the eyes that will not meet his that she is using every ounce of her formidable strength to keep herself in one piece.

"Hey, Percy." He looks back to Scanlan, whose shit-eating grin has not changed a bit in all these years. "If you finally wanted that six-way, you didn't have to say you were dying to get us here. You could have just asked."

Pike punches his shoulder, but Percy laughs. "You'd never...keep up with me...Scanlan."

"Yeah, I bet that's true." He reaches down to pat Percy's foot beneath the blankets. "You always were a better man than me."

"The bar is in hell," Pike grumbles under her breath, and Percy coughs out another laugh. They must be off-again, he guesses. Well, it was nice of them to come, regardless.

"Tary." The man in question cries twice as hard when Percy says his name. "Have I ever told you...how proud I am...of you?"

Tary brings a shaking hand up to wipe at his eyes, and Pike pats his arm reassuringly. "That's what I care about. If a guy like you could see the good in a guy like me...well, I knew I was gonna be okay."

And Tary is more than okay, Percy knows. He's done more good in the world than any of them would have thought possible the day they met him, arrogant and annoying and so very naïve. Percy is proud of him, proud of the work they've done together and apart. Someday, not too long from now, these same people will gather around Tary, usher him as gently from this world as they do for Percy now, and Percy can only hope that they sing his praises as loudly as he deserves.

Pike hops up onto the bed, her socked feet padding over so she can kneel by his elbow in front of Keyleth. She grips her holy symbol, now worn and smoothed, in one hand and rests the other over Percy's heart. "Everlight, please carry my friend into the next life with the same light and compassion he has shown me in our time together." Her voice is strong, but Percy can hear the tremble in it. "As faithful as I have been to you in my life, he has been twice as faithful to me, to his friends, to his family, to the people of Whitestone. And I think you and I both know that faith does not come quite so easily to some as it does to others." She opens one eye to grin at him, and he winks back. She closes the eye again to finish her prayer. "Let his soul rest among his ancestors, and may your benevolent light never stray from those he leaves behind."

There is a long beat of silence, and though his eyes are not what they used to be, Percy swears the mid-afternoon light streaming in from the wrought-iron windows flares just a bit brighter. Pike releases her holy symbol, leans down, and kisses his cheek. "Y'know," she whispers, just loud enough for him to hear, "for someone doomed by the narrative, you did alright for yourself, Percy."

"I couldn't...have done it without you."

The first of Pike's tears falls, and she slips back to the foot of the bed wiping at her eyes. Percy lets his head tip to the side, and Keyleth's face is as red as her hair, her own tears falling fast and loose down cheeks that don't look a day over thirty. "Hey."

"Hey." She sniffs, taking his hand in both of hers. "I know...I have a lot of goodbyes coming my way. Goodbyes I don't even know about because the hellos haven't happened yet. But you...fuck." She scrubs at her eyes with the back of her wrist. "I don't know what my life looks like without you, Percy. I don't wanna find out."

Oh, he truly does not envy her yawning years. He knows no one who deserves to have her heart broken less than Keyleth does, and yet he knows that so much heartbreak awaits her in the millennium to come. He squeezes her hand, and he prays to the Dawnfather that all of that heartbreak does not quiet her, does not harden her heart from the joys this world has to offer. Keyleth was made for sunlight, for spring flowers, for flight. The shadows will come, but they must not dull her shine.

"Keyleth, Voice of the Tempest." He attempts to gather as much authority into his weak voice as he can muster. "I charge you with not just the welfare of Zephrah, but with that of Whitestone, and of Tal'dorei as a whole. There is no one I trust more to act as steward of these people. Your wisdom, your generosity, your empathy...more than ever, you are needed to bestow your gifts upon Exandria. You know..." He smirks up at her. "We've met gods, Keyleth. And this may not be the best time to blaspheme, but they've got nothing on you."

She throws herself onto him, and it hurts, but he takes it. One last hug from his best friend, from the sister he gained after so much loss. Her tears soak into his neck, and for the first time today, his own prickle behind his eyes. He regrets all of the things he will miss, the wonderful accomplishments of his friends, his progeny, his neighbors. It is such a mortal thing, to know that the world will keep spinning in your absence, and to love and hate the spin for it. But someday, even the ageless Voice of the Tempest will rest, and if the gods know any mercy, he will see her again.

Before she pulls away, a shaking, sniffling mess, she whispers in his ear, "Tell him I still love him?"

He nods. He already knows, but Percy will tell him anyways.

As if on cue, there is a small commotion near the one open window on the far side of the chamber, and everyone turns to see a raven, too large to be natural, resting on the sill, as if it has always been there. There is a cracked sob from Percy's right, and he turns his head to see his wife covering her mouth with her hand.

Just enough time left, then.

"Come here." A small tug to her hand, and she's coming up to sit beside him, hip to hip. She brushes his thin, limp hair from his face, and he struggles to bring her hand, wrinkled and beautiful, to his lips. "What a life, eh?"

Her answering smile is watery. "The best one I could have imagined. It's the best gift you've given me."

"Well, I gave you quite a lot."

"It's my love language, darling, and you were always so fluent."

He laughs at that, and it dissolves into a cough. The raven flutters its wings in his periphery. "Let them take care of you?" His eyes cast over their friends before returning to her crumpled face. "We didn't create this wonderful life together for you to be alone when I'm gone. There are so many people who love you, Vex'ahlia de Rolo, and while I will always be the first among them, in this world or the next, I am not worried for you."

Her hair, unbraided and streaked with silver, spills onto his chest as she leans over him. "I'm not worried for you, either. I know that wherever you're going, I'll find you. I'll always find you. It's kind of my thing, after all." She sniffs loudly. "So take my heart with you, alright? I'll want it back when I get there."

"My extraordinary, incomparable wife. My heart, my judgement. My treasure, my salvation."

Crying, she kisses him, and it feels just like it did that first time, in a snow-capped wood, when they were kids and death was just another monster they could slay. He tastes the salt of her tears and the warmth of her skin and he knows every agony, every loss, every sorrow was always and will always be worth her. For the briefest moment, his heart pinches, a desperate wish to stay, but when his final kiss with his wife ends, he's smiling, because how many men can go to their deathbeds with no regrets?

He looks to his friends once more, each one a gift, a story, a legacy, and with a fading voice, says, "Vox Machina. What an honor it's been to change the world with you." His eyelids feel so heavy; he's already slept so much today. To his wife, he murmurs, "Dear, do you mind if I rest for a moment?"

"Of course, darling." She bends down to kiss his cheek. "Rest now. I'll be here."

The last things he sees are Vex's shining eyes, and across the room, a raven taking flight.

.

When Percy opens his eyes, he sees them, his friends, their heads bowed and shoulders trembling. They are circled around his deathbed, and Percy watches them mourn. It's far and away the strangest scene he's ever beheld.

"Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III."

He turns, a smile already coming to his face. Oh, the ease with which he moves! He looks down at his hands—smooth and dexterous, hands he hasn't seen in years. "Would you look at that."

The black-feathered figure in the corner of the room is masked, so Percy can't see his face, but Percy doesn't need to see the smirk to feel it. "A handsome bastard once again, I see."

"Screw you, I was always handsome."

"No arguments here." The Champion of Ravens strides closer, and Percy can't help but feel a bit intimidated. "Welcome home, brother."

And they are embracing, reunited after so many decades of grief. "Thank you," Vax murmurs, in his strange, not-quite-Vax voice. "Thank you for taking care of them."

"It was my privilege." They separate, and the two dead men look at the ones they've left behind. "We still felt your loss. Every day, we navigated the hole your absence created. Them in particular." He gestures to Vex and Keyleth, who hold hands over his body's torso as they weep. "I just hope I did enough to help them find the way."

"You did. And now it's my turn." Vax sweeps a hand back, and the door to the chamber opens, but instead of the marbled hall he's used to, Percy sees only a brilliant, blinding white light.

Percy frowns. "Is Grog in there? To be honest, I thought he'd be the first to greet me. You know how bored he gets without someone to entertain him."

"I'm afraid I don't know. I only walk to dead to their doors. I don't get to see what's inside."

For the first time today, Percy's heart well and truly breaks. "Well, just know that as long as they live—" He jerks his head toward the remaining members of Vox Machina. "—your sacrifice will not be forgotten."

"I live as long as they live."

Percy chuckles. "First the mask, now the quotes—you want to be me so bad."

"Get in the light before I throw your ass in there, Freddie."

Grinning, Percy claps him on the shoulder as he passes by, letting is strong legs and youthful knees take him toward the door. Just a step away from the frame, he stops, bathed in the warm, mysterious light. He looks back one last time at his family, wonderful and perfect and his, and murmurs, "What a nice story, indeed." And then he steps into the light.

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

For as long as the de Rolos have lived, so has their curse. Its roots have long since been forgotten, perhaps a spell from a witch long dead, maybe the genes of someone married in, or maybe it’s just always been that way. No matter how the curse came to be, it’s been passed to every bloodborne de Rolo born as long as memory serves. 

But as much as the curse is known among the immediate family, it is also Whitestone’s best kept secret. None but those bearing the last name de Rolo are privy to what happens to anyone carrying de Rolo blood under the light of the full moon. 

Percy doesn’t remember a time he was told about the curse, it’s just always been part of his life. He didn’t start to change until after his third birthday, a bit early in comparison to his other siblings, something he still holds over their heads as a teenager. 

“Percy, dear,” his mother calls him over with a soft smile and a gentle wave of her hand. With a sigh, Percy does as he’s told and heads the call, sinking into the chair beside her at the dining table. 

Before he’s even properly seated, Johanna starts making him a plate, knowing that he probably won’t eat much unless she forces him too. “You need to eat breakfast,” she chides him. “You have to keep your strength up for tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Percy asks with a frown, stabbing a piece of fruit with his fork.

“The full moon,” Frederick chimes in, already on his second helping of food. 

Percy sighs heavily. It’s bad enough that the full moon interrupts his nights in his workshop, but it also means that he is forced to spend time with all of his family. All of whom become very very annoying in their wolf forms. 

Percy has long since lost the argument of him staying in the castle, in his workshop during the full moon. His mother, though she doesn’t change herself, refuses to let him be alone when he’s as vulnerable as he is in that state. Not to mention that keeping the fact that the Lord de Rolo, along with all his seven children, is a werewolf becomes significantly harder to hide when they remain that close to the castle.

So Percy piles food on his plate under his mother’s watchful eye. He slumps in on himself as he forces himself to eat. All around him, his siblings are rowdy. They always are before a full moon; even his father is playing into the antics more than usual. 

Johanna sighs and leans over to Percy, tucking his hair back. Percy forces himself not to pull away, he knows that makes his mother upset. “It’s just one night, Percival.”

“I know.” He bites into a piece of bacon. His mother sighs again and pulls away. 

When sunset comes, the whole family is waiting in a clearing in the woods. They go there every month, it’s just far enough outside the castle to not arouse suspicion. Percy sits on the grass, tugging his shoes off and setting them to the side. 

Cassandra and Ludwig are already wild, running and chasing each other through the clearing. His mother sits behind Whitney, braiding her hair back. Frederick comes over to Percy with a smile, “Are you ready, Percival?”

He sighs and allows his father to help him to his feet, “I suppose.” Frederick laughs as though Percy made a joke and squeezes the back of his neck. He guides Percy over to the rest of the family just as the sun begins to dip below the horizon.

The shift happens quickly. At his age, it no longer hurts, his bones and muscles move into place. When he blinks, he along with the rest of his family are wolves. Cassandra’s transformation still must hurt because she scampers over to their mother, whining as Johanna runs her fingers through her thick fur. 

continue reading on ao3

[crithaus]

man hang on hang on, I'm cooking, I'm simmering here...

The Royal House of Whitestone so says Percy

needs some royal regalia (and one day I'll get up on my soapbox and ask the questions that need be asked re: What did Johanna need a full set of armor for and can I watch her crush shit with it), but so obviously Frederick gives Johanna as a part of her betrothal gifts, her wedding accoutrement, a proper bridal tiara right

Like properly, what else is her veil supposed to be held to, and furthermore as the new matriarch of House De Rolo she needs to be gifted a parure befitting a woman of her new stature, and I bet it's an old old piece of white gold, amethyst, sapphires and regular gold, Whitestone colors of course, and it's so old that Frederick got it from his own mother who got it from her mother from her mother from Melanie, for the express purpose of crowning his new bride, that it's passed through every lady of Whitestone's hands,

And as Julius sat there with his hands on her fat belly Johanna thought to herself, well, tradition is as tradition does I suppose, and she might have drafted a new set for their new little duskborn present, their eventide blessing, and that wasn't traditional but who cares, Whitestone prospers and her daughters will have their little trinkets, but I think on Vesper's coming of age Johanna sets her own diadem on Vesper's head with a smile at her slight breach of etiquette, coming of age but not yet married and yet it'll be our little secret, and she's kept Whitney and Cassandra's parures safe in a box in her room for when the time came, the requisite jewels can come and go on their little heads but this diadem was, is, has always been special, a family heirloom and an homage to the bonny and blitheness of their home all in one. The lady of Castle Whitestone settled for a slightly less bombastic headpiece that Frederick found for her in his own mother's belongings and life shifted on, and no one could deny that Vesper wore it well and with pride.

I think Sylas snatches it out of Vesper's matted hair to place it on the new lady of the House, and I think despite the brainwashing that that simple sight rankles in Cassandra's heart like nothing else, and when they kick the Briarwoods out obviously, obviously Percy takes it and sets it just so in Cass's hair, he is the new lord of whitestone after all, for a few more days, hours at least, and She the new lady, and that hurts y'know, it's a good hurt but it does hurt. Perhaps it doesn't fit perfectly but when it's all you have left at the moment, what else can you do?

and then Vex and Percy's first wedding rolls around, and despite it being a secret, a wrapped cushion appears on her bed as she's getting ready for the most important day of her life, a startlingly heavy little package with the most beautiful hairpiece she's ever seen with a little note of "for your special day, Lady De Rolo," tucked into the package string. (Cass puts on the diadem her mother had made specifically for her instead, they found it in the back of her boudoir, hidden and unscathed somehow, and it fits like an absolute dream, and suits her too, and the fact that it does so makes her cry so hard, mother never could have known it'd end like that and yet...) And Percy might have cried harder than he was already going too when he sees Vex but he spares her the sad explanation until after their wedding night, and when Vax leaves and everything settles down and the world stops ending for once, and little Vesper Elaina is sitting directly on her bladder, she takes to wearing it around the castle a lot more. It suits her, surprisingly enough.

(and one day it'll rest on Vesper's head again, and one day Percy will walk Leona and Gwendolyn down the aisle with that piece in their hair and feel a type of way about it)

[blorbologist]

Caaaan I be cheeky and go Trick Trick Treat (to the beat of Duck Duck Goose) and As Many De Rolos As You Feel Like Including?

Not sure if I quite pulled that off, but that'll be your call to make ;3

--

“Ow! Fuck! What the hell - stop fucking - ow - Ollie!!”

“Language,” Vesper chides, poking at Whitney’s ankles with her cane without breaking her stride. “And stop fucking pulling her hair, Oliver.”

“You swore too! I’m gonna tell mum!” Littlest Cassandra - a knight this year - giggles, tidying Whitney’s fairy pigtails.

Oliver sulks, jack-o-lantern basket swinging as he stomps a few paces ahead. There’s chatter as the three slightly more well behaved kids chatter, discussing classmates’ costumes and candy hauls and optimal routes, before Oliver eventually can’t resist and slows to join them.

Julius is perfectly content to let his sister handle the siblings. He and Vesper are definitely too old for trick-or-treating, but once the littles are tuckered out, they can drop them on the doorstep and take off to the nearest Halloween rager. Not like he hasn’t been pregaming it - his jack-o-lantern has a smile of brown glass and slooshes like it’s about to vomit. 

Oh, he could be there now - already - swimming in a sea of sexy nurses and sexy lady CEOs and sexy sexy sexy, while Vesper and her friends binged old Halloween classics. If not for his wonderful middle brother.

Percival ‘too old for Halloween’ de Rolo got to skip out on this delight of being an older sibling by citing a project due tomorrow in his morning class. For the record, the nerd never leaves anything to the last minute. It was deliberate, Julius would swear on it.

Vesper thwacks his ankle. Julius glances up - it didn’t hurt thanks to the fireman boots - to see her frowning. 

“Where are we?”

A quick glance at the streetsigns answers him - though understandable Vesper can’t read them with her black shades. It’s getting awfully dark, and more lamps are unlit than not for the Halloween atmosphere. “Academy Lane? The Soltryce is at the one end. Dad has a lot of friends that live here.”

It’s definitely the sort of neighborhood Julius is familiar with - gated snaking driveways, walls mimicking castle architecture, the self-importance of the nouveau-riche. 

Nothing can beat an actual fucking castle, though.

Vesper frowns, adjusts her tie. “Mhm. I don’t see many pumpkins out. We should turn back.”

“One more and we’ll get to the car,” Julius promises. Cass is flagging anyways, not helped by all that aluminum platemail. She’ll be begging for bedtime soon. 

But there is a pumpkin on this porch - two, actually, a horribly ugly pair - so Julius ducks past the toothy open gate and keeps an eye on the hooligans. At least they’re having fun.

Never would he admit it, but Vesper has a bit of a point. It’s creepy - the tamed and trimmed trees look like manicured hands, backlit by faint light from the road and sick pale gold from the mansion. Despite how well-kept the place is, it’s crawling with vines. Trying to pick a late-season flower from one is a mistake - Vesper turns when he yelps.

“Just a thorn,” says Julius. When she’s not looking he presses his thumb to his lips, to swipe off the blood.

He and Vesper pause two-thirds the way to the house just as Cass reaches the front steps, Ludwig hushing the twins so she can catch up and be ready to yell with them. Whitney insists on ringing the bell - echoed down the drive, the sound makes Julius shiver. It’s getting cold.

The door swings open, delighted to see them, and the children just as delighted.

“Trick or treat!” hollers the host of little monsters. Everything looks less scary by the light: Cass is a little knight, and the imposing owners of the home are familiar faces with candy at hand.

“Oh, Lady Briarwood!” Julius calls, relieved. “What a surprise!” 

Her smile glows just as the jack-o-lantern’s does. “What a pleasant surprise indeed.”

🎃Trick or Treat! Send me an ask and you'll get a trick (angst) or treat (fluff) ficlet in return! 🎃

[hayleysayshay]

In my headcanons Vesper and Julius have a larger age gap than the rest of their siblings. Like Johanna had Julius then four years later had Vesper then had Percy a few years later and then after Percy decided to have quite a few more children in rapid succession before she got too old and wanted a big family. So Percy was around 17 when the Briarwoods attacked, Whitney and Oliver being around 15/16, Ludwig around 14 and then Cassandra just turned 13. So there was over ten years between Julius and Cassandra.

Percy absolutely pretended he was part of the older lot than Whitney and Oliver because Percy liked to pretend to be an adult. However Vesper did used to dote on Percy as he was her first younger sibling and he used to toddle after her when he was three and she was six.

Percy was the tallest de Rolo in the family, and Julius was totally not annoyed about that, but Percy knows that they never really saw if Ludwig or Oliver would catch up.

The only thing is that I feel like these older siblings may have had engagements already but I just explain it that Vesper hadn’t had a chance yet and Julius had already fucked up an engagement by being a manwhore (also a himbo).

[ray-the-ginger-queen]

Percy de Rolo family one-shot (Pre-Briarwoods)

Percy is annoyed with his older brother

Percy couldn’t stand his older brother. Julius was pompous in a way only the first born could be, gaurenteed his success for birth. Not to mention that fact Julius was just… big. Percy couldn’t remember a time Julius hadn’t towered over him, and now he was even a little taller than their father even though he was still a teenager. He’d always been more athletic than Percy, even considering their age difference. More Charismatic too. The only thing Percy had on him was his intelligence, but it seemed like all that earned him annoyed groans from his siblings. For some reason it felt like Julius always picked on Percy in particular. He’d steal Percy’s glasses or snatch his latest project and of coarse the endless list of annoying nicknames.

The only good thing about Julius being the oldest was that he, more than anyone else, had to act proper in front of other nobles and the public. Balls and parties were one of the few times Percy was really guaranteed a break. Which worked out anyway because Percy was a bit… distracted. Not every noble brought their children along, but there had been a new girl at their festivities recently. He wasn’t sure what her name was, but she seemed to glide wherever she went and laughed louder than the others and her hair bounced when she’d turn around to grin at someone. He’d kinda like if she’d grin at him like that.

Percy was a bit lost in that train of thought when suddenly he felt someone fly past him and his vision went blurry. Dammit. Even here! Percy stumbled to his feet and hurried after the blur he knew was Julius. He was trying not to draw attention or bump into anyone. Finally he saw Julius drop something, presumably his glasses, at a nearby table. “Excuse me” he managed to whoever was at this table as he felt the familiar metal on his glasses on the table. Percy was just putting them back on when he heard something just a little too familiar. That loud laughter. “That’s alright” the girl giggled “your family seems lively. I’m Madeline” Percy cleared his throat awkwardly, hoping the heat creeping over his cheeks wasn’t too obvious. “Very nice to meet you Madeline. My name is Percival” he managed, bowing slightly like his dad taught him. “But uh, you can just call me Percy” He glanced up and caught Julius looking at him with his signature shit eating grin. Julius winked at him and Percy felt the heat spread to his neck.

….

Percy liked hanging out with Archie, even if he was always getting them both into trouble. To be honest, especially when Archie was getting them both into trouble. Archie didn’t treat him like a Noble or like a sibling. That’s really all Percy had ever been. It was a nice change of pace. They certainly didn’t seem like a natural choice for best friends. Percy really couldn’t explain it himself. There was something… magnetic about Archie. His lopsided grin and fire red hair and brash dialect. He was so full of energy and fire and sometimes Percy was just happy to be able to witness it. It was always the highlight of his day, and he was always a little bummed right after Archie left with his dad for the night. This was that time of the night, when Percy said his goodbyes and shuffled back to his room.

“Come play with us!” Percy heard from behind him. The twins. There was a decent age gap between them and while he didn’t mind playing along every now and then, he wasn’t in the mood. “Not right now okay guys? Tomorrow I promise.” Both of them made a loud whining sound in protest. “You played with Archie all day, how come you won’t play with us?” Oliver demanded. Percy rolled his eyes. “I just don’t want to.” He answered plainly, quickly running out of patience. “If you like Archie so much why don’t you marry him?” Whitney sang in a mocking tone. He heard Cassandra laugh from where she and Julius had been talking nearby.

Percy’s cheeks flushed. Normally Whitney couldn’t get to him, she wasn’t that good with her teasing attempts and he mostly dismissed it. She didn’t do it much anyway. But something about that taunt, and the way Cass laughed, made his face burn. “Shut it!” He snapped suddenly. He felt all his siblings stiffen. Percy rarely yelled. His response to teasing was usually a clever quip or roll of the eyes. A brief silence fell over them and Percy could swear he heard his heart pounding. “Whatever! You guys suck!” He yelled at them collectively and booked it back to his room.

He huffed as he dropped onto his desk chair, starting to fidget with his newest project. His anger began to dissipate slowly as he worked. Maybe he’d been too harsh. Whitney was just trying to get his attention. He hadn’t meant to yell at her. Why had that made him so angry? He heard her voice in his head again ‘if you like Archie so much, why don’t you marry him?’ It was a weak taunt. It should have been. But he couldn’t help but feel… embarrassed. Maybe a little hurt. He couldn’t put his finger on why. He was torn out of his thoughts by a knock on his door. He expected it to be his mother or father, angry he’d yelled at his little sister like that. Instead, he found Julius. “What do you want?” Percy bit out, sitting back in his chair. “What are you working on?” Julius asked, closing the door behind him. Percy raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you care?” He responded, but after a moment of silence he answered with a softer tone “it’s a clock.”

Julius hummed and tilted his head to look at it. “It’s nice, Percy” he said quietly. “You wanna know something?” Percy looked at him with a skeptical expression “I’m kind of jealous of you sometimes” that halted Percy immediately. Julius had to be messing with him. “Why?” Percy managed. Julius drummed his fingers on Percys desk. “Because you can have whatever future you want” Julius answered “You don’t have to be involved in politics or leadership, if you don’t want to. If you wanna make clocks, or anything else, you can do that” Julius paused for a moment and turned to look over Percys shelf of gadgets and parts, giving Percy a small bit of privacy. “And if you want to spend time with noble girls, or with kitchen boys, or both, you can do that too” Percy stiffened a little, feeling the blush flare on face once again. Julius didn’t pause or turn to look at him. “And I trust that you’re smart enough to know what you want, when it comes to it.” Percy let out a quiet breath and the anger drained out of him. “Thanks, Julius” he muttered “Really.”

Percy could nearly feel Julius’ smile before he turned around. “Don’t let it go to your head, four eyes” he said in his usual pompous tone and ruffled Percy’s hair aggressively before he left. Percy smiled a little at his closed door before shaking his hair back normal.

Maybe Julius wasn’t so bad. Mostly.

[pageofheartdj]

*throwing everything from the table*

I don’t care anymore I make my own de Rolo sibling count cause nothing is canon and CR and TLOVM says different things xD Vesper and Ludwig aren’t a thing in the show so I chose that they are, cause I am a SUCKER for big families and their family is RICH so they can afford this xD

Since Cass is no longer the youngest she will be just behind Percy and they are both such a middle child disasters. Percy ‘no one expects anything from me so I am going to move to my workshop for forever’ de Rolo and Cassandra ‘no one expects anything from me so I am going to be THE menace’ de Rolo XD

Twins have to be the youngest so the parents just decide to stop right there, this is going out of hand xD With Ludwig just old enough to still not be the middle kid but with no ‘younger brat’ attitude xD

And Julius and Vesper just watching this whole thing with ‘Why us?’ xD

Uhhh so yeah Julius is 19, Vesper is 18, Percy is 16, Cass is 13, Ludwig is 11 and Oliver and Whitney are 10! symmetrical <3

[essayofthoughts]

For the DVD commentary ask game; hey Essay what the *fuck*

[Aka: Tiefling AU recounting of the de Rolos' deaths]

--

(He sees: his father, bruised and bloodied, clothes torn to rags, fingers broken and twisted in unnatural ways, sees him wheezing and wheezing and going still.)

(He sees: his mother, a crossbow quarrel in her shoulder, no armour to protect her, her glasses smashed, all her ferocious protectiveness turned useless by restraints as they forced her to watch-)

(He sees: Julius, choked, held by the throat by the man he’d just run through, Sylas Briarwood, smiling, sneering, tossing his brother down into the cells-

(He sees: Vesper, beloved older sister, spellbook torn from her hands as she tried to get enough space to cast something, anything, fleeing to the highest tower and only finding freedom by being thrown from it.)

(He sees: Oliver, Whitney, Ludwig, Oliver’s ribs cracking and cracked, Whitney’s fingernails torn ragged, torn out, Ludwig’s teeth ripped free to leave bleeding gums.) (He sees Cassandra, the last one left, at his cell, picking the lock, pulling him free.)

So, I'll admit that some of this is stuff I tend to hold to across fics - traits of Percy's siblings and ways that Ripley hurt them, but it's also that...

Trauma is messy and it messes with your memory. I highly doubt Percy remembers the whole of what was done to him and his family - too painful, too awful, too viscerally horrible - but he, like anyone, can remember fragments of it. Bits and pieces and not the whole and it's both better (less painful) and worse (surely he owes it to them to remember the whole of it?). It also means I can narrate it like this - like a fragmented flashback, because most flashbacks aren't solely visual and can be incoherent. They are often emotional or aural or based on a smell or a fleeting sound or wrong touch, and I wanted to invoke that broken incoherency in how Percy recalls things.

It also makes it more impactful for a reader. I can't write Ripley's detached torture of the de Rolos, not like @officialtrashbin can (and has for their Vampire Percy fic The Suffering of Night; it's great, go read it if you haven't), and if I just described every piece of harm she wrought on them then that'd just become gorn and no one wants gorn. Further, by describing all of it, it becomes both overwhelming (gorn) but also disallows any space for the reader's own imagination, which can be even more effective at building horror, and by limiting it to small things with some basis in things people might have familiarity with, it brings it viscerally home to the reader. I talk about Whitney's fingernails torn ragged and then torn out - we've all had a hangnail! Some people have had nails torn off in accidents. I say "Ludwig's teeth ripped free to leave bleeding gums" and anyone who's had to have a tooth removed knows what that yawning gap can look like, and everyone knows what it's like at the dentists, having to hold your mouth open - there's little parts of it that most people will have some familiarity with and which give them a basis to imagine it from: it becomes verisimilitudinous that way. I hope.

A few of these things are also headcanons I've built out more recently or ones I chose specifically to hurt you, Blorb. Johanna having glasses I decided because I think if Percy has more tangible habits and traits from his father, I'd like him to have his bad eyesight from his mother, just to balance it. I'd decided Julius was protective of his siblings long ago as the eldest; the idea of him trying to fight back but being unable because Sylas Briarwood came naturally from that. Vesper however... Vesper was specifically because this AU is for you.

I know you remember and hold to the idea of Vesper being thrown from a tower, and I've had a headcanon of her dabbling in spells for a while; it felt fitting to combine those for a smidge of extra pain here, Vesper trying to get enough space to safely cast something, anything, and being given only a twisted version of freedom, thrown from a tower, unable to cast Featherfall or Fly.

That one was specifically put there for you.

Send me ~500 words from a fanfic I've written and I'll give DVD Commentary-esque explanation of why I wrote it like that

[potatoesandsunshine]

i’m just in outlining mode and all i wanna do is talk about this fic i’m sorry everyone there will be Several Posts about very vague things i can feel this

[aq2003]

whitney de rolo has no canon personality besides dying but understand me fully when i say that she was keyleth to the left

[bearmageddon]

Remnants of what we knew

[waltwhitmansbeard]

go on, claim my heart: chapter twenty

see my masterpost for what came before this.

"SYLAS!"

Percy's voice booms across the grounds he once chased his siblings around as a child. He doesn't care if he can be heard from the castle. He hopes he is. He hopes everyone inside knows he's coming, that he is out for their blood.

He can hear Vax behind him, and though the man is fast, Percy's legs are longer, and he covers quite a lot of ground with each stride. He's chasing a ghost, he's well aware, but he pushes forward faster, unwilling to stop until his lungs give out.

(Vex'ahlia. He took Vex'ahlia. How could he possibly have guessed, have known, the precise way to cut to the quick? He struck like an adder and there is poison in his veins now, black and oozing, and now he is fighting against time. He must get her back, he will get her back, before he is consumed so wholly by this rage that he ceases to be a man and instead transforms into a beast so grotesque the shadows themselves will quake.)

There is a wisp of something around the west side of the castle, and Percy pursues it with the single-minded focus of hunting dog. He rounds the corner to see the hill where he once taught Whitney to sled in winter and there, half an acre away, the doors to the root cellar have been swung open. He pumps his legs harder, lets his lung burn brighter, and moments later he is throwing himself down the stairs into the near pitch-black of the cellar.

The only reason he can see it is the sliver of moonlight slicing across the two of them like a blade. He sees the bottom half of Sylas Briarwood's face, the terror in Vex's eyes as they lock onto Percy's. He stands there, frozen, as he watches Briarwood's lips move at her ear. Whatever she hears, it catches the breath in Vex's throat, and then there are teeth there, sinking into the soft flesh just behind the ears that she hates and that Percy loves more than anything else on this miserable planet.

His arm moves before his mind does. He fires shot after shot, directly at Briarwood's face. It is wildly treacherous to shoot so close to her, but the fury that pulls at the trigger is beyond logic, beyond reason. It pays off; the vampire's face is suddenly gone, and Vex is crumpling to the ground.

"SISTER!"

Vax is there, shoving past Percy, who reloads in a single heartbeat and continues to fire into the darkness, though he has lost sight of Briarwood in the looming shadows of the root cellar. He charges forward, ignoring Vax's shouting "Help me get her out of here!" as his gun echoes among the packed earth walls.

There is a shifting to his left, and Percy whirls to see glinting, grinning teeth. He fires twice more, and Briarwood begins to melt. For a half a moment, Percy thinks he's done it, thinks he's defeated the monster that slaughtered his family, but then he watches a cloud of black mist, invisible at first, then clear in the moonlight outside, waft up and out of the root cellar. He stares after it, remembering reading of such a vampiric ability back in Syngorn, and his gun hangs heavy and hot at his side.

.

Vax stumbles away from the root cellar, his half-conscious sister draped along one side of him. He makes for the trees ahead as fast as he dares, cursing the damned de Rolo family for having such massive grounds. Once they are hidden among the trees, he gently rests her up against a trunk and tilts her head to one side to inspect her wound. "Vex'ahlia? Can you hear me?"

She grumpily swats his hand away. "I am fine, brother." Her head tips back against the bark. "He didn't...I'm fine."

There are two small puncture marks behind her ear, just at the base of her skull. Blood oozes from each of them, and he reaches down to tear a strip of cloth from his tunic to press to the wounds. "We need to keep pressure on this until we can get you to Pike."

"Vax, I'm fine," she insists. She places her hand over his to take the cloth from him. Then she stumbles forward, ignoring his attempts to stop her, and disappears behind a giant pine. He hears retching, and he knows better than to go to her; they have shared far too many drunken nights for him not to know how much she hates being touched while she's vomiting.

Vax knows that what Sylas Briarwood did was not nearly enough to either kill Vex or turn her into one of his kind. And yet his heart has yet to calm, so terrified was he by the thought of losing his sister. For their entire lives, they have only had each other, and he has never had to care for anyone's safety but hers.

Until Keyleth. Until Vilya. These past years, he has become so consumed by the life he has built for himself in Zephrah, so focused on his wife and daughter, that he has forgotten his sister, his best friend in this entire world. He has not worried for her well-being once since they parted from Zephrah, and he sees now the depths of his neglect. This is the price he pays for loving them all, his attention pulled in every which direction at all times. How is he meant to protect them all, how is he meant to serve them all, when every time he turns around, someone is being taken from him?

When Vex reappears from behind the tree, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, he strides forward and wraps her in a hug. "Do not go far from me," he whispers in her ear as tears trail annoyingly down his nose. "Do you hear me, Vex'ahlia?"

Her hands come up to rub up and down his back. "I hear you, brother."

"Do not go far from me."

"I won't. I promise."

He can only hold her so long before he knows they must move, must not be caught standing still by a vampire who can strike so quickly and silently. He presses a kiss to her forehead before the two of them creep back toward the root cellar. "Percy!" Vax hisses down into the darkness. "You still in there?" He is met with silence.

"Percy?" Vex starts to descend into the cellar once more, and, exasperated, Vax scrambles after her, muttering, "What did I just say...?"

Percy is standing right where Vax had left him, seemingly rooted to the spot. His gun hangs like an anchor at his side as he stares forward, unblinking. Vex approaches him slowly, as she might a wild animal. "Percival?" He can barely hear her, and his fingers twitch to yank her back, suddenly worried about what Percy might do next. "Percival, dear, it's me."

She's standing in front of him now, and his eyes finally focus on her face. She reaches a hand up to cup his cheek. "I'm right here, Percy. Look." She takes his free hand and brings it up to rest against her chest, right over her heart. "Still alive. You won't be rid of me that easily, darling."

And it is almost unbearable to watch, the blooming tenderness on Percy's face. This is a tableau that is not meant for Vax's eyes, but he cannot look away. Percy is trembling as Vex carefully extracts the gun from his hand. "We need to go back now. Can you walk?"

Percy makes a choked noise, somewhere between a laugh and a whimper. "You are asking me?" he breathes.

"Well no offense, darling, but you do seem rather worse off at the moment."

His head tips forward to rest against hers, and Vax feels a fool for never seeing just how fervently this man adores his sister. There is relief in this, knowing that it is no longer just him who must remind her of how endlessly loved she is, how incomparably precious. Though he does not wish to ruin this moment, Vex is correct; they must get back to the group, ideally before Keyleth returns from her foray into the castle as a bat. He clears his throat. "Are you alright, Percy?"

Percy lifts his gaze to meet Vax's eyes above Vex's head. There is an understanding, now, between them, a shared terror that only a man in love can know. He nods. "Let's go." He slides his hand into Vex'ahlia's, and together the three of them climb out of the root cellar and back onto the gray-black lawns of the castle.