#vesper de rolo

[blackveine]

Language: English

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 1102

Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series)

Rating: General Audiences

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Character(s): Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, Vesper de Rolo | Percival de Rolo III's Sister, Frederick de Rolo

Additional Tags: Winter's Crest, Whitestone, The de Rolo Family, Reminiscing, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Holidays

Summary: On the day before Winter's Crest, young Percival de Rolo hears a knock on his door and gets an early gift.

[drowningkeyborad]

De Rolo Kids Headcanons

Disclaimer: These headcanons have no set timeline in the CR universe. I just like to keep them safe in my back pocket.

Vesper De Rolo

The oldest child

Part of me thinks that she has some mild case of ‘Only Child Syndrome’. For a while, it was just her, Percy, and Vex. Then the twins came along. I don’t think there is a canonical confirmed age gap, but given that Vesper is about 30 in her last canon appearance; I ballpark the age gap between her and The Twins at about 9-10 years.

 She’s the oldest child AND eldest daughter… so that’s a lot

Her white hair comes from Vex being pregnant with her while she was a Champion of The Dawnfather.

Paladin Class. Worships the Dawnfather and can often be found by the Sun Tree. 

Vesper and Vax’ildan II bond over their respective faith practices. 

Takes after both her parents in the best ways. But this can also backfire. 

Spends most of her free time reading or painting. Her preferred reading material is non-fiction and history. 

She’s just as unhinged as the rest of her siblings, but tends to keep it out of the public eye better than the others. 

Loves painting. Like REALLY loves to paint. Her room looks like the inside of Rapunzel’s tower in Tangled. 

Yeah, turns out those paintings were linked to oracle powers–

Anyway– that means she’s off on an adventure! She likes to take her siblings with her, when they’re old enough. Leona and Vax’ildan II are her favorites to travel with. 

Despite the 9-10 year age gap, Vesper and Wolfe bond over being the ‘Eldest Daughter’ and ‘Eldest Son’ of the De Rolo family. 

Gwendolyn and Vesper have a very close relationship, despite having the biggest age gap of all the kids. They share a love for history and fashion. 

Has no real interest in politics, but given the order of her birth, she pays close attention in the case she might have to replace her Aunt Cassandra’s seat.

Heavy Weapons AND Heavy Armor girlie!! Will smash your skull in and look cute while doing so.

Wears her white hair in a messy side braid. Just like her mama <3

Wolfe Kristoff De Rolo

Contrary to most headcanons I’ve read about him; this boy is his father’s son. The Einstein of the new generation. 

Demisexual 

Definitely found old blueprints of Pepperbox and thought “I could do better”. And he did.

Fighter/Artificer Multi Class

Acts the most ‘Noble-like’ out of all his siblings. 

Will throw money and his family name at all of his problems. (“My father will hear about this.”)

“I’m gonna k*ill myself.” – Wolfe, at any minor inconvenience

The most sought after bachelor in Whitestone. Weekly, Percy and Vex are approached by other nobility with the proposal of a political marriage of Wolfe and their own heir. If it’s not nobility; it’s townspeople trying to catch the inventor out of his Workshop to ‘get to know him’.

Wolfe has threatened to Crash Out if either of his parents even considered one of the offers. 

Very well-versed in both engineering and politics. 

Accidentally invented the Printing Press at the age of twelve… He was trying to make a stamp for his dad and it just got out of hand. 

Took a really nasty fall when he was younger. Probably climbing on something he wasn’t supposed to. Resulted in a broken arm and busting his head open. 

Has a scar on his forehead from the fall. His brown hair turned white where the scar meets his hairline. 

Big into hair & skin care. Always has lotion on his person at all times.

Dresses like Percy in Vox Machina Origins. Thigh high boots people…

Take the demon-murdered family-torture trauma from Percy, keep the brains, add a healthy noble upbringing, and tune up the cockiness by ten; ya get Wolfe. 

Hear of Hearing! Boy is around heavy machines and gunfire all day. Sounds like he’s yelling most of the time, but his family knows it’s because he cannot hear them.

Learned Sign Language because of his hearing loss. 

Has to spray Gwendolyn with water like a cat to keep her out of his Workshop. 

Jealous of how free spirited his twin sister can be. He wished he could naturally let go of his worries the way Leona does. 

Leona De Rolo

Middle child. Literally. Between Wolfe being two minutes older than her, then followed by Vax’ildan and Gwendolyn– Leona is smack in the middle.

A bi queen

She loves hunting, target practice, etc. Anything to get a bow in her hands.

Thick-ass glasses and she HATES them! They’re so annoying when she’s trying to hunt/fight in the rain or snow. Still has a deadly aim though. 

Very competitive. She’s the reason the De Rolo family can’t have a game night. 

Fighter/Ranger Multi Class

Good fucking luck trying to tame her lion’s mane of hair. Vesper, Vex, and Gwendolyn have all tried to help her tame it, but it just gets put into a messy ponytail/bun/braid.

Very much a tomboy. Takes to wearing suits and more masc-leaning clothing. Hasn’t worn a dress or skirt since she was like seven years old. 

Wolfe has even commented on how she pulls off suits better than he does. 

She would never tell him, but that compliment has stuck with her for years. 

Often has to push/tackle her twin out of harm's way because he’s hard of hearing.

She and Vex bond over their shared love for the woodlands. There was a time the two of them were camping together, and Vex opened up about her own twin brother. That was the first time Leona had ever seen her mother cry…

She silently vowed to never let something like that happen to Wolfe.

Doesn’t care much for engineering like her father and twin, but she will willingly listen to them ramble on about whatever rabbit hole they’ve both fallen into. 

A small, dark part of her is jealous of Wolfe and how he seems to be admired by everyone. Everywhere. 

Will kill anyone for looking at any of her siblings in a way she doesn’t like. 

She and Vesper travel together the most out of the siblings. Sometimes they’ll go on separate journeys and end up meeting in the middle anyway.  

Leona and Gwendolyn love to pull pranks together.

Vax’ildan Frederick De Rolo

Trans.

Trans, and I cannot be convinced otherwise. 

He 100% chose the name Vax’ildan. 

He’s very quiet. Usually lost in thought or just observing the people around him. 

Stares at people. 

Really good perception (checks). 

Cleric/Paladin Multi Class 

Cleric of the Raven Queen… Yeah, Vex was real happy about that…

His family calls him “Danny” or “Freddie”. He understands that “Vax” is reserved for their dearest friend. 

Wolfe calls him “Danny Boy”. It’s Vax’ildan’s favorite nickname. 

Mama’s boy to the max. Vex, like all parents do, says she doesn’t have a favorite. But everyone knows it’s Vax’ildan II.

Vex was the first one Vax’ildan II came out to as trans. Then Percy, then his siblings, etc. 

“Yeah, dude, we already knew.” “...What?” 

Just like his uncle; Vax’ildan II had been/is watched by the Raven Queen. 

When he accompanied Vesper to her faith work, he would often wander off and be found by the Raven Queen’s Shrine. 

Ravens follow this poor kid everywhere. To the point that Leona has offered to shoot them on multiple occasions.

Fell through a frozen lake when he was about ten years old. It scared his family to death, and he was grounded to sleeping in his parents’ bed for like a month (Vex physically would not let him go.) 

He tried to explain that he was “-following the guy in the raven cloak who had daggers.” 

The reality of the situation didn’t hit him until a few years later, but he still felt no dreaded fear for when it happened. 

The only one allowed to come-and-go into Wolfe’s workshop as he pleases. Likes to sit in the back and read his books.

I could write a whole book on this kid. 

Gwendolyn De Rolo

Daddy’s girl 100%. It's canon.

The little game that Percy and she play during parties is just training her for trouble. 

Rouge Class through-and-through. 

Learns how to use a rapier from her Auntie Cassandra 

Around the age of fifteen, she starts asking to go by just ‘Gwen’. It’s much less of a mouthful, and something about dropping the lengthy name took a weight off her shoulders.

The age gap between her and the rest of her siblings puts a little bit of a strain on things when it comes to relatability. What would an eleven year old Gwendolyn have in common with a twenty-six year old Vesper? 

They all make it work though. 

Aside from Vesper; Vax’ildan II is the next sibling that Gwen is closest to. No one else in the family has the same level of spying skills and likes to gossip as much as she does– except for Danny. They talk shit about other people all the time.

Danny and Gwen’s relationship is similar to that of Cassandra and Percy. 

I can see her picking up bow skills from both Leona and Vex. Having her as a Rouge/Ranger multi class would be deadly.

Cuts her hair when she’s older and likes to keep in short afterwards

Can rattle off years worth of history of about any city/town/ceremony site she steps into. 

Despite her family not seeing her as anything other than their sister/daughter; Gwen feels, in a deep part of her, that they look down on her for being a Tiefling. More so WHY she’s Tiefling. 

She and Leona love to pull pranks on the rest of their siblings together.

[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.

[ray-the-ginger-queen]

De Rolo Children Headcanons

Vesper- Vesper gained the intellectual side of both of her parents. She has an incredible knack for languages and speaks 5 by the time she’s 20. She’s got her fathers quick wit and her mothers intuition. She, like Vex, is smart with money. She’s devastating in a debate. In her free time she prefers more low stake activities though, usually reading or painting. She’s very close with Gwen despite the age difference and loves doing her hair and later her makeup.

Leona- Leona is her fathers child. She’s the one that gets Percy’s tinkering gene and love of science. She loves chemistry and making things. She’s much more of a tomboy than her two sisters and sometimes gets jealous of Gwen and Vespers relationship. She’s also the most stubborn and headstrong of the kids and it shows. She’s a bit of a hellion in her teen years. Oldest of the twins by a couple minutes and won’t let Wolfe forget it. Leona and Wolfe are close but not like Vex & Vax. They constantly bicker and play pranks on each other, but it’s a “no one picks on my twin but ME” kinda thing.

Wolfe- Acts much more like a Proper NobleTM than Leona. He’s much better at remembering all the little rules than her and tend to tease her at social events. Despite this he like hunting with his mother a lot and excels at archery. He’s very athletic in general but he sometimes struggles with his studies and gets insecure about not being as smart as his family.

Vax’ildan- His family calls him “Danny” for short. He’s the quietest of his siblings. He’s very intuitive and can usually get straight to the route of anything bothering his siblings and even his parents sometimes. He loves going out into the woods but he doesn’t really like killing the animals and actually ends up deciding to be a vegetarian, which his parents are understanding and happy to oblige. He and Vesper like to read book series together.

Gwendolyn- The sweetheart of the family, but not without her tricky side. She loves playing hide and seek in her siblings rooms and surprising them. She also loves playing dress up with Vespers things and having Vesper give her makeovers. She loves reading and plants and gets very excited when Auntie Keyleth visits. She’s more sensitive than her older siblings especially when it comes to her appearance or being “different” than the rest of her family. Percy and Vex are always quick to remind her she’s just as much their child as any of her siblings and absolutely beautiful. Even her siblings have agreed her being a teifling is off limits for teasing. Everyone in the family is a little extra protective of Gwen, which isn’t hard given she’s the youngest sibling by a lot. The age difference between her and Vesper is 11 years and 5 years between her and Danny.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

Perc'ahlia Week Day 4: Shoot/Reborn

over halfway through @percahliaweek! also available on ao3!

This is the second time Percy's killed Vex.

To be specific, this is the second time Percy's curiosity, his inability to think before he acts, his insatiable thirst for information, has resulted in Vex's eyes staring up, dull, sightless, unmoving.

It started with a book, a dusty tome written in a language Percy does not understand. News of such a book, which, he was told, contains depictions of the advanced magical technologies of the Age of Arcanum, deep knowledge once thought lost along with the two-thirds of the mortal population of Exandria, reached Percy through his various connections to houses of research—the libraries of the Cobalt Soul, the Alabaster Lyceum, the Soltryce Academy. Percy was sure that this ancient text contained information that, in the right hands, could result in technological advancements that would set the Exandrian population on a path of untold wonder and discovery—or, in the wrong hands, on a path toward autocracy and ruin. Either way, Percy wanted the book in his hands, and now his hands are wrapped around his dead wife's cold, clammy fingers.

It was a challenge, carrying her body into Castle Whitestone without alerting any of the townsfolk or, more importantly, the de Rolo children of the Lady's death. She is laid out on a bed in the guest wing, far from where Vesper or the twins normally play and study, and Percy cannot breathe, cannot think, cannot understand the story being told to him in pieces by the other members of the Grey Hunt.

The mission was not one they normally undergo, its purpose outside of their purview, but when has the Mistress of the Grey Hunt ever denied her beloved husband anything? And the old ruins where the tome was rumored to reside were only a week's ride away, at the tip of the northern peninsula that frames the western side of the Shearing Channel. Go in, get the book, get out. It was simple enough.

"She wouldn't leave until the rest of us could escape," her deputy mistress, a slim human woman with tight, dark curls, says quietly. "She was incredibly courageous. We're the ones with firearms, she just had her bow and arrows, but...she wouldn't stop shooting at it. Over and over, relentlessly, facing down the naga like it was nothing. She was a hero."

"Is," Percy snaps, and the deputy mistress falls silent. He twists his head around to look at one of the castle servants, who is standing vigil by the door. "Where is Pike?"

The young man flinches at the acid in Percy's tone. "She...is coming, my lord. I believe she has joined those assembling the diamonds required for—"

He's cut off by a low, throaty croak. Percy slowly turns the other way to look toward the open window, where an enormous raven, so big it can barely fit on the sill, glares at him, its beak a threatening dagger. The shame that washes over him is staggering, knocks the wind clean from his lungs. It has been so long since Percy has discovered a new way to hate himself.

Are they together now? Is Vax once again bargaining with his matron on his sister's behalf, begging her to help him clean up Percy's mess? How much will the Raven Queen allow him to get away with? At what point does she decide he's run out of chances?

There is a knock on the door, and the servant opens it to reveal Pike, flanked by two other members of the household staff carrying enormous, lumpy sacs. "We've got them," she says quietly, scurrying inside. She needs assistance climbing up beside Vex on the bed, but once she's there, she withdraws a flask of holy water from her pocket. "This will take some time, Percy. But I'm going to bring her back."

She sounds so certain, and Percy wants to take comfort in it. But as she begins to trace symbols in the holy water along Vex's forehead, cheeks, arms, chest, he cannot stop the simmering fear in his blood that his wife will not be returned to him, a fitting punishment for his endless hubris.

The diamonds, worth more than twice what this castle spends in a year, are strewn about Vex's body in an intricate pattern that Percy is sure is divinely significant. It takes about an hour to prepare all of the pieces of this spell, and when she's done, Pike merely reaches up and taps Vex's forehead. She then sits back on her heels and waits.

Nothing happens. Percy frowns, sure that Pike is messing with him, because clearly that cannot be all that there is to a spell of this magnitude. But she sits patiently, eyes watching Vex's still-unmoving face.

The minutes tick by. Pike's neutral expression darkens. Percy knows that something is wrong. "Why...is she..."

"I don't know." Pike reaches forward to lay her tiny hand on Vex's cheek, which remains unflinching. "It should have worked." Pike then grips the holy symbol around her neck and begins to murmur low in what Percy is sure is a prayer to Sarenrae.

Another bassy croak from over his shoulder makes Percy wince, and when he looks, the raven is flapping its wings in agitation. It takes off from the windowsill, flying in a tight, anxious pattern outside the castle. Percy can only guess at what Vax is trying to tell him. He watches the raven, and up in the sky, he notices a strange phenomenon occurring: dark, thick clouds seem to be at war with the sunbeams that stream down onto Whitestone. The resulting shadows on the lawns below seem to pull and stretch as light and dark engage in some kind of battle.

"They're fighting." Pike slides down off of the bed to peer out the window herself.

"Who's fighting, Pike?"

"Pelor and the Raven Queen. Look." She points up at the sky. "Vex is his Champion, but right now, she belongs to the Raven Queen. They're fighting over her."

And just like that, Percy's sinking shame is evaporated by the hot flames of rage that ripple up his spine. If there is a fight for Vex'ahlia's soul, how dare it happen without him! He leaps to his feet, storms to the window, and throws open the sash as wide as it can go. Pike has to cling to the hem of his shirt to keep him from falling out as he stretches himself toward the sky and yells, "Whitestone belongs to the Dawnfather, and she belongs to Whitestone! Give her back now!"

The inky black clouds swirl and dance angrily, and for a moment, Percy fears that all of Whitestone will burn for his arrogance. But then a single sunbeam, wide as a road and brighter than anything Percy has ever beheld, breaks through, and Percy and Pike both duck out of the way before they're blinded. Percy brings a hand up to shield his eyes as he watches the white light surround Vex's body, and in a flash that he is sure will kill them all, he loses sight of her entirely.

He doesn't know how long it takes him to be able to see again—he's sure he'll have spots in his vision for the rest of his life—but when he does, he claws his way up off of the floor to rest his arms beside his wife's body—his wife's warm, breathing body.

"Vex'ahlia."

Her eyes flutter open, and Percy takes her face in his hands. "Oh. Hello darling." She looks around, confused by the crush of people surrounding her. "Have I missed something?"

And he kisses her, his lips seeking hers like a drowning man seeks air. There are so many things he needs to say to her, not enough time in the world to apologize, but the first thing she must understand after being reborn in the Dawnfather's light is that he loves her. There is no knowledge, no wonder, no curiosity he would ever trade for one fewer moment in this life with her, so as he breaks the kiss and tips his forehead down to hers, he murmurs, "Thank you for coming back to me."

She smiles up at him. "As if you could ever be rid of me." And outside, the raven croaks once more before taking off up into the dissipating storm clouds above.

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

Anything with Vex's and Scanlan's vitriolic friendship, please! I love their relationship and I'd love to see more of it :)

another anon also asked for this!

Scanlan loves Vex, he really does. He sees a lot of himself in her, they're two sides of the same coin. And yet they've never been particularly close. Which is why he is shocked when she asks him to be the first to meet her newborn baby.

When Scanlan walks into the room, escorted by Percy, he just about bursts into tears. Vex is sitting up in bed, looking exhausted. And in her arms is a lilac bundle.

She smiles when she sees him and as he sits down gently on the bed beside her, she tells him, "Scanlan, I want you to meet Vesper Elania de Rolo."

Vesper is sound asleep in her blanket, but she is beautiful. Maybe that's because she's family and everyone thinks their family is the most beautiful.

Scanlan looks at Vex, "After your mother?"

She nods, "And Percy's sister. Do you want to hold her?"

Scanlan's eyes bulge out of his head, "I've never held a baby before."

"It's easy." Before he can disagree, she leans forward and deposits the baby in his arms. Scanlan freezes, not wanting to disturb the baby from her sleep or to do anything he shouldn't.

Scanlan just stares down at Vesper. Vex smiles softly at him, "It feels nice, doesn't it?"

Scanlan nods wordlessly. Gaining confidence, he adjusts his arms to hold her more properly. "Why me? Why did you want me to meet her first?"

"Because you're going to be an important part of her life. Percy and I are going to need your parenting expertise."

Scanlan laughs, "Yeah right."

"I'm serious," Vex nudges him with her foot. "Like it or not, you've been a parent longer than any of us. She's going to need her Uncle Scanlan to teach her how to be mischievous."

Scanlan gives her a look, "You'd do just fine on your own."

Vex rolls her eyes, "Listen to my words, Scanlan. You're family. You're her uncle. You're important to me." Vex smiles as Scanlan's eyes fill with tears. "She's pretty amazing, right?"

Scanlan looks down at Vesper and her sweet little face, "Yeah, she's amazing. The best niece in the world."

[blorbologist]

33, Vax and Percy (gen), please? (also your writing is excellent)

33. Power Word Pain.

"You speak a word of power that causes waves of intense pain to assail one creature you can see within range. If the target has 100 hit points or fewer, it is subject to crippling pain. Otherwise, the spell has no effect on it. A target is also unaffected if it is immune to being charmed.

While the target is affected by crippling pain, any speed it has can be no higher than 10 feet. The target also has disadvantage on attack rolls, ability checks, and saving throws, other than Constitution saving throws. Finally, if the target tries to cast a spell, it must first succeed on a Constitution saving throw, or the casting fails and the spell is wasted."

[This one hardly followed the prompt - sorry! My main thought was either Power Word Pain killed him, and the fact that these words hurt.]

[TW: Temporary character death]

It’s no end. This much Percival knows. 

It was just a little outing to stay sharp - perhaps spurred on by an offhand comment about his aim being off from Scanlan. 

Pike is here - there - besides. And gods know Vex’ahlia will not let him leave so soon. Especially not with a fourth child on the way; he wouldn’t dream of it. Dearly, he hopes this does not give her a fright so early.

Well. Either way, he is coming back. He knows this. It isn’t his time. 

Which is why the sight (you are dead, fool, you can’t see anything) the presence of a figure in this not-space is startling. And, immediately, terrifying. He knows well he deserves death, yes, but he won’t go quietly this time, not with Vex - 

“I do not accept this.”

“At ease, Lord de Rolo,” rasps the quiet. 

Oh. Oh dear, that’s worse. 

“I hope,” says Percival, “you are not here to escort me to your Matron. Your sister would not be happy.”

What should be a little shake of his head is made ample. Excessive, even: the beaked mask swings wide, his hair echoes the movement like a snake. 

“No - merely here to calm you,” says the Champion of Ravens. “There is nothing to fear, contrary to your… ordeals prior.”

Yes, he remembers. Smoke, Percy learned, can have teeth and claws. It can chew, if you give it enough to work with. It’s not particularly good at it - which mattered little, when Orthax had an eternity ahead to eat him alive. 

Percy shivers. The feathers of - his - mantle do, too. A bird, bristling against the cold. 

“She wants to name one after you,” Percival offers, suddenly. On impulse, because who knows how much time they have. Pike usually works quickly. Then again, what is time to a dead brain? He’d have to look into it later. (There will be a later.) 

He swallows. “I - I don’t think it’s a good idea. For her, or for Keyleth.” Scrutinizing the Champion, he finds - there - a jerk, a puppet string pulled too quickly, at the name. “But I want you to know she wants, so badly.”

“Are they well?”

That’s a relief, that he cares to ask. Whatever he is, what’s left of him, or diluted, or parceled out.

“Yes,” Percy replies. The growths from the shoulder are bleached antler one moment, tender enoki another. “As well as I can keep them. They can laugh about your stupid jokes again, you know. Vesper thinks a few are a riot.”

There’s a pause he hastens to fill. Usually he would consider his words more carefully, but he lets his mouth run, lead by what his heart has wondered countless sleepless nights: “Is there - could there be any way, to undo this now? Any true hope? I couldn’t give them false hope, but I have to know. If you want to come back -”

“Wanting is… beyond me.” Said slowly, because of course he has all the time in the world. “Because it has not been long enough to miss my love, my sister - you, my brother.” 

“I will see you soon. I will see them all soon. And yet not for ages yet. There are countless more for me to guide, and yet I recall their faces clear as the last.”

“So that’s a no?”

“Indeed.”

There’s a tug, where his heart should be. Percy glances down to behold gold - a thread, so beautiful it should inspire tears. He hadn’t - hadn’t expected to see it whole, unfrayed. 

Apparently he is wanted elsewhere. Good. Good.

It feels like a waste. All this - whatever earful he will be in for when he returns, the stress to his friends and wife, the tailoring on his fucking coat - and he can hardly come away with reassurance. A cheap death - at least with his last he helped kill a dragon. At least with his first he learned to forgive. 

He sighs. Glances about, in the vain hope that the Matron watches him. There is no seamstress working at his thread - only Pike, he knows, on the other side. Only everyone but this man, whoever he still is.

“I do not accept this.”

The Champion smiles. “Still sticking to indignant and irritated, Percival?”

Percy barks out a laugh. “Oh, screw you, Vax. That was a callback, you shit.”

[darkdisrepair]

time shift au where laudna grows up in the whitestone where percival and vex'ahlia are the lord and lady de rolo

her parents are killed when the delilah returns to whitestone in an attempt to get revenge on the family that thwarted her and murdered sylas the first time she tried to seize control of the city. but the rebellion prevails because vox machina in every world will defeat her.

due to the trauma of their adventuring, vex and percy struggle to have kids after vesper so they take in all the kids who were orphaned by the briarwoods

laudna grows up so, so loved by vex and percy.

percy cultivates her love of crafting and creativity, holding little laudna's hand as he takes her through the halls of the castle and listens to her chatter about what improvements can be made to the design

(she's always right).

he helps her, when all she can think about is the nooses hanging around her parents' throats, about impossibly slipping through delilah's fingers, when she feels the rope on her neck. he holds her and sings in celestial.

he knows, more than anyone, how to cope with the trauma of losing family to the briarwoods.

it's hard to describe laudna's relationship with vex'ahlia. in some ways, she's the replacement for the mother laudna can only remember in her faintest echoes of memory- in others, she's the sister laudna always desperately wanted.

they look alike, and dignitaries always think that laudna is vex's biological daughter, which never ceased to make laudna proud.

where laudna's time with percy is all about creating art, her time with vex'ahlia can only be described as stillness.

there's a quiet to her moments with vex- sitting quietly in council meetings, when she was really young and had separation anxiety from- well, everyone, since her parents died- (she's nine, now, and now she's so smart she can understand what the adults are talking about)- or walks through the woods that give laudna an inner peace she never quite found with percy.

and while laudna goes to percy when she can't shake the lingering memories of losing her family, she goes to vex at the times when her grief is larger than words or memories, when she wakes up sobbing and can't explain why.

it's not easy. sometimes it's harder, to be loved in the place that haunted her nightmares. but every time laudna wants to tear the place apart, she looks across the dinner table at vex'ahlia, who is trying to shoot chickens out of the air to make them all laugh and percival, who looks terribly resigned to it all, and her heart is warm.

(laudna isn't there when it happens, but one day a frantic keyleth steps through the sun tree holding a sobbing little lavender haired girl. her hands are clenched in the autumn leaves of the tempest's mantle, crackling with violet energy)

(she says she's been looking into children born under the red moon. she says that the little girl's father didn't know how to care for a daughter with powers beyond his experience, she says her mother is gone)

(keyleth and vex'ahlia exchange wordlessly sad glances. there aren't any questions asked between the two of them- two of the most powerful women in exandria- before vex'ahlia holds her arms out)

(but the little girl screams and screams and screams when she's pulled away from keyleth- the most heartbreaking, wretched cries, of a child ripped away from everything she's ever known, now taken away from the one person connected to her past life-)

(keyleth turns to go back to zephrah, but her hand reaches out to cast the spell on the sun tree and she can't bring herself to leave, and maybe it's reckless of her, but she crosses the distance between her and vex and lifts the lavender-haired girl- imogen, the father had said, like a prayer before placing imogen's hand in keyleth's- and takes her back into her arms)

(imogen's sobs calm, a little bit, and the panicked phantom sensation that had been radiating off of her faded slightly from keyleth's mind, and vex's, judging by the slight release of tension from vex's shoulders)

(she and vax had always imagined having a little girl.)

there are many more visits, after that, where vex'ahlia and keyleth sit side-by-side in the grounds of whitestone and watch a dark-haired girl and a violet-haired girl, much older now, walk hand-in-hand through the gardens, picking poppies and orchids.

you know i'm in love with you, right?

you know you saved my life, right?

i should have told you. it's yours.

(there are nights, where shadows flicker in zephrah, where a half-elf man dies defending the same lavender-haired girl, where the clouds turn red, and red, and red- but we don't think about that.)

[rightpastnowhere]

A Random Assortment of fluffy cute headcanons:

One of the Kashra kids has a bat familiar/companion. It was latched onto Trinket's fur when they returned from a patrol, one wing broken after one of the arboreal wildcats around Whitestone got to it and... well, the Kashra kids take after their parents. They don't leave the needful to suffer alone: they try to help.

Percy used to make music boxes for his sisters. Cassandra still has hers. On the five year anniversary of Whitestone being freed, Percy makes her another (it's partly a trial run for some of his ideas for the clocktower, but it's also a harkening back to their childhood. After all, they're healing).

They do end up setting up a library in Whitestone. With Percy there, there's soon a reasonable printing press as well, and when Vesper starts shadowing Cass in the Chamber of Whitestone, she also starts making a little newsletter to go around. An early iteration of a newspaper.

Some nobles are shitty about Gwen and the Kashra kids. Some of them have tiefling kids of their own that they're ashamed of. Given Zahra and Vex, any time Gwen and the Kashra kids get an INKLING of this, they find a way to befriend said kid and get them free of their parent, if they want it.

Vax watches from beyond the divine gate. He's so proud of all of them.

There's snowdrops around the raven tree in Zephrah every spring. Keyleth never quite gets over it.

The women do periodic holidays any time any of them seems to be getting too mopey. Keyleth is getting too buried in work? Beach holiday. Cass is falling back in bad habits? Beach holiday. Vex is having a trauma anniversary. BEACH HOLIDAY. These are usually organised by Zahra, who is far and away the most on top of her issues, and Pike, who loves springing a surprise on upset friends.

Sometimes Kima and Allura join them. These rapidly turn into cocktail holidays that result in needing at least two days more holiday for "recovery" time when they return.

Percy learns how to make earplugs, not for himself, but so Vex can recover from those hangovers.

AWWWW the kashra kids going full goth aesthetic good for them <33 bats are SO CUTE so this is PERFECT

MUSIC BOXES,,,, something beautiful percy can make......... something beautiful that makes something beautiful, and can make people happy.................... and fuck, imagine him making music boxes for the babies too, and then giving them More once they grow old enough to have things like favorite songs or genres

vesper being a pioneer of something in her own right is SO COOL!! whitestone would end up as the origin of so many little modern thingamabobs, wouldn't it. the ruling family are all braniacs

THOSE NOBLES ARE GETTING DECKED!! i have headcanons about an orphanage/shelter/care system in whitestone that zahra and vex help out with (and i can't for the life of me remember if this is a headcanon inspired by someone else or of it's from canon somewhere) and i imagine it's only because they can't take in all the kids that they want to. and this is the next best thing they can give them, some place safe where they can be protected from the family that tried to - or that did - hurt them. no child deserves that, and vex n zahra (and the rest of the hydris-de rolo conglomerate) will love them twice as much and twice as fiercely to make up for how they were treated

I MISS VAX SO MUCH AND I'VE BEEN SO EMOTIONAL ABOUT HIM RECENTLY SHUT UPPPPP he watches over them.... his family and then his nieces and nephews............ even when he doesn't have much of himself left................. the snowdrops..............................

GNERKJGNEKGN THEY WILL DO ANYTHING FOR A NON-TRAUMATIC BEACHDAY AND THEY DESERVE IT!!! AND KIMALLURA TAGGING ALONG <333 MY FAVE NPC COUPLE

;;; percy keeps innovating ways for vex to be as happy as she can and he loves his wife SO MUCH

[ravendruid]

A happy birthday, indeed

This work is part of the @percahliaweek event. Day 7 - Free/Random [Read on AO3]

In a small cabin made of stone and wood, two women sit at a white table painted with flowers of all colors and kinds. A redhead, whose short hair reaches just below the line of her shoulders, hunches over some piece of ceramics on top of an old, paint-splattered sheet. On the opposite side of her sits a woman with a dark-brown braid falling down the front of her shoulder, its end tied in a soft blue ribbon. She, too, is hunched over a piece of ceramics, a mug of all things. She snorts and smiles as she moves the brush on her hand to create the shapes of letters.

“What’s so funny?” Keyleth asks. Vex’ahlia turns the mug around, showing her sister what she wrote. Keyleth throws her head back in laughter, and Vex’s eyes widen. She can’t remember the last time her friend laughed like that, not since—

“Percy is going to love it,” Keyleth says, still half-chuckling as she returns to her piece. Vex’ahlia peers over her head to see a long ceramic tray. Half of it is painted blue, half white, and Keyleth is in the process of drawing what looks like snow-capped mountains halfway on the right side of it. 

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” Keyleth replies with a mischievous smile. 

Vex shrugs and returns to her work, occasionally snorting to herself. Percy’s birthday is coming up fast, and this idea Keyleth had wasn’t half-bad. 

—

Percival de Rolo has a pleasant awakening on the morning of his birthday. Surrounded by a gaggle of children on his bed—except for small Gwen, who decided she wanted to frighten him to an early grave by sitting on his chest and scaring him first thing as soon as he opened his eyes—two bear heads peeking at his feet, and his beautiful, charming wife holding what Percy could guess was a chocolate cake underneath a layer of sprinkles. 

“Happy birthday, Dad,” The children speak in unison. Percy chuckles and lifts his youngest to his oldest’s lap so he can sit up straight and look at all their faces. His heart is warm and full of love for his family, the children who talk over each other, fighting to see who gets to be the first to hug and kiss him. Gwen wins, of course. The young red tiefling squirms away from her sister’s hold to wrap her tiny, chubby arms around his neck. Her little horns poke Percy’s cheek, but he doesn’t mind. His little girl is warm as the sun and smells like cinnamon and paint. 

Vesper comes next, giving Percy a tight side hug and kissing his cheek. They look so alike with their pale skin and white hair, hers not out of trauma, thankfully. The twins argue next. Wolfe almost pushes his sister out of the bed to get to Percy first, but Leona—strong and determined like her mother—sneaks past her brother to wrap her arms around Percy’s neck. Wolfe huffs and puffs, crossing his arms until Percy opens one arm to welcome his son into his embrace, holding one child on each side. Dan is the last, the quietest one, without a doubt. The boy shuffles to Percy’s lap and snuggles against his father’s neck, brown curls against a white ruffled beard.

“Good morning, darling,” Vex’ahlia bends over to press a soft kiss to her husband’s lips. Contrary to him, she doesn’t look a day older than the day they met in that dark and damp prison. 

“Dad, blow your candles so you can eat our cake,” Wolfe says with excitement in his eyes. Percy chuckles but obeys his son, blowing the number of candles he can’t be bothered to count. Age is just a number, Vex had told him the previous night. Maybe for her that is correct, but for him, a human whose lifespan would end before she even reached half of hers, age is more than a number. It’s a memory of the deeds he has done—both good and bad—of the fate that awaits him sooner rather than later, of what he leaves behind: his family, the legacy he never thought he would leave behind.

“Why don’t we give your father some time to get dressed?” Vex asks the children, saving him again. She herds the kids out of the room, passing out the cake to Vesper, but lingers at the doorstep, looking above her shoulder with a kind smile. “We’ll be waiting for you downstairs, dear. Take your time,” She says, leaving Percy to dress in peace and quiet.

That night, Percival finds himself surrounded by people he cares about and who care about him deeply—another sign of the good deeds he has done in his life. The ballroom at the castle has been beautifully decorated with the colors of whitestone, and tables full of food, drinks, and flowers surround the marbled dancefloor in front of a dais where a small orchestra plays soft tunes. Percy wears his finer clothes in shades of navy blue that match his wife’s gown, and his children run around amok in their preferred colors. In a corner, Percival finds his sister, Cassandra, deep in conversation with the captain of the guard, Kynan, the boy who was given a second chance after teaming up with one of Percy’s greatest enemies. Kynan hadn’t failed Percival again, far from it. He had shown everyone just how reliable and trustworthy he was, and that is why, when he came to Percy’s study one night to ask for his blessing in courting Cassandra, Percy couldn’t say no. 

His friends are here, too. Grog, hunched over himself, beaten and broken from years of brawls but still with the biggest, brightest smile and most delicate touch as he holds little Gwen, no bigger than one of his hands. Scanlan and Pike aren’t far, chatting amicably. Percy still smiles at the sight of them together, even now, years after their divorce. Their children—not so much anymore—are around, too, somewhere. Young Juniper, as beautiful as her mother, and Wax, as charming as his father—and hopefully not as much of a heartbreaker. Kaylie was invited, of course, as she always is. The girl—now a woman—has been part of their little dysfunctional family since the day she barged through the doors of Greyskull Keep and stole all their silverware. Tary, a sight of golden locks as bright as Whitestone’s treasury, waves a hand decorated with jewel-encrusted gold and silver rings in between conversations with his husband, always accompanied by Doty.

Percy chuckles and takes a lap around the room, looking at all the other faces he recognizes, people he has met throughout the years. Allura and Kima lead what sounds like an amusing conversation with Gilmore and his husband, Darius, and a few other members of the Tal’Dorei Council. Jarret, Zahra, and Kashaw are here, too, as well as the couple’s twins. The woman has been invaluable since Gwen came into the world, screaming like she was about to be everyone’s trouble. Unsurprisingly, the invitation that was cordially extended to Percy’s father-in-law was politely declined by the man. However, as he is wont to do, Syldor Vessar sent his daughter in his place. Velora is now a grown, beautiful woman. Hair as dark as night, long and silky down her back, eyes sharp like Vex’ahlia’s. She has become quite strong and fierce under her sister’s influence. And then, in another corner, not far from the chocolate fountain, is a sight that Percy never thought he would witness, a sight that makes the corners of his eyes well up in tears. Keyleth, his beautiful, tall, clumsy best friend—no, sister—is laden by two figures who she looks so much alike. Percy knows the man well, the former fierce leader of the Air Ashari who came to their aid during the battle with Thordak, Korrin. But it’s the woman by Keyleth’s right side who causes Percy’s heart to tighten in his chest. Vilya appeared alive and well through a gate in a tree years ago with tales of missing limbs and islands that took away her memories. The sight of the little family is all he needs to finally turn his back to the room and exit through the tall glass door that leads out onto the balcony.

“Darling?” Vex’s hand on his arm is so warm on this cold night. Her face is serene and young, unlike Percy’s. “Are you alright?”

“Quite, in fact,” Percy brings her gloved hand to his lips and kisses it softly. Vex’ahlia hums and leans her head on his shoulder. 

“We could leave anytime, dear. Just say the word.”

“I can’t leave my own birthday party. What kind of host would I be if I left and took with me all the fun?” Percy jokes. Vex laughs, a sound like music to his ears.

“Come. Let’s allow everyone to shower you with gifts you don’t need, darling,” She teases him. 

Vex leads Percy back inside, and like the powerful, charming Lady she has become, she gathers everyone around a table so full of presents that it’s surprising it hasn’t collapsed on the floor. He opens each present carefully, taking the time to thank whoever it came from. Some are trinkets, and others are valuable gifts that Percy will have to hide in the treasury, but they all come from a good place. He takes a mental note of those whose presents have been opened and realizes there are two missing, one from his wife and one from Keyleth. Percy looks up, not wanting to ask for their gifts. He readies to thank everyone for attending when Keylet steps forward, holding a large rectangular box wrapped in brown paper that she decorated by drawing trees and flowers.

“Ah,” Percy says simply, taking the box from his friend.

Keyleth’s cheeks redden. No matter how many years she has been under the spotlight as the Voice of the Tempest, Percy will always see the awkward, clumsy girl he met decades ago. “I–I didn’t forget about it. I just—Just open it!” She orders, clearing her throat and straightening her back like the commander she is. 

Percy opens the long box as Keyleth silently moves from foot to foot in front of him, twisting and turning her fingers. Inside it, it’s something Percy knows he will cherish for the rest of his years—however many are left. In his hands, Percival holds a ceramic tray that was undoubtedly hand-made and hand-painted by Keyleth, if the rough edges and drawings say anything. He sees a blue sky behind a range of snow-capped mountains and a hill where a white castle sits atop it. On the green grass stands a group of people who Percy recognizes, even if Keyleth’s skill at drawing humanoids isn’t the best. He sees Grog’s strong-built shoulders carrying Scanlan and Pike like he did many times during their adventures, with Juniper and Wax waving by the Goliath’s feet. Next to him is Tary, with a beaming smile, and Doty, who holds its signature book and quill. On the other side of the tray, Keyleth, with tall antlers and a long flowy mantle, is holding the hand of a figure clad in black whose wings open behind her and the woman on his other side. Percy tears up at the sight of Vax’ildan with his bright smile and protective wings spawning over the most important women in his life. Vex’ahlia and Percival take center stage in the picture, and around them are the smiley faces of their oldest children, Vesper, Wolfe, and Leona. At Percy and Vex’s feet lies a grumpy Trinket with Gwen on his back, and next to him, Dan snuggles Charlie, the cub.

“Keyleth, this is—” Percy holds back a sob. His eyes fill with tears, and he brings the tray closer to his chest. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

Keyleth is actively crying, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands, and sniffling with a pout. She takes a step forward, hesitates, then curses between her teeth and runs for a hug. The man barely has time to set his gift aside before his arms are full of long, red hair and the smell of forest and rain.

“Well then,” Vex’ahlia claps. “Shall we eat some cake?”

Everyone cheers at that, tears are wiped, and long, meaningful smiles are exchanged before the group breaks apart and drifts into pockets of conversation again until their hands hold plates of a delicious chocolate and vanilla cake. The party dies down way past midnight. Some guests leave through various means of teleportation, but Vox Machina remains, drinking, eating, and partying until Percival can barely keep his eyelids open anymore. Only then does Vex’ahlia corral everyone to their bedrooms—the same ones all these years, fully decorated to each person’s liking—and lead her husband up the grand staircase into their wing of the castle. 

“I couldn’t help but notice your gift was missing, dear,” Percival teases his wife at last, who simply chuckles. “You know I don’t mind, but if your plan was to give me something else—” He looks at her knowingly “—I’m afraid I won’t be of any help this late.”

Vex’ahlia throws her head back with a laugh and pats her husband’s arm, “Don’t worry, Percival. Your gift is waiting for you on our bed.”

“Ah. Please tell me it’s a pair of nice, comfy pajamas, dearheart.”

Vex’ahlia laughs again. “Better, darling,” She says, opening the door of their dimly lit bedroom. 

Waiting on the bed is a small box wrapped in shimmering purple wrapping paper with a soft silver bow. Percy gives his wife a questioning look, who replies with a nod. He sits on the plush covers and eagerly opens his final gift. As he picks it up from the box, Percy starts laughing wholeheartedly, a sound he hasn’t heard in a while. In his hands, he holds a rough-looking royal purple mug, probably also handmade.

“Keyleth made it, but the artwork is all mine,” Vex’ahlia explains as if reading his mind.

In what Percy recognizes is his wife’s handwriting, a sentence is written in silver and gold. “I love you for your personality. But that dick is a great bonus,” Percy reads out loud, finishing with another laugh, joined by Vex’ahlia.

“I love it, darling,” He says, setting it on his nightstand and opening his arms to receive Vex’s embrace. She kisses the top of his head and rubs her thumbs along the apples of his cheeks.

“It was a happy birthday, wasn’t it, dear?” Vex’s smile crinkles the corner of her eyes.

“A happy birthday, indeed, “ The man agrees.

“I love you, Percival,” She says. “I’m so lucky to have you, darling.”

“Not as lucky as I am to have you,” He replies. Percy kisses Vex longingly, pausing just enough to whisper I love you, Vex’ahlia.

[ravenquingvax]

Thinking about family and about how it shapes you.

Thinking about friends and their connections.

Thinking about Vox Machina, the dysfunctional family that it was, and thinking about each members' individual families.

So here, take these family trees that are half-canon half-fanon.

And some of my notes:

I headcanon that Syldor has a sister who he mistreated growing up, that he also used her to separate the twins at times by sending Vex to stay with his sister every once in a while

I headcanon that Elaina's surname is Heatherwood, her father being Tal'dorein while her mother is of half Wildemountian and half Marquesian descent

I headcanon that Vex's legal name after marrying Percy is Lady Vex'ahlia de Rolo Elaina Heatherwood to honour her late mother, but she goes by just Lady Vex'ahlia de Rolo in professional settings

I headcanon that members of the Ashari tribes typically don't have surnames - however, Keyleth would have taken Vax's surname, Heatherwood, had she been given the opportunity

I headcanon that Julius was actually moved out and married with children when the Briarwoods massacred the de Rolo family, that he and his family had been visiting Whitestone for Percy's birthday when the massacre occurred

I headcanon that Vesper was a lesbian and that she was courting a noblewoman from Marquet - her girlfriend never learned what happened to her, she only received a fake letter calling their relationship off after the de Rolo massacre had already happened

I headcanon that, sometime post campaign one, Kaylie and Cassandra got together and eventually got married

I headcanon that Vax'ildan de Rolo goes by Danny for the most part because he feels unworthy of his uncle's name - Vax would disagree

I headcanon that while Wilhand'ildan Trickfoot understands and respects his wild ass name, he goes by Wildan for shortness

I headcanon that Juniper and Wildan had decided to have different surnames so both of their parents felt recognised after Scanlan and Pike got divorced

I headcanon that Grog's mother didn't survive childbirth, being human, but that Grog probably wasn't told about this information

[blackveine]

Language: English

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 2508

Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series)

Rating: General Audiences

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Relationships: Johanna de Rolo & Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, Cassandra de Rolo & Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, Percival de Rolo & the whole de Rolo family

Character(s): Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, Johanna de Rolo, Frederick de Rolo, Julius de Rolo, Vesper de Rolo, Whitney de Rolo, Oliver de Rolo, Ludwig de Rolo, Cassandra de Rolo, Yennen

Additional Tags: intersex Percy, trans percy, just making everyone trans, de Rolo family FEELS, anyway this is canon now, threw in some real weird references for my own amusement

Summary: No one especially cares what sort of child the third born de Rolo is: it is a baby, a spare to the spare, and that's enough.

Confused, trans baby Percy figuring things out.

*The author of this fic can be found here on tumblr! If you liked their fic like I did, why not go give them some love @politeyeti?*

[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

[eternally-hypothermic]

For the @badthingshappenbingo Prompt: Supernatural Fear Inducer

Fandom: Critical Role Campaign 1 / The Legend of Vox Machina

Character: Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III / Percy

Fic under the cut, AO3 Link HERE!

Then why does it fill his chest with such an ache? Why does it hurt so much to see, squeezes his heart and almost hurts his very soul? 

Something is wrong.

It’s strange because he could swear there is something he is forgetting - something that he should know and remember, a reason why sitting at this family table feels so off. It’s not the smooth wood under his fingers, right where the tablecloth ends and he ran his fingers over so many times when it was clear he was in trouble.

It’s not his fathers smile when he pulls the chair of his mother back, ever the gentleman. It’s not the twins bickering even now, or Vesper rolling her eyes, or Cassandra acting as if she is above it all and not laughing at the jokes the twins throw at her. All of this is painfully normal.

All of this should not be strange.

Have the shadows always been this dark? 

It shouldn’t. He’s been upstairs, working on a new pocketwatch for his father’s birthday all day. He would rather be there now, working on it. All of this is normal. His heart does not calm. It jumps, and he presses a hand to it, discreetly, or trying to be.

His chest twinges when he looks around the table, and his mother smiles at him, asking what he was doing up in his room all day, and he can’t tell her he feels like a hero from a book that has a mission, that sneaks around on silent feet. 

Have they always always eaten in such darkness? He tries to look out the window, but wherever he turns, the windows are dark. 

Another twinge, tightness in his chest that does not dissipate. He is standing up before he knows it, his chair clatters to the ground and it’s so loud that he flinches. 

“Percy?” someone says, his mother, his sister? But he can not properly hear them, their voices are wrong. “Percival, are you alright?” and he does not know. The room flickers, his own clothes turn tattered, his body much taller, the room changes but when he looks up again, it hasn’t. 

But on the table sits a woman with a feather in her hair. A man with dark clothes and an even darker expression. 

“We have to go” he presses out, somehow, through a throat that is so tight, and a chest that threatens to break his ribs. “We have to go” he repeats, and his legs shake. He knows this scene, he remembers it in the horrifying detail his nightmares provide  him with every single night. “Please” And it gets drowned out by how loud his breath is, by how fast his heart beats. 

It gets drowned out by a scream as a knife cuts Grog’s throat, his blood spilling over the table, Pike is standing, light pooling around her, did she scream? and he chokes out a warning that does not reach her. 

Red dyes her light hair dark. 

He is under the table next, hands around his knees, holding tightly, tighter, holding on to something despite the urge to press his hands over his ears until his skull cracks. 

His chest is so tight, his breathing so loud and he hears it, it fills his ears, but it’s still not enough. 

The worst is not the sounds of them dying.

The worst was Pike’s scream when Grog did. Vax’s when his sister does. Scanlan fighting with purple light that zips over the table, and yet does nothing, cursing and mocking, nothing, nothing, just like Vax'ildan can not do anything with his daggers.

He nearly died to them before.

There is light somewhere, but he is also on the streets and every face he sees is Them, every person looking at him has the same cruel and cold eyes, the same smirk and the same fear curls up in his chest like a snake. 

Percy is too much of a coward to get up, to help, he should, when the Briarwood’s killed his entire family he hid, was too scared to move, too scared to help, he should have helped. He does not remember.

He wills his limbs to move, to get himself up, it might be too late but he can’t lose them, not again, but when he gets his legs under himself he is already running, waterdrops on his glasses, holding Vex’s hand and losing it, he can’t hold on no matter how hard he tries and she falls, arrows in her back, piercing and bleeding and feathered, and it’s not Anna Ripley on the horse, it’s himself. An older Percy, hair a stark white, shooting arrows from a gun, and it doesn’t make sense, it hurts his head how much it doesn’t make sense. He can’t leave Vex here. He can’t leave her in the snow, he left Cass here and he can’t do it again, but stumbling backwards he falls into the water, deep, not even fighting when it fills his already so tight lungs with a heaviness that just drags him deeper down. 

The air is cool on his hot skin when he startles upright, grasping for his gun, the knowledge that he has something, anything to defend himself, that he is safe, but it’s not there and his grasping turns desperate, desperation, dread- 

He is shaking that night on the cobblestones, an alleyway that is just sheltered enough for him to hide in a corner and try to stay dry. He is shaking in a cold prison cell, bruises all over his body, glasses cracked and one eye swollen. His heart is fluttering, somewhere between the general fear and the anxiety of doing something wrong brings, the sinking feeling that runs over his body in a prickling of the skin on his head to his toes, dread, he learned to call it.

It’s the same feeling when he breaks a vase in his father’s study, angry from broken promises, and isn’t that ridiculous, that dread just feels the same whatever he does? Hot and cold, sharp and numbing his entire torso and down his legs, weakening everything except the muscle in his heart that suddenly beats even faster, his ears that hear a rushing and he has to run, he has to do something, he is hysteric with fear in a dungeon without knowing how he got there except that he does, he strains against the bindings that tie him to a chair, rope biting into his arms and dread, so much dread pooling in his body- 

Someone catches his hands and guides him down again, and down where, he doesn’t want to drown, he doesn’t want to die, he is so afraid, fear, that is it, he is so scared.  

“Percival?” He is so tired. Warmth around him, a coat or a blanket, a body with a warm heartbeat that is so much slower and so much easier than his own. He can hear a choked sound and it’s his own broken sob, and another and more, he can’t stop shaking, he has to stop and he just can’t. He wants to be small again, a child climbing into his parent’s bed when he had a nightmare, sobbing then the same way he is now, shaking and being held, being cared for, except that they are dead, their corpses rotten, nobody in their room and him, oh, him all alone now. 

“Shh… It’s alright” It can’t be Vax, he is dead, they all died and Percy needs to beg for forgiveness on his knees for hours and ages because it’s his fault that Vex died, it’s his fault, always his, his crying won’t change that, his pathetic weeping won’t change that, nothing will. Vax might be gentle now, but he’ll punch him in the face, cut his throat, all of that later and Percy deserves it. 

He does not deserve this kindness. Maybe that is what makes him sob even harder, maybe that is why the shaking won’t stop, his breathing won’t slow, nothing gets better- 

“Percival, come on” Vax shifts and Percy finds himself clinging to him with desperate hands, grasping with shaking fingers that barely find purchase. “Hey, hey easy, I’m not going anywhere. But I need you to take a breath” 

“I can’t” he gasps automatically, voice rough and breaking, pathetic, so pathetic. 

“Easy, of course you can. Open your eyes for now, I’m right here. Vex is just sleeping, everyone is just fine” 

“I saw them die” Vax’s hand moves until it cups his cheek. His thumb tugs on his temple when he brushes over it, and Percy risks a glance, and have his eyes been closed the entire time? 

“That sounds really rough” He is too gentle, maybe this is not real. Maybe this is a desperate attempt of his mind to save him, to fix him, to somehow prevent some of his brain from falling to madness entirely. But even then, Vax is right in front of him, they are both under his coat and a blanket and in a bed, even if that makes no sense. 

His dreams are filled with smoke pouring from dead eyes surrounding him. They are blue and black and green and yellow, he sees his own reflection in yellow, red blood splattered over his body, his mask on but a grin on his face nevertheless. 

“I’m sorry” air still does not come, and he chokes on it, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I don’t know what happened I am so sorry Vax-” His head throbs with the tears just spilling forth and forth and is this Whitestone? Is this home? Are they still here? Are the corpses of his friends down there still? He looks up, and Vax’s mouth is moving in words Percy just can’t make out when he remembers the corpses of his family down in the dining room, how they lay there for days and weeks, how he was marched past them several times, broken eyes and dried blood, decaying until someone must have decided for it all to be too much and taking them away and it had been a mercy and are they still down there? Is Vex still in the snow? He has to tell Vax, his sister, she might still be alive, there might be an iota of something, anything good coming from this, if he can just will his mouth to move, say something, say anything even, but he shakes so hard his lips tremble.

There are more tears, he is sobbing again, too hard to get a word out, too hard to breathe, his throat closes up and his chest hurts, there is no air and there is too much he chokes on, his heart leaps like a scared animal and he falls again, biting his lip because he can’t scream - maybe he still does. 

He kills Vex, she asks him to take off the mask and the smoke clouds his eyes and he can’t stop, he can’t do it, he shoots the smoke but he shoots her instead-

When he wakes again, it’s gentler. He is warm, exhausted, tired, but he thinks he could almost go back to sleep like this. Moving feels impossible, and his head is fuzzy with having just woken. It’s not that he is well-rested, it’s just that he is almost one with the mattress. He is warm, and a twinge in his chest almost makes him curl more into this warmth. Something is on his head. 

“That is enough” someone says, waves their hand and it all bleeds into colors, down a drain, until darkness is all around him and he remains in the center of it, sobbing still, pressing his hands to his chest and holding tight, so tight, curled up like a scared child and scared is such a different word from fear, from startled, from terrified, a child is scared and a man fears and it’s all bullshit anyways because he is so scared still. Scared of the dark. Scared of the shadows. Scared of smoke.

He stays where he is, pressing his knees to his eyes, his hands to his ears, and somehow, at some point, he falls asleep. 

Someone is snoring loudly, loud enough that Percy's chest vibrates with it. He blinks into a black coat, and vaguely remembers that it has been spread over him before. It feels and smells familiar. Like Vax. 

“Freddy?” Vax is still next to him, and he must have stirred and woke him, because he sounds tired. “Hey there” A pause, and he realizes that the soft feeling on his head is Vax’s chin. “Shhh… I’m right here. Everyone is still asleep, we’re in Whitestone. You got hit with something in the battle and … we don’t exactly know” 

“Vax?” It’s ridiculous because he obviously knows it’s him, but he is safe and warm and he does not want this to change. His head is still pleasantly fuzzy and the information of how he is home and everyone is safe and knowing Grog’s snoring by now just lets him sink into the fuzzy feeling even more. His voice is rough, throat parched, and his body aches like one big bruise. 

“Yeah, I got you. You scared us there, Percy” he pauses, and kisses his hair, “Are you with us again?” Scared. There it is again. 

“‘m sorry about scaring you” Vax chuckles and it rumbles in his chest, Percy is so close he feels it in his heartbeat. 

“Don’t worry about it. Come here” Percy protests with a whine that is very much not like him if he cared at all, but Vax just chuckles softly and moves them both. It sets off the fluttering in his chest again, and he presses his eyes closed, tries to move weak and clumsy hands to his heart again, but Vax is humming now, and it is almost like a calming touch. Moving himself sounds like a bad idea anyways. And Vax does not go far - he shifts them both into a half-sitting position, one arm free so he can reach out and place his glasses on his face and press a cup to his lips. “Drink slowly, you were out for quite a while”

“How long?” It’s tea, something with citrus in it, and it’s lukewarm to the point it makes him wonder, yet he stays unsure as to what about. 

“We returned yesterday morning” He could count the hours now, or he could sip the tea that slowly wakes him a little. “Pike fixed it. She was tapped and had to sleep, so it took a while. Sorry about that” He nods, still sipping. Vax’s hand is under the cup and that’s good, because as he gets his wits about him, a little more with each sip, he starts to think about the situation. He can’t help it, not really, and due to Vax and his quick reflexes, no tea splashes onto the covers. 

“Vex? Is she okay? I saw…” Vax says nothing, instead shifts a little and this time, Percy doesn’t protest. Vex’ahlia is curled up next to them, taking up an absolute minimum of space where she hugs a pillow. Grog takes up most of the bed, snoring like a treesaw, and it’s funny how used he got to that, because he heard it the entire time, without realizing. Pike is curled up under one of the goliath’s arms, Scanlan a bundle of blankets behind her. It takes him a moment to see Keyleth, as she is similarly curled up as Vex, just with her feet stretched out over Vax’s legs. 

Vox Machina is a pile of blankets and pillows and each other on the bed which is actually his own. How they all fit makes not a lot of sense, but he is too tired to question it, and looking over is straining for his eyes without the glasses he needs. 

They are all safe. And even more, they are all here. Here for him? 

“You were terrified” Vax says simply, “And you kept apologizing whenever you woke up. So we thought it might be better to have all of us here - you know, in case you needed us” A knot in his chest loosens, and he bites his lip. 

“Let it out, Freddy. You’ve been sobbing all night anyways, it’s fine” That is not comforting and strangely comforting still. 

“I … dreamed” 

“You were really strange after the fight, and when we got back here, basically went catatonic. We found you under a table. Sorry we didn’t notice sooner” He is not sobbing now, not choking on tears, but tears they are when he leans over and lets them go. Vax chuckles and wraps an arm around him tighter again.

“We got your back” he says simply, and he does not ask about what he saw, what he dreamed about, and maybe he will, or maybe his sister will, or the others will, but not now, not now when he is too tired to properly cry, too relieved to think because they are alive and here, he is warm and he is fine, or, as much as he can be. We got your back, Vax says, and he says nothing else because it’s all that is important.

All there is. 

[iamlostandinneedofcoffee]

Laudna Theories so far

Her Backstory(no particular order but they become more weird as it goes on):

Laudna is Vesper de Rolo Orginal.

Patron the Briarwood? Cause Patron is undead???

What if the patron was Ripley???

Laudna is actually the original spooky gardener de Rolo- Melanie de Rolo.

not so likely now considering C3E02 Laudna convo

Laudna is Vesper de Rolo 2 electric boogaloo enjoying being a chaotic eldest sister/child

There is not one but two souls in Laudna who have combined cause necromancy and blood.

Both Vespers? Vesper Squared?

A Vesper and a Melanie?

She was one of those hung on the Sun Tree.

She is the daughter of the Briarwoods or Anna Ripley.

Laudna died in the whitestone rebellion.

She was one of the servents of the de Rolo’s and friends with one of the children, (maybe Percy/ Patè[Pâté]?? or maybe one of the younger ones??) that was killed in the attack.

Patè has the soul of one of the de Rolo’s in it.

Black veil?? Undead?? Maybe Vamp/Vampy Patron? 

Laudna is like Dracula's brides, maybe killed by the Briarwoods on her wedding day?? 

The day Whitestone was attacked??? 

Brought back to life/unlife/dead life?

Character Race:

Undead of some sorts

Hollow one

Dhampir

[waltwhitmansbeard]

I would also pretty please like a MFL roll. Please?

i rolled a 3: a platonic/family drabble

turned my water into wine #45

Percy is at something of a standstill, and he doesn't know how best to proceed. Vesper is but a few weeks old, and already his entire world revolves around her and her happiness—but his heart belongs to so many others now, and their needs are beginning to clash. Whitestone remains in shambles after over a decade of tyranny at the hands of the Briarwoods, and though he is no stranger to responsibility, the recovery and stability of an entire city-state rests on his shoulders, an entirely new and entirely intimidating position in which he finds himself. Vex'ahlia, brilliant, miraculous, stubborn Vex'ahlia, helps as much as she can, more than she should. Percy knows little in the ways of motherhood and medicine, but he knows enough to cajole her back into bed as often as he can, to wheedle her into resting when she would rather be working with the city guard or traipsing about the Parchwood with the baby strapped to her chest. Half of his free time is spent scribbling missives of advice back to the new Mistress of Development in Zephrah, who was thrust into the position on the new High Council with little opportunity to learn from her predecessor before he left through a tree for Whitestone. He's happy, but he's exhausted, and he doesn't know what to do.

Well. He knows one thing he'd like to do, but he finds himself unable to ask for it. He knows what Cassandra will say—It isn't that I don't wish to see you, brother, or my niece, but that I cannot set foot again in that castle—and she has every right to say it. This place was a house of horrors for her for nearly her entire life; why should she come back?

It is a problem, and there are few things Percival de Rolo III loves more than a problem. He hems and he haws and he stays up watching his baby sleep, his tireless mind whirring away until the solution comes to him, so simple he feels a fool for not having thought of it sooner. After all, did Sovereign Korrin do it first?

He puts his best people on the project, and it takes less than a month to complete. When they're done, he schedules a brief visit to Zephrah—he's missed Keyleth dearly, and Vilya is so big now, it's hard to imagine she was once small enough to fit easily into the crook of one arm—during which he finds Cassandra working at a cluttered desk in the study appointed to the now-Ambassador Desnay.

"This is a surprise," she says, abandoning her work to come hug him.

He must still remind himself that this is real, that it is his baby sister he holds close, alive and well. "I have yet another for you."

She frowns at him. "I am not fond of surprises."

"I hope you'll be fond of this one." He tugs her over to a little settee along one wall. "We miss you in Whitestone."

Instantly, her face hardens, a reaction undoubtedly honed after years under the Briarwoods' thumb. "I cannot go back there. Likely ever."

"Easy, Cass." He squeezes her hand. "I understand that the castle is a particular source of pain for you, and I would never dream of asking you to return to where you were a prisoner for so many years.

"But what if I told you of a new home, a little thing, far on the edge of the castle grounds, built just for you? A place you could come and visit and meet your niece, without ever having to be within half a mile of the castle?"

Cassandra blinks. "I...what have you done?"

"My family is not whole without you. I know the work you do here is important, believe me, and I have no wish to take you from it. But I cannot believe that I am doing right by you if you feel as if you must be kept so far from the people who love you."

Her eyes start to shine. "You built me a house?"

He pulls her in for another hug. "Cassandra, I'd build you a nation if it would make you happy. Will you come see it? Keyleth is due for a visit, anyway, so she'll come with us, and if it's too much, if you wish to return, she'll have you back through a tree before you know it."

Cassandra sniffles into the crook of his neck, and he squeezes her tighter. How alone she's been, his baby sister, how terrified. "Okay."

How brave, how strong, how tenacious. "You will always be my home, Cass. I hope I can be yours, too."