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It isn’t until years after they have stopped adventuring that they notice anything is amiss with Percy and Cassandra. There is an accident during construction of what will one day be the new indoor marketplace while Percy and Vex are away from Whitestone. Luckily, no one is gravely injured, but there are some broken bones.
When they return, Percy checks in with the acting foreman. The regular foreman, Desmond, has had his leg broken by falling timber. Percy speaks with the man for quite some time before realizing that he knew him as a child - the man of late-middle age, grizzled and weathered, had been the son of the stablemaster at the castle.
Reassured from their discussion that the accident was a pure incident of materials failing under a heavy load, and not a flaw in his design, Percy tells Vex about the man, as they walk hand-in-hand to the castle.
Vex takes a brief look over her shoulder and remarks, “It’s nice that you remember him so fondly. Was he friendly with your older brother?”
“Julius? No, he was close to Ludwig and Cassandra, seeing as they were around the same age.”
Vex takes another glance back, and pats him on the forearm with the hand that isn’t currently holding his. “Darling, than you must be misremembering. That man looks to be ten years older than you, not some years younger. Perhaps you have the wrong man altogether, or he’s an older brother of the boy your recall?”
He walks silently with her for a few steps, letting her lead the way as he tries to remember more of his life before the Briarwoods. Some things have returned to him with total clarity that had been shrouded bits before, but others still hurt too much to examine too closely, or are still hazy with memories of blood, chains and unnatural smoke.
This is not one of them, he hadn’t thought. As he spoke with the man, he saw him clearly as a boy in his mind’s eye, sword-fighting with sticks in the courtyard with Cassandra, while Ludwig, playing the princeling in need of rescue, cheered her on.
But Vex must be right. The man just now had been beginning to stoop with age, his hairline had receded far back on his forehead, and his beard was laced with gray. His memory must be playing tricks on him.
-
Vex doesn’t think anything odd about the encounter with the acting foreman. She isn’t troubled by gaps in Percy’s memory from before. She’s grown used to some inconsistencies and some things that he just can’t recall at all. She knows as well that some memories and feelings hurt too much to dredge up or face head-on. Her thoughts run to the surprise flood of grief she feels every now and then, when she catches a sidelong glance at her reflection in a window and thinks it’s him, only to have everything flow back into her all at once, before she can steel herself against it.
That is, until she mentions it casually to Cassandra some days later. They watch from the walkway atop the interior wall as Percy and the children play in the snow. The younger ones have asked their father to help try to build a snow-bear, while the older ones, closing in on their teenage years, are attempting to bombard each other with high, arcing snowballs from opposite sides of the courtyard.
Cassandra gets the same far-away look in her eyes that Percival gets when searching his memory of his childhood. Vex is pleased to see the accompanying smile, hopefully as she remembers her victories over her playmate in their youthful sparring matches.
Cassandra, so much less guarded with her now, shares more detailed recollections of the man as a boy, and doesn’t seem overly concerned at Vex’ disbelief that a man who should be Cass’ age looks so much older.
“Life in Whitestone may be as good as it has ever been, but it is still hard, and takes a toll on those less fortunate than we.” As Vex nods, Cassandra adds,” Besides, Percival and I were white-haired before hitting our twenties,” She smiles with a mock-conceit that Vex, recognizes as one of the mannerisms that led her to fall madly in love with Percy, “and we de Rolo’s have always managed to age rather gracefully.”
-
More time passes. Percival and Cassandra enter their fifth decade of life. Brother and sister show the signs of human aging - a slowing metabolism adds a bit of weight to both, and their complexion gains some color from all the time in the Northern sun and cold. Friends use the more accurate descriptors of “healthy”, “no longer see-through”, “less, you know, ghostly?” or “not looking like they could be knocked over with a lil’ flick of me finger”.
Despite these signs, however, none can ignore that the de Rolo siblings are barely aging. Percy still has the reflexes and vitality that he possessed when he adventured across the world and the planes of existence. Cassandra is just as dedicated and sharp a guardian of her city as she was when forced into responsibility in her teens.
Vex’ahlia certainly appreciates every moment of her husband’s life, and begrudges none of his professional, or personal, vigor. She rarely flashes to the horror scenes of her memory - Percival, bloodied and stilled on the ground of Glintshore, or eviscerated at the feet of a slain green dragon. Cass in black armor, with Vex’s own arrow though her chest - but she will never forget them. She just prays that this is not another horror to be visited upon this poor family, her poor family.
-
The siblings and their family, friends and advisors cannot and do not ignore the situation. In private conversations with the few they trust, the de Rolo’s express their worries that some of the darkness they have battled in their lives has made them unnatural. Percy and Cassandra mull their encounters with the Briarwoods and their dark god-ling, and Percy frets anew on the possibility that he still carries some taint of the shadow-demon on his soul. Over months, visits from clerics, arcanists, scholars and priests give no indication of evil lingering on the siblings, putting most minds at ease.
The subjects of all this poking and prodding, however, are still de Rolo’s, and as such, they continue to carry this weight of worry with them. At the next Winter’s Crest, celebrated together this year in Westrun, mostly in the home Pike has inherited from her great-grandfather, Percy asks a favor of his diminutive friend.
They are sitting together, all but the children, in a familiar, magically-appropriately sized dining room on the last night of the trip when he asks. “Pike? Could you ask the Everlight if Cassandra and I could have an audience, if Keyleth were to agree to try to bring us to her?” He no longer hides his worries from his family, from any of them.
Unlike much of the family, Pike isn’t as taken aback by the suggestion as he expects her to be. He sometimes forgets how long he has known her, and how well she knows the way his thoughts can run. “I can ask, Percy, and I don’t mind trying. But we know there isn’t anything wrong with you two, if that’s what you want to ask her.”
“I know that’s what all the magic and holy prayers have said, but it isn’t normal, not that abnormal hasn’t been part of my life since ...” he doesn’t mention all the things that Pike knows he is thinking of saying.
Pike sits up somewhat from where she had been reclining by the fireplace. “Percy, I’m going to ask you and Cass a question. I have some experience with the Everlight and I have an idea of what she might ask you if we were to see her. Is that alright?”
“Of course.”
“Are you happy?”
“Very much so.” His answer is immediate, without mulling it over or choosing his words carefully. That shows, more than the words themselves, how very far this Percy has come from the scared, secretive young man he was when they all first met; he has grown confident, trusting, open. His hand, on Vex’s shoulder as she rests against him in the armchair they share, pulls her closer.
“And is Cassandra happy?”
As focus turns to where Cassandra sits, Grog, who is sitting on the floor, brings his hand next to his mouth in an attempt to cover his lips. It is maneuver that is impossibly obvious, even for him. He whispers far too loudly to be considered whispering “Scanlan, is it even possible for that priss to ever be happy?”
The words barely leave his mouth before he reacts to a sharp elbow in his side. He bends to in fake pain and surprise over Cassandra, who has been leaning her back against his flank. Grog promptly receives a face-full of ale as the Lady of Whitestone’s other arm arcs up to toss the liquid in her cup over her shoulder at him.
“Apologies. I appear to have spilled my drink.” She says flatly as Grog sputters and the rest of the assembled group laughs.
The laughs die down a little, and Grog wipes his face, Percy returns his look to Pike and answers her “Yes, Pike, I believe my sister is happy.” Cassandra is nodding as she receives a refill.
Pike gather herself for a short speech, which is still not her usual style “I’m so happy for you both. You deserve to be happy. And after all that you two have been through, and all that we have seen and done together, do we need to particularly know why we will have you with us for longer than we initially thought?
“If it’s due to the number of times we revived the two of you, or some weird result of being near the ziggurat, or blessing from the Dawnfather, or the Everlight or the Raven Queen” She breaks from looking at Percy to scan the faces of the rest of them “Does it matter, that you’ll have more happy years with our family?”
This time, Percy does pause a few moments to consider. Not too long though, as he pulls Vex closer again against him, holds his cup out for a refill, and cracks a smile. “No it does not. You have always been the wisest of us. Thank you Pike.”
“My pleasure, Percy”