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He shouldn't have stayed.
He'd begun thinking it even before his eyes had started to grow heavy, even before his energy had begun to fade, flickering gradually out of existence like the old lights of Emon at nightfall, even before his senses grew fuzzier until all he was aware of was the gentle warmth of the hearthside and of his friends, their vague shapes fretted with gold in the weak firelight.
He should have left before it ever get to that point, near to that point. He’d had every opportunity to extract himself, excuse himself, but each time he’d put it off for just a little longer...
What had started out as cards by the fire had devolved into relaxed chatter and then into lazy, blurry conversation, and before he knew it, Percy was sprawled out with Vox Machina, sinking gently into the plush rugs and pillows strewn about the floor. His fingers were entwined with Vex's, Keyleth’s arms were curled around him, Vax’s head had somehow ended up on his shoulder, Pike’s small back was pressed up against his, and there was a soft weight on his legs that could have been Grog's splayed arm or was possibly just the entirety of Scanlan.
And he'd lain there justifying it. He'd woken up sick at heart, bone tired for no reason he could name. He’d woken up to the restless urge to sear his skin away or to rip into it with his teeth, the impulse alive within him, cold and writhing in every inch of his flesh. He’d chewed his lips bloody with every stutter of his fingers as he clawed at the trigger, coughed hard into his hands when nobody was looking, felt the jolt of misfire after misfire sharply in every nerve. But after they’d come home, after listening to the gentle ebb and flow of their voices, after the hearth warmth had settled into his bones, he’d felt, miraculously, better.
Still, he had meant to work late in the basement, he told himself hazily, rise early to do maintenance, look over new projects. That wouldn't happen if he stayed and he knew it. And besides, often enough he left them to this, despite their attempts to coax and cajole, content with skirting edges, with ducking out and disappearing away before things got too close. A practiced smile, a well-wish, and he’d disappear from the doorway, their laughter drowned out by the echoes of his own quick strides down the hall. Before he took advantage of their poor judgement. Before it ran out.
But, somehow, there he was, tangled up with Vox Machina, helplessly comfortable and calm, feeling them shift and breathe and murmur. He gazed unseeingly at the stone ceiling, and he couldn’t bring himself to care, allowed himself to let go, submerge himself in the gentle waters of sleep.
-
Exhaustion. It was an exhaustion so complete, he couldn't grasp for a recollection, amongst the hollow nausea and the dizziness, of feeling anything else. A tiredness too heavy and too large to fit inside his body, a swelling, writhing thing trying to tear its way through his skin and out of him. The familiar ache of the manacles, the press of cold stone against his spine and against his skull, as he waited, propped limp against the wall.
It was too dark to see, was always too dark to see. He hadn't understood before, reading about moonless nights in books, trite descriptions about not being able to see one's hand in front of one’s face. Could never have imagined this, choking himself hoarse on the blackness, not knowing where the void ended and he himself began.
He could feel his own pulse, throbbing hard and painful in his throat, in his mouth, in his tongue, thick with dry blood. He couldn't be sure if he was trying to breathe past it or trying to hold his breath to listen- still, he dragged in air with shaky, uneven gasps. They cut the deafening silence, and he strained to hear even as he felt himself too weak to lift his gaze to the dark hallway.
As if the very act of listening had summoned them, the footsteps came. Distant, at first, but growing in volume, echoing off the dungeon walls, ringing out, over and over and over, a funeral dirge on repeat in his mind, each note searing.
His heart gathered speed, seemed to pound, rabbit-fast against his ribs, and inwardly he was wrenching back, twisting into the wall and as far away from the cell door as possible. But he was without energy, limp, powerless, weak, could do nothing but sit and cringe and wait.
He knew that he would see the torchlight out of the corner of his eye first, bright as a burst of pain in the blackness, that the footsteps would grow louder. Knew the pattern of clicks of the key turning in the lock like the words of a rhyme learned off by heart. And then, because he would have screwed shut his eyes by then, and his blood seemed to turn to ice at the recollection of it, that thing would come that he knew most intimately;
The feeling of her hands on his.
He’d expected, the first time, for her touch to be cold; had braced himself for the chill of her fingers, the scrape of sharp nails. But as she grasped for him, (still twisting, still thrashing, still fighting, then) seizing his arm like she was snatching up one of her instruments- and he hadn’t been wrong about the shudder, the bile rising in his throat, no,- he had felt the silky warmth of her hands. A memory had risen unbidden; Cassandra’s hands clasped around his own for shared warmth on a winter day, even as she scolded him for forgetting his gloves, even as he heard the jangling of the chains as if from a faraway place.
He had begged each time, tried to wrench away each time, and yet, each time her hands had been warm, and his cell was so cold. Cold as death, seeping, piercing, ancient cold, a cold that had existed before him and would long outlive him. But her touch would be warm, and the darkness would recede in the torchlight, and the frost would melt away if only for a moment, a moment enough for him to flinch and for her to smile, her teeth white as agony, and draw the scalpel or the spreader or the needle or the hot iron, glowing red as the torchlight-
The footsteps drew nearer, grew louder, and whatever was left of him shattered back to life in an excruciating crescendo of panic. No, no, no, the chant started up in his head, familiar and futile as song, as the footsteps rung out and he waited and trembled for the first glimpse of light- please, no, I’ll do anything, please-
-
Vex was awakened by a thrashing at her side, was up at once, disoriented but alert. She took in the figures of her friends around her, jerking awake, breathed in the familiar scent of home and felt a stab of relief before recognising Percy’s voice, murmuring agitated and awful, tossing fitfully for a moment before he shot up, struggling as if bound.
“Woah- what’s going on? What’s happening?” Scanlan said, struggling to sit up, bleary and confused. She grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him to his feet. The others quickly followed suit, scrambling back and away from Percival, who was clutching his head in his hands, speaking rapidly and breathily to himself.
“Percival, what the fuck is going on?!” Vax demanded, voice taut with tense fear that he was trying to disguise, but couldn’t hide from his sister.
Keyleth, brushing away the tangles of hair falling about her face, stepped forward and knelt beside Percy, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He wrenched away at once with a pained, shaky gasp, looking up at them all, still clutching at his face, eyes fearful and shining with tears and… lost.
“No, don’t, no, please,” his voice was quiet, ragged rough, but Vex didn’t need to lipread to make the panicked whispers out, “Don’t, please don’t, I’ve told you everything I know-”
“Percy?” Vax asked, his tone softer this time, “Freddie?” But there was no indication that he’d been heard- Percy’s expression remained glazed and fearful.
“Percival darling, you’re safe.” Vex tried, words coming out whispery and hoarse. Noting the conspicuous lack of black smoke, she took a cautious step towards him. “Nothing is going to hurt you. We’re in the mansion. We’re home.” Still, the pleas continued, and as Keyleth tried to draw closer again, he flinched away violently.
“-sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll do anything- I can be good, I promise I can be good, I’m sorry, please-”
His voice was becoming shakier, more distressed, by the second. Vex swallowed something sharp and painful rising in her throat and struggled to think.
“What-what are we supposed to do?” Scanlan asked, turning to Vex, making a jittery gesture towards Percy, as if to illustrate the problem.
“Fuck if I know!” Vex hissed back, stress making her tone short.
“Please don’t fight, you need to keep your voices down,” Pike interjected worriedly. “You’ll only frighten him more.”
“Well we can’t just stand here doing nothing-!”
“Hey!” Grog interrupted, “The fire’s burned out and he can’t see that it’s us, for fuck’s sake-,” and the typical gruff tone didn’t quite mask his worry, “we’re not all magical fucking elves that can see in the damn dark, get a fucking light on-” Before he could finish, golden light blazed to life, emanating from Pike’s holy symbol, which she clutched hard- revealing Vax beside her, squinting against it. As she did so, purple lightning crackled and arced at Scanlan’s fingertips and Keyleth set her hands alight, twin flames roaring. It was radiance and glamour and firelight all at once, and Vex had to turn away, blinking hard-
There was a clatter, and she looked back to see that Percy had scrambled away from the glow and back into the fireplace grating, knocking it over. He'd thrown an arm across his face to shield his closed eyes, and he was shivering like it was freezing cold, almost sobbing now;
“-please, don’t, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know anything else, I swear it-”
“Percival, snap out of it!” Vax yelled, eyes dark with concern.
“Shit, kill the light, kill the light, we overdid it-” Scanlan let his spell fizzle and die; Keyleth clenched her hands into fists, smoke curling from her palms.
“Percy! Percy, I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to scare you.”
Still, he gave no sign of having heard her, continuing to speak, quick and desperate.
“Pike, wake him up.” Vex heard herself snarl. “There has to be a spell or-”
“I don’t know- what spell or-!” Pike’s voice was growing high and panicked. Her holy light threw harsh shadows across her face. “You’re not supposed to wake people from night terrors-!”
“Does it matter what you’re supposed to do?! Just- we have to make him know where he is!”
Scanlan and Vax both began talking over each other, and their voices turned to a frantic cacophony as Pike’s own rose with her growing alarm, and Percy kept talking, and Keyleth kept trying to reach him.
“It’s not an illusion or a curse, I can't fix it with restoration, it’s all in his head-!”
“Whatever you want, anything, I’m sorry, anything, I’ll do anything-”
“Percy, please,” Keyleth was saying tearfully, “Percy, please wake up!”
“Fuck this,” Grog cursed, shouldering past Keyleth, pushing her safely to one side. “Never thought I’d not wanna hit someone this bad.”
“Wait, Grog-!” But Scanlan was too late; quickly as a striking snake, the Goliath cracked a hand across Percy’s face, and his head snapped to the side. Grog had held back, that much was obvious, but it didn’t stop the chorus of scandalised and indignant cries that rose from the rest of the group.
Grog held up a finger, and kept his eyes on Percy, whose hand had gone to his cheek. He peeled his fingers away, glanced down at them, uncomprehending, and then back up. This time, his eyes were clear, fixed firmly on the crowd of distressed faces.
“...Shit.” He said simply, staring at them blankly. A thin ribbon of blood began to run from his nose. “I’m- ever so sorry-”
-
“Percy!” Keyleth slammed into him with a hug before he could finish. “Percy, you’re back- I was so worried about you!” Hesitantly, tensely, Percy brought his arms up to return the embrace, willing the tremble in his limbs to subside.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you. I’m- here now.”
Keyleth broke away, and scrubbed at her face clumsily with the heel of her hand. She offered him a watery smile.
“I’m glad.” The shake in her voice sent a stab of guilt through Percy’s lungs, still heaving.
“You are all right, aren’t you?” Scanlan stepped closer to the pair of them, examining Percy with an unusual seriousness. “No evil voices, no shadow demons?” Percy shook his head, becoming aware of the painful pulse behind his eyes, the aftermath of tears.
“No shadow demons, I...” He dropped his gaze, still reeling, the room melting back into existence around him. “I just didn’t know where I was. A regular nightmare.” He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed sharply. “And now I’ve woken every one of you.” Of course, he had been the wrench to their perfectly spinning gears.
“And this is why I sleep alone,” he murmured, before remembering Vex’s lip-reading and grimacing to himself. Abruptly, and without looking at her, he stood- too abruptly, apparently, because a rush of vertigo enveloped him. He swayed on his feet, and Grog had to reach out to steady him. Stick the landing, he told himself, even as he stumbled. Percy managed an appreciative nod in Grog’s direction when he pulled away, still skin-crawlingly aware of all of the eyes on him.
“Thank you all for waking me.” He began, and to his dismay, his voice came out raw. “I shouldn’t have- I should have declined. I knew this might happen tonight. You have my apologies for that…” His throat felt ragged and airless- he tried in vain to clear it. “For being irresponsible. It won’t happen again.” He was forced to pause, feeling the familiar build-up in his chest. When no-one spoke, he took his opportunity, nodding formally in farewell, eyes fixed on the dark rectangle of the doorway.
Vax moved to block his path, spreading his arms out like his wings, looking every bit the paladin, grave-faced.
“Woah, woah, you think you can just… regurgitate something you learned in an etiquette class and we’re just going to let you run off to hide in your workshop by yourself after that?” Percy bristled, but his retort was suffocated by the tide of coughs he’d been choking back finally erupting- he dug his nails into his throat, and his eyes stung with hot tears.
And they were all watching. Every single one of them. The knowledge swelled in him like a tide of broken glass.
“I’m not lying to you, Vax’ildan, if that’s what you’re insinuating-” Percy rasped, as soon as he had enough breath back, but Vax’s resolute expression had been replaced by one of pity, and Pelor, was that so much more painful than the burn in his throat-
“He just meant,” Pike interrupted smoothly, appearing beside them. Percy looked askance and stepped back, but still, he could see her out of the corner of his eye. Her holy symbol, still glowing, pulsed gently, like steady breathing. “If you really want us to leave you alone, we will. But… do you?” She tilted her head inquisitively. “I’m not sure I would, after a nightmare like that.” Percy regarded her in silence for a moment, so she added, “It’s not a bother.”
“Not at all!” Scanlan butted in, all enthusiasm that Percy was willing to bet was painstakingly calculated; “Sleepover!”
Grog nodded in agreement, stretching broadly.
“Yeah, I don’t give a fuck. That’s basically what we were doing anyway, right? Might as well make the most of it.”
Percy’s clenched his hands, driving his nails into his palms, and focused on breathing evenly. He risked another glance up in the direction of his escape route, past Vax’s shoulder, but suddenly the hallway stretching into darkness didn’t seem nearly so inviting.
“I’d like to hear about it,” at the sound of Vex’s voice, he turned. “If you’re up for talking, darling.” Effortlessly graceful, she settled herself down on one of the large cushions, casually slinging an arm around Keyleth’s shoulder, and pulling her in- the druid let her head fall into the crook of her neck easily. “Or if you’re really not, we could always talk about something else, take your mind off it a little”
“But we are worried for you, Percival.” Vax added, folding his arms. “You seemed…” he paused, and then corrected himself. “You seem pretty shaken up.”
Percy’s heartbeat thudded in his ears so loudly, he could swear he couldn’t think over it, so all there was left was to feel. And what he felt was tired. Deathly tired, and cold. His room, too, would be cold, colder than sitting with the others.
“Alright.” He said, very deliberately. He made his way to the tangle of quilts and pillows, and seated himself on the very edge of the makeshift bed. He heard the others shifting around him as they followed his lead; Grog settled cross-legged with a gnome on each knee, and Vax skirted the group to pilfer an unclaimed blanket, draping it around himself like a cloak. Percy used the borrowed time to try and suppress the shake to his hands, but he couldn’t quite get them to still, and he could feel Vex watching. Nervous energy spasmed through him, an undercurrent to the exhaustion and confusion.
When the group were settled, silence fell again. As the lingering disorientation was swept away, the concerns he’d forcibly submerged to maintain his composure surfaced like shipwrecks. He bit his lip hard, and tried to prioritize, to phrase a question that wouldn't give him away.
“What-,” he meant to look up, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, just kept staring at his hands, “That is to say, what happened? How did you all know to wake me?”
A pause. And then Pike spoke up.
“You were just tossing and turning at first, but then… you sat up and opened your eyes, but you didn’t seem to recognise us. And you were talking, too.”
Percy winced, closing his eyes and muttering a string of curses before he forced himself to raise his chin and speak with solemnity.
“What did you hear?” He was pleased that he’d regained control of his voice, but the others still wore expressions of concern.
“Nothing all that specific,” Scanlan said, looking to Pike for acknowledgement; she nodded encouragingly. “Ah- ‘please,’ ‘no,’ that sort of thing, regular brand nightmare stuff, really-”
Percy was just beginning to exhale when Grog cut in.
“Also a lot of ‘I’m sorry’ and bit of ‘I’ll do anything.’”
Percy’s stomach dropped as if he’d just been tossed from the flying carpet. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyelids.
“‘I’ll be good,’ as well.” Grog added, and Percy spasmed just slightly, even as Grog received matching glares from the gnomes and the twins for his trouble. “...What?”
“No, no, it’s alright.” Percy emerged from behind his hands, waving dismissively, trying his best to ignore the mounting nausea and hide the sickened look that Vex’s sharp eyes would surely catch. The tide of broken glass was swelling again. “ I appreciate the honesty. Besides, it’s my fault you all heard, not Grog’s.”
“Was it…” Keyleth dropped her voice to a stage whisper, which from anyone else might’ve seemed mocking, but from her, was completely serious, “...about the Briarwoods, Percy?” Percy attempted a fond half-smile.
“It was unspecific.” He answered, “But more or less, yes.” Vex rolled her eyes.
“We can tell when you’re lying, Percy.” She said, firmly but not unkindly. “We won’t force you to tell us if you don’t want to, but-”
“It wasn’t anything to worry about- it was only Anna.” He said in a rush, as if to get her to stop talking, and as soon as the words were out he brought up a hand to cover his mouth. A small, distant part of his mind had come awake when Grog had repeated his own words, and now it was fighting its way to the surface like an undead creature clawing its way out of a grave. He could feel the earth’s crust crumbling.
“Ripley?” Keyleth asked, and he grit his teeth to keep himself from blurting out her forename reflexively and nodded. “Oh, Percy…” She shifted, reaching out to place her hand over his, but he pulled away. Keyleth’s face fell in an instant, and she shrank back. “Oh- I’m sorry-”
“Ah, no-.” He couldn’t meet her eyes. He felt like he really was going to be sick. “Please don't apologise, it's... not your fault.”
“You said you thought this might happen.” Vax recalled, shuffling closer to Keyleth and unravelling the blanket-cloak so as to cover her also. “Do you get nightmares a lot?”
“You know,” Percy said, falling back on a tight-lipped smile. “When you have a demon running around inside your head.” He was met with concerned stares, and swallowed rapidly. “I only meant- it was a joke. It wasn’t Orthax, he wasn’t there- it wasn’t one of those dreams- there was- no smoke, and-. My apologies, that was in poor taste. I’m… sorry.” Vex was shaking her head.
“Darling, don’t apologise.” She paused, as if searching for the right words. “Percy, you don’t have to… separate yourself from us because of nightmares, or for any other reason. They're perfectly natural, and easier to deal with together.” As she spoke, he could feel himself growing rigid, clenching the hem of a blanket hard. Could practically hear his own walls slamming up, like that even made sense. “We all get nightmares.”
He hissed out a laugh in response.
“Maybe so, but you don’t all fail miserably to wake from them.” He said bitterly.
“So this does happen on a regular basis?” Pike inquired. When Percy failed to respond, she slid from Grog’s lap and, slowly, held up a hand to him. He examined it in silence for a few heartbeats before, hesitantly, he reached up- held his hand out, and when she kept waiting- he touched his own fingertips to hers. “Percy. You don’t have to pretend like you’re fine, or deal with it on your own.” His eyes were still fixed on Pike’s hand, and he could hear his own breathing was evening out. “You okay?”
“Yes,” He whispered. “Better.” The word came out hollow.
“Okay.” Pike smiled sweetly at him, and then stepped respectfully back. As if a spell had been broken, Percy sagged, drawing in a shaky breath, digging his nails into the back of his neck.
“D’you feel safe in here?” Pike prompted, and after a hesitation, Percy nodded. “Do you want more light? Would you feel better in another room?”
“I’m fine. I just… thought I was back there.” It was like he was realising only now, in his own trembling relief, just how scared he had been, and he gave an empty little laugh.
“Percy,” Vex said to him, “You don’t have to talk about anything until you’re ready.”
“And what if I’m never ready?” He replied, tiredly. “It’s… ashes in my mouth. I don't want you to hear any of it, it’s all so pathetic. Always her, just her and me, when it was the Briarwoods who… and all that aside, I got out, I got away…”
“Hey,” Grog said gruffly. “Nightmares about the Briarwoods don’t make you pathetic. They're the fucking Briarwoods. I had a proper scary nightmare once about... ale.”
“What?” Vax spoke up, incredulous. “You love ale.”
“Yeah.” Grog confirmed, sounding defensive. “In the nightmare, there wasn’t any. Shut up.”
“But it’s not ale,” Percy pointed out miserably. “Or the Briarwoods, even. I might dream about them, but I can wake up. When I get… trapped, it’s always,” and for a moment, the room swam again, and his voice became some discordant mix of fear and reverence that he couldn’t recognise or name, “her. Dr. Ripley…”
He must have flickered out for a moment because Scanlan prompted him;
“Percy?” And Percy shuddered, swallowed bile.
“Anna.” He corrected himself quickly, shaking away the cobwebs.
“Look, tell me to shut up,” Vax began, as Keyleth kneaded anxiously at the blanket. “But what happened? In the dream?” Keyleth glanced up gesturing to the makeshift bed they were sitting on.
“Also, d’you wanna lie down?” She said, suddenly. When the group turned to her, she stifled a yawn, and laughed apologetically. “Sorry. I’m tired and I kinda want to lie down and I feel like it’ll be weird unless everyone does.”
Their gazes returned to Percy. He looked at Keyleth, wondering briefly how she’d known, and then, remembering stargazing with her, watching embers float into the night sky, talking about the struggles of sustained eye contact-
“I- Of course, we can lie down.” He replied, sending out a silent Thank you, in his head. Scanlan flashed a thumbs up at him.
“Great! I call using Grog’s chest as a pillow.”
“I think you could use Grog’s chest as a king sized bed.” Vax pointed out.
“Not the point, Vex.”
“I’m Vax.”
“Oh, please. It’s three o’clock in the morning. And it’s dark.”
“We’ve known each other for years and you can’t recognise my voice?!”
With substantial rustling of blankets, good natured bickering, and a bit of unintentional elbowing, the group wormed and wriggled themselves into a comfortable arrangement. Percy found himself very much at the centre of the pile- comfortably sandwiched between himself and Grog, Pike nestled into his side, after allowing the light of her holy symbol to wane slightly. Keyleth folded her arms underneath her, cat-like, and rested across his legs, while Vax apparently opted to use his hip as a pillow, which Percy was sure couldn’t be comfortable. Scanlan, making good on his threat, scrambled up onto Grog. Vex lay down on Percy's other side, close enough for him to feel her warmth, and took his hand again.
“So.” She said, into the dimness.
“This is kind of…” Percy trailed off.
“Weird?” She suggested.
“Unconventional.” He settled on.
“So are we.” Scanlan piped up.
“Nah, we’re super weird.” Pike snorted, and a ripple of laughter passed through the group. Percy felt himself smile.
“Point taken.” He said, when the room fell silent again.
And then, after a short pause, the space between running and leaping off a cliff’s edge;
“I dream about her a lot.”
Silence. Stillness. Percy waited, and...
...The world didn’t end.
“Sometimes,” He lurched on, stopping and starting, “it's just- her, and it's already started, but… She- sometimes I can hear her coming down the hall. And it's like any moment she’ll be here- there- and it’ll start. And I'm just waiting for what feels like forever and it’s-” He cut himself off with a sudden-half sob he hadn’t felt coming, and tore his hand from Vex’s to cover his mouth. Pike’s light spell darkened momentarily, like a candle fighting a fierce wind.
“Shit.” Grog said empathetically.
“Yes.” Percy replied breathily. “So that’s what happened. Tonight. I didn’t even see her. It didn’t start. I’m fine.”
“But what… what will start?” Keyleth asked. He could hear her scratching nervously at a pillow, and guessed she’d be more comfortable going minxie right now, and appreciated her suppressing the urge to talk with him. “I mean… Percy… when you told us about the Briarwoods, you said… you said… about not being ‘equipped for torture.’”
Percy felt himself growing tense again, moved to dismiss her, but the sound died in his throat. Vex’s hand found his again, or maybe it was the other way around.
“Freddie.” Vax’s voice, gentle. “What did she do to you?”
The silence stretched on, until Percy found his voice again.
“Lots of things.” He said.
“Those scars…” Pike said. choked up. “Percy, we wanted to ask but it just seemed too personal…”
He hears an echo, in her words, of Vax, low and quiet against the whispering of flame in the forge.
“We’ve never questioned it before. We’ve never wanted to make you uncomfortable.”
“And I’m glad you didn’t.” He told her, firmly. “But you were involved with her, too. You deserve to know.” A moment’s pause, to rehearse the lies in his head before they came out sounding wrong, and he went on. “Listen, the scars don’t even bother me. I'm alive. Seems a small price to pay.”
He was alive, he thought, but she’d made him wish he wasn’t. Still made him wish he wasn’t.
“It's not a price you should have had to pay, though.” Vex murmured. Percy exhaled shortly.
“When it came to it, I dug my own grave, fawning over her like I did at dinner.” His reply was twisted with disgust. “I talked and talked, but I didn’t think. I never really think-”
“What?” Vax asked, a sharp confusion to his voice, “What could you possibly have said to her that-”
“My experiments.” His breath hitched. “So rarely were guests more interested in me than Julius, than Vesper- interested in my projects, but the Doctor- Anna, was, and I answered every question she asked me.” He shut his eyes hard, but the flickering on the inside of his eyelids made him feel like he was adrift, so he opened them again. “She was older, and cleverer than me, and… she was beautiful, and she was genuinely interested in my work.” His breathing, he was distantly aware, was speeding up, becoming more shallow. “And I wanted her to keep looking at me like that… Oh Gods…” He bit down on his fingers to stop himself from going on.
Images intertwined in his mind, a gently intrigued smile, the weight of her gaze, her fingers curled on Lady Briarwood’s arm.
“Can we keep him?” She’d stage-whispered into her ear, a joke, but if he'd just been listening properly he'd have heard it then, the fanged edge to their shared laughter.
Her curious smile, that had stayed the same, but her eyes- she’d looked down on him like the specimen that she knew would be her breakthrough if only she could make it scream a little louder-
“Percy,” Scanlan’s voice made him flinch, and from the twitch of Vex’s fingers at his wrist, the reaction hasn't gone unnoticed. “Listen to me for a minute. You did nothing wrong, you know that, right? You were a kid, and she took advantage of that. And that's all on her.”
“I was weak, and I didn’t think. I trusted Anders, I trusted her.” Percy growled, his heart speeding up in earnest now. “And if I hadn’t- thrown myself at her feet like that, she wouldn't have picked me; she’d have had Julius or...” His breaths were getting worse, more ragged, and he felt Pike press herself closer to him, but he couldn't calm them. “Because I couldn't hold my tongue for five minutes, I was alive down there while the rest of my family was…”
A stifled cry interrupted him, and it took Percy a moment to recognise the voice as Keyleth’s. Vax hushed her gently, murmuring to her comfortingly, and in the instance of surprise, Percy caught his breath.
“Keyleth, I’m sorry.” He began, when he could speak again. The apology was more clipped than he'd have liked. So obviously imbued with forced control. “I'm making you upset.”
“She’s making me upset, Percy,” Keyleth’s voice was more anger than grief, despite the sniffles. “She made you sorry to be alive-” Another hiccuping sob cut her short.
Percy felt his heart pulsing painfully in his chest.
“And why shouldn’t I be?” He whispered. “Julius would never have left Cassandra behind. Vesper wouldn't have broken so quickly, wouldn't have begged for-”
He stopped himself.
“But she chose me… chose me for a reason.” He breathed. “She saw... saw something she could use, a fault line… a crack that could become a fissure with just a little more pressure…”
Did it choose me because I was broken…
The Raven Queen’s words seem to reverberate in his very bones.
Did she choose me because I was broken or did she...
“Freddie,” Vax’s voice was low and hushed. “You didn’t leave your sister. You thought she- you believed you were leaving her body.”
“Did I?” Percy said tonelessly. “That’s what I told myself, but I believe I just… ran.”
“As would anyone.” Vex spoke with sudden fierceness. “You must understand that, Percy. Anyone is capable of terrible things, under the wrong circumstances.”
Percy dragged his tongue across his teeth, and said nothing.
“And she put you in those circumstances.” Scanlan added.
“Vex is right, you know.” Pike murmured, and twisting about as best she could, she kissed Percy gently on the arm. “We love you, Percy. We’re not gonna stop loving you because of something that was done to you, okay?” She pressed her forehead against him, and her words were slightly muffled. “This isn’t a confession; you don’t have to talk. But nothing you decide to tell us about Anna or the Briarwoods is going to make us stop loving you.”
“We love you,” echoed Keyleth, her hand finding where his and Vex’s fingers were laced and resting there. “It’s still going to hurt, but they’re gone, you’re safe. We keep each other safe.”
“We put ‘em in the ground.” Grog agreed. “They’re never going to fucking touch you again.”
Percy let his eyes fall closed, and with his free hand, ghosted the scars that betrayed where Ripley’s last bullets still lay under his skin.
“Thank you.” He whispered, hoarsely, and he could feel his eyes stinging with tears again. “I’ll never understand… but thank you. I love you all too. You all deserve so much more than that, but that’s… that’s all I have.”
“It’s all we ask.” Scanlan spoke up, surprising him. “We all feel like we’re too fucked up to be here, sometimes.” He must have reached across from Grog, because Percy felt a small hand on his shoulder. “The least we can do is be fucked up together.”
“Yeah.” Murmured Vax, wrapping an arm around Percy’s leg. “We’ve got you.”
“We’ve got you,” agreed Vex. “Stay, please?”
A tear slips from the corner of Percy’s eye, and he takes another shaky breath.
“I’ll stay. Thank you.”
“Percival,” breathed Vex’ahlia. “You’re welcome.”
They drifted into silence, then, though Percy lay awake for a long time. His heartbeat rose unbidden more than once, the beginnings of sourceless panic stirring the shallow waters of his drowse like choppy waves, but he willed them to pass; breathing in the woodsy scent of Vex or brought safely to the surface by a single juddering snore from Grog. A few times, he was forced to sit up to catch his breath, digging his nails into his scalp, chest heaving- but each time, someone was beside him; Scanlan singing in a language he didn’t understand, a melody that rose in and out like the tide, that helped him get the rhythm of his breath back, Keyleth wildshaping to press soft thick fur against his cheek, her purring rumbling through him, and when the adrenalin left him and exhaustion turned him boneless again, they guided him back down to rest.
There were no real windows in the mansion, but thanks to Scanlan’s magic, the light streaming into the room still changed over time; fading from a blueish pre-dawn to the subdued pale yellow of morning. Percy stirred to wakefulness briefly; throat dry, eyes sticky with the sleep he couldn’t recall lapsing into. He half-lifted his heavy head, pulling softly against tenderly encircling arms, gently grasping hands. Bleary-eyed, he saw Grog’s chest rising and falling steadily, glimpsed Kiki’s red curls flowing seamlessly into Vex’s dark locks. Pike’s mouth was partly open, her small breaths feather-light. Vax’s long lashes fluttered almost imperceptibly as he dreamt. Scanlan’s hand was curled loosely around a fistful of blanket.
Percy closed his eyes and drifted back into his shallow sleep, still semi-conscious of his family around him, and he was grateful that he had stayed.