Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Vex rolled over, her arm clasping about Percy’s middle rather firmly, though her reach was more limited than was usual lately, considering the girth of her abdomen. At the thought of it, Percy smiled. He’d been doing so, so much lately that his face had actually begun to hurt for it. It’s twins, Pike confirmed for them almost a month ago, and Vex often complained that they made her look much farther along than she really was. More than anything else, she claimed, it felt like they were ‘teasing her’, and that she was already ready to get things over and done with. Mostly, Percy just attempted not to laugh. She hadn’t appreciated it with Vesper, and he was sure she wouldn’t appreciate it the second go around, though it was always in good humour. He certainly didn’t care. No matter what, she looked absolutely stunning, and he was more than happy to dote on her in the meantime, and spend extra time with Vesper so that Vex can rest.

Quite frankly, Percy, reflected, the recent months were the happiest he’d ever had, despite the fact that he’d hardly gotten any sleep in the last year and was unlikely to get more regular sleep any time soon.

For the first time since Vesper was born, she’d finally begun to sleep through the night, meaning at least a little extra rest for both of her adoring parents. But even though Vesper was sleeping soundly, and Vex’s light breath tickled lightly at his arm, Percy remained awake, still readjusting to the fact that he wouldn’t be awoken by cries ten minutes from the present. It was well past midnight, though still in the deep darkness of early morn. His eyes were blearily open, seconds from returning to the veil of sleep, mind happily clouded with thoughts of warm and comfortable and Vex’ahlia, when there came a rap on the door. Just loud enough for him to hear it and think it a figment of his imagination, but not enough to wake Vesper in the room adjoining, nor to bother Vex.

Another rap, a hint louder. Vex stirred; Percy sighed. The hand clutching at his chest balled into a fist.

“P’rcy.” Even her groan was insistent. Unable to resist, he smiled again. “Get th’ door.”

“Yes, darling.”

Even so, he still had to extricate himself from her grasp, which was unyielding. Throwing about him his evening coat, Percy exited into the anteroom where he opened the chamber door.

A rather dour faced Kynan, rife over his shoulder, awaited, and suddenly, Percy was wide awake, the prickling of worry stabbing at his insides. “What is it?”

Reflexively, Kynan rubbed at the back of his neck, and looked away. “My Lord, someone has arrived, asking to be let into the castle.”

Guests, Percival. They arrived early this morning. You’ll be expected for all the meals today, is that understood?

“My Lord?”

Kynan’s voice sprung him from the recollection, but the churning in his gut did not cease. Percy cleared his throat. “Care to be a bit more specific?

Shrugging Kynan spoke. “A woman, my Lord. Asking for entry to the castle. Jarett spoke with her. Asked that I notify you personally and immediately. He says it’s urgent that you come down.”

Percy narrowed his eyes. “I’ll dress. Wait here.”

Heart pounding in his ears, Percy closed the door, and the sconce light of the hall was shuttered away, leaving him in shadow, where the years could fall away, veiling the world in bygone years, where, if he looked in a mirror, he’d have found a different person staring back.

By the time he returned to their personal chamber, Vex was already sitting up, the sheet pooling about her hips, revealing the full roundness of their children growing inside her. Percy’s nerves shot up again, his earlier happiness dissipated.  

“What is it, darling?” she asked, tone hushed, keen eyes holding him firmly and unabatingly.

It was a miracle his voice did not shake. “Apparently,” he began, “there is a woman demanding entry to the castle. My presence has been personally requested by the guards.”

She nodded, taking the information in without aplomb, and made to stand. “Come on then, help me dress. You’re faster than I am these days anyway.”

But Percy didn’t move.

“Percival?” Her tone brokered no argument. “Breathe. I know what you’re thinking. But not every pre-dawn visitor is an ill omen.” Her hand cupped his cheek, and Percy could not help but lean into the soothing velvet of her touch. “Now, let’s get dressed. We can tell one of the guards to get Cassandra if Vesper cries out.”

Several minutes later, the sun still not crested beyond the lowest visible horizon, they walked through the slumbering halls of Castle Whitestone, Kynan and his rifle in the lead. Often, since their marriage and all but outright retirement, Percy and Vex had walked arm in arm. During her first pregnancy, they’d joked about the way it must have seemed to those who didn’t know them: fragile pregnant wife, leaning on husband for support. Hardly the truth by any means, and even less so as they made their way to the main gate.

The last time they’d been woken like this, it was Hotis, running amok wearing Gilmore’s face. And the time before that, at least from Percy’s perspective, had been the end of the only normal life he’d ever known.

And now this.

It was likely well to nothing, and Vex’s grip on his arm was the only reminder he had that, if it was something more than nothing, he wouldn’t be facing it alone. Whatever intrusion, they would handle it as they always did. Together, with courtesy first, and immediate and unrelenting force second, should it be required.

But there was so, so much more to lose this time, if worse came to worst.

Kynan led them to a chamber just off the main gate, the door of which was guarded by two others of the night watch. Inside, Jarett waited, face grim.

“Ah, good morning. Lady Vex’ahlia. Lord Percival.” The normally amiable fellow made no move to smile.

“We were told someone is demanding entry into the castle.” Percival didn’t blink.

“Indeed. There is a woman within. She arrived on an early boat this morning from Port Damali. I have already checked on the veracity of this statement and found there to be no question. However, she claims that she must be allowed to enter the castle.”

“On what grounds?” Vex asked.

“On the grounds,” Jarett hesitated, gaze shifting hesitantly to Percy. “that she is a de Rolo.”

Something in Percy’s nerves shifted and immediately, he felt better. “Another ‘Trickfoot’ situation, my dear. My apologies for my alarm.” To Jarett, he said, “There are no more de Rolos, Jarett. Only the ones who already live here.”

But Jarett’s expression did not waver.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Vex asked. “What is it?”

“Forgive me, I do not know the history of this place well. But perhaps, you would like to see for yourself.”

The sneer formed across Percy’s lips before he even realized he was speaking. “By all means.”

Jarett nodded and the two guards on the interior door stepped aside for their captain who opened it, waving Percy and Vex inside, before stepping in himself and closing it behind him. The room was dimly lit, and the figure of the woman cloaked in shadow as she sat at a small table, staring out the barred window up at the imposing silhouette of the castle.

Percy cleared his throat, causing the woman to jump a little in place. “Good morning, Madame, though it can hardly yet be called morning, save by the birds. I understand that you are demanding entry to this castle on the grounds that you claim familial affiliation with the de Rolo family; however, I assure you that is physically impossible. So please, dispense with your subterfuge so that my wife and I can return to our beds.”

There was a general intake of breath from the woman, and Percy was sure she was about to protest, but what he did not expect was for the chair to push across the stone floor, rending the silence between them so completely, or for the woman to stumble forward into the light, face contorted into an expression of utter shock.

Or for her face to be so utterly, terribly familiar.

One trembling hand lifted, reaching out towards him, and Percy staged back a pace, his arm pulling from Vex’s.

“Percival?” The ghost’s voice was a quavering whisper, all breath stolen away long, long ago. For, of course, she couldn’t be real. It was impossible. “Percival? It can’t be. It can’t be .”

Impossible.

On that much, at least, they seemed to agree.

Though much of his memories of that time were hazy, that, at least, was not.

“Excuse me, but I think that if all this is going to be protracted I would like to sit.”

The tension was no less palpable, but the woman did take a step back and settled into the chair once again. Vex made a show of letting Jarett help her to a seat of her own, but Percival was only peripherally aware of it until her voice cut through the haze again.

“My darling.”

A command, not a request. Stiffly, Percy lowered himself into a chair.

“Now. I am tired and ornery and pregnant, and I should very much like to know exactly what is going on.” She turned to the woman, but took Percy’s hand very firmly in her own. “My name is Lady Vex’ahlia de Rolo, Baroness of the First House of Whitestone and Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt. You already know the identity of my husband. Now, I have introduced myself. Extend us the courtesy, please, of doing the same in return.”

Ashen in the torchlight, the woman pursed her lips. “Johanna. My name is Johanna de Rolo.” Her eyes glinted, wet with tears. “I’m Percival’s mother.”

Chapter Text

He was almost completely unrecognizable.  His expression was harsh, lips downturned and pressed thin, his face lined and jaw set. Instead of his usual dark hair, a shock of pristine snow white covered his head. In addition, he wore carefully trimmed facial hair of the same white. Were it not for his glasses, Johanna would not have known it was him. Daintily as ever, they sat on the bridge of his nose, somehow enhancing the haughty lift of his chin.

And then, of course, there was the way he spoke, the cold formality to his words, the careful, austere phrasing.

Nothing like the child she had known.

No, he had been altogether different then. The passing years had done a number on her too, but he was still young yet. Only just passed the quarter of a century mark and already so viscerally different from the fresh faced, daydreaming, yet melancholic child, irritable with his siblings, unengaged with the family at best, mischievous at worst, content to while away his days in the library, perusing books looked at perhaps once in the last century.

But the man before her was not that child. Not in the least.

And yet, for all the evidence that would hale the contrary, there was no doubt in her mind.

A mother knew her child, after all.

The long silence stretched out after her declaration, where she waited for any of the three people in the room to make some move, voice some disbelief. Percival had recognized her when she stepped into the light. Even though his expression was unreadable now, he had not been able to disguise his utter shock when she had taken the first magnetic step towards him, her heart aching to feel the touch of his cheek against her fingers.

At worst, she anticipated that he might twitch a finger, sending the foreign guard towards her, sword drawn.

At best…

She no longer knew.

“That is quite the claim,” the presently Lady de Rolo finally said, words weighted carefully. “Care to provide the story that goes with it?”

And there was another thing. Though she supposed most boys became men sometime, found themselves interested in spending time with women – or others as the situation might have it – who caught their eye, Percival had, through their last year together, remained in staunch opposition of even learning to dance (though he had been forced into it, and been rather graceful despite his ire), much less taking the hand of a baron’s young daughter at one of their Winter’s Crest balls.

Yet here he was, flanked by a stunningly beautiful woman, her own expression firm – though it contained nothing to match that of Percival’s brewing fury – their hands clasped together over her exceedingly pregnant stomach.

Her son, a husband.

Her son, a father.

A cautionary clearing of the throat brought her forth from her ruminations.

“I – I – How are you alive?!” It wasn’t what she’d intended to lead with at all, but the sentiment burst forth, regardless, too pertinent to be contained.

“I could ask you that myself, if I believed your claim, that is.” She held her breath against his biting words, but he continued, inconsiderate of their sharpness. “I don’t, for the record. But my wife wishes to hear it, so we shall endure this farce a while longer. Your story, Madame.”

Johanna nodded and began.

“I remember very little clearly. We were drugged during dinner. I woke up in a cell. I remember I could see some of your siblings. I couldn't see Frederick.” She swallowed, closed her eyes, pushing back the roiling wave of emotion that inevitably accompanied the memories. “They came and got us, brought us out to the Sun Tree…”

Percival’s jaw was clenched so hard, she could see the vein throbbing.  

“Whi-“ She couldn’t. She couldn’t do it. “Whitney…”

“Enough!” Abruptly, Percival shot up. “I have had enough of this. Jarett, see-“

“Percival. Sit down. Now.” The Lady de Rolo’s voice was chilling, and her husband did as she said. “Continue.”

Johanna swallowed, equally chastised. “Whitney was first. Y-your father was already…was already… And Julius…Vesper, too, when they-they hung them. They tried to fight, tried to run...so... The rest came after. I couldn’t see them, but I could hear. Ludwig. Oliver. Cassandra. They were behind us. I-I thought... I thought you were there, too. How lucky I am to be wrong.'' She attempted a smile, but received nothing in return. Quickly, her own flickered away. Another settling breath. “I-I remember that they were saying something, and then nothing after that, for a time. When I woke, I was no longer… at the tree. Do you remember Sir Stonefell?” she asked Percival, looking up at him directly for the first time. “It was he who saved me. He took me down off the tree, told me he’d-“she shuddered. “R-replaced me with someone else. That none would know. He put me on the last ship to leave Whitestone and made me promise never to return. I had never given his ardent gazes much thought before that, but I suppose he must have been in l-“ she swallowed the words. “I didn’t know you had lived. I remember you in the cells. I thought-'' 

The rest of the sentence was lost. It was too terrible to say. Silence lingered as she recomposed herself, wiping away the steady stream of tears that had begun with her story. “I remained in Port Damali with distant relations. I could not go back. There was – I thought –“ Again, she stalled under the icy stare of her son. “When trade opened back up these past months with Port Damali, I asked about the Briarwoods' involvement and was informed that it was instead a L-lord de Rolo. I thought perhaps someone was impersonating one of us…not that…not that… You , of all…oh, Percy. ”

A terrible, dark shadow veiled his features. “Sir Kerrion Stonefell?” he asked, tone deceptively light, unmatching to his expression. “I regret to inform you that I blasted his brains out across his study wall as he begged me for mercy.” Violently, Johanna flinched at the image, but there was no doubt in her that what he said was true, though the turn of phrase was...unfamiliar. But Percival did not stop there. “Stonefell was a vile man who helped to destroy my family,” he continued, voice deathly calm. “And even if you are who you claim to be, and I find that he spared your life, there is no pity within me for the soul of a damned man who profited off the needless slaughter of children.” 

That time, when he stood, his lady wife did not stop him. “Jarett. At a more appropriate hour of the day, send for Keeper Yennen. We’ll sort this out then.” The guard nodded his assent, and Percival turned his head slightly. “Kynan!” 

The door opened behind them, revealing the figure of a young man.  

“Yes, my Lord?” 

“See this woman to some decent chambers.” Johanna let out a breath of relief. “I want you to stay there. If she leaves, you follow. You are her personal guard. And take your rifle with you. Do you understand?” 

“Of course. I’ll see it done.” 

And then, without further words, Percival leaned down, offering his arm to his wife and helped her up and out of the room as perfectly poised as when he entered. 

The young man, Kynan, presumably, cleared his throat. “Follow me, please, Ma’am.” 

When she stood, the captain of the guard nodded evenly to her. Outside the room, two guards still stood, and a lingering whisper caught on the breeze as she walked off after the young man. 

“- not speak a word of this - send - Keeper - “ 

Though they were already too far away to hear more, she’d gotten the gist. Kynan kept a brisk pace, though he halted for her to catch up. His face betrayed no measure of irateness, but she could sense it regardless. 

“You are called Kynan, I might presume?” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” He shifted the long item he kept hefted across his shoulder. Narrowing her eyes, Johanna scrutinized it curiously. 

“May I ask what that is?” 

Kynan swallowed. “It’s a rifle, Ma’am. I’m Captain of the Whitestone Riflemen.”

“A weapon?” she inquired nervously, attempting not to sound overly curious. And failing. It showed on the young Captain’s face. 

“Indeed, Ma’am. Very unique.” 

“How does it work, in rudimentary terms? It has no point.” 

Stopping in his tracks, Kynan turned towards her. “It needs none, ma’am. It fires metal ammunition. Small balls. I can shatter a bottle a hundred yards away, and a skull at further if need be.” 

Johanna kept her mouth shut after that, her son’s instructions - her son’s threat - ringing implicitly in her ears. If she shivered, it was not from the cold. 

She had no desire to experience a demonstration.

Chapter Text

Though they went back to their room, and Vesper was still sleeping soundly, neither Percy nor Vex returned to sleep. Even if he had wanted to, Percy knew he wouldn’t have been able to. Too much was in his head. Too many terrible memories. Too many disgusting and dark thoughts. His fists clenched tightly in his trouser fabric, his jaw locked. If he closed his eyes, he would see them all again, the faces, dead eyes staring at him blindly, and he was sure to throw up, so instead, he stared at nothing, unfocused, blood boiling.

A hand landed on his, forcibly uncurled his fingers. Vex’ahlia.

He didn’t look up until he felt warmth against his palm and a light, fluttering.

The babies, kicking.

Even in the state he was, awe overcame him. It always would. There was only one thing which compared to feeling the proof of life within Vex’s womb, and that had been holding Vesper for the first time, still gory and screaming her little lungs out.  

“Darling, speak to me.” Where before Vex’s tone had been harsh and commanding, there was none of that any longer. “Please. You scare me when you get like this. And I know that you’re frightened, and that this could still very well be...like the Trickfoots...but surely this bears seeing out. If there’s even the slightest possibility.” 

With great difficulty, Percy pulled his hand away. “There isn’t. This needs to be handled. Quickly. Quietly. And without Cassandra’s hearing of it.” 

Vex’s brows lifted high. “You know that’s not going to happen, don’t you. You put the woman up in the castle. Cassandra will know. She deserves to know. And if you don't tell her, she will find it out sooner or later, Percy. Are you sure you’d like to deal with that eventuality?” 

No, he was not sure, but that changed nothing. 

“What if it’s true, though?” Vex dropped to the bed beside him, a little less gracefully than usual. “What if somehow...what if she is your moth-” 

“Don’t! Don’t say it! Don’t call her that.” Only when Vesper cried out did he realize he’d yelled at Vex, and the fury within him withered away. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll take care of her. I’ll take care of her.” Quickly he stood and left for the adjoining chamber, though he felt Vex’s eyes on him as he went. 

Vesper’s squalling quieted the moment she saw his face. It was a miracle, he thought, how one small life could depend so thoroughly on his own. How impossibly completely she loved and adored him. How she knew nothing of him save that he held her and comforted her and saw to her wellbeing. 

As he picked her out of her crib, cradling her to his chest where she promptly hid her face in his shoulder, Vex’s soft footfalls found his hearing. 

“Hello sweetheart,” she crooned. “Did Papa wake you? He didn’t mean to, my love.” She smoothed a hand over their daughter’s back. “Darling.” Her tone was altered, though still a tender whisper. “I would give anything, anything , to see my mother again. And I know it's not the same, but if there’s even the remotest possibility, you must see this through. You thought Cassandra lost, didn’t you?” 

“That’s different.” 

“Is it?” 

He didn’t answer her; Vesper had stilled again, her soft breathing against his cheek signalling that she’d already returned to sleep, much to his luck. Tilting his chin, he pressed a kiss to his precious daughter’s head. 

“Does she look like your mother, at least? You...flinched.” 

Tentatively, he nodded. “She looks far more like Johanna de Rolo than I look like the boy who was once Johanna’s son.” 

“Is that so?” 

“She hardly recognized me.” 

“So, you admit that it could be her.” 

Vesper’s little fist had loosened in her clutch of his shirt, though Percy was loath to set her back down.

“I admit that she could very well be playing me for a fool.” 

Vex too leaned in to kiss their daughter’s soft hair. “And if you can admit that, then you must also be willing to admit that the opposite is at least possible.” When she drew back, Percy laid their daughter in her crib, resting his palm over her tiny form. 

Neither spoke again until they had returned to their own chamber. 

“I didn’t see her body.” Saying it was easier than he’d anticipated, though he could not ascertain why. “I remember Vesper...and Father. Julius. The fact that she knew they were dead before they were hung…” he shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s…”

“Possible. It’s possible.” 

“I only know that they were dead because they were in the cell next to me. I saw-” But he couldn’t go on. “Ludwig was little. Not as much as Cassandra, but he was...sensitive. I didn’t hear him crying. He would have.” 

“Could he have been…” Vex cut off abruptly. Percy could hear her hesitance. “Unconscious? Was she right about them having drugged the food?” He gave a brief nod. “If he was small as well as young, perhaps it kept him under longer and that’s why you didn’t hear him,” Vex continued.

“And the others?” 

“More of the same? I don’t know, Percy. I don’t know.” She put her arms around him, pulling him in against her. The scent of her was soothing, her touch a balm. And for as much as he wanted it, it felt unearned. “I just want you to be happy, Percy. And this...this could bring you and Cassandra so much happiness. And if she’s a terrible person, if she’s lying to you the way Pike’s family lied to her… darling, it will hurt, but things will be the same. And if she’s really...if she’s your mother…”

“I know.” He’d meant for the words to be steady, but they were not. They came out a sob. “I can’t do this, Vex’ahlia. I-I can’t .” Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he said no more, letting her rock him like their own babe against her breast until the light of dawn banished the shadows of night and he could put it off no more.

Vex gave him only a weak smile as he stood forth, and they exchanged a nod, but that was the extent of it. In the hall, Percy stood vacillating before Cassandra’s door. She deserved to know, of course, and the woman claimed to believe Cassandra dead. When she was revealed, the woman’s expression would be a good indicator of her veracity, in addition of course, to Keeper Yennen’s insight on the matter. But to use such a tactic would require Cassandra to be informed, lest she interrupt at an inopportune moment. 

But that would require Cassandra to be informed. 

Before he could raise his fist, the door opened and his still rather diminutive little sister looked up at him, expression curious if a little haughty, as she was wont. 

“Brother? You woke me rather early this morning with your yelling. How uncouth. And now you stand about at my door much earlier than you’re accustomed. Something has happened. You’re thinking of keeping it from me and I demand to know what.” 

So small, and so young. He saw her before him as she had been. Not as she was.

A slip of thing. Small and gangling and irritating.

He’d treated her terribly poorly before the Briarwoods had come, always kicking her out of his workshop, saying cruel things. Generally doing as little as possible by way of kindness and going out of his way not to appreciate her unconditional love for him. 

Their footsteps in the damp grass, pounding as hard as their hearts. The whistle of arrows in the night. The thick squelching of pierced flesh. The sharp cry of his sister in pain-

“Percival?” 

“A woman has arrived claiming to be our mother.” 

Her blue eyes sharpened further. “Is that so.” 

“I gave her lodging. Kynan has been posted at the door. He’s not to leave. He’s armed.” 

“Very well.” 

“I had Jarett summon Keeper Yennen for breakfast this morning. We will ascertain the exactness of her story then. She presented some of it to Vex and I some hours ago. I will send Jarett up to fill you in presently."

There was the smallest wobble of her chin. “You do not believe it.” 

“I do not know what to believe. She, however, thinks you to be dead. I wish to capitalize on this knowledge. A test, if you like.” 

Cassandra’s brow arched. “Am I being informed, dear brother, or asked? I do believe this is a council, and even then, I do believe I am the head of it, since you could not be bothered.” Though her words cut, he could tell that there was no real spite behind them. As good-natured a ribbing as could be afforded under the circumstances. “I shall eat in my rooms, then, this morning. Send someone up for me within a space of five minutes before you wish me to arrive.”

“Of course, dear sister.”

“And Percival.” 

“Yes, Cassandra?”

“If…” 

Rarely, if ever, did they touch. Theirs was not a physically affectionate relationship and never had been. The family as a whole hadn’t been precisely touch averse. It simply hadn’t been something they did. But at the sight of his sister, verging on tears, his proud, strong sister, who had freed him from his cell, who had nearly died for him - small and gangling and irritating - he reached out a hand, stroking her hair, thumb grazing the terrible streak of white through chestnut that matched his own. 

She shuddered at his touch. 

“I promise, Cassandra, I will let no harm come to this family again. I will die first.” 

There was a flicker in her eyes, and no more. 

“I will send for you,” he said one last time, and then turned away before any more could be said between them.

Chapter Text

The bed was lovely. One of the guest rooms. The décor had not altered. Despite it all, Johanna did not sleep a wink. Exhaustion filled her body, but she had not succumbed, too haunted by the ghosts that filled the halls of her family’s ancestral home. At some point, she thought she even heard a cry, maybe two, but when she had listened at the door, there was only the occasional sound of Kynan, readjusting his stance.

Nerves too strong, she’d hardly even considered what she might say when summoned, or what she might be asked. Terror gripped her at the possibilities, but her thoughts were a terrible jumble, and on the one occasion that she’d closed her eyes – a single brief moment – she thought she’d heard Frederick’s whisper in her ear.

She wondered, briefly, had their places been exchanged, if he would have stayed away. And if he had, would he have recognized their son where she had not?  Or would he have returned from Port Damali with some manner of force to reclaim their usurped home?

A sharp rap at her door startled Johanna from the mist.

“Madame? Breakfast is prepared.”

Johanna opened the door to face her fate.

In the soft light of morn, the young man did not look quite so fearsome, though the weapon he wore was just as unknowable and terrifying as it had been in the darkness.

“The Lord and Lady await you, as does Keep Yennen.” 

No more was said after that, and though she knew the route intimately, Johanna allowed the young man to lead her anyways. The general sounds of life reached her before they arrived, soft muted conversation and the clink of dishware. But when she entered the room, what she found was not all she had anticipated. 

A dark haired child sat in her son’s lap. The little girl,  no more than two, a small sausage in hand, paused in the eating of it to look up at the new arrivals. With one tiny fist lifted, using the sausage to point, the girl spoke. “Papa! Who’s that?

“Please, sit.” He waved his hand and one of the staff came to attend her. “Whatever you desire shall be prepared for you. Then we will speak.” 

Hiding her shaking hands beneath the table, Johanna did so, though she wasn’t really hungry. A cup of chamomile would be the greatest asset to calming her nerves. As soon as the attendant was away, she looked back up at the little family upon whom she suddenly felt she was intruding. 

“M-may I ask your daughter’s name?”

It was her son’s wife who answered. “Vesper. Vesper Elaina de Rolo the Second.”

“Vesper…” Johanna bit her lip. “She’s very beaut-”

Loudly, Percival cleared his throat. “Perhaps, Keeper Yennen, we might begin?” 

“Yes, of course, Percival.” The old cleric turned to her. “Good morning, Madame. You must forgive us, but there has been much deception here since the de Rolos were first usurped, and we take great pains to ensure that we are not deceived again.” His hands twisted in the air artfully and he spoke some low arcane words. Soft waves of golden magic rushed over her, tickling, though doing little else. 

“No magical disguise is upon her as best as I can tell, and she bares no arcane items on her person. But I must admit, madame, I was in the crowd that stood before the Sun Tree that day. I can hardly believe the evidence of my eyes.”

Tentatively, Johanna put her hands to the high collar at the throat of her dress, and undid the first few buttons, exposing the dark ringed scar that encircled her neck. “I did hang. I did not die.” 

“Your story has been relayed.” Johanna could not resist looking over to her son again at his words, though his eyes were only on the child in his lap. “Please continue, Keeper.” 

Another set of movements accompanied by unknowable words and this time she felt a distinctive tingle. Yennen nodded decisively at Percival.

“I will ask you questions. You will answer them truthfully, as the spell so compels you. If you avoid answering at all, I will consider it as good as a lie. Are we clear on that?”   

“Perfectly.” 

But she did not want to answer the probing questions, revisit the same terrible memories of earlier that morning. What gruesome recollections would she be forced to voice aloud, she wondered, to slake the paranoia of her only living child? The anticipation of such questions was terrible, especially when no one made immediately to ask. 

Instead, Percival summoned over one of the staff, relaying instructions too soft for Johanna to hear, before handing off the child. She was so riveted, she almost missed the arrival of her food and the tea. Only when the little girl was gone from the room did Percival speak. 

“On Ludwig’s eighth birthday, he was gifted a telescope. What did he do with it and why?”

Taken aback, the porcelain cup in her hands chattered against its saucer and she quickly set it down. “Ludwig’s eighth...He...he wasn’t terribly interested. Frederick had to tell him what it was for, and then he-he handed it to you and suggested it might help with your eyesight. You told him you could already see things far away just fine.”

Percival gave a shaky exhale, and then continued. “You said you stayed with distant relatives in Port Damali. I was under the impression there were no more de Rolos living there.” 

“They do not bear the de Rolo name, but they were kin to your father.”

Another nod of acceptance. 

The next question, however, came from the Lady Vex’ahlia. “You said you returned upon hearing that de Rolos were once more in power in Whitestone. That you believed someone was impersonating the family. What were your intentions upon arrival?” 

“I-I don’t know.” 

“And your intentions now?” the lady pressed. 

Johanna instinctively looked to Percy, the desire to go to him strong within her again. “I didn’t think it was possible that...I-I want to stay here with my son.” 

“And what, Madame, of your daughter?” 

The voice was lower than she'd last heard it, and trembling, but unmistakable. Johanna whirled, and there before her was Cassandra. Johanna gripped the table edge for support. The tea sloshed in it’s cup. “I-I don’t believe -my gods . My gods. Cassandra!” 

“Well, dear brother? Your assessment?” 

Whatever response Percival gave went unvoiced, and unknown to Johanna, who dared not look away from her youngest child. 

“I have my own questions to be asked and answered, Madame,” Cassandra said as she started towards a chair beside her brother. “If you would but kindly answer a few more.” Johanna could only nod out of disbelief. “Good. A week before they arrived here, I asked my parents for a pet. What was it?” 

The vision coalesced, much clearer and ghostly than her previous recollection of Ludwig’s eighth birthday. Cassandra, waifish and simpering, large eyes pleading desperately for - 

“A bird. You wanted a parakeet. One of the tradesmen had one with him when they delivered the latest shipment of imports from the Menagerie. It was a vibrant green and peach and you said you wanted to name it Taffy and keep it in the greenhouse that it might fly about more freely instead of in a cage.” Emotion cloyed thickly at her, stemming her words. “We...told you ‘no’.” 

A long, long silence.

“If you are still dissatisfied, Percival, Cassandra,” Keeper Yennen said. “You could call for your friend Pike. I have done all that I may to ascertain the truth. Would that we knew the location of...of the graves, perhaps things might be easier, but I’m afraid-” 

“We don’t need to know where their bodies are.” Percy cut him off. “Because we know where Sir Kerrion is. We will contact Pike. When she arrives, she can question him for us. Then...then I will be satisfied.” 

Johanna looked between the three as they all nodded assent to his...plan. Her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. You said that y-you killed him.” 

“I did.” Percival rose, kissing his wife on the cheek as he did. “I’m taking Vesper for a walk,” he said softly, though Johanna caught it anyway. “Be safe.” 

“We will be.” 

And though Johanna watched him go, he did not look at her again.

Chapter Text

As usual, Vesper ran to him immediately upon seeing him, and he swooped her up happily, hiding his face against her cheek, which he peppered with kisses as she giggled and squealed. 

“Would you like to go for a walk, sweetheart?” he asked, settling her on his hip. 

“Papa, who was that?” she asked in her rather softly pitched voice. It always amazed him that she was speaking already in full sentences, could use thousands of words accurately. He’d not paid too much attention to his younger siblings at that age, and even the recollections he did have were hazy at best. 

“Well, sweetheart, I’m not really sure yet.” It wasn’t untrue, at least. “Now, a walk, shall we? Or have you got something different in mind?” 

“Walk, please. By the flowers.” 

“Shall I carry you?” She’d been back and forth lately, between wanting to run about herself and wanting to be up high, particularly on his shoulders, so that she could pretend to be her Uncle Grog. 

Vesper bit her lip and ducked her head into his shoulder again, which Percy took as answer enough and they started off towards the gardens. Particularly, she liked to point at various flowers, attempting their proper name first, and resorting to establishing her favourites by colour when she didn’t know the common title. For a little while, she did just that, one arm wrapped around his neck, the other waving about as she pointed wildly. They came to their favourite spot together, just in the shade of the magnolia, and had settled down to simply enjoy the nice weather, when Vesper plunked herself in his lap and looked up at him inquisiority. 

“Papa, why’re you sad?” 

So perceptive. Just like her mother. 

“Well, Vesper, I’ve had to think about a lot of things today that make me sad. Which is why I wanted to have a walk with you, because that makes me happy, being with you.” 

“I make you happy?” 

“Always. And forever.” 

“Papa, we play broomstick today?” 

An indulgent smile stole across his face. “ May we play broomstick today, I believe you mean.” 

“May!” 

“Yes, I believe we may. And Auntie Pike will be coming for a little while in a few days. How do you like that?”

Vesper let out a squeal and toppled onto her back from sheer excitement. It was infectious, that happiness and Percy let out a laugh of his own, reaching down to tickle her playfully. And for a little while, if only a little while, he was able to forget. 

Eventually, they returned to the family suite of rooms, and he switched her with Vex as was customary, before making his way down to the workshop. There were still adjustments to be made to the latest plans for the clocktower, after all. He was just wrapping up for lunch - on a much better schedule ever since Vesper had been born, part Vex’s insistence, part his own desire, when he heard a knock, followed by the creaking of the door as it swung open. 

On his stool, Percy swiveled, pushing his glasses on more firmly. 

It was her , accompanied by Kynan who stood awkwardly in the doorway. 

“Yes?” 

“I’m sorry. She led me here, my Lord. You told me not to leave her side.” 

“So I did, Kynan.” Finally, he had no other recourse but to look at her. “What is it?” 

“I-I asked if you still tinkered, like you did as a child. I thought you might be here and I was hoping to…” She faltered, twisted her fingers in her hands to relieve what must have been uncomfortable energy. 

“Hoping to…?”

“Would you allow me to speak with you a while? I know you have undoubtedly called your friend to aid, but I just wanted t-to...to be near you. Lunch is soon. I thought I might,” she looked about, eyes flickering from one project pile to the next. “ Retrieve you.”

“Consider me retrieved,” he replied, shuffling away his papers and donning his coat, which he’d left hanging on the coat rack. A fixture pointedly provided by Vex one evening, after having found his coat lying over the saw horse one too many times in a row. 

They walked in silence for not half a minute before the woman cleared her throat. “What are you working on?” 

“A clocktower which shall tell the story of Vox Machina.” 

If she was unsure what that meant, she didn’t inquire further. Instead, she pressed on, in a different trajectory. 

“You make many things, still? You always were working on something or another. I could hardly ever get you up for lunch then.”

Abruptly, Percy took a hard right, startling his companion and her shadow. 

“Where are we going?” He could practically feel the trepidation in her voice, but he did not care. Not in the least. Something was building in him. Something unnamable, but ferocious. 

And it wanted out . 

“To the courtyard. You’re very interested in my creations. So I have decided to show you something.” 

“I think perhaps-” she began, but cut off quite suddenly, and there were no more words, only their sharp footfalls on the stonework.

Percy burst through the double doors of the courtyard, stalking onto the top expanse of the stairwell and took a quick look about. “Kynan,” he instructed with a clipped tone, holding out his hand expectantly. The young man quickly handed him the rifle, which Percy cocked and readied. With practiced ease, he aimed and fired, shattering a stone vase some yards across the courtyard. From his peripherals, he saw the woman flinch, but her shriek was lost in the sound of the shatter. The kickback was strong, but his shoulder was far from tender, and the echo of the shot rang in the still air. With a breath of cruel satisfaction, Percy lowered the weapon and returned it  to Kynan. 

“You wanted to know about my creations. The present state of that vase should give you some idea of just exactly what happened to Sir Kerrion’s head. I hope your curiosity is well satisfied.” 

Stock still, the woman only stared at him in numb horror as he turned his back to her and went inside alone. The unnamable emotion that had roiled inside was gone, but it had been replaced with a new emotion entirely. 

Shame. 

Absolute and unrelenting shame. 

Vex’ahlia, if she knew, would be upset with him assuredly, especially after their conversation that morning, the way she’d pleaded with him to hear the woman out, to consider the possibility. And at breakfast...But Vex’ahlia had summoned Pike, and until then, until he heard the words from Kerrion himself, Percy refused to believe. 

Even in his disbelief, his shame did not dissipate. He had wanted her fear. Wanted her dread and apprehension, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because, if she wasn’t real, it didn’t matter, and she’d know exactly what she was dealing with. Or maybe, deep, deep down, it was because, if she was real, she’d hidden away, leaving their city to languish, leaving the children she didn’t know were alive to pick up the pieces of the world left shattered around them, left them to fester in darkness they weren’t old enough to deal with, left them to break and rot from the inside out. 

Vex would have said that she couldn’t have known, that he’d assumed she was dead just as she had assumed of her children, that she was but one woman, reliant on the goodwill of distant relations, who had no power, no money, no abilities that could have been used against Delilah and Sylas at the height of their power. Vex would also have said that the moment she heard de Rolos were back, she’d returned herself. And that that should count for something. 

And he heard it all in his wife’s voice, of course.

He wouldn’t be able to fool her. The minute he entered the dining room and looked at her, she would know.  And he couldn’t fool himself either. 

Pike could not arrive soon enough. 

Chapter Text

If she thought her son was unrecognizable before, after the display with the rifle, Johanna found in him worse than an utter stranger, but the perversion of everything that had ever been innocent and good about the boy she remembered. It was different, seeing what the weapon could do opposed to simply hearing things which she’d somewhat presumed exaggerated if only to frighten her. 

The truth, as usual, was far more terrible. 

“Ma’am.” Kynan said finally, tone prodding. “Are you alright?”

She gave him a weak smile. “No, young man. But it's kind of you to ask.”

Once more, everyone was awaiting her in the dining room, this time including Cassandra. The Lady Vex’ahlia smiled at her, much to Johanna’s surprise, until she read the body language between her and her husband. There was more space between them than usual and he sat with less of a stiff spine than she’d seen from him before. 

Uncomfortably, she sat across from them in the same place as at breakfast, a plate already waiting for her. 

“So,” Vex’ahlia began as they all tucked in, her tone forcibly airy. “You said you stayed with extended family of Frederick’s? We were unaware that there were still close enough relatives in Port Damali for that sort of thing.” 

“Ah, yes.” She set down her fork obligingly. “The current line of de Rolos which resides within these walls were established here some two hundred years ago, but some contact was kept, for trade purposes, you see, with the relations in Port Damali.” 

Vex’ahlia nodded, and Johanna got the impression that it mostly stemmed from an attempt to quell the awkward silence, rather than genuine interest. “I’ve never been; I don’t think any of us have. Will you tell us about it?” 

“Of course.” 

For some time, Vex’ahlia peppered her with questions between bites of their meal, only truly pausing when the foreign guard stepped in to whisper in Cassandra’s ear. Her daughter waited until the present topic naturally closed before speaking. 

“Pike Trickfoot will arrive shortly.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Vex’ahlia seemed actually pleased to hear it. “Is Allura bringing her?”

“Yes. Lady Kima will not be accompanying them, nor will the...” Cassandra’s lips pursed tightly. “ Grand Poobah. They are busy with other pursuits at present.” 

Whatever a ‘Grand Poobah’ was, Johanna wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Lunch finished with less conversation after that, though Vesper kept throwing her curious and unabashedly innocent glances the entire time.

They were just standing again to leave for the drawing room, when the foreign guard entered once more, that time holding the door for two women, one tall with twin blonde braids and the other a diminutive gnomish woman who fairly glowed with a white light. 

“Auntie Pike!” Vesper darted over to them, running into the arms of the gnome, who was barely taller than she. 

“Vesper!” Pike’s voice was soft as a gentle breeze and bright as the sun. “Hey kiddo! You being good for your parents?” 

“Yes! Where’s everyone else? They gonna come?” 

“Oh, probably not this time. It’s just me. But when Uncle Grog comes by next, you know he’ll spend extra time with you! But today I’m here to see your momma, check up those little siblings of yours and whatnot.” But her soft eyes darted up to Johanna as she said it. “When I do, you can sit with your Poppa and I’ll tell you what I’m all doing and everything. How does that sound?” 

“Good!” She then turned her attentions to the other woman, a bit more shyly. “Hi.”

“Hello, dear Vesper. I was wondering if perhaps you could show me to the gardens? You mother told me that you’ve been working on growing some herbs together…” 

Vesper’s head nodded up and down very rapidly, and, taking the tall woman’s hand, led her off through the halls. 

“Uh, hello.” The gnome strode up to her. “I’m Pike. And I guess, I’m here to... help?”

Together they filed out, though they did not head to the drawing room, but rather out to the Cemetery. In the corner, clustered with a few others, one grave had already been unearthed as if in preparation. 

“Here lie the traitors to House de Rolo,” Cassandra announced with a degree of finality that felt almost as threatening as Percival’s firing of the rifle had earlier. 

“Including one Kerrion Stonefell.” Percy reached down into the grave, and pulled up what maybe passed for a skull. 

It took everything she had for Johanna not to be sick there and there as she recalled the comparison he’d made to the vase that morning. Most of the face was missing completely, the edges jagged shards. The upper jaw was gone in its entirety, and the back was missing a section too.    

“Oooh boy, that’s not a lot to work with. You do this, Percy?” Pike asked, rubbing her chin. 

“The first name off my list.” 

Johanna shivered.

“Well, I’ll do what I can, I guess.” She knelt on the ground, lighting a stick of incense and placing it in a little bowl she pulled from a pouch and began to whisper, hands moving languorously. Light spilled from her fingertips, filling in the necessary gaps on the skull and a rattling, whisper thin breath emitted from its aura. 

“Alright, what am I asking him? You get five questions.” 

“Did the Briarwoods kill Johanna de Rolo?” 

Pike conveyed the question exactly. At first, there was nothing, then a reedy farce of the voice Johanna recalled spilled forth. “Noooo.” 

“What happened to her?” 

“I...removed her… sent her away.” 

“Did anyone else know?” 

“No one. Not even... the ship’s captain.” 

“Where did you send her?” 

“Port...Damali…”

“How did you cover up your deed?”

“Hung...another in her place. Similar looks. Wearing the same clothes. Crows did the rest.”

And with that, the rattling false life left the skull, and the semi-corporeal light faded. For the first time since she arrived, Johanna felt like she could breathe again. She looked up at her children hopefully and found both their expressions unreadable. 

“I’m ever so glad that it’s really you,” Vex’ahlia said finally, when everyone else remained mute at the revelation. “Welcome home.”

How lofty her children’s twin unnerving gazes felt, measuring and judgmental as she waited for one of them to speak, to acknowledge her even the slightest little bit. Somehow, it was worse than when they suspected her of falsehoods. 

“I suppose I shall have to convene the rest of the council,” said Cassandra eventually, almost beleaguered.

“Council?” Johanna asked, confused. 

“Yes. Council. You’ve spent a long time on foreign shores. Things have changed in your absence, mother.” The epithet from Percival’s lips should have felt comforting. But it was absent of any strong emotion, his tone holding no conviction, no passion. Not even disgust. There was nothing at all. “We have moved on without you.” 

And having seemingly said all he was going to, Percival walked away. 

When she turned back to the others, there was sympathy in the cleric’s eyes, and a tumultuous quality in Vex’ahlia’s. Cassandra was simply blank.

“He’ll come around,” Vex’ahlia said, and reached out a hand to grasp her own. “You’ll see.” 

Johanna could only hope.

Chapter Text

Cassandra found him beneath the castle at the Ziggurat. It did nothing, these days, and he’d had a variety of Iounic clerics in and out, attempting to restore its splendour over the past year, but it was the one place for sure that Johanna would not look to find him. And look, he was sure, she would. 

“Working or hiding?” There was humour in Cassandra’s tone, even if it wasn’t precisely light hearted. 

“Both.” 

Rearranging her skirts, she took a seat beside him. “I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know what to do. What was it like for you, when you saw me here, alive?” 

“Conflicting. I did believe that my old tutor had just slit your throat. I don’t really know what I felt. I wasn’t precisely myself at the time.” 

“No. No you weren’t.” 

He remembered how it felt later, though, slapping her after her betrayal, not but steps away from where he now sat, seeing her name still on the barrel, holding the gun to her, point blank. How close he could have come to slaughtering her, if not then, sometime...If not for Scanlan....

“What about me? How did it feel seeing me?” he asked, feeling strange. “You had to have known that there was a possibility I survived…” 

Cassandra’s hand wavered over his own and then drew back to her leg. “Any hope I really had was long destroyed by the Briarwoods and the passing of the years.” She shook her head. “At first I thought I would die. I cried. And then there was nothing. I don’t know how long I was conscious after… I asked about you and they badgered me for ages about where you might have gone. But time went on and I-”

“Gave up on me.” 

They’d never talked about it before. Not once. How he’d abandoned her to seeming death. How she’d nearly died to save him. Not that he’d been in any condition to save her, much less herself. 

A hand gripped his firmly. Percy looked at their joined hands, his sister’s delicate fingers splayed over his own. “I don’t blame you. Know that.” 

He couldn’t remember the last time they’d touched in such a way. If they ever had. 

“I blame myself.” 

“I know.” She squeezed his hand. “I wish you wouldn’t.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t blame yourself either,” he replied, flipping his hand beneath hers so that he could squeeze back. It felt strange, someone else’s hand in his own besides Vex or Vesper. “You were a child.”

“You were still a child yourself.”

Had he been at that point? Bloodied and broken under Ripley’s hands, little more than the ghost of a boy. That boy had died on her table. It was a ghost Cassandra had rescued. Intangible and unreal. Perhaps he hadn’t been a man until he woke on the ship, until after he’d waded desperately into the river and been reborn from the frigid waters that should have taken him out to sea.

“I cannot blame her. If I blame her, then I must also blame you.” Cassandra turned to look at him, and he could barely bring himself to match her gaze. “I’m afraid too. So much of what’s happened to me...to us ...It is difficult to trust anyone, and to even say that I believe she means us no harm feels like cursing us. But I’ve-” She swallowed hard. “I’ve missed her. I miss them all. I’m older now than even Vesper ever was. And soon Julius, too. You know, I’ve kept track. Every birthday. Ludwig. Whitney. Oliver… You. I remember thinking ‘Today, I am older than Percival.’ I remember that. I would have given anything for one of you to be alive. To rescue me. And you did, and I-” Biting her lip, Cassandra looked into her lap. “And now Mother…” 

She was right, of course. But his heart rebelled against the truth. 

“Please, Percival. I know that you… Be gentle? For me?” 

Darkly, he chuckled. The sound lacked all mirth. “It is too late for that. Even if I wanted to be.” 

Almost in mirror of what he’d done to her that morning, Cassandra cupped his cheek. “It’s never too late. You’ve proven it by your mere existence alone. Look how far you’ve come. Look how far we’ve both come. I would not be here without you, Percival. Not like this.”

His eyes were hot. Burning. The innate battle to turn away raged, but he was paralyzed there. 

“Percival. Brother. We are someone’s children again. Rejoice in that. Think of Vesper. If you and Vex were lost. What would you not give?” 

Nothing. There was nothing. 

“I’ve called off Kynan, for the time being,” she informed him, brokering no room for argument, gaze piercing through him, earnest and driven. As she stood, her hand fell away, and she left him to his thoughts. 

Rarely, ever, was Cassandra wrong. Somewhere along the line, she’d grown far wiser than he. Which meant that it was a good thing she was head of the council, and not he. They still danced around one another in a strange, overly formal way. It had begun to change when Vesper was born. There was something about the birth of a child that drew family nearer. Even Syldor had visited, after Vex gave her permission. Velora had been with him, and she’d taken a shine to Cassandra. And any time that Percy and Vex needed a break, it had been Cassandra who took Vesper. 

And now, in a totally unrelated fashion, his mother had returned and for the first time since Vesper was born, he stubbornly wanted to close himself off instead of drawing others nearer, all his instincts screaming at him to protect and hide and lock away the small seed of pure goodness in his life. As though, if he could protect her...maybe he could protect himself. 

He knew no other way to be. 

And Vex was angry with him - rightfully so - and was certainly going to talk to him, again, about how much she missed her mother, how she would give everything and anything for a second chance, how he would be a fool to let it pass him by. 

But he couldn’t.  

His heart was a cage, and the key Johanna still had no longer fit the lock that held it in.  

All the pent up frustration spilled forth. Percy leapt to his feet, grabbing blindly at one of the tools on the bench and hurling it across the room into a pile of materials, sending things clanging to the ground. Chest heaving, he watched until the last errata settled to stillness and the silence of the underground cavern consumed his fury. 

It may have been minutes - hours, he wasn’t sure - before he moved again, leaving the seat of many nightmares to return to the day and the world above. And despite himself, he went to his workshop, not subconsciously, but purposefully. Pelor help him, whatever was there to meet him, he would accept as the fate he had earned. 

But there was no one there.

Somehow, strangely, he was disappointed. Deflated, he went to his study instead and lost himself in wherever menial work he could scrounge up to pass the time. Still no interruption. A pencil shattered in his hand and he leaned back in his chair, trying to breathe evenly. 

There was but one recourse. 

The firing range was empty when he arrived, and he relished in the feel of Animus in his hand, the smoothed wood fitting perfectly against his palm. Its weight hadn’t been made for him, but he’d made adjustments over the years, customizing it to his needs. More than anything, he loved the deafening sound that it made, drowning out his brain and all its terrible thoughts, though lately he’d been concerned that his actual hearing might be going on the right side, probably from Bad News. 

Catharsis. Probably not healthy or good for him in more than one way, but catharsis all the same.  Spending time with Vesper was probably a better coping mechanism, but she was two, and he needed to figure his shit out before she got older. 

At least, he’d be less likely to fly off the handle if the - if Johanna approached him. Or if he ever got up the courage to approach her himself.

Many rounds later, the smoke cloying in a way that was vaguely uncomfortable, he finally felt better. 

Which was good because, upon turning around, he found his mother staring back.

Chapter Text

It was like an out of body experience, watching her son fire the weapon over and over, unloading round after round into straw formed people with the precision and accuracy of the finest archers she had ever seen. There was a cool ruthlessness to his clockwork movements, the way he held his breath before he fired, just like the archers did, how the reverberations of the shots, which caused her to jump every single time, didn’t phase him in the least. 

Even if she hadn’t already been informed, she wouldn’t have had to imagine what he used the weapon for - hardly to pass the time or relieve simply stress. It was an instrument of death. Overpowered for simply hunting alone, it had undoubtedly been developed for the sheer purpose of penetrating the flesh of people as well as threatening creatures. And supposedly, its terrible form had been born of his mind, the mind that had once, as he had diplomatically informed his parents, desired nothing more than to make clocks alone in his workshop for the rest of his life. 

When he finally appeared to finish, her ears were ringing and the whole area was wreathed in smoke. Any consideration she’d thought to make about what to say dissipated when he turned around and saw her, stopping him effectively in his tracks. 

“You have excellent aim,” she blurted out rather unfortunately, inwardly cringing. “You would have done well if we could have gotten you to bother about archery.”

A grim smile. “I’d hate to muscle in on Vex'ahlia’s territory.” It was a surprisingly candid statement, but he didn’t elaborate. 

“I was hoping we might...walk together?” 

He raised a fine, still dark brow. “And talk, presumably?” 

“If you’re willing.” 

Appearing to consider, Percival holstered the weapon. “I cannot bar you from speaking, nor from asking questions, but I may choose not to answer.” He leveled his gaze. “You would have had better luck with Cassandra, I will say.” 

“Perhaps I am already aware of that, and have still decided to be here instead.” It was a risky statement, but she had little to lose and everything to gain. However standoffish he was, there was only upwards to go. “I should like to know how you survived.” 

“Just me? Or Cassandra as well?” 

“I would have your story. If there’s overlap…” 

“She saved me.” 

“You tried to escape? Like your father and siblings?”

A brief flicker of hesitation. “We did…” 

“But that’s not what happened.” 

Wherever they were walking, she didn’t know. It was aimless, and even though her son was leading them, his eyes were glazed, and there was no purpose in his stride. Lost in the fog of memories. She understood exactly how easy it was to slip away, to fall back under the mist of events long long ago. 

“No.”

For a time they wandered in silence, until they made it to a grassy space low behind the castle. Eventually, he came to a stop. “They never intended to kill either of us. Cassandra was a tool for their usurpation, there to help ensure the transition. And perhaps, in a way, a daughter they could never have. They wanted me for a different reason.” For the first time, he met her gaze purposefully and unwavering. “Do you recall Doctor Ripley?”

They’d been taken in so easily. Anna had been a linchpin in a way; intelligent, the ideas behind the Briarwoods’ funding. As decorous as they, if a little distant. Much like their third son. They’d offered her the opportunity to tutor him, even. Never very interested in the larger responsibilities of their family’s station, Percival had actually engaged in conversation with her out of his own desire. 

“Yes, I do recall her.” 

“The Briarwoods gave me into her care. Because I knew things from my experiments that she’d deemed helpful to their ‘project’.” 

“Project?” Johanna shook her head. “I thought they just wanted control.” 

Percival laughed. “They had much, much darker designs in place. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Those plots are long foiled” 

Sensing an end to that path, Johanna started again. “So Cassandra freed you from Ripley? But you said you’d been locked away?”

“That was...after…” 

There was something he was holding back, something that he was unwilling to share. And she knew better than to press him. 

“Cassandra came into the dungeons. It was after everyone had been taken away. I was alone in the cell, but she knew a way out.” He pointed at a spot in the rocky cliff, covered in vines. “A tunnel beneath the castle. We ran.” Turning as he spoke, Johanna got the impression he was seeing the ghosts of his past fleeing for their lives. “I remember the whistle of arrows in the night. I remember the sound as they sunk into her flesh. But I do not know her face as she fell, because I did not stop to look.” She was riveted, horrified. “I left her there to die.” He twisted the final dagger, but did not relent. 

“I ran myself right into the Mooren river run and I recall nothing after that. The few memories of that time are...scattered. My survival-” She looked down and saw that his hands were shaking, and felt the tears running down her own cheeks, unable to banish the terribly visceral images that he’d painted in her mind’s eye. Cassandra, impaled by arrows, Percival, carried helplessly by the freezing current. 

“I thank Pelor that you did.” How desperately she wanted to pull him into her embrace, but it was clear he would not appreciate it. “You don’t have to say anymore, Percival. I thank you for what you have shared.” 

 For a time, they simply stood, the wind buffeting around them, the trees shushing as the air passed between their leaves, the ambient chatter of woodland creatures and the snap of branches. She’d just turned to walk away when he spoke again, voice barely a whisper. 

“I tried my best to wreak vengeance on them in our family’s name. They are all dead now. Sylas. Delilah.” A long, long pause, and then softer still. “Anna. Of them all, I was only responsible for Delilah the second time. We slayed her three times before she stayed down. And twice Sylas. But Anna. Anna only died once. How I wish I could have seen it. Of them all, it was she I hated the most. But it is over now. And I refuse to spend any more time or effort on them. There are more important things in my life.” 

A question burned inside her, but she held it back all the same. 

“I am not proud of what I am. But I am proud of this place, and what I have done here to restore life. Yet even that cannot make up for the many deaths of which I have been the architect. You are Johanna Klossowski de Rolo. By rights, you have a place here in Whitestone. Where you go from here is your choice to make, but you deserve to know the company you keep. The weapons I made, I built carelessly, inconsiderate of what would inevitably come to pass. More and more frequently, paltry, though no less dangerous imitations are being built and inundated into our world. Every death by one of those weapons is a death by my hands. I survived, yes. And I have made your legacy death in the process. Do with that as you wish.”

And with that, he left her amidst the trees. 

She watched him go until he disappeared into the horizon, and then spent a while wandering aimlessly through the woods. Rarely had she spent any time doing so before the Briarwoods had come, but it wasn’t hard to navigate when the Castle stood so high against the horizon, towering above trees, and she didn’t go too deep or too far. Through a dwindling copse, she found a clearing in which there had been built a rather rustic bench, grown over with vines and surrounded by snowdrops, though the season for them had already passed. 

It was a curious find in the woods, with no obvious trail leading to it, but upon looking closer, there was a little plaque with a name emblazoned on it.

VAX’ILDAN

Nothing more was written there to distinguish who the person had been, but the stillness surrounding the area - and complete utter quiet - led her to think that there was something very special about whoever it had been built for. Something slightly unnatural. Something powerful. And somehow, something sad. 

She’d have to ask. Perhaps a relation of Vex’ahlia’s.

Out of obligation or out of desire - which she wasn’t sure - Johanna sat. At first she found herself unnerved by the utter lack of any natural forest sound, but it was strangely peaceful. And after her ‘talk’ with Percival, peace was something her heart was clambering for. 

So much horror and grief and heartache - more even than she knew yet. It was overwhelming. More like some terrible story than the history of her own family. And yet it was the truth. She’d only seen but a few chapters, and already wished both to shut the metaphorical book and never open it again, and also skip with grotesque curiosity to all of the pieces which Percival had sequestered away, the tidbits only alluded to under the terrible, dramatic revelation. 

Inevitably, for her to wish she’d never looked ahead in the first place. 

A rather magnificent raven alit on the bench beside her, shattering the contemplation with a somewhat indignant caw.

“My son has told me today that he is a monster. Not in so many words, but it was clear enough. I don’t know what to do about it. And now I’m talking to a raven.” She shook her head and rested it in her hands. “How can it be that I’ve regained my home and two of my children in the space of a day, and yet I feel as though I have lost everything all over again.”

Another chilling caw rent the silent air before the bird took off, heading back in the direction from which Johanna had come.

Chapter Text

“Alright, Vesper, feel here?” Pike gently guided their daughter’s hand over Vex’s stomach as Percy watched. “That’s baby number one, and this here-”

“Baby two!”

“Yep!” Pike positively beamed. “You’re doing just fine, Vex. Everything is a-okay. Have you guys thought about names?”

Vex waggled her eyebrows, making a silly face at Vesper, even as her eyes peered up at Percival, weighted with things unsaid. “A little, haven’t we dear? It’s much nicer when you have two because everyone gets to slip a favourite choice in. Of course, if we get a boy, we’ll be carrying on the tradition, won’t we, darling?” 

“If you insist.” Percival couldn’t help but smile at Vex’ahlia’s persistence, though less wide than he’d have normally. Usually, the check ups had his full attention, but today, the dark cloud refused to dissipate even at the prospect of healthy twins who would enter the world in a matter of months. Vesper’s birth had been...well, he’d insisted on being there with her, and she’d had no problem with that, but it had definitely been every bit as bad as some of their worst encounters with the Chroma Conclave. She’d been fine of course - they both had - but there was an added edge to the idea of twins. He recalled stories of Whitney and Oliver’s birth being particularly arduous, so he’d already been a bit more nervous than the first go around. Adding in Johanna on top of that was just a little much for the day. And it had only been one day, though it felt more like aeons had passed since the knock on the chamber doors that morning. 

Johanna hadn’t been at dinner, and though it gnawed at him, he hadn’t overruled his sister’s edict and sent Kynan after her. A lot had passed between them that day, and Percy was hardly going to blame the wom-Johanna for needing some time to herself. Separate from them. Conversation mostly centered on Council issues Allura was dealing with, Pike’s work at the Temple to Sarenrae in Vasselheim, and how Grog was getting on there, and even a few teases about the progress of her relationship with Scanlan, which had been going very well, to everyone's grand amusement. Then, more talk of the impending birth and plans for everyone to get together sometime soon.

“And have you heard from Keyleth lately?” Vex was asking Pike. 

But Percy missed the answer. 

Cassandra caught his eye, and gave a knowing look, which he only returned with a half hearted smile. For the first time, he wondered if she had spoken with their mother since last they’d discussed it. What they had said. If Cassandra had given in to that wholehearted desire to be a daughter again. They’d never been a particularly affection prone family, but more than once, he’d noticed Johanna’s hand reaching for him, as if to comfort. Though if that comfort was meant for him or for herself or even both, Percy was unsure. 

Regardless, dinner ended without her presence, Pike and Allura taking their leave after many hugs from Vesper and promises to keep in better touch. 

Life had moved on for Vox Machina and their friends, their fellowship a little more spread out than usual, and a little less dependent, but still strong. 

Perhaps...perhaps it was a sign. 

Perhaps. 

Vesper was half asleep on his shoulder by the time they got up to their chambers. It was later than they tended to get her ready for bed, but it made it that much easier to ready her into her little nightgown in base silence. 

Once she was laid down and hummed to for a bit, they retired back to their own room. 

“Are you turning in early tonight, my darling?” Vex’s back was to him, but she was watching him in the mirror as she undid her hair. 

Percy slipped his hands over her shoulders and bent to kiss the top of her head. “Probably not. Your brush, please?” 

They’d never really made a habit of it before, but Percy had always found the act of brushing Vex’s hair impossibly intimate. The soft even strokes of the bristles made a lovely shushing sound beneath their generally already hushed conversation, and it only heightened the experience. For a while, when they’d first settled in Whitestone before Vecna, he’d mostly taken it up in lieu of the fact that Vax wasn’t there to do her hair for her anymore. After Vecna, the habit had fallen away for a while, simply because of the memories it wrought. 

“What are you thinking of, Percy?” Vex asked him as his hands stalled against her tresses. 

The long sight which broke from him was likely answer enough, but he pressed forward. “Family. Family lost. Family found.”

“I heard you and Cassandra had a chat.” 

“Mhm.” Seventeen strokes of her raven hair. “I don’t know why it’s so hard for me. I must seem terribly ungrateful. I’m not - really! I just...don’t understand I guess.” 

“Understand what?” 

He paused on twenty-four to shrug. “All of this. My life. How I came from what I was, then, to what I became, to the present day. By all rights, Vex’ahlia, this life I’m living I shouldn’t have at all. And that’s not me being self-depreciating, I promise,” he added at the sight of her narrowing eyes in the mirror. “It’s just...unreasonable. Illogical. Unlikely.” 

“And yet, here you are. Can’t be that unlikely, can it?” She was testing him, watching carefully for his reaction. “If it managed to happen?” 

“Your brother would have called it fate. I’m still not sure what I think about that.”

“Darling,” Vex turned, her hair falling from his hands to rest lightly about her shoulders. “When you survived the Briarwoods in the first place, I’m not sure you would have called that a kindness. And kindness probably doesn’t have anything to do with it. But how unlikely was it that you managed to escape? That you didn’t drown in the river? That a boat even found you at all? How unlikely that you managed to eek out an existence for yourself long enough to track down,” A look of utter disgust rolled over her features. “ That woman . That our paths crossed there, in Stilben. That we all found one another. So many unlikely things, Percy. Be it chance or fate, you are here. And more than anything, it is your strength of character that brought you to this point. That allowed you to overcome all of the terrible things that happened to you. Why should you not be given such reprieves as a family? And don’t say it’s because you’re a bad person, because you’re not and you know better now.” 

Percy had no answer. Weak, he sank down onto the bench beside her, hands and brush useless in his lap.

“Tell me about your mother?” he asked her, almost surprising himself as he did. 

Vex seemed equally surprised. “My mother? Elaina was…” She sighed then, too. “She put on a good face, and she tried very hard and when I was little, I didn’t see past it. There were always flowers and laughter and new patches on dresses and shirts, and never shoes that fit, but she made going barefoot a game. She loved us enough to nearly starve for us and still smile at our terrible antics. Until we had Vesper, I didn’t know how she did it.” 

“My family wasn’t like that.” Percy rubbed at the back of his neck before continuing. “There was love between us all, yes, but it wasn’t like that at all. Sometimes I wonder if I just remember things wrong, but having Cassandra here with us reinforces that truth. We weren’t...tactile with my parents. Or with one another, really. Our family was...well. Whitestone was our family. And Whitestone is also work. And so the two sort of merged. Responsibility and a certain decorum were inherent in our role here.”

“But we’re not like that, darling.”

“I touched Cassandra for the first time in years today.” Admitting it aloud was strange, like it was some sort of secret he hadn’t needed to keep. “I held her cheek against my hand. I’ve never done that before. Never.  The last time I even touched her, she was dead on the stones of Thar Amphala.” 

The sharp intake of Vex’s breath did not go unnoticed between them, but she offered no further commentary, taking his hand in lieu of words, waiting for him to continue. 

“I cannot remember the last time my mother hugged me. I always knew that I was cared for, but we didn’t show it like that. And now, I sense in her the desire, the pent up need to express in ways that words can’t. And it’s utterly alien to me. I know that…” He looked to their own joined hands. “That people change. In small ways, if not the fundamental. That circumstances as traumatic as that which sundered my family accrue larger changes than most. I am hardly the child she remembers. Even if I did not already know that, the truth of it is evident on her face every time she looks at me. And I just...don’t-” Frustrated, he cut off, squeezing his eyes shut tight. 

“Darling, these things take time. Look how far I’ve come with Syldor. We may never be tactile, but to even exchange a smile with him, a kind word...there was only ever some measure of tension and hostility between us. And the only way it ended was through blatant expression of my feelings. She’ll listen to you, my darling.” Under his chin, Percy felt her fingers grasp, lifting his head to look at her. “But you have to do the talking first.” 

Nervous energy pulsed in him. “I did my talking. Plenty of it. Many monstrous words. Gruesome relations of the things which happened here. I’ve already made the impression I intended.” 

“I’m sure.” Vex sounded even less impressed than she looked. “I’m also sure you very carefully curated what you chose to relate.” 

“I can’t tell her-” The words strangled in his throat.

Vex’s hand migrated to the back of his head and she pulled him in, allowing him to let his forehead fall on her shoulder, to breathe in her essence. “In time, maybe you’ll feel you can explain. Maybe, even farther in the future, you’ll relate the details. But context is an important part of helping someone to understand you, darling. And if she comes to me, or to Cassandra to ask, I would not tell her without your permission. But it won’t help, keeping it all locked up. You already know that well enough. Don’t sabotage this out of fear. She loves you, and she’ll respect the space you need, and you must respect that she’s willing to do so.” 

“I know.” 

As ever, Vex’ahlia’s words rang far more true than his selfish heart hoped. 

Sleep did not come easy to him that night.

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, it was Cassandra who awaited Johanna the next morning in the hall. She was dressed as primly as ever, her back perfectly straight and her lips pursed. So far, it seemed almost as if the girl had no other expressions to provide. But then, it had only been a day. A long day, to be sure, but a day none the less. 

“You weren’t at dinner,” came the almost imperious greeting. “It is not required.” 

Johanna wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, so she simply waited for Cassandra to continue instead. 

“I thought perhaps we two could have breakfast in the courtyard this morning.”

“Just us two?” That didn’t bode well. 

“My dear sister is resting this morning. Percival is caring for Vesper.”

Nodding her understanding, Johanna accepted the invitation to walk with her daughter. Carrying twins was no easy task, she well knew. Sympathy for the half-elf woman who had so entranced her indomitable son held her heart. 

“I also thought…” Cassandra began, her hands twisting together in an excess of energy. “That we could use the opportunity to discuss matters. As it were.” 

“‘Matters’?”

Cassandra’s chin lifted just a hair, but her comportment remained steady. “Yes. I have called a meeting of the council for later this morning. It would be prudent to have some idea of your plans to present before the rest of the members.” There was the slightest hitch to Cassandra’s step at the turn of phrase. “While I may be the regent head of the council, mine is not the only opinion which carries weight.” 

There it was again. The night before already, Johanna had wondered at the idea that her youngest child was somehow the highest ranking member of the new ruling council, especially when Percival was alive and well. Neither of them had been trained in any sort of governmental or courtly matters, beyond the basic niceties required to simply exist properly in such an environment. The little girl she recalled had a penchant for mischief and a total disinterest in anything becoming of a little girl her age from a noble family. 

Percival was hardly the only one who had changed. And their changes resembled one another rather closely, right down to the streak of white through Cassandra’s chocolate tresses, much the subtle match of her brother. She hadn’t dared to ask that. Somehow, it felt obvious enough. 

“Well, my plans are to remain here, if you’ll have me. As a family member if in nothing else. I may not be aware of the current goings-on here, but I should like to be useful. If there is a place for me…” 

“Much has been lost since the coup. Destroyed by death or by fire. We would be grateful for your knowledge, I am sure. I will present this on your behalf.” 

Johanna gnawed a bit at her lip. “Who else is on this council?” 

“Percival. Keeper Yennen. Vex’ahlia. A few others of some standing within the city.” Abruptly, she stopped. “You needn’t worry, mother. They did not judge Percival for his absence, nor me for my actions here during the Briarwoods’ rule. They will not judge you for your survival any more than they did either of us.”

What actions had those been, Johanna couldn’t help but wonder; however, Cassandra did not stop. 

“Whitestone remains stalwart as ever. We have weathered much in a short time, and we will endure far longer than ever the extended lifespan of what is sure to be your son’s numerous progeny.” There! There was a spark of that familiar mischief. “It seems increasingly unlikely that they will cease having children any time soon. I do believe they mean to beat out you and Father.” 

At that, Johanna managed a laugh. “It seems your brother learned at least one thing about what it means to be in the position he now holds.” 

“Yes. It seems. Though I imagine, were Whitestone not restored, and he was as poor as he was after the coup, they’d be still attempting the same.” 

Nervously, Johanna smiled. “It seems you and he get on well enough?” 

Looking at her feet, Cassandra took up the pace again. “We were all that remained. Childish irritations were suddenly far less significant than they had been. And he does take teasing far better now. His nature is... somewhat improved.” 

“You’ve grown as well. I-” Oh, how she wished to take her daughter’s hand. “I am so proud of you, Cassandra. You represent this family and this city with poise and grace. I can already tell.” 

“Mother.” Voice frank and open, Cassandra addressed her. “I am not Percival. I bear wounds as sure and as terrible as his own, but his difficulties accepting this situation stem from places which I have never trod. Truly, I am glad you are here, and alive. And I know he is as well. You needn’t step so lightly around me as you might around him. We are both learning, but in order to make progress, one must make concessions.” 

With that, as if to punctuate the statement, Cassandra held out her arm and speechless. Johanna linked it with her own as they continued towards the courtyard in companionable silence. 

Breakfast had been amiable, despite the nature of some of the topics of discussion, which Johanna could tell left Cassandra mildly uncomfortable, though her daughter had answered...Well perhaps equally forthcoming as Percival, if not as purposefully cruel. But eventually, her daughter had left for the council meeting, leaving Johanna alone. Seeing that anyone she may have wished to spend time with was in the same session, she’d thought first to roam the halls. Quickly, it became evident that doing so alone was a bad idea. Only ghosts haunted her steps. The outdoors were much more welcoming, and Johnna quickly found herself back at ‘Vax’ildan’s’ llittle bench, though no raven accompanied her in her musings that day. 

There had been a few tears at breakfast, when Cassandra detailed exactly what her ‘actions’ after the coup and the course of several years had been, but all had ended peaceably. Just as Percival’s had, Cassandra’s story overlapped just a hair with his own, virtually identical in content, though the presentation was markedly different. It remained to be seen when next she might speak with her son. Her hopes weren’t high. Anything would be better than nothing, of course, even if he purposefully sought to frighten her. And if he did, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t scare quite so easily. Though, how much was a front and how much was real, she’d yet to identify. 

Seeing how unlikely it seemed that they might take any time soon, she put such considerations aside for the time being, instead focusing on the more immediate role she hoped to fill in the household proper. Namely, helping Vex’ahlia. 

Just by looking, and knowing it was her second pregnancy and twins to boot, Johanna estimated she was likely in the sixth or seventh month. Which also likely meant that they’d be arriving soon. Twins did tend to be early. Of course, Vex’ahlia’s own mother might arrive to see to such things, but having been through twins, Johanna intended to make herself available should her son’s wife need it. Womanly company, especially of the sort that understood such things, was invaluable during one’s time. Even while she carried Cassandra, Johanna had still relished in the company of her other friends who had been in a family way. No matter how doting one’s husband or childless friends, they couldn’t replace the expert commiseration of other mothers. 

But such thoughts only led to more questions. Who was alive? Who of their most trusted retinue had betrayed them? Which friends were false? Which friends had died beside them? 

What, if anything, was left of the life she’d left behind? 

Cassandra’s assurances that the council would be kind to her had been comforting, but she still craved purpose. The decision to return to Whitestone hadn’t been one she’d made lightly. Initially, she’d anticipated having to fight for her place. And ironically, she’d still had to prove herself, though not to the imposters she’d been expecting. It was to a home lacking the guidance of its founding family she’d expected to return. Not one which so little required her leadership. 

Duty was a difficult burden, especially when it was ingrained in one to crave it. To know that upholding that duty was one’s purpose in life. As long as Whitestone stood, it would be her job to care for it in whatever way she was able. In Port Damali, she’d cared by maintaining memory, painting portraiture of her children, her husband, so that the world might not forget them. Memory is the enemy of death; she’d heard the mantra many times, heard her father-in-law share it to his grandchildren in both lesson and warning. As long as someone remembered, that person or thing could never die. And that was the legacy she’d taken upon herself. 

Perhaps it needn’t end, but it would no longer be enough. Her hands yearned to be busy with the work that needed doing. 

A sharply snapping twig dragged her from her thoughts. Johanna looked up to see Vex’ahlia stepping tediously from behind a tree. The other woman had already seen her, that much was evident, and Johanna got the feeling that if Vex’ahlia didn’t want Johanna to know she was there, she wouldn’t.

“Hello. I didn’t expect to find anyone else here. Am I intruding?” 

“Not in the least. Please, sit!” Johanna shifted to the side. 

Vex’ahlia let one slender hand trail tenderly along the wood of the bench as she lowered herself carefully down. 

“I meant to ask...I found it yesterday by chance…”

“My brother.” Vex’ahlia’s smile was strained. “My twin. We lost him around a year before we had Vesper.” 

“I am so sorry.” 

There was a moment where Vex’ahlia’s smooth brow lined in thought. “I know you understand. Thank you. I’m sure he enjoyed your company. There used to be a time where I came here every day. I still try to, of course.” 

“Of course.” 

Thick silence, broken only by the ambient of the forest, ensued. There seemed to be quite a lot of that since she arrived. Johanna wondered if they would ever become comfortable enough where such silence weren’t tense between she and the members of her family. 

“He’s afraid. I don’t blame him. The world has not been kind to the de Rolos, least of all he and Cassandra. They have reason more than most to be afraid. Disconcerted.” 

Johanna swallowed her pride. “I’m afraid too. Afraid I’ll say the wrong thing, ask the wrong question...he’s trying very hard to keep me at arm’s length. A wild animal saying ‘stay away’. I understand, but it is still painful.” 

“It’s not you.” Vex’ahlia huffed a little laugh. “Which is more than I can say for the relationship between me and my father. And yet, we have begun the steps towards reconciliation. You’ve done nothing wrong, Johanna. And I’m sure that he does not blame you for curiosity, or your care. He’s your son. He loves you. Of that, have no doubt. This is a lot for anyone to handle over the space of two days. Give him time. There are things still which even I have never heard but in passing reference and never in detail. He was at peace with the world, only, you’ve managed to shake it up a bit. When things settle, he will tell you. I know he will. Think of this way - what he may have told you before was terrible. But he seeks to spare you both the worst. It is not a kind truth, I know. But of it I have no doubt.” 

It was indeed a bitter truth. Johanna felt the bite of it deep in her bones. What terrible things had happened to her son to carve him from the boy she’d known into the man he’d become.

After a brief pause, Vex’ahlia gave a deep sigh. “Well. I made it here, but Percy will be terribly unhappy with me if I haven’t any help getting back. Between you and Trinket, I’m sure I’ll be just fine. It’s time you met him anyways. He is, after all, an extremely important member of the family.” 

“Trinket?” Johanna queried, suddenly more trepidatious than curious at the gleam in Vex’ahlia’s eye as she touched the pendant that hung just above the swell of her abdomen. 

Vex’ahlia gave a pearly grin. “You’ll see.”

Chapter Text

Johanna settled into their lives much more seamlessly than Percy had anticipated. After the council meeting, during which he’d abstained from providing opinion on the matter, they’d determined that her past experience and knowledge couldn’t be ignored. After a short period of time during which she could reacclimate and familiarize herself with the present goings-on of the city-state, she’d been inducted into a role which all, including Johanna herself, had best felt her abilities could be applied. 

In addition, meals, which were generally taken together as a family before her arrival, with the sporadic absence here or there, now continued in much the same way, save the addition of Johanna. Conversation was still stilted at best when he wasn’t required to participate and tense when he was. Not because he meant for it to be, or because she was pushing back.

 At no point, in fact, did she ever push her matriarchal position at all. In all things, save those which she had been entrusted to oversee, Johanna deferred to one of the ‘more senior’ council members, as she was fond of putting it. Much of her work coincided with Keeper Yennen, but frequently she and Cassandra were collaborators as well. Generally, Johanna kept out of Percival’s way. He was at least sensible enough to understand that she was deliberately giving him space.

But that space and time extended to him and him alone. Though Cassandra had taken steps towards making good with their mother, it was Vex’ahlia who had truly gone out of the way about it. They spent much time together, talking of the impending birth, and of Vesper. Once or twice, he’d even passed by near enough to hear Johanna relating stories of his youth. Unrepentantly, Vex’ahlia had taken to her mother-in-law. It warmed him to see them getting on well; though he’d never bothered to fantasize about how his family may have gotten on with his wife, it still answered lingering questions, unconscious though they were. 

And there was Vesper, of course. The moment she’d discovered that Johanna was ‘grandmother’, she’d been over the moon. Prior, she’d only really had experience with Pike’s Great Great Grandpa Willhand, whom the little girl positively adored, but to have a grandparent of her own, and living in the castle with them, was another thing entirely. 

For Vesper’s sake, if no one else’s, Percy had learned to reign his natural ‘fight or flight’ as Vex termed it on one occasion. The little girl loved unconditionally, and even dark as he felt sometimes, Percival did not have it in him to ruin that innocence. 

Lately, he’d found much of his time taken up on the clocktower. It probably wasn’t so much coincidence as he liked to pretend, but it was just easier if he didn’t have to be near her. Easier on everyone. And it wasn’t as though he was threatening, or even rude. Politeness, if a bit short when it came to actual conversing, had been his fallback. Which really was getting him nowhere at all. It all accumulated to avoidance, no matter how he looked at it, and with the twins’ arrival growing ever closer, it wasn’t something he could afford to rely on anymore. 

But just because he knew it was true, didn’t mean he had to like it. 

It wasn’t as though he hated Johanna, or mistrusted her. Not by any means. When it came down to it, Percy really couldn’t put a finger on just exactly what it was he was feeling. All he knew was that it was a lot of feelings, knotted and incomprehensible and overwhelming. Really, it was starting to get ridiculous, and if Cassandra didn’t have the amount of restraint she did, he was sure she’d have taken to telling him so. Frequently. 

Vex’ahlia had taken a different route. Where Cassandra avoided saying anything unless it pertained to official work and stuck to pointed looks, Vex spent much of their evenings amicably relating anything that consisted of her day’s pastimes, sparing him no mentions of Johanna, who featured in them frequently. Perhaps she felt that eventually, through repeated exposure, she could desensitize him of the...whatever it was he was feeling. 

All those thoughts culminating, Percy lay down the pencil in hand, pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed his fingers through his hair. 

Something would have to give, eventually. And that something was actually someone , and that someone was going to have to be him. 

The last thing he wanted was to have an outburst about it. Vex had been irritable lately, complaining more and more often about her poor beleaguered back and there was very little patience or sympathy left in her the longer her pregnancy lasted. Not that he blamed her in the least. But the night before, she’d as much as ordered him to get his shit straightened out before their babies came. 

While he didn’t think it would ever be quite so easily done as said, she wasn’t wrong. She really had never been wrong. Maybe, during some evening’s private indulgence, he’d make the mistake of telling her that. But in the meantime, he couldn’t put it off any longer. That morning already, he’d set himself to making at least a single gesture towards Johanna, settling on a conversation that needed to happen sooner rather than later anyways. And hiding in his workshop wasn’t a good way of making it happen at all. 

When he finally exited his workshop, it wasn’t difficult to find Johanna; she spent a good portion of her day working in the study that had once been his father’s. Straightening his back, rolling out his shoulders and generally putting on the metaphorical armor his station befitted, Percy rapped on the door. 

“Come in!”

She wasn’t looking up when he entered, instead rather hastily scrawling down a few last words. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting Cassandra, I must have lost track of the-” She looked up, and upon seeing him, blinked rapidly. “Oh! Percival. What a pleasant surprise. It is good to see you.” 

There was always hesitation when she spoke to him, and he knew that he’d put it there. 

“Have you a moment’s time?” 

“Of course! Sit! Please!” She got up herself, gesturing to the two armchairs by the window. “To what do I owe your visit?” 

Even though he’d considered the conversation for some time, he still wasn’t sure how to begin. It wasn’t as though he were about to detail any horrors. It should have been easy. 

It wasn’t. He didn’t know why, but it. Just. Wasn’t. 

“Vex’s time is rapidly approaching,” he began awkwardly and abruptly. “And as such, I expect that we will be having quite a few visitors arriving in the coming weeks. Friends of ours. Dear friends, whom I know haven’t really been mentioned to you yet, so much as alluded. I’d go so far as to call them family. My family. And Vex’s. You have already met Pike, but she is just one of our number. I...I used to travel with a company of individuals of varying talents. Vex among them.” 

“Oh, wonderful. I’m glad that...they can all be here with you during a time of such joy.” Whatever it was she had intended to say remained unvoiced. Perhaps forever. 

Oddly, Percy found that thought more depressing than any so far that day. 

“They are rather an odd bunch. And I felt it appropriate to give you fair notice. Grog will act as though he runs the place, mostly because I gave him a bogus title because I wanted to make him feel important. He’s a wonderful friend and a good person, if a bit dim. He is...well, we’ll call him Pike’s brother for now. Though you wouldn’t know it to look at him. He - and I mean this in all kindness - stands out. Scanlan is bombastic, rude, uncouth, and a true friend. He and I have been on shaky terms in later years, but despite his rather unfortunate penchant for crassness, I know for a fact that I am better for having him as a friend. There is also Keyleth, who may not stay quite as long as the others. She has her own city to run, and hasn’t left often of late.” 

Johanna nodded. She knew how it was. 

“Taryon may or may not come. He lives in Wildemount, but he’s Vex’ahlia’s dearest friend, and I know she’d want him here. He’s...a lot. In a different way from Scanlan. Who is also a lot. Regardless, I felt I owed it to you to warn you in advance of the rabble that’s liable to descend.” 

When he finally looked up at her, there was a curious expression on her face, and her eyes were bright, though not with tears as they so often were when they had occasion to talk. 

“Is something the matter?” 

Johanna’s mouth opened and closed a few times, as if she was unsure of speaking at all, much less of what to say. “I just...You have friends. I’m so glad!”

Percy only realized that he’d begun to laugh when confusion overcame his mother’s features. “For better or worse, yes. I have friends. I know. It surprises me too.”

It felt good. It was surprising, really, how good it felt. To talk to his mother. Like a real person. And abruptly, that feeling spilled over without his permission. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Again, he left Johanna blinking, speechless. 

His mouth suddenly dry, Percy looked away, and stood rapidly making to leave. 

“For what?” 

Her words caught him as sure as one of Keyleth’s vines, hand on the door frame, just inches away from the blessed retreat of the hall.

For what? 

For everything he’d done. And for everything he hadn’t. 

And still couldn’t. His chest hurt, his breaths thick and heavy. 

“I forgive you,” he heard almost timidly from behind him, and the vine released, allowing him one last reprieve as he hastened down the hall and away.

Chapter Text

“Vox Machina?” Johanna asked as she double checked the stitch. “You had a name?”

Vex’ahlia laughed a little from where she sat on the floor with Vesper, who was speaking actual words, though they were, for the most part, unintelligible to Johanna’s ears. “Well we had to introduce ourselves as something.” The blank look Johanna gave her was apparently invitation enough to continue explaining. “We’d done Uriel Tal’Dorei a service and we were being honoured.” 

Blanching, Johanna stutted. “T-Tal’Dorei? As in-”

“Yes.” Johanna couldn’t tell if Vex was blustering over the revelation or not. “Well, I suppose we were a rather big to-do a couple years back. At least here, on the continent. After the Chroma Conclave especially.” 

The dragons. Yes, that news had made it to the coast. There’d been a lot of talk about how glad everyone was not to be on Tal’Dorei, at least until Draconia fell. Then nerves and tensions had skyrocketed. “You had a hand in it?” 

Vex grimaced. “I don’t mean to sound boastful, but for a while we were the only people handling things.” 

“I see.” It was no use; Johanna set aside the little hat she’d been working on. “So you…” she waved her hands generally, as if to include those members no present. “fought dragons.”

“Yes.” 

“And killed dragons.” 

“Yes.” Vex leaned back against the chair legs as Vesper ran off towards another corner of the room to retrieve a different toy. “And sometimes, they killed us. Just sometimes. Of course, we’re alright now, but-”

“Cassandra? Did Cassandra-” The fact that dead people could apparently be brought back to life was shelved for another time in favour of immediate and unrelenting belated terror.

“No, goodness,” Vex’ahlia placated. “Cassandra did not fight dragons. She was here, running things while Percy was with us.” 

Immediately, Johanna felt at ease, until Percy’s name registered. “And Percy? Not Per-”

“He’s alright now,” she said, which did absolutely nothing to make Johanna feel alright herself. “We both are. Truly. I shouldn’t have worried you needlessly. There are worse things than dragons at any rate and we’re both still here.”

The insinuation that Vex’ahlia too had perished at some time wasn’t lost on Johanna. It must have shown on her face, because Vex’ahlia grimaced again. 

“I’m not really helping things, am I? I guess I’ve never really had to...explain before.” 

A shadowed glance of thought crossed Johanna’s mind, about the fate of Vex’ahlia’s brother, but it was lost to a more immediate need. “Tell me, please. I must know.” 

Vex hesitated, eyes on Vesper. “Percy twice. Cassandra once. If you insist, I’ll provide details, but at another time.”

“And they’re both...alright?” 

“I think they’re both over it, yes.” 

Which wasn’t really the answer she was looking for, but it would do, at present. “And you?”

“Oh! I’m fine. Really, I know it tends not to seem like it’s actually the truth, when someone says that they’re fine, but I’m okay and Percy is okay and we’re not getting up to anything for a while, so really, you needn’t worry about me.” 

It was a blatant lie, but Johanna let it go for the time being. “So, you and Percy and all of these friends he told me about, you were…”

“Mercenaries? Bad asses? Heroes? Assholes? Depends on who you talk to.” Vex’ahlia shrugged. “But we’re settled now. And I don’t miss it precisely. I just miss my - our friends. We were together all the time. A family, really. We all went our separate ways. And it would have happened no matter what, considering the timing with Vesper. A year before, Percy and I went and eloped...it was bound to happen eventually.”

“An elopement?”  Johanna asked, glad for the change in direction. “Go on.” 

Happily, Vex’ahlia launched into the story, and though Johanna was listening, she also let her mind wander back to the knowledge that somewhere along the line, both her living children had perished. The knowledge pestered her all the rest of the day. Though she gave it no voice, she could tell that Vex’ahlia was watching her more closely. 

Though she wanted to know (and though Vex’ahlia had offered), Johanna couldn’t bring herself to ask for the details. Which was hardly anything new. She still lacked the courage to ask Percival for any further explanation of the things which so evidently haunted him, and while Cassandra was more forthcoming in general, she had not offered any great level of detail either. Not that Johanna blamed them. 

If there was one thing she definitely didn’t need to ask, it was why their hair had turned white.

But, for the same reason she’d not pestered Vex’ahlia for the details they were unwilling to give, it seemed unreasonable to ask her about the deaths of her children. Or their apparent resurrections. If she wanted answers, the only place to get them was from the source. 

Johanna hesitated at the door to Percy’s workshop. Thus far, she’d avoided intruding on him there, his own private sanctum, unwilling to poison that retreat. 

Part of her knew that eventually, they’d have to move past it, but the rest of her warned that though things were relatively stable, the situation was only growing ever more sensitive the closer Vex’ahlia came to her due date.

So, nervous and terrified and excited all at once, she knocked. 

“Enter.” She peeked through the door a crack. “Ah, do come in.” 

As usual, the mother was implied. 

Blueprints were scattered across the surface of the workbench, their curling edges held down by various tools. Numerous pencils rolled about, and a few crumpled papers were on the floor around him. It was rather warm, and his cheeks were flushed pink, and his forehead still creased from focus. And for the first time, Johanna saw the boy she recalled poking through. 

“I’m sorry to bother you here.” 

“No need. Most people just barge in anyways.” 

Cassandra, the pestering little sister, and Vex’ahlia, the crooning  and concerned wife. Yes, Johanna could imagine it. 

“And I should probably take a break. Anyways, what can I do for you?” Taking his glasses off to spare his eyes the strain, he rubbed at the bridge of his nose as she took a seat on a stool, one she supposed was generally reserved for Vex’ahlia.  

“I was speaking with Vex’ahlia and she told me a little about what you and your friends did. Vox Machina, that is.” 

“Ah.” If he knew the trajectory her questioning would take, his expression did not betray it.  Cool as ever, though he’d not been unkind in weeks, Johanna found Percival’s unwavering gaze intimidating. She’d birthed him, changed him, nourished him from her own body, and she could hardly hold his stare. 

“She told me that you died. ” 

The coldness dissipated, but whatever replaced it, she couldn’t name. 

“Twice.” Her eyes beaded with tears as she whispered the word. 

“I am alive now.” 

“You sound just like her. She said as much the same.”

“What is it you want to hear? The gory details will only make it worse.” 

Somehow, Johanna knew he wasn’t just speaking about his deaths anymore. 

“The fictions of my mind are equally terrible, compounded only by not knowing. I am your mother . I should-I should have been there! I should have-”

“I’m glad you weren’t. I would rather you were dead than have been there to witness the things I went through!” 

Johanna’s breath caught. He’d raised his voice in volume high enough that it rang, echoing around the metal implements of his workshop. 

Defeatedly, he slumped back against the table. “Why will you not let me spare you?” 

“It is not for a son to spare his mother, but for the mother to spare her son. And I cannot do that anymore. It’s too late for that to change. If it pains you that much, I promise you, I will never ask again.” 

Silence. Their time together was so full of silence by that point that she was practically comfortable in it, startled more by his willingness to cooperate than by his refusal. 

Heavily, he sighed, replacing his glasses, and then fixed her evenly, as though about to give a lecture or a lesson instead of relating a gruesome memory. Acid pooled in her stomach uncomfortably in anticipation. 

“You can never truly comprehend just how horrific my guns are until the person whom you hate more than anything or anyone fires on you with your own creation, and you feel the searing punch of a bullet as it drives through your abdomen and lodges itself neatly beside your spine. Again. And again.” 

With the acid finding the back of her throat instead, it took all Johanna had not to faint. 

Chapter Text

13.

He felt sick, placing each word of his history down before her, stones in mortar. Impossible to take back once they were laid and hardened, able to withstand years and years worth of battering and elements. Not indestructible, but enduring. Though it hurt, or maybe because of it, Percy kept his eyes focused on Johanna as he detailed how Ripley had engineered his first death. It felt earned, each spike of anguish he caught from her expression, the tears beading at her eyes. Really, it hardly bothered him to talk about it. In many ways, that first death had been so freeing. 

“They must have taken me back to Whitestone shortly, because I woke up here after the resurrection. But for the details of that, you’ll have to ask someone else.” A fleeting smile, an ironic smile, caught his lips briefly. “I wasn’t exactly present for that.” 

“No, I imagine not.” Johanna shook her head. “How can you be so calm? Vex’ahlia was calm, too. I don’t...even if you explain, I don’t think I will ever understand.” 

The shine of a tool on his desk caught Percy’s eye. Absently, he picked it up, looking for a distraction from her distraught gaze. “I remember hearing Vex, hearing her tell me that she loved me. Before that...death was a release. I knew going into the fight that I wasn’t likely to return. And I had made my peace with that.” He shrugged. “I made my peace with dying to avenge this family a long, long time before it ever came to pass. It just seemed inevitable. The choices I’d made, the deal…”

It was out of his mouth before he’d even realized what he said, and instantly, he felt his heart sink into his gut. 

“Deal?” Johanna asked, more curious than concerned. 

Percy opened and shut his mouth a few times, in an attempt to reason his way out of explaining, but it wouldn’t come. 

“It’s complicated.” 

“You don’t have t-”

There it was, the offer. He could ignore it, push it back away under the shadows to discuss in the future, or let it fester forever. She was giving him an out, the one he so desperately wanted. And yet, the one he could not take. 

“No. No, you sh-” Hesitating, Percy bit his lip. “No, I have to do this. Everyone else who knows, found out because there was no hiding it. I’ve never had to explain before. Bear with me.” Where the strength was coming from, he didn’t know. “I was very hazy, when I came to on the ship. I slept a lot, spent much of my time in a fog. Time didn’t mean anything. And I started having dreams. I didn’t know what I was agreeing to, didn’t even know it was real. For a long time, I thought them the product of my severely grief-addled mind. The guns. He inspired me to create my weapon of vengeance.” 

“He?” 

“Orthax. A shadow demon from the nine hells.” 

Johanna blanched, but it was already begun, and Percy could hardly stop the spill of information as it streamed forth from him. “I promised him my soul in exchange for the means to extract my vengeance. And I did it gladly. When we finally made it to Whitestone, things began to change. He made his... presence clear, and the others grew concerned. I wasn’t always in a fit state to be worried myself. The names...they were on the barrels you see. And after a few of them had fallen...Cassandra’s name appeared, and I…” He dropped his head to run a hand over his face. “Scanlan destroyed the gun that tied me to him physically. Which helped.”

What went unsaid was no less lost on Johanna, whose distress was writ large on her face. “ Percival .” 

She had a way of saying his name now that she had never before. Before, he was often a source of exasperation as often as of pride. This was neither. This was aching and careful and Percy didn’t know what to do with it. It felt strange, hearing her say his name in a way that only Vex and Vox Machina ever had. It didn’t belong in her mouth, that aching care. 

But it was there all the same. 

“I do not know what will come of it, not really, when I die. The second time was quick and I remember nothing. Raishan, the Deceiver - the green dragon member of the conclave - she rather efficiently disemboweled me. But I was hardly the one who had it worst in that fight and you needn’t worry over it. It didn’t distress me then and it doesn’t now.” 

A terrible, but quiet little choking sound nearly missed his ears. Nearly. 

“I know I must sound callous to you, but I promise you, there are worse things than death which I have faced and overcome.” 

“Will you share them, someday?” 

“Perhaps. I don’t know. Perhaps.” 

More silence. All too often there was silence. Normally, Percy didn’t mind silence, especially after a long, long day of meetings and tools and Vesper when she had a bout of colic. But the deafening lull that spanned leagues between him and his mother was always the most unbearable. 

“When you are ready, I will be waiting to listen.” He could hear the thickness of her swallow. “No matter when it is you have to say. I abandoned you here, whether I knew it or not. Let me make it up to you. That’s all I ask.” 

“I can make you no promises.” 

“I know. Now. It’s high time you left this workshop and had a meal. Some things don’t change.” It wasn’t entirely false cheer which coloured her words, but there was still a twinge of melancholy. 

“No, it’s true. They don’t.” 

After that, things were easier, somehow. Johanna was not yet seamlessly integrated into the household, but Percy no longer found himself blinking twice whenever she entered a room, or stumbling over the word Grandmother or Mother. Even better, their conversations no longer languished under the tension of too many unknowns. Though Percy still kept the worst of it to himself, meeting her gaze held no weight of expectation, only a quiet fondness. 

Vex’ahlia, he’d noticed, had taken to Johanna better than either of the woman’s actual children. They bonded over the mutual experience of bearing twins first, and their love of Percy and Cassandra second. Everything else seemed to follow from that. Late one evening, Vex had confessed to him that though Johanna was not her mother, it was the first time she’d felt anything like it since her own had passed. And without Vax, she relished the connection, support, and comfort. 

Who was Percy to deny her that, especially as her time crept closer and closer? 

And maybe, he mused, that helped. He had Vex to be focused on; he couldn’t waste time being out of sorts about his mother when his wife was nearing the end of her pregnancy. It kept him busy and preoccupied for the most part, as they both left off their duties to spend simple time together, as well as with Vesper. 

Once such day, they were in his favourite spot - the magnolias - watching Vesper chasing Trinket about. Percy’d brought a chair there for Vex to sit, since they attended the location so frequently, though he found himself in the grass, head resting on her knee while her hands played in his hair. Vesper’s laughs were bells knelling in the hills. 

“Percival?” 

“Hmm?” The response came non committal, the effervescent perfume of the flowers lulling him.

“My darling, are you awake?” 

“Hm, yes dear. What is it?” 

“Are you happy, darling?” 

Blinking, brought out of his haze, Percy thought to sit up, but the gentle pressure of her hand changed his mind. 

He was surrounded by family. Comfortable. Healthy. 

Loved. 

“Yes, dear. I am happy.”

Once, he’d been able to count his happiness on one hand. Now, it was pressing two. Oh, how the tables turned.