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Burned

Summary:

Keyleth had loved him for a while now but never thought he could ever feel the same, telling herself it couldn't happen anyway.

But then he kisses her and it all goes to shit in a heartbeat.

// Or Vax kisses Keyleth and she has a slight meltdown.

Notes:

After posting that perc'ildan AU of this scene I started thinking of the canon scene and had to just write this.

Someone give Kiki a hug please? Maybe Vax too?

 

Warning:
This takes heavily from my personal headcanons of what Vax looks like, the different types of Elves and the difference in lifespans between the many different species of Exandria.

Some comments made may not make sense without context as a result of this, but I am piecing together my ideas to post them here under their own title in the future.

Work Text:

Keyleth stares across the way as Vax'ildan leans heavily against a wall, sorta cornered by Vex and Percy.

Her heart troubles itself with the images of him lying dead in a thousand different ways, whether it be from old age to suicide to murder to illness to accident to battle.

She'd fallen for him a long time ago, but her fears have kept her and any confession of her's at bay.

He was so pretty, the early morning light spilling in from outside to highlight his profile, making his darkened old armour illuminated.

He has the cheekbones of a Feyling Elf, yet a youthful and soft appearance that has you guessing at numbers a good bit below his actual age.

Long, black, silky hair falls down to his waist, blood dripping from it slightly as red splatter streaks across it, pale skin also splashed with blood and a healthy, loving blush.

 

Wise hazel eyes burn with the fires of passion and determination, Vax'ildan never one to back down from something if he thinks something is right.

He's short for an Elf, only 5'7", with equally short and dulled pointy ears that stick out clearly through his dark hair (which today have beads braided into the the bangs).

It's the main giveaway that he's more than just Feyling like his father, beside the softness to him that can only be Human; His mother shows through loudly in the depths of his gentle voice, his bleeding heart, his passion for his causes and his ever so careful, anxious touch.

 

He's cupping his sister's face now, her face a tanned and slightly scarred, arguably hot, mirror of his own fair white and unmarred pretty one.

Scarred, bony, moon kissed hands gently holding soft, full, sunburnt cheeks.

His fingernails are chipped and cracked, black paint flaking like it's made of lead.

And those slim, long lips are painted black as well, always quirking shy little smiles that cause the most darling dimples to appear.

His freckles are a ghost of Vex's, his shoulders hunched as her's stand tall.

(Vex's armour and sleeveless tunic reveals a birthmark on her left shoulder, Keyleth wonders if Vax has one too.

He does, but on his right shoulder, mirroring Vex's.

They look like identical clouds, Vax having a jagged scar cut through his.)

There's a grace to the way he stumbles away from a swat at his head from his sister.

And then the laughter.

It's softer than cotton with a threat of tears that Vax has always let flow freely where Vex always maintains a stiff upper lip and simply scoffs.

 

Keyleth sighs, leaning against the door frame.

Vax loved so deeply and openly, arguably making him an easy target for a villain.

Even just threaten to threaten his family and it'll get the job done; Grog could rage, sure, but there was something in Vax's cold anger at his Vex or Velora being threatened that made even the Goliath cringe backwards in fear.

 

And his skill set hints at a darker past that is probably lain with corpses that have made him many an enemy.

Then there's the heaviness to those kind hazel eyes and the way he jokes about himself being the reason for all of the evil in the world.

The way he talks and he talks and he talks, yet he says pretty much nothing, just filling the silence.

He's too skilled with his blades, whether it's with stabbing with them or with hiding them or with accidentally hurting himself with them when he messes about with them like they're just toys or something.

There's this weight to angular shoulders that doesn't come from heavy leather armour.

 

And it's there in the way he sleeps, tossing and turning unable to awake, before launching upwards in a wordless scream with tears streaming down his face.

(She's never been caught watching him, so far, and she's not even entirely sure why she just watches.

She really should try and wake him, but she can never bring herself to move.)

He does it every morning, without fail, usually before all of the others awake.

He takes the night watch whenever he can, no real wonder as to why, and is always sleeping last.

Or he just tries to stay awake, something evident in the dark bags you can usually spot under sharp eyes that need no decoration or accessories.

 

But despite the darkness lurking in him, his smile's are bright and healing to all.

The way he raises you up on a pedestal of his own making, pouring out all of this love to you that you fear he's maybe never actually received himself.

The way he shields everyone from harm, screaming for them to get back, his fierce loyalty and over protective tendencies as endearing as they are terrifying to witness.

And he has countless scars from years of experiences Keyleth could never fathom, a story unraveling only when the young rogue is alone.

 

And yes, he is young, for he's only 26 with an average lifespan of 300 years stretching out ahead of him and his many knives.

Here's hoping he sees them.

Here's hoping they all do, where such things are possible - Percy's sudden shouting at something vulgar Scanlan just said causes Keyleth's breath to hitch, she hates that he's only got 80 more years maximum, at best, being a Human in Tal'Dorei.

Grog isn't too far off, either, Goliaths typically dying young in battle or of health complications by just 100, their own barbarian's age a mystery to even himself.

While Gnomes can live until 800 and Dragonborns like Tiberius usually reach 3000.

Though, neither he nor Scanlan or Pike are divulging their ages to the rest of the group, but all 3 are older than the rest of them, just by how far nobody really knew.

Tiberius is old old, though, that they know, but just how old he was Keyleth may never actually get to know.

And while she was the second youngest, her 25 and Percy 24, she would most likely live way beyond them all if she ever actually completes her aramenté.

(She thinks of her mother briefly and decides she must, eventually, do it.)

300 years naturally was already a long lifespan, sure, but if she became this Voice Of The Tempest she may live on for tens of thousands of years, maybe even longer if she's careful.

And this is partly why she can't ever tell him.

 

Watching from afar, so near and yet so far, Keyleth adores her sweet Vax'ildan.

He may never know.

She hopes he won't.

He has Gilmore already, the two growing closer and closer each time they sneak off together while the others stay back and shop.

She never had a chance.

But as he clutches a wound he won't let anyone heal, as he laughs and he grins like a man with no time, she wonders about what if?

And then he's turning to her, that smile just growing.

And, oh. That's just not fair.

Because now he's walking over here and he's barely standing, but he's grinning and alive, a fire to that smile.

And it's so disarming, the sudden realisation they'd almost lost this once again, all softness going out the window as he approaches.

 

"That was a close one."

 

He sounds cocky, as if he just missed getting hit by a boomerang rather than nearly fucking die.

"Yeah. You know, I feel like we’ve been here before - Oh, right. We have been here before." Is Keyleth's, quite snarky to her own surprise, sharp response.

Anger burns in her heart, fear curling around the vital organ like Percy's smoke.

Vax had nearly died! Again!

And Vax just softens at her, sad hazel eyes pools of guilt and relief and love.

 

"You know I’m in love with you, right?"

 

And Keyleth doesn't get to register or process the words before matte painted lips are on her bare ones.

Her heart jolts and she stumbles back, blinking wildly as Vax flusters and gulps, immediate guilt and regret colouring his face.

He swallows bashfully, "I, uh. You know, the way you turn into animals and stuff is really cool. And I, um. Uh. I'm sorry, that was, uh-"

And Keyleth is panicking, her heart aching and burning and cracking, words failing her.

 

"Are you sure you’re-"

Air catches.

"Just- Fuck, just let me-"

 

And then she's putting hands on his chest and is quickly healing him as she pushes him backwards, away from her, her hands burning.

Then she's turning away and quickly moving off, her face on fire as tears sting at green eyes that wobble.

 

Did he just do that?!

No.

No, no, no.

He did not.

She imagined it.

The man who stole her heart unwittingly did not just kiss her and confess his love to her.

He couldn't have-

 

"Gods, Vax, really?!"

"I, uh. Yeah. Um."

 

And Keyleth peers back over her shoulder to see Vex jabbing Vax in the shoulder, Vax looking rightfully scolded as Vex chews him out for just kissing without asking, but Vex also looks concerned and sympathetic at her twin.

And she hiccups, gasping for air, a hand clutching at her chest as a storm brews inside her aching heart.

Keyleth can't breathe.

She can't think.

 

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

 

She wishes she'd kissed back, but now he's turned his back to her and is slouching like a child in trouble for stealing candy.

And her heart breaks a little bit more, seeing him slink off to break into a drawer in a desk or something for Percy.

 

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

 

And Scanlan is going over to rib at him for "being oh so smooth, Buddy" while Vax shies away from the teasing.

And Percy is sighing, guiding Vax back to his task and standing in front of Scanlan to shield the rogue.

While Vex glances at her and Keyleth winces.

 

Looking away again, she decides she can't ever have Vax'ildan to herself.

No, not ever.

Because losing him would hurt too much.

And his love burns.

And Keyleth was already burning like a house on fire.

 

Fuck.

 

She wishes she had told him that she loves him too.