Chapter Text
They’d fought the night before.
Her temper was short, his patience was thin, the inn was shitty but the drinks were cheap and plentiful and they both had one or two too many, and they fought.
She can’t remember about what anymore. Wasn’t that always how it went? They’d drink, and they’d fight, and they’d wake up with pounding headaches and commiserate over greasy bacon and lumpy porridge and swear to never do it again.
But this inn is exceptionally shitty. The walls are thin, the windows don’t shut right, and the blankets are itchy with holes where moths have chewed through them.
It’s far too early to sneak downstairs for breakfast, but too cold in the room to go back to sleep. She’d let Trinket out of his locket to snuggle up with him if she didn’t think he’d fall through the floor. In this place though? Not worth the risk.
She curls in on herself, trying to create warmth where none exists.
They’d fought the night before, and now she’s on the opposite side of the bed they’re sharing, tucking herself into a little ball rather than give him the satisfaction of being the one to reach out first.
The breakfast table is where they make their peace treaties. Face to face in shared misery and regret. One of them will flinch at a loud noise and the other will scoff and they’ll both roll their eyes and admit that they don’t remember what the fight was even about. They’ll sign their treaty in syrup and smirks and swears that it’s really the last time. It never is, and they never believe it will be.
She’s determined not to give in. She won’t scoot over and glue herself to his back like she usually does because it’s what they always do to keep warm in shitty inns. She’ll freeze. She’d rather freeze.
A harsh wind blows, the window creaks, she swears she can feel the entire building ache underneath them. Forget about Trinket, maybe she’s going to fall through the floor all on her own.
Or maybe she’ll freeze to death. The breeze blows again, the window creaks, and she feels her blanket rustle with the cool air that’s snuck in.
Of course he took the side of the bed further from the window. Of course he did.
The breeze blows, the window creaks, and she uncurls herself. She nearly launches herself forward, snuggling firmly against her brother’s back.
Her knees tuck up to fit under his and her arms snake underneath his and hook onto his shoulders like straps on a backpack. She presses her face between his shoulder blades and he’s scrawny so it should be uncomfortable, but it’s familiar (is it familiar?) and it’s a little warmer than being alone.
They’d fought the night before, but that doesn’t mean she needs to freeze her ass off this morning because of it.
She breathes, hugs him as closely as she can to try and take whatever warmth he might have to offer, and breathes. Her nose tickles with the smell of earth and woods and fire (is that what he smells like?) and that feels warm in its own way.
The sleep she’s chasing begins to return. They’re warmer together, and they’ve been through this before. They’ll get through it again.
Her limbs start to feel heavy, her mind foggy. It’s only by chance that as she’s about to slip away she feels the way his body tenses in her embrace.
She wants to call out to him. Not an apology, but a warning-
Don’t you dare think about pushing me away Brother, unless you want to explain to Trinket why his mother’s frozen to death.
Only, the sleep is still heavy in her mind and the words don’t quite come out as words but as a low grumble instead. Still threatening, she thinks, at least to him. He understands her tone (but does anyone else?).
He stays tense, but he doesn’t pull away, so she settles back into her sleepy haze. It’s about to overtake her again when the bed shifts and suddenly her thighs are cold.
They’d fought the night before, and now he won’t even help keep her warm. Prick.
She’s quick, and he’s not trying to be. He must have thought she’d dozed off when he started to peel his legs away, tuck them towards his chest. He must have thought if he moved very slowly-
But she’s quick, and she kicks her feet out and tangles their ankles together, drags him back so their thighs are flush again and wraps her calves around his for good measure (he really has gotten scrawny, hasn’t he?).
He’s still tense, and now she’s alert again. He can try to escape her if he wants, but he’ll have a hell of a time. She nudges his shoulder with her forehead, the way Trinket nudges them for affection.
Please Brother, she means to say, do not go far from me.
Her words stay stuck in her throat, still just out of the reach of her clouded mind. But she feels his sharp inhale in her own chest too, pressed as it is against him. She hears the silence finally broken-
“Vex?”
Oh .
They’d fought the night before.
They’d fought the night before, and her heart beats heavily against her ribcage because some of the fuzzy details are taking shape now that she’s trying to call them back to her mind.
It wasn’t one of their usual fights. Yes, her temper had been short and his patience had been thin and they’d both had too much to drink at this shitty inn-
This time their words were sharp and biting. His and hers both, it was hard to say who was worse. Their friends had even tried to step in- a rarity truly, they’d usually let the twins work things out on their own.
But they’d fought the night before so fiercely that they’d had to take it outside for fear they’d get kicked out of the inn. They’d shook with anger and the chill of the night and the devastation of hurting each other and being hurt by one another and not being able to stop no matter how much they wanted to.
They’d fought the night before, until tears ran down her cheeks and arms wrapped around her waist, holding her back from lunging at him because they didn’t understand. They didn’t understand that she wasn’t lunging to hurt, but lunging to wrap herself in his arms and beg.
Stop, Brother please stop.
She didn’t beg and he didn’t stop. Neither did she, even when her throat was sore and her words incomprehensible through sobs. They each needed the last word. Arms kept holding her and she kept straining against them, because she knew if she could just get to him she could make it stop.
But they’d fought the night before until he landed the killing blow.
Maybe I should have left you in Syngorn with Father.
If the arms didn’t catch her she’d have been on her knees. The wail she let out… it sounded more like Trinket than herself. Then he was shaking off the arms that had been holding him back from her , closing the distance between them until someone stepped in his way. They didn’t understand. She clawed at the arms around her waist, dug her nails in to draw blood, but they didn’t let go because they didn’t understand.
They’d fought the night before, and the last time she saw him was as he looked down at her from over their friend’s shoulder. She wishes her sight hadn’t been so blurry. She’s sure he looked apologetic. He must have looked apologetic.
Then someone was leading him away, around the corner and out of sight. She dug her nails in harder, broke skin. The arms stayed. Things got kind of blurry, but someone else joined them and they talked around her like she wasn’t there because maybe she wasn’t really.
She shouldn’t be alone
They were sharing, weren’t they?
I can take her
Then someone was leading her away, and she stopped digging her nails into them because it was a losing battle and he was gone anyway and she was so delirious she could barely make it up the stairs. They helped her into a room- not her room, their room -and tried to get her to the side of the bed away from the window, but she’d stumbled straight for the bed and fell onto it and refused to move any further.
They’d fought the night before, and she hadn’t gone back to the room they shared. She’d fallen into someone else’s bed. Let them help her undress and tuck her in. Felt them get into bed next to her and curled up as far away as possible, because they weren’t him. Blinked through eyes swollen from tears and saw hair the color of autumn leaves splayed across the pillows, just before the last candle was extinguished and she let sleep take over.
“...Vex?”
Her breath catches in her throat, full of that familiar earthy smell that she loves that isn’t his. The fog in her mind is clearing and it’s very, very apparent now.
They’d fought the night before, and this isn’t him.
This is Keyleth.