Chapter Text
Percy stood still as the snow fell, the strong wind tickling his skin, gaping at the scene in front of him. It had all happened so fast. And it was his fault, all his fault.
The whip roared like thunder as it was raised high into the air, it struck like the back of the young man like lightning, a blood-curlding scream echoed through the air, drowning out the sounds of the locals there to watch the culprit receive a lashing in the town square. In the twenty years of Percy's life, he'd never seen such an atrocious thing.
Except the young man wasn't the culprit; his stupid, misfunctioning invention didn't set the small towns' food storages on fire, and he didn't cost these impoverished their livelihood in what was the coolest, cruelest winter Tal Do'Rei had seen in decades, according to his father, who had been alive for many more of those than he had, so he believed it. This accident could easily lead to the starvation of many of the people standing around him, who were throwing rotten food and swearing at an innocent young man.
Percy closed his eyes, jolting at the sound of the quick succession of the next few lashes, until Julius elbowed him angrily.
"Watch, Percival. This is your fault."
Percy swallowed hard and watched as the lightning kept striking, the sounds kept echoing, and the back of the already emaciated young man kept being ripped open. Lash after lash, newly formed peaks and valleys, and flowing streams of red turning to crimson rivers on the snow.
Percy's stomach rumbled. He gagged and felt bile rise up his throat.
"Don't you dare, you're a De Rolo, act like one."
Percy bit his lip, hoping that Julius didn't notice the tears in his eyes and hoped that his older brother would think his shaking was due to the cold. He couldn't let his emotions show, especially none of the negative ones. The De Rolo's were impartial, non-judgmental, and stoic. They did not get involved in matters not concerning them, and this should not have concerned them. But it did, because of him.
The previous day he and his friend Archie had snuck out of the lodge the De Rolo's and some friends were vacationing at, to find a quiet place to try out a new invention of his; a mechanical device that he called a pepper box. But they had miscalculated the range of the weapon, and most stupidly, they hadn't spotted the storage barns nestled between the trees.
"Percival!"
Percy jolted, startling out of his thoughts, and looked up at Julius in response. His brothers' eyes were dark with anger, and he'd never looked more disappointed in him.
"It's over," Julius stated, and Percy sighed out in relief, which only made Julius angrier.
"W-what? Isn't that a good thing?" Percy asked innocently, and as he did, he heard something scrape along the ground underneath them. He and Julius both looked up, and Percy gasped.
With their armor black as night, the two guards were a stark contrast to the pale, shirtless young man that they were dragging down the streets by his shoulders. His head hung low, body limp as his knees and boots scraped along the ground. He didn't protest, but soft groans escaped his lips as the guards paid no attention to the obstacles in the road or as a villager kicked him. A trail of blood followed them.
"What will happen to him now?" Percy asked, dropping his gaze to the ground to avoid both the expression on his brother's face and the horror happening in front of his eyes.
"If he's lucky, he'll be thrown in a cell where he'll remain for a while," Julius explained.
"And, uh, if he's not lucky?" Percy asked softly.
Julius snorted, which was uncharacteristic, and Percy quickly fell in line next to him as he began to walk away from the town square and the villagers who had begun to disperse. Their attention had turned to the two of them, and Percy wished to disappear. They did not belong, even less so than the young man who was no longer in sight. They were too rich, and the young man too poor.
Percy kept his head low as he and Julius began to make their way back to the lodge, which, in truth, was more like a manor that could rival the most prestigious of castles. He tugged on his clothing, wondering for the first time in his life what it was worth. Probably a lot, he reasoned.
He couldn't eat that night; sitting quietly, poking at the fine cuisine that he had been served, with guilt scratching at every fiber of his being. Every time Julius and he made eye contact, he saw how disappointed he was in him. The truth about his actions would tarnish the reputation of the De Rolo family with the locals and spread across their territories. Percy turned to look at his parents, gulping, knowing that Julius' disappointment would be nothing compared to theirs.
The tanned skinned young half-elf with the long brown hair and the striking yellow eyes had already taken the blame for what had occurred, and he'd already suffered the punishment on his behalf, and perhaps Percy should not focus on things that no longer concerned him. It had been resolved, after all, and he didn't force the innocent young man to take the blame. He had meant to take responsibility.
Percy closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to recall the events of the previous day, but it had all happened too fast. He and Archie found an area that they thought was far away enough from the town. They'd prepared his pepperbox, and they'd double-checked, and they'd calculated the range and transjectory. They'd done this a dozen times or more, but truthfully, this was Percy's most daring invention as of yet.
He'd pulled the trigger, and instead of a small banging sound that a similar weapon usually made, and the thump of a metal ball hitting the tree that had been its mark, they were met with a deafening thunderous sound, and the sight of smoke, dust and pieces of debris rising up into the air. Percy had stood frozen in shock, ice in his veins, and bile in his throat as he came to the horrifying realisation that they had just set a structure ablaze. They fire spread quickly; wood whistling and crackling, explosive materials drumming, and people screaming.
"Get out of here!" Archie had yelled anxiously, shoving at him, trying to get him to move, "Percy! Run!"
It was a reasonable thing for two young men to consider doing, especially ones that came from noble heritage and whose actions had the power to harm their family's reputation. The very thought of the son of the family ruling Whitestone causing a fire was unspeakable, but Percy, well, he couldn't run away.
Instead, he quickly placed the still warm, smokey weapon into his backpack and began to run downhill towards the scene. He stumbled repeatedly, anxiety and adrenaline coursing through his veins, driving him forward faster than he could run. He was not used to transversing natural terrain like the one he faced, having grown up in a castle with pristine, immaculately polished, and even flooring.
By the time he and Archie had reached the bottom of the hill, they found themselves completely alienated as they observed the panicked people run about, and the horror unfolded.
They began to choke instantly, as thick smoke hung in the air like a dark cloud, and the air reeked with a range of unfamiliar smells. Percy could only place the smell of burning wood, only being introduced to the smell of charred grain, boiling cooking oil, and sizzling preserves when he reached the barn.
There were people everywhere, a storm of screaming bodies swarming about, and he stood there, in the middle of it all.
The old, creaking, wooden structure could collapse unexpectedly and within seconds. Water could not extinguish oil. Heated glass exploded, sending a projectory of sharp shards flying into the air. As the flames spread, and people ran in and out of the heated blaze, the snow underneath them would melt, turning it into a slippery mud.
That's it, that's all he knew, and in that moment, he realised that there was very little that he could do. But he charged forward because he was a good boy.
The half-elf had appeared out of nowhere, catching him by the back of his coat and pulling him away from the barn door. He'd grabbed him by the elbow then, already having caught Archie by the wrist and aggressively forcing them away from the danger. He was really strong, and Percy had been so shocked and frightened that he'd let the half-elf drag him along until they were a safe distance way.
Then, he'd vanished in the blink of an eye, and Percy heard the sound of clattering hooves and voices calling as the town guard arrived. They were ordering the people away from the burning barn, heavy armor clanking as they ran towards the blaze instead.
Then, two large, black-armored soldiers had found them, and Percy's heart sank into his stomach. They were part of the Pale Guard, his father's guard. And worse? Julius was with them... and after a brief inspection of the situation, a single glance In Percy's direction was evidence enough that Julius knew that Percy was responsible.
Percy had tried to explain their presence, Archie had tried to silence him, and the guards refused to listen, unwilling to believe that a De Rolo could have played any part in something so horrific.
"Percival?"
He startled, dropping the utensils in his hand as the sound of his father's voice echoed through the room. He looked up quickly, becoming aware of the lack of people, realizing that he'd been caught up in his own mind all the way through dinner.
Only his father, Julius, and a servant remained. His father looked equal parts concerned and angered. He'd behaved poorly at dinner, after all; he didn't stand for the women, thanked the host, or bid anybody goodnight.
Percy looked at Julius, who, uncharacteristically, was faning indifference. He was short-tempered, stern, and spoke his mind when the family were alone. Percy gulped at the sight of him, and as Julius caught him staring, a deep, dark anger flashed across his face before he blinked it away.
"You're rather out of sorts, tonight, what's the matter?" Lord Frederick De Rolo asked. Percy nearly shattered like glass at the pressure of the glances aimed at him, and he cleared his throat.
"Oh, he probably just needs to rest."
All three men startled at the sight of Lady Johanna De Rolo walking into the room - having forgotten to arrange her cutlery correctly to indicate that she was done eating - and had walked all the way back from her room to come correct it. That's the type of people the De Rolo's were.
And that's what Percy struggled with the most: He could hide behind the desire to leave their name unscathed, he could be the reputable young man his parents raised - and Julius expected him to be - or he could do nothing.
"Father," he stuttered, squaring his shoulders and raising his chin in a show of confidence he did not feel. "I wish to speak with you, please. I - I'm afraid I've done something... terrible."
His father blinked, then frowned, and then scowled. Percy watched the stoic man feel a range of emotions: anger, irritation, and curiosity. Next to him, Julius smiled softly, nodding his head at Percy once in approval.
Percy wanted to shrink into the floor, or run and hide, or... anything, really, rather than disappoint his father. But, everything he'd been taught drove him to speak - to take accountability.
In a cold cell, moist from an constant dripping of water from a hole in the roof above, and reeking of all things foul, sat Vax.
He pressed his body against a corner as hard as he could - the walls were no colder than the rest of the cell - but it numbed his pain. He'd stopped shivering hours ago, his body too tired to try. He was alone, thankfully, because if he were with the other prisoners he would not see another light of day. They didn't need a reason to hurt him... they just would... like they always did.
There were plenty of reasons though; he was a half-elf, in an area full of racist humans, he was homeless, he was scrawny and strange, and he preferred to live in solitude out in the forest. The winter had forced him into town more frequently lately, as he attempted to trade things he'd collected from his hunting, do odd jobs - or if there was no other choice - steal.
He wasn't stealing the day before, when he'd been arrested for trying to prevent two stupid kids from killing themselves killed. He was there to help. He was fast, and had managed to move a fair amount of crates and barrels out of harm's way. In one of his trips into the barn he'd found the old baker's treasured pocket watch in the snow - meaning to give it back to him since he loved it so. Then... well he'd gotten distracted by those two stupid boys - who Vax was certain had something to do with the fire - and gotten caught. Of course the guards blamed him, especially after they found the pocket watch in his pocket. He'd only meant to help... that he'd come to search for discarded food, had gotten him into this mess. He should have just stayed hungry.
Usually, being thrown in a cell had benefits: food, shelter, safety. This place had none of those, not for him, at least. He'd been taken to the town square right before lunch, and the cook had not accounted for him to be back by dinner. He could still smell the foul cabbage broth and dry bread in the air, and his stomach rumbled loudly. He'd gotten arrested, beaten and missed out on meals. At least he had one the night before. Well... he had some bread before another prisoner snatched his bowl through the iron bars. That's why he was sitting on the opposite side of the cell.
Vax had suffered beatings before... many, actually. But this one was worse than any of the others - because he wasn't guilty this time. The cold had pulled his muscles taut, which intensified the pain. You never get used to it... He'd lost count of how many times they hit him - distracted by the sight of one familiar blue coated boy. A noble, no doubt. One with a very angry older brother by the looks of it, and Vax sobbed bitterly as they watched him get beaten. That was the second time he'd seen that boy, and each time he did things only got worse for him.
He tried to focus on his shallow breathing in order to escape the constant burn and stretch of his skin every time he moved - which he hadn't done for hours. The pain was horrific, and it made him feel sick. When he'd been returned and thrown back into his cell, Vax had dry-heaved often enough to make him dizzy. There was nothing for him to throw up.
The sun would be up soon, and Vax hoped that he'd get a meal. He chuckled as he thought about how fortunate he was to be in a cell instead of the storm that was building outside. When the guards woke they'd pour something smelly on his wounds again, and it would have him writhing around on the floor like a snake, but it would prevent infection. Vax waited anxiously, bating his breath, fool as he was - for more pain, a meal, and a roof.
But it was not to be, and he was hauled to his feet less than an hour later - his wounds drenched, some of his clothing returned, and released. He'd begged and pleaded for his coat or his boots at least, but the guards had threatened to take back the thin clothing he had on. He'd fallen to his knees and cried to be kept just another hour... just for a meal. They'd mocked him and kicked him, and pushed him into the street. The wind was deafening, and it almost knocked him off his feet as he forced himself to keep moving. Wearing only socks, his feet quickly began to go numb as he walked through the mud. He felt uselessly for a coat he no longer had, and tried to keep his fingers warm underneath his armpits.
He couldn't linger in town - seeking out heat from a chimney, rummaging through a bin or even resorting to begging - without running the risk of encountering villagers who would harm him. He wasn't welcome here, and after the fire... he wouldn't be welcome back in the village he ocassionaly visited either. The locals here - in the town - were hostile, but the people in the village had mostly been indifferent. That luxury had been taken from him - because of a stupid boy.
Vax didn't really know why he'd helped them... he'd scoffed at their presence and kept helping the villagers, but it was something that the other boy said to the one in the blue coat: "Your father will punish you severely for this."
It had given Vax pause, and then he was moving without giving it a second's thought. He knew what a father's punishment was like all too well, and judging by the look on the blue coated boy's face...
Vax stumbled, falling on his hands and knees into a heavy pile of snow, and two men who were gathering firewood laughed at him. He clenched his fists, and forced himself to stand - to carry on. He just wanted to make it out of town, then he could find a place to take shelter and wait. But the wind picked up, and he began to struggle to stay on his feet. Each step was a painful achievement. When he saw a dark figure appear in the corner of his eye, he panicked - crouched down and covered his head with his hands.
"Here, boy. Take it. Take it. Now go!"
Vax startled at the sound of an elderly lady's voice, and by the time he looked up the figure had retreated. A small bundle lay at his feet, and he grabbed at it instantly, trying to unwrap it with fingers had turned blue. A sob died in his dry throat - it was a thick wool blanket, with no holes or damage to it. He stood and wrapoed it around him instantly, and as he did a few things fell to the ground. His back protested sharply at how fast he bent to pick it up, and then he ran. He didn't know what treasures he held, but he couldn't afford to have them taken from him.
Eventually, he reached the edge of town, and disappeared into the forest that had become his home. He found a tree with a hollow just his size and squeezed into it, before slowly beginning to inspect the things he'd carefully placed on his lap. One of the wrapped bundles was lukewarm, and his hands shook as he began to unwrap it.
And then - he sobbed. A loaf of bread the size of his fist stared back at him, with something in the center that Vax did not take the time to look at before he began to eat. It was the first food he'd had since the night of the arrest, and it wasn't cabbage broth and dry bread. No - it was fresh bread with sliced meat inside! He tried to eat slowly, to savor it, but his body reacted to it with a ferocity that made him dizzy.
When he was done eating, he held the next wrapped item in his palm for a while - wondering what it could be. He wasn't choosy, whatever it was, it was treasure. Eventually, curiousity got the better of him and he slowly unwrapped it. It was a handful of dried rations - each piece enough to feed him for half a day. He held it to his chest, as if it would disappear if he let it go. The two filled waterskins hadn't been wrapped and he swallowed the water in one of them down quickly. The next bundle was smaller, but heavier. It contained... he sniffled bitterly in disappointment. It was coin - something he had no use for.
Unwrapping the last bundle was hard on Vax, who was thankful for what he got, but quietly hoped that this last treasure would be useful. And it was! It was a collection of herbs and salves - things he could use to make a paste that he could swallow to alleviate some of the pain. He didn't bother mixing them in his palm or a makeshift bowl, shoving them into his mouth and chewing it whole instead. He made sure he hadn't missed one more bundle, and gathered all the cloth wrappings together. His feet ached as he pulled his wet socks off and he chose to ignore the blue and bruises as he wrapped the dry cloths around his feet. Then he closed his eyes and rested his head against the bark of the tree. He'd received treasures - luxuries - and he was thankful.
But his body was broken - tortured skin kept splitting open, he was losing too much blood, his hands and limbs were numb and blue... and he was tired.
The danger was far from over, and that stupid boy with the blue coat was still around.