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Cassandra’s never really had a pet.
Julius and their mother had hounds made for hunting. They were less pets and more tools, really. Used for sport. They stayed in the kennels, never the castle. It wasn’t as if they were treated poorly-- in fact, Mother always made sure they were all treated “like the noble beasts they are” as she always put it. She even brought in a well-regarded kennel-master from Ank’Harel. Only the finest for the de Rolo hounds.
They just… weren’t really pets.
Vesper, on the other hand, had a cat. He was a big, bushy thing that resembled a cloud more than anything feline, and he shed everywhere. The cooks would complain about finding white hairs all over the kitchen, and the entire family was lucky to find a surface that wasn’t coated in fur. On top of that, he was downright nasty to anyone who wasn’t Vesper, hissing and clawing at anyone who got close to him.
Vesper named him Baby. He was awful.
Cassandra misses him terribly, as she does with a lot of things.
After the night when Lord and Lady Briarwood came to town-- when the halls of Whitestone Castle ran red with de Rolo blood-- she never saw them again. Baby wasn’t made for life outside the castle, and she has no doubt he met an unfortunate end, either at the hands of the invaders or by wandering off into the Whitestone cold and freezing to death. As for the hounds, she assumes they were either killed or retrained and repurposed for use by the Briarwoods.
Cassandra hasn’t exactly had the time for a pet since, nor the desire for one. She doubts the Briarwoods would’ve let her keep any animal as a companion without finding some way to twist it around to hurt her in some way. And after? Well, there’s just… there’s no time. Not time for anything. Her life is consumed by this castle, by this city, by her bloodline; by her duty.
It’s odd then, watching Vex’ahlia and her bear-- Trinket, she calls it, and Cass can tell why. She treats the thing like the most precious thing in her possession. At the same time, the creature definitely isn’t treated like he’s owned. He’s barely treated like a pet, really. He’s treated like an overgrown, furry child.
“I’ve never actually seen a bear up close,” Cass admits quietly over tea with Percy one afternoon, with more than a little fascination in her voice. “I know they’re out in the woods, but I’ve only ever seen them from afar and from the books in the library.”
Percy gives her an odd look before taking a sip from his cup. “I saw a few in passing but always from a distance. Trinket is the first bear I’ve ever seen so close.”
“I imagine that goes for most people,” Cassandra says thoughtfully.
Her brother raises an eyebrow at her. “What’s with the sudden interest in bears?”
“I’ve been watching Vex’ahlia and her bear recently.” She would have to be blind not to watch; it feels like the woman is around every corner of Whitestone Castle nowadays, her bear trailing behind her eagerly. A week ago Cass walked in on Vex laying on the floor of the library with the bear’s massive head in her lap, reading aloud as if she were reading to a baby.
“Vex does have the most peculiar interactions with him,” he says, and Cassandra can hear the fondness in his voice.
“She absolutely spoils it.” She can’t even count how many times she’s seen Vex talk to the bear like it was a person, and, for that matter, she’s caught Percy doing it just as frequently. “And you spoil it too.”
“Yes, well, only the best for our son.” Percy freezes immediately after speaking, his own words registering in his brain.
“Percival,” Cassandra says slowly, squinting across the table at her brother, who has promptly gone bright red. “Did you just refer to a bear as your son?”
Percy goes quiet for a long, long time, the pale de Rolo complexion doing him no favors in hiding his obvious embarrassment. He takes a sip from his goblet before thinking better and tipping it so he can down it all in one go. Finally, he says, “I think I just did.”
She stares at him, her lips pressed into a fine line as she takes him in. Percival is rarely flustered, rarely embarrassed by silly slip-ups. Then again, it appears that Percy hasn’t outgrown his tendency to speak before he lets his brain catch up with his mouth. She keeps her voice remarkably even when she speaks, carefully keeping her face neutral like she does in council meetings. “You’re so fucked.”
And then she snorts, a loud laugh ripped from her throat and she grips the edge of the tea table and let’s it loose.
“Quite,” Percy agrees, burying his face in his hands and-- Cassandra suspects-- muffling a laugh of his own.
So, here’s the thing.
Cassandra has never had a pet. She’s never had a close companionship with any animal, much less a bond like the one she sees between Trinket and Vex, or even Trinket and her brother. She doesn’t get it. Well, conceptually-- theoretically-- she gets it. There’s comfort in a bond like that. She sees the appeal. She just… she doesn’t know how to get there.
So that’s how she ends up hunting down the bear. She finds him laying in the kitchen while Percival and Vex entertain themselves elsewhere. The cooks cast him annoyed if slightly fond looks as they dance around him, his big brown eyes gazing up at them in what can only be described as silent begging. Vex has clearly given them orders to not give into him-- and the staff are clearly scared enough of the half-elf to listen to her.
Percival has always been a man of science. Cassandra? Not so much. That said, the clearest solution to not understanding something is to conduct an experiment; expose herself to the creature in question, try to feel whatever it is Vex and Percy feel when they’re around it.
When the cooks see her enter, they all scurry off. She doubts she’ll ever get over the weight of power that rests on her and how it changes how people act around her, how people are scared to be around her. It’s odd.
Cassandra crouches down in front of Trinket, who lifts his head up off of his paws so he can blink lazily at her. “What is it about you?” she asks, more to herself than the bear because-- well, because he’s a bear.
Trinket responds by leaning in closer and lapping at her nose with his tongue, which makes Cassandra yelp in surprise and lose her balance, tumbling backwards onto her rear end. Trinket makes what sounds like a concerned huff, not actually getting to his feet but scrabbling close to her so he can nuzzle her. Hot, slightly wet breaths tickle her neck as he nudges her.
It’s… well, it’s kind of endearing, honestly.
Cassandra slowly lifts a hand to touch the side of the bear’s face, her fingers disappearing in the heavy brown coat. Trinket stays very still as she does, letting her get her bearings. She slides her hand up through the fur on his head until she reaches just behind his ears and, after a moment of hesitant, gently scratches there the way she’s seen Vex and Percy do before. The response is almost immediate. Trinket makes a pleased noise and thumps his leg happily in what Cassandra thinks is almost dog-like, nudging in closer and licking at her face again; across her nose and eyebrows and down her cheeks.
She sputters, a string of laughter bubbling up from somewhere deep in her chest at the sudden assault of affection. “Stop! Stop!”
Trinket immediately stops what he’s doing and just looks at her with what can only be described as sad puppy dog eyes. Cass bites down on her lip and quickly says, “No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong! You’re fine. You’re just… you’re just fine, Trinket.”
And it’s silly, she thinks, because she’s talking to a bear like it’s a human. But it feels right.
Trinket, much more subdued and cautious, slowly rubs his muzzle against her cheek affectionately. Cass pats his head gently, a warm buzz in her chest as she pets him.
“Do you know anybody who breeds dogs?” she asks Percy timidly the next day, carefully avoiding his eyes by looking down at her tea.
“I don’t… think so,” he answers slowly, setting his own cup back down on the table. “Why?”
“You and your friends have been everywhere.” She taps her spoon against her teacup. “I figured you’d know somebody.”
“I meant why are you asking about dogs in the first place,” Percy says dryly.
She clears her throat. “I’ve been thinking it would be awfully nice to have a companion.”
Percy is quite long enough to make her nervous, and when she glances up at him she finds him looking at her thoughtfully.
“What?” Cass says sharply, more than a little off put by his silence and expression.
Percy’s mouth slowly curves upwards in a knowing smirk. “You spent time with Trinket, didn’t you?”
“Shut up,” she snipes back.
“You fell in love with him and now you want your own companion.” His accusation comes in an aggravating sing-song tone. “My own sister! A ranger in training!”
Cassandra likes to think of herself as rather mature for her nineteen years.
That doesn’t stop her from picking up her biscuit and throwing it at him.
Percy, for all his teasing, follows through on helping her find a dog. Or maybe it was Vex. She’s not stupid enough to think Percy was going to keep it from Vex’ahlia-- of course he tells her, he tells her next to everything. She’s not clear on which one of them finds it in the end, but she’s grateful. The dog they find for her is lean and long-legged with a silky white coat spotted with a rich brown and a pronounced nose.
“It looks like a de Rolo,” Vex says with a laugh when it arrives a fortnight later, the three of them standing in the castle entryway as it’s brought in.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Percy muses quietly, his arms crossed over his chest. He slowly leans over to Cass and murmurs, “Are you going to say hello?”
Cassandra clears her throat before taking a couple steps forward, her hands held out in front of her cautiously like Vex had instructed her to do before the dog arrived. It looks up at her with intelligent brown eyes, watching her slow approach. She kneels, hiking up her skirts so it almost feels like a deep curtsy.
It cocks its head curiously at her, even such a simple movement elegant. Bowing its neck, it leans down to sniff her outstretched hands. Cassandra’s breath catches in her throat as she waits for the dog’s response.
It licks her right across the nose, and Cassandra makes the most undignified squeal of delight.
“You’re so fucked,” she hears Percy smugly say behind her, followed by Vex’s laughter.
The dog licks her again, and Cass runs her hands through the dog’s fur with a happy sigh.
Quite.