#vex brings keyleth a wounded bear cub and gets herself A Pet

[words-writ-in-starlight]

hey so rewatched legend of the sword yesterday w/ a friend (partially cuz i showed them one of your posts about it) - so vox machina: legend of the sword au maybe? randomly generated hozier lyric: Mid-Youth Crisis. hope youre doing well :)

INSPIRED!  EXCEPTIONAL!  VISIONARY!  For this ask meme, which is still open!

mid-youth crisis

“Percival deRolo,” the queen says, rolling her words over her tongue like a fine wine lacedwith poison. She’s dressed in a fine gown of deepest blue, with the Briarwoodcrest embroidered over and over in silvery white at the hem. Her dark hair ishalfway pinned up under her circlet, the rest falling in orderly curls down herback. “You did cause us no end of trouble.”

“My name isPercy, Your Majesty,” Percy says, forcing himself to bow his head over hismanacles and look afraid. The fear isn’t a challenge. The bow costs himeverything. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m here.”

“Don’t you?You would have been—what, nearly eight?”

Percy triesto look guileless, tries to look baffled and afraid and every inch the bastardson of a whore. He doesn’t know if he’s selling it, but he does knowthat the second he stops trying, he’s going to be executed. He’ll never see Vexor Vax again, and any chance of revenge he’s ever entertained, any hope ofmaking the queen and her consort pay for the fall of the de Rolos, will diewith him. He wasn’t ready for this, he wasn’t prepared, and now he’s in a cell,unarmed and completely unable to call for aid. Even if he could, three streetfighters with a sword, a bow, and six knives between them aren’t liable to getfar against the full might of the Briarwoods’ personal army.

He neverexpected to live, when he faced Queen Delilah Briarwood, but he’d hoped to atleast take her down with him.

“I’m—twenty-three,Your Majesty,” Percy says. He keeps his eyes fixed on the chain between hisfeet. If he looks up, the acid rage in his chest will fight it’s way up histhroat, until he’s snarling at her. He forces his head down further andpictures Cassandra, her chubby little hands losing their grip on him and herblood staining her nightgown. “If that helps.”

“I’m sureyou’ve been told you look older,” Delilah says, reaching through the bars ofthe cell to curl her fingers thoughtfully into his hair, raking at the whitecurls. 

The familiartouch, as casual and friendly as if he were her son, or her dog, is too much totake.

Percy jerksback hard, as much as he can without moving his feet and testing the chains.His head snaps up and he doesn’t know what his face looks like right now, buthe’ll gamble it’s neither deferential nor frightened.

“Do nottouch me,” he snaps.

“There itis,” Delilah says, and she catches his jaw in a lightning-fast move, forces himto look at her as she studies his eyes, the brilliant blue that he inheritedfrom his father, and his father before him. “That famous de Rolo pride. Tell meyour name, my dear boy.”

“You’regoing to kill me anyway.”  He can hear an old accent starting to touch hiswords, distantly, as if this is all a play on a stage and he can’t do anythingto change it.  The streets of Londinium fade, the high towers of thecastle taking their place in his vowels and liquids.  If she wasn’talready sure of who she’d managed to capture, he thinks that alone might haveproved it to her.

“That’strue,” the queen says, her grip tightening until it’s nearly enough to leavefingerprint bruises on his jaw. “You are the oldest surviving de Rolo heir, theBorn King.  The sword knows it.  I can’t allow the people to know it,too.  But if you cooperate, I may not kill anyone…else.”

Percy has amoment of ice-cold dread as he wrenches himself away from her grip.  Gods,who—  “What have you done?” he whispers, and it’s all nobility.

Delilahsmiles at him, the calm satisfaction of a cat watching its prey run directlyinto a trap.  “My dear,” she says, raising her voice from its usual softmurmur to a summoning shout without taking her eyes off Percy.  “Join us.”

And a womanwalks down the hall to stand at Delilah’s side.  She has long, chestnutbrown hair threaded in several places with snowy white, pinned up over a longoval face, and for a wild moment, Percy thinks mother, but no.  Thewoman is too young, younger than her hair and severe expression suggest—youngerthan Percy, maybe, with traces of childish roundness still in her stubbornchin.   She’s dressed in a lighter shade of blue than Delilah’smidnight, a simple dress cut from expensive cloth that makes the woman’sstartlingly blue eyes nearly glow in the torchlight.  

“Cassandra,”Percy chokes out.  He feels like he did when he took the hilt of thesword, like there’s such unimaginable energy in his chest that there’s nowherefor it to go, nothing for it to do but rip him to pieces.  Cassandraalways had the family eyes, even when she was such a tiny thing that her hairhadn’t yet darkened from baby-blonde to their mother’s deep brown.  Hehasn’t seen his sister since the night the castle fell, when his mother forcedCassandra into Percy’s arms and told him to run.  Cassandra had been fouryears old when she died.  Cassandra had been four years old when shewas shot with an arrow, while he was still holding her, and the blood hadstill been soaked into his nightshirt and coat when he was pulled from theriver, numb and tearless with shock.

Cassandrahad died.  Percy had watched her gasp desperately as he clumsilytried to stop the bleeding, had seen her eyes slip shut before he fled from thespell-creature in the silver helm, shaped into a bird’s skill and wielding awar scythe.

Cassandra hadto have died, because if she hadn’t—

Oh, gods, ifshe hadn’t, he’d left her there.  

“Cass,”Percy forces through numb lips.  “You’re alive.”

“Percy,” shesays.  Her face is utterly serene, utterly removed.  Colder than thestars and just as untouchable.  “It’s good to see you again.”

“How did you—Isaw you die, how are you here?”  He turns a look on Delilah andwhatever it is, whatever his blind rage has done to his features, it’s enoughto make the queen blink, although not quite enough to change the expression ofself-assured satisfaction on her face.  “Is this some kind of trick?”

“Of coursenot,” Delilah says, almost offended.  “I believe you’ve met my daughter,isn’t that right, my dear?”  She strokes the back of herknuckles over Cassandra’s cheek, as carelessly proprietary as the way she’dtouched Percy’s hair, and Cassandra doesn’t flinch.  She doesn’t evenblink, still watching Percy with a strange combination of white-hot intensityand complete blankness, as if so entranced by what she’s seeing that Delilahcould put a knife through her chest and not get even a flicker of response. “Cassandra, dear, answer the boy’s question.”

Cassandrainclines her head and says, “Of course, my lady.”  Her eyes fix back ontoPercy’s, the bright blue showing a flicker of real life for the first time—anger. “After you left me to die,” she says, and her voice is still controlled,emotionless, so that her words cut like a naked sword, “I was found by HerMajesty herself.  She saw to it that I was saved—that my wounds werehealed and no sickness was allowed to fester.  She and Sylas have beenvery good to me, the past fifteen years.  I was fortunate to be given asecond chance at a family, after my first one betrayed me so completely.”

Percy cannotbreathe, still so washed in the shock and elation of seeing her that he canfeel a smile fighting to appear, even under the fresh pain of her words. It takes a moment before he can answer her.

“I—Ibelieved you had died,” he says, and tries not to sound too much like a lostchild.  Tries not to laugh in raw wonder.  Tries not to rage atDelilah, for all she’s taken from them.  He steps forward, so quickly thathis first step comes up sharply against the manacles around his ankles, andwraps a hand around the iron bars separating him from his sister.  “Cassandra,I—I had no idea.  I had never heard tell that the Briarwoods had achild.  No one has ever spoken of a surviving de Rolo.  Not even me.”

“I am not asurviving de Rolo,” Cassandra says, biting off each word like she’s in a hurryto get them away from herself as quickly as possible.  “You left yoursister to die, and she did.  I am a Briarwood, and—” For the first time,Cassandra’s determination flickers, and she advances a step, staring Percy deadin the eye like she’s challenging him to something.  “And,” she continues,as hard as before, “I look forward to attending your execution tomorrow,Percival.”

Withoutanother word, Cassandra turns on her heel and strides out of thedungeons.  It’s her stride that gives away her emotions, more than herperfect mask of neutral engagement and her near-immaculate vocal control—hergown flares and swirls around her with the force of each step, a fighter’s walkthat doesn’t match the image of the polished court lady.  Delilah watchesher go with the same pleasantly satisfied smile as before, and turns back toPercy while he’s still reeling.

“So,” shesays, silken.  “I believe you were telling me your full name.”

“Percival,”he whispers, staring after Cassandra.  “Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowskide Rolo.  The third.”

“Very good,” Delilah says, as approving as ahoundsmaster praising the latest addition to the pack.  “Now, it mayinterest you to know that we are also looking into your friends in Londinium,but I expect that lovely Cassandra should be more than enough to assure yourcooperation, don’t you?”

#percy de rolo #cassandra de rolo #critical role #vox machina #lady delilah briarwood #starlight writes stuff #ask meme #this is actually such an UNBELIEVABLY phenomenal concept that i may write the rest of it?????? #I GOT EMOTIONAL ON SHIFT AND WROTE LIKE...A B I T OF SYLAS STUFF IN THIS UNIVERSE??????? #some other stuff in no particular order #keyleth is the mage/merlin but like...a beautiful earthshatteringly powerful goober #who spends all her time converting percy to the idea of actually ruling #rather than just showing up and murdering the briarwoods and calling it a damn day #vex and vax are backlack and wetstick except scarier #vex brings keyleth a wounded bear cub and gets herself A Pet #grog is a wayward viking berserker the size of a house who runs a fight club/training house in londinium #it is frequented by his long time best friend pike who was camelot's trainee priest before the briarwoods #she's also Scary with a mace and helping plan a revolution but nbd #scanlan wouldn't be helping if pike wasn't but she is so he's right there with her they're bedivere and goosefat bill sort of #THEY OVERTHROW THE BRIARWOODS AND PERCY GETS A MAGIC SWORD IDK WHAT ELSE YOU WANT FROM ME #lotheben #asked and answered #queue deeper than the sea of stars