Chapter Text
Vex’halia Vessar was dead. Dead. Vex was dead. Dead until she wasn’t, until they brought her back. But she had been. Dead. Cold. Motionless. Past tense. Dead.
And it was his fault.
It was hard to breath when his heart had so recently been shattered, barely stitching itself together again. He could almost feel its shards piercing his lungs.
No, that’s silly. That’s not how hearts work. That’s stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, how could he have been so stupid.
Dead.
It hurt to think. Hurt to breath. Even as he watched her walk away from the lake - moving, breathing, heart beating - he couldn’t help but picture her body only minutes before. The strong, beautiful woman he admired, trusted, loved – the woman who had dragged him back from his literal demons, dead at his feet. From his mistake.
Dead.
His fault.
He should tell Vax…
Vax hit him.
What had it been, a day? A day since he and Vax sat together on the shore of that terrible lake. He had told Vax that he was starting to imagine a better version of himself. He had told Vax he was sorry for the mistakes he had made, would still make (Gods, what cruel foreshadowing that was). Vax had told him he believed he was a good man.
Vax was wrong.
Good men don’t kill their friend’s sister. Good men don’t touch ancient relics without checking for traps and kill the people they love.
Vax hit him; told him this wasn’t a game. The fury in his eyes and his fist told him more. Told him that he was a selfish idiot, that he had twisted the dagger and worsened the wound because not only had Vax’s sister died, but she died at the hands of a friend. Betrayed - accident or not. It told him that Vax wanted him away from the group, from his sister.
Vax was right.
Percy retreated to his workshop after that, far away from the source of his guilt. His face still stung, and his personal sanctuary brought no comfort, for which he was thankful. There was ammunition that needed to be made, perhaps a new arrow for Vex’halia to be crafted as a pathetic apology, but for now Percy simply stood at the center of the room. And he wept.
The tears stopped after a minute. Percy didn’t consider himself much of a crier, not anymore. He had seen too many terrible things, been in too many pressing situations to waste resources on such an indulgence. But gods, what a day… At some point his body moved on instinct, firing up the forge, molding out bullets and, once that was complete, moving on to sketching and crafting a siege arrow. He worked feverishly, desperate to drown out the thoughts in his head, but it couldn’t last forever. As he came back to himself, finished arrow in his hand and sun well under the horizon, the guilt returned full force. As it hit, Percy sagged against the table, causing the new bullets laid across it to fall and scatter along the floor.
Gods, what a moron, he thought, destroying your own workshop. Better leave before you cause any more damage.
He blinked. Blinked again.
Percy bent and collected the bullets, sliding them into the pouch on his hip. He left the arrow on the table as he made his way out. It was late and the castle was quiet, in contrast to his thoughts.
Leave Vox Machina. I can’t leave Vox Machina. They’re my family. I can’t abandon family.
Why not, more thoughts swirled in, I’ve done it before. Left Cass in the snow. To die. At least this time I would be leaving them to live. Besides, all that stuff Vax said about ‘having a family if you want it’ – that was before I killed his sister. Do I really think he still means that?
Percy’s pace slowed, hands trailing the wall as his eye’s lost focus, too lost in his head to pay attention.
But they would miss me, wouldn’t they? Would they?
What did he really provide to Vox Machina anyway? Another ranged fighter, sure, but Vex and Scanlan have more than proven their independence when his weapon jams. A few arrows for Vex, simple armor adjustments for Pike… and a whole lot of trouble. It really hadn’t been that long since he nearly got everyone killed retaking Whitestone. Vex had been close to dying then, too. So had Vax. Hell, Pike hadn’t even been physically present and was still probably more help than he was. And then he made them fight a literal demon for him.
Keyleth would miss him, he knew that. She was a close friend, one of very few given his personality appears as aloof and prideful. Uninviting.
Appears that way or is that way?
Truthfully, Percy was having trouble thinking of a single time in recent months he had acted solely out of goodwill. Vox Machina had done some good things, this was true, but his participation had always been at the encouragement of his friends, following their lead. Wasn’t that a reason to stay, to become better?
I told Vax that last night, though, didn’t I? And look how that ended.
One mistake. One terrible mistake. And it was really a mistake. He hadn’t meant to do it, of course he hadn’t. Vex was dear to him. So very dear to him. He had been careless, and she was hurt. And he was terrified it would happen again. But was it selfish to leave now, while the world was under the attack of the Conclave?
We need every person we can find…but would I be a help or a hindrance? Surely staying is better… I can’t kill a dragon alone…though I suppose I could go recruiting… and with the right trap…disable the wings…some bait…maybe a preset explosion, some hired mercenaries…
Plans began to take shape in his mind as he wandered.
Perhaps…perhaps I could kill a dragon. But Cass, gods Cass. I would be abandoning her again. Though, one less dragon would mean she’s safer…I could finally keep her safe. Unequivocally failed that the last time… I’ve never been a good brother… really Vox Machina is just one more failure on the pile…gods, is there anyone in this castle I haven’t disappointed? At least this way, I don’t have to see the betrayal in their eyes.
Maybe it would be more selfish to stay….
So lost in thought, Percy didn’t realize his feet had carried him to the hall where Vox Machina’s bedchambers sat. Only his quick reflexes prevented him from stumbling over the dark boot in his path. He stared. The boot was attached to a leg, attached to a half-elf. Vax sat slouched in a doorway, asleep. His sister’s doorway, guarding her. Guarding her from anymore of Percy’s mistakes.
His mind was made up.
Percy may be a self-absorbed, prideful, arrogant prick, but he was also nothing if not practical. He may not deserve a happy ending but his sister, his friends, most people of Tal’Dorei- they did and with dragons roaming the land and burning cities to the ground they were looking less and less likely to get one. And Vox Machina wouldn’t run. They were better than him. So much better, they wouldn’t give up until they killed the dragons or the last one of them fell trying. Percy couldn’t let that happen.
They were still better without him here though; he had already decided that much. They would be more focused without any more of his fuckups to deal with, but he could help in other ways. He was clever enough and owed them enough for that.
And so, with these thoughts still swirling in his mind, Percival de Rolo snuck to his room, finished packing his bags, and sat down to write his final letters.