Chapter 1: Then.
Chapter Text
Whitestone had always, for as long as the people can remember, been looked over and run by the de Rolo family. The current lord of Whitestone, Frederick de Rolo was a well respected man. With his wife, Johanna, and his seven children, the de Rolo’s sit in the lap of luxury at the castle located at the far end of the city. Julius de Rolo was preparing to ascend the title of Lord after his father.
In 805 PD, the de Rolos had two guests all the way from Wildemount; Lord Sylas Briarwood and his wife, Lady Delilah Briarwood. While the de Rolos waited at the dining room for the Briarwoods, tragedy struck; the third child, Percival de Rolo, had sat by his mother’s side while she read a book. His father was conversing with Vesper and Julius, the eldest, while the younger kids played around. The next thing that happened was a blur to young Percival. His father had a blade stabbed into his back. He felt warm blood spatter to his right and he turned his head to see his mother with three arrows sticking out of her neck. Percival looked around as he stumbled off his chair in abject horror, making a run for the door. He sees Vesper attempt to run, but she is grabbed and thrown harshly. Gods! Percival thought as he broke out into a sprint, What is happening?!
Percival’s breath was heavy as he yanked open the heavy door and saw Professor Anders as the teenager crash into him. “Professor Anders, please,” the boy pleads. “Something’s happening! Mother, father, Julius , everyone!” It was almost incoherent with how much Percival was hyperventilating and how much tears were flooding his eyes. He thought Professor Anders would provide him solace, protection, an escape from this hellhole that was his family’s slaughter. What he didn’t anticipate was Anders’ ties to the Briarwoods, the very people that initiated the killing of the de Rolos. Percival was practically thrown into the arms of the Briarwoods.
What kept the young lord fighting was his youngest sister, little Cassandra who wasn’t so little anymore. Her being alive was enough to keep Percival fighting to live, fighting to survive. Even as he was dragged into a cell and tortured for answers to questions he didn’t even know by one Dr. Anna Ripley, he kept fighting. He laid in his cell, bleeding and bruised after yet another session with Ripley. He was so damn tired, and it was only a week after his family’s tragic death. “ There has to be another method for him to talk, ” came the frustrated voice of Dr. Ripley. Percival tensed as he realized just how close she was. “ He has an annoying amount of hope. ”
“ Perhaps a little motivation can sway the pup to talk. ” Delilah. Percival’s breath hitched and his sea blue eyes widened in terror. “ Bring the brat to the cell once the pup wakes. We’ll see if he starts talking, ”
The chains on Percival’s wrists rattled as he forced himself to sit up, biting back a groan but failing as a whimper escaped his lips. “ It seems as though the pup has already awakened, ” Sylas. Shit. Even worse, Percival thought. His arms shook as he pushed himself to a seated position. He sees the shadows of his three captors approaching his cell and he tenses. The door to his cell opened, and Percival had to fight himself from making any distressed noises as he pressed his back to the cold wall. “Let’s hope you’re ready to talk, little de Rolo.”
Percival gulped as he saw Ripley enter the cell with two Pale Guards. When did they come in? He thought frantically as his eyes darted around the cold cell. The Pale Guards had grabbed the boy by the arms none too gently and dragged him over to the chair at the center of the dimly lit room. “Strip him,” Ripley ordered, and then hands.
Oh gods, the hands. Hands roughly grabbing at the dirty and rugged shirt, pulling apart the buttons before the Pale Guards dragged him to the chair and tied him up. Then came the torture. Blade to pale skin, pale skin splitting open and rivulets of red flowing down his torture. His cries for help and denial of answers went unheard, as Ripley sliced her initials into Percival’s abdomen. Even branded, the boy refused to talk.
Panting heavily in pain, trying to catch air into his lungs after a particularly hard punch to the gut knocked all the wind out of him. A hand grasped at his hair and pulled his face up, and his teary eyes looked back into Ripley’s. They stared each other down, and despite the tears, despite the boy’s hiccups, there was an aura of defiance emanating from the sea blue eyes. Ripley scoffs. “Bring the girl,” she said, and grinned when she saw Percival’s eyes widened. “Aww, did I strike a nerve? Maybe this time you’ll start talking and give us what we want.”
And even after bringing in Cassandra, even after roughing her up with cuts and bruises, Percival still screamed and begged for mercy on her, continuing to say he had no clue what information they wanted. This went on for a month.
A month of strenuous torture at the hands of Anna Ripley for something Percival didn’t even know. A month since his family had been slaughtered by these people. A month since he and Cassandra were betrayed by someone that was trusted by the de Rolos.
And it was a month of this, until Cassandra decided to take action.
Percival was curled up in his cell, shackled and recovering from a particularly bad torture session with Ripley. He tensed, however, upon hearing the quiet clicking of his cell door. It opened slowly with a creak, and Percival saw a shadowy figure step in. It didn’t look like Ripley’s silhouette nor Delilah’s. It was too small. Percival squinted his eyes to get a better look of the figure walking towards him, and through the one lit torch mantled to the wall outside of his cell, he was able to identify…
Cassandra!
Relief washed over Percival as he pushed himself up. “Cass,” he said in a hushed tone. “What… What are you doing here?” he whispered.
“I’m getting you out.” Cassandra replied. She reached into her dress pocket and pulled out a small brass key. She jiggled the key into Percival’s shackles and pried them open, evidently freeing her older brother and pulling him up. “We have to get out of here.” she whispers, grabbing her brother’s hand and pulling him out of the cell. Out of the dungeon in Whitestone castle.
Freedom was at their grasp.
The snow was stuck to the ground as the surviving de Rolo children made a run for it. Whitestone was no longer safe. They needed to leave. “There’s a river! Just up ahead, hurry Percy!” Cassandra called out. And Percival suddenly obtained the stamina to outrun his younger sister. Then he heard her shout out in pain, and when Percival turned his head back, she was on the ground, arrows lodged into her back and blood pooling underneath her.
“ CASSANDRA! ” Percival yells, and the white haired boy (white because of the stress – white because of Dr. Ripley ) ran back to her. He slid down to his knees beside her, scared to put a hand on her body. She was breathing but just. They were almost there. Freedom was just within reach. But there was no way Cassandra would be able to survive a jump into the freezing river with jagged ice and two arrows piercing her back. He desperately looked towards the direction in which the arrows came from. Percival’s eyes widened as he saw the figures of Dr. Anna Ripley, Professor Anders, Lord and Lady Briarwood and two Pale guards at the top of the hill.
“ Percy… ” came Cassandra’s soft and strained voice. Percival immediately looked down at her, looking at her in her dimming blue eyes. “ Go…. ”
Hesitating was not an option for Percival. He looked back towards his pursuers, Ripley and the Pale guards descending from the hill. Heart pounding (he swore he could make out Sylas’ darkened grin when his heart picked up), Percival scrambled to his feet and continued running. Though he didn’t get very far; Ripley had loaded another arrow bolt into her crossbow and aimed right at the center of the boy’s back, then shifted it to the left, firing. Percival let out a pained yell and he too collapsed. The arrow struck close to his heart, and his vision blurred and blackened, his ears ringing.
He could barely make out Sylas’ hissing “ You are meant to keep him alive, Dr. Ripley! ” Percival’s eyes slowly started fluttering close, before he let out a choked gasp when the arrow was all but yanked out of his back. He was then turned over, his vision continuing to blacken as he was met face-to-face with the red eyes of Sylas Briarwood.
Before he could process anything happening, Sylas had leaned down. There was a sharp pain at his neck, and Percival’s eyes widened. He squirmed beneath Sylas, letting out a scream followed by a series of sobs as the vampire Lord drank from his neck. His heart raced, his mind going a million miles a minute. Even as he tried to struggle, the most he did was paw at Sylas’ shoulders. His sobs turned into whimpers and whimpers soon turned into choked pleas of help. He didn’t register Sylas pressing his wrist to Percival’s mouth, urging him to drink the blood the vampire was spilling, before the draining of his blood resumed. He stopped struggling and his arms fell limp at his sides.
Cassandra had missed the flash of gold coming from Percival’s eyes when she passed out from pain and blood loss, and Percival had barely registered the weight on top of him easing up. He barely heard Sylas’ command to the Pale guards of “ Bury the boy here. Tomorrow night, I will check on him. ”
Percival’s heart had slowed, and his vision had darkened until it was black, none seeing. His heart finally stilled within his chest, and he exhaled one last puff of breath.
Dead.
When Percival next opened his eyes, he tasted dirt. His throat was burning and his eyes stung. He moaned in pain, brought his hands out in front of him and pushed against… dirt. Taken aback, he shifted his eyes around. Dark. It was all dark. And he smelled soil. And he tasted soil. And as he tasted soil, the burn in his throat only flared. He began to panic, and started clawing at the dirt above him. The dirt was cold. Oh gods, he thought, what’s happening? Where am I? Cass! Where’s Cass!? This thought only brought him more anxiety, and it urged his nails to dig into the dirt faster. Finally, Percival broke through to the snow above him and he pulled himself out of the hole. He looked around.
Dark. Nighttime. But… he could see a better distance. What happened to him? The sound of the river behind him roared as it flowed. And he heard the sound of a raven taking off… from a few hundred feet away.
His throat burned, and it hurt. Percival brought his hand to his throat and looked towards the hilltop. Sylas and Delilah were there. Watching him. They had watched him come from beneath the earth below. They’re here to finish the job , Percival thought, and he started backing away when he saw Sylas starting to descend from the hill with a chuckle. “No pup, we’re not here to finish the job.” Sylas said, confusing the young lord, but Percival kept backing away. “You’re wondering how I knew what to answer, how I knew what you were thinking?” The vampire lord asked, and Percival gave a slight nod. “I will explain this to you when we return to the castle. Come, pup.”
But there was hesitation in Percival, which came to no surprise to Sylas and Delilah. “My…. my sister… what happened–”
“Dead.” Sylas interrupted and he heard the small whine coming from the young lord’s throat. “Shot dead by Anna Ripley. I’m so very sorry.” Lord Briarwood stepped closer until he was finally inches away from Percival. He sees the boy swaying at his feet, a mixture of the denial (so the boy bought his lie), and the seering hunger within. As if predicting it, Sylas was able to catch Percival, who had nearly fallen forward. “Come. I will bring you to the castle, and you will satiate that burn. Then I will explain everything to you.”
Sylas saw Percival giving him a weak nod, leaning into the older man’s hold as the Briarwoods led the young lord back to the de Rolo castle.
Upon arriving at the castle and taken to the dining room (the last place he even saw his family), Percival was hit with a new wave of smells, the most notable one being blood. Blood of the Pale guards. Blood of Professor Anders. Blood of
Dr. Anna Ripley
. He didn’t realize what he was smelling or how he was reacting to it until he felt Sylas holding him back, and he was hissing and whining. “
Get one of the traitors from the dungeons,
” he heard Delilah order, but Percival had one goal and that was to lunge at Ripley and tear her throat apart. Had it not been for Sylas’ inhuman strength, and his own weak body, he might have succeeded.
“Dr. Ripley, perhaps you should head back to work,” Sylas said dangerously to Anna. “The pup is very set on having you for dinner, rather than one of the whelps being brought from the dungeons.”
“Very well. But only because I value my own life.” Anna said sharply, looking at Percival with a shady smirk.
This definitely set the boy off, the way the woman teased him, her face and smile being a reminder of the month’s torture Percival had to endure. What was all of that even for?! I’ll break her apart!
“That is enough, Percival,” Sylas said sharply and tossed the boy onto the ground once Ripley had left the room. Percival winced a bit, the toss taking a great toll on him with his hunger and bloodlust. He tensed when the door to the dining room opened again, but rather than Ripley coming in, it was Professor Anders dragging along a servant boy from the dungeon. Percival’s eyes widened, and he looked at Sylas, realization crossing his face. No please….. Don’t make me do this. Percival thought, and Sylas chuckled darkly. “If you don’t do what needs to be done, pup, you will end up slaughtering every living being within this castle, innocent and not so innocent. And don’t even think about pulling a hunger strike out of defiance and childish behavior. You’d only end up hurting hundreds. And I can tell, by your inquisitive nature and scholarly mind, this will only bring you further pain and turmoil.” Percival went silent, even in his thoughts, as he looked between silence and the servant boy. “I suggest just getting it over with. That burn can be quite a nuisance for the first few feeds.” Sylas walked over behind Percival and placed his hands on the young lord’s shoulders, guiding him over to Anders and the terrified servant boy.
Percival, without needing to but doing so out of habit, swallowed a lump in his throat as he looked at the frightened boy. He can hear the boy’s heart pounding with fear as he watched the young lord’s eyes go from that beautiful de Rolo blue to a blood hungry crimson. Percival felt Sylas lean down to his ear and whisper to him, “You hear his heart. It quickens at the mere sight of you. His blood is rushing all around his body.”
The hunger is painful, Percival thought and Sylas chuckles behind him. “Then you understand how important it is for you to do this, pup,” Sylas said. “Once you satisfy that hunger of yours, I will explain to you everything that is going to happen from this point forward.” There was a squeeze on his shoulders and Percival felt himself (unnecessarily) swallow again. He stepped forward to the boy, and Professor Anders had released him. Sylas and Delilah watched in fascination when the boy bolted for the door, whimpering and panicking, and Percival all but ran after him, his inhuman speed easily closing the gap between him and the servant boy.
It happens quickly, the opposite from the death of the de Rolos. Percival grabs the boy by the back of the head and slams him against the door with power. The boy coughed out in surprise, the wind knocked out of his lungs. Percival curls his fingers on the servant’s hair and yanks his head back harshly, hearing the bones of his neck crack in a break. It was an oddly satisfying and delicious sound to Percival. He then lowered his head down, and sunk his newly sharp fangs into the servant’s neck, piercing the skin and drawing blood. The moment the blood hit his tongue, Percival froze, surprised that blood can taste so… so refreshing. It immediately eased the burning in his throat, and he couldn’t help himself anymore. He allowed his instincts to take over him completely, finding it easier if he didn’t have to think about it.
Percival had completely drained the servant boy dry, releasing the extremely pale, ashen gray body onto the ground. He had blood spilling at the corners of his mouth, and his shoulders shook. The bloodlust faded and Percival was wracked with guilt and regret. He stared down at the body, tears stinging the corners of his eyes, and tensing when he felt Sylas’ hand on one of his shoulders.
“There, see?” the vampire’s silky voice threaded into Percival’s ears. “Satiated and no longer in pain. And you’re strong too. That makes a great vampire.”
“What… What did you do to me?” Percival whispered, looking up at Sylas with terrified red eyes.
“I made you stronger, pup. I made you into a being that can withstand almost anything. I made you into a being capable of healing any wound faster than even a cleric of the Everlight. I made you into what I want you to be: a ruler for Whitestone until the end of times. I made you into me.”
From this day forward, in the year 805 PD, Whitestone lost all of the de Rolo family, save for one.
Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III lost his life in the same way his sister Cassandra did on that fateful winter night. And in the same evening, the same breath, he gained a new life. An undead one.
The 16 year old Lord of Whitestone now sits at the mercy of Lord and Lady Briarwood, locked away from the rest of the town and never to be seen outside the castle walls.
Percival de Rolo now sits as the puppet Lord of Whitestone.
Chapter 2: Now - Dinner in Emon
Summary:
The mercenary group, Vox Machina, who had successfully defeated and killed the blue dragon, Brimscythe, had been invited by Sovereign Uriel to a diplomatic (and celebratory) dinner at his castle in Emon. Happily accepting, the mercenaries mingled with the upper class and the sophisticated. The mood shifts from jovial to gossipy in the matter of minutes as soon as the dignitaries from Whitestone enter the function.
According to the gossip, it's been six years since anyone had left Whitestone, including the Lord and Lady.
Notes:
Another chapter, come get your food!
We now meet Vox Machina! And okay, this sort of follows a mix of the actual stream, and the animated series. That's why Pike is here and not Tiberius (love you Tibs)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
811 PD, 6 years later…
For a few months now, Vox Machina worked like a… dysfunctionally well-oiled machine. Being a band of misfits, it was very likely that they’d run into some unlikely trouble (thanks Grog), start a few tavern brawls (okay that was also partly Vax AND Grog), and end up becoming the savior of Tal’Dorei by defeating the blue dragon, Brimscythe.
Wait what? Let’s try this again:
Vox Machina acted as an unlikely group of mercenaries (reluctantly) hired by Sovereign Uriel in Emon after mysterious attacks occurred in a town at the outskirts of Emon. They discovered the attacks were caused by a blue dragon, and were severely under equipped. Regrouping back in the main town, gathering intel from Shaun Gilmore, and finding out the General Krieg of the Tal’Dorei council was actually the dragon Brimscythe definitely helped Vox Machina in the long run. Using their dysfunction created a teamwork that was able to bring Brimscythe low enough for Grog to deliver the killing blow.
For their bravery in the defeat of Brimscythe, Sovereign Uriel granted the mercenaries with a Keep of their own, and invited them to a celebratory dinner with other dignitaries around Tal’Dorei to discuss the potential security measures in case any other attacks occur. Which brings them to now.
Vox Machina were, for once in their lives, dressed nicely for this dinner party. Of course, they had to unfortunately surrender their weapons to the weapons keeper. Something about them being a liability or whatever. It was fine, they could manage.
As they were introduced, they were met with confused appraisal. It was appraisal nonetheless but apparently something that Scanlan was not expecting. He demanded a much grander announcement to Vox Machina, not the confused tone from the squire. And the reaction from Scanlan’s introduction was still met with the same level of appraisal.
“Jeez, tough crowd,” Scanlan muttered, receiving an elbow to the ribs from Pike, and a snicker from Vax.
The mercenaries dispersed to mingle with some of the other dinner attendants, Vex having a delightful conversation with Lady Allura and Kima. Pike and Grog had a bit of a drinking competition with the flutes of champagne, Grog commenting that he didn’t understand how anyone can get drunk on them. Keyleth and Vax were actually making the most out of socializing albeit more awkwardly than anything, with Vax’s broody aura and Keyleth’s naturally nervous and awkward demeanor.
“Presenting from Whitestone, Lord and Lady Briarwood and Lord de Rolo” announced the squire, and a lot of heads turned towards the doors. Whispers began to make their rounds; something Vox Machina picked up almost instantly. Scanlan listened to the gossip:
“No one has heard from the delegation in Whitestone for six years now,”
“I heard that the former Lord and Lady as well as their children succumbed to a mysterious disease. Only the third child managed to survive. He was 16 when it happened.”
“And Lord and Lady Briarwood took it upon themselves to care for the boy.”
“Is that him?”
“By the gods, he looks unwell”
This drew Scanlan’s attention to the aforementioned Lords and Lady of Whitestone. He took notice of the well dressed man and woman; the man being broad shouldered and tall, clearly strong with pale skin and red eyes that scanned around the room. The woman next to him was of slender build, dark hair tied elegantly up with a muted purple tint to her eyes. Well clearly those two are Lord and Lady Briarwood and gods are they a sexy couple, Scanlan thought, before his eyes shifted over to the young man just slightly behind the Lord and Lady. Holy shit, these people are not wrong. The kid didn’t look unwell, per se. In fact, if he heard the gossip correctly, he was 16 when this alleged disease took hold, and he looks great! Not a day older than 22 if his math was correct (and it normally isn’t when he’s partying).
No that’s not why the kid looked unwell. It was how pale this kid was. And his eyes, which bore the same crimson color as Lord Briarwood, held deep pain and trauma. The white haired boy held himself with the same pretentious posture as his… adoptive(?) guardians, but his eyes told a story. The gnome pulled Vax’ildan to the side and urged him to lean down.
“Think you could look in on the room where these Briarwoods are staying?” Scanlan whispered, and soon the rest of the part joined in.
“Why… Why me?” Vax asked defensively.
“Because you’re the sneaky brains out of all of us. I’m sure you can find some dirt on these people.”
“Scanlan, why is that your first go-to?” Vex'ahlia asked the gnome.
“Because, I have a feeling that these rumors of a mysterious disease killing an entire family and only sparing one kid is just not true.”
“What gives you that impression?” Vax asked.
“A hunch? Look, the eyes can tell stories. Don’t ask me how or why, but I’ve looked at a lot of eyes in my life. Those Briarwoods spell trouble.”
There was a pregnant pause from the group, and some eyes shifted over to Vax for his answer to Scanlan’s previous request of going to the Briarwoods’ temporary room to seek out any suspicious activity they might instill. After being looked at with five pairs of eyes, Vax sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Fine. I’ll go check their stuff out. But we need a safeword in case anything goes wrong.” Vax said.
Another pause as the group started thinking, and it was Grog that answered. “What about ‘ Jenga ’?”
“Alright… Jenga it is.” Vex said after registering the word.
“Mhm…. my go to safeword is ‘ Mommy’ .” Scanlan muttered, receiving another harsh elbow to the ribs from Pike.
None of them noticed the pair of red eyes looking towards their direction, having heard this quiet conversation with his keen hearing. They didn’t see the look of desperation coming from Lord of Whitestone. Nevertheless, Vox Machina joined the other dignitaries at the dining hall for the commemorative dinner.
During dinner, Vox Machina sat across from the very people who were the gossip of the night; the Briarwoods and Lord de Rolo. “All rise for Sovereign Uriel Tal’Dorei and his wife, Salda Tal’Dorei,” came the announcement from the squire, and the dinner guests rose from their seats at the table. Sovereign Uriel and his wife made their way to their seats, Salda sitting down while Uriel spoke.
“Thank you all for being in attendance. I want this dinner to be a discussion on the future safety and security across Tal’Dorei. But in the meantime, please enjoy dinner and each other’s company.” Uriel then took a seat next to his wife and to his left, Lord Briarwood.
Dinner was served and everyone (eagerly mind you) dug in. Lady Briarwood started cutting into the sliver of meat she was given, but to either sides of her, her husband made every excuse not to put the food into his mouth, engaging in conversation with Uriel instead, while their ward clutched his goldenware tightly and stared down at the plate of food with hardened eyes, clenching his jaw.
Six years. It had been six years since his last, true meal before that privilege was taken from him. Forced to feed from former traitors until there was none left, the young Lord Percival nearly went on a murderous rampage, seeking out any living person to feed from. Sylas had to order members of Whitestone’s newest council of noblemen to allow Percival to feed from, but Lord Briarwood would be the one to stop the boy from taking too much. Neither of them wanted Percival to actually drain the life from their allies.
Finally, after about six years of conditioning and training the boy to keep quiet about his past, about the torture and abuse, and most importantly about his family, the Briarwoods finally felt confident enough in bringing their “pup” to social events such as this. They easily concocted this lie that Percival was the only one of the de Rolos to have survived that ill fated disease.
“I would like to inquire a few questions to Lady Briarwood, if you’d be willing to lend me your attention,” came the voice of one of the members of the so-called esteemed Vox Machina.
Delilah picked her head up from her meal and smiled kindly to the half-elven woman that spoke. “Of course. My apologies, I don’t think I caught your name…” Delilah urged.
“Vex’ahlia of Vox Machina, slayers of the blue dragon, Brimscythe.”
A grin. Sylas and Percival both had their attention now drawn to Vex and the rest of Vox Machina. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Vex’ahlia. Now what was your question?” Delilah asked.
“I was hearing from around the grapevine this evening that you and your husband had taken charge of Whitestone. Where did you originally hail from?”
“Oh, well my husband and I hailed from Wildemount, out in the far east of Tal’Dorei.”
“The far east…? And what were you doing all the way in Whitestone, which is, if memory serves me correctly, located in the far north of Tal’Dorei?” Vex questioned, and Pike nearly grasped at the half-elf’s arm to scold her.
A lesser councilman cleared their throat and opened their mouth to speak, before being silenced by a raise of Sylas’ hand. “It’s quite alright, simply a curious mind to a question that’s been on everyone’s mind,” Sylas said, his voice booming with a silky bass that reverberated throughout the dining hall. “An innocent inquiry, and who am I to deny the saviors of Tal’Dorei an answer to their question.”
This sent a shiver down Vex’s spine, but she hid it quite well, instead masking her discomfort with feigned interest. “Delilah and I met the de Rolo family 10 years before their passing. A lovely family really, with young kids. Their carriage caught a bad storm and couldn’t push on any further, so they took a detour to our home, asked us if they could seek shelter for the night. Since then, our families have been great friends and allies. We were visiting Whitestone at the time the disease took root on the de Rolos. It was far too late when we got to the castle. The only person who survived was Percival over here.”
Eyes turned over to Percival, who tensed up and clenched harshly on his goldenware. He gave Sylas a look of betrayal. Liar! He thought, knowing damn well that the lord can hear his thoughts. Sylas simply smiled at the white haired man. They do not know that, Percival, nor should they. Sylas purred into Percival’s mind. Don’t go running off and telling everyone about it, pup. He threatened. This got Percival to submit rather easily.
“Delilah and I were quite surprised to see that he had actually survived this disease that took his entire family.” Sylas continued with his falsified tale, an inner torment to Percival.
“Because he was only 16 and wasn’t even groomed to be a ruling lord, Sylas and I took him under our wing to finish raising him and turn him into a proper Lord of Whitestone. That’s why no one’s really ever heard from the city in so long.” Delilah justified it with a kind smile.
“I was starting to grow worried of those in Whitestone. I was going to send a few soldiers up there to ensure nothing… wrong was going on.” Uriel finally spoke.
“Other than the death of the de Rolos, the only thing that was truly going on was acclimating the people to their new Lord and Lady until Percival was ready.” Sylas chimed in.
Keyleth definitely didn’t miss the troubled glare to Sylas from Percival after this statement. She also didn’t miss the man’s fists clenching tighter, worried that, were it not for the gloves, he would start bleeding.
“As a matter of fact, Whitestone’s main export is lumber. There are these beautiful forests of trees that you can overlook from the castle. Unfortunately, none of our men are able to successfully harvest the wood in the forest thanks to the constant creature attacks. And they’re so ill equipped.” Delilah said with a fake sigh.
“Perhaps I can rally troops to follow you back to Whitestone to take care of your creature problem.” Uriel suggested.
“No need for an entire army.” Sylas waved off. “In fact, a small group with excellent fighting skills would do just fine.”
What are you plotting? Percival thought, his glare softening so as to not draw suspicion. Sylas ignored him, glancing at the young man and eyeing the glass of wine.
At least take a sip of wine, pup. Lest you draw even more suspicion unto yourself for your lack of an appetite. The lord instead said.
Obediently, Percival mumbled to himself and picked up the glass of wine and started to sip at it. “You say Percival was only 16 years old when you came to Whitestone upon the de Rolos death. He would be 22 now,” Uriel said. “Why has he not taken lordship of Whitestone?”
“Well it’s hard to cram 20 years of Lordship studies in 6 years. Not to mention the entire recovery process from his family’s death. Julius was the one that was supposed to ascend, need I remind you. Percival is a smart boy, but he is book smart, a scholar in every right. He’s also a clever inventor.” Delilah said, looking at Percival with a smile akin to a mother looking at her child.
“Do you have children of your own, Lady Briarwood?” Keyleth asked, unaware of how inappropriate the question was. She tensed and her eyes widened. “I’m so sorry, please. You don’t have to answer that.”
Delilah only smiled and waved her off. “It’s quite alright. Unfortunately we don’t have any children of our own. It seemed as though the cards were not in our favor in that department. But Sylas and I liked to think we gained a son when we took Percival in,” she said, brushing a gloved hand on Percival’s cheek in a loving way.
That seemed to finally make something in the younger man snap. The grip he had on his glass, now emptied, tightened to the point of shattering the glass, surprising all in attendance. The glass shards had pierced his hand through his gloves, and Percival clenched his fist tight to reduce the blood spillage. He immediately stood up from his chair and opened his mouth. He wanted to yell, to tell everyone in attendance that Whitestone experienced a massacre in the house of de Rolo, not an illness. He wanted to reveal his twisted relationship with the Briarwoods, how they tortured him, killed him and reborn him into a creature of the night. He wanted to cry for help in the name of the de Rolos. But all he said was “I apologize, I need to be excused.”
Lord and Lady Briarwood both stood up as well. “It seems as though it is time for us to retire for the night. I do apologize, Sovereign Uriel,” Sylas said, catching Percival’s shoulder with his strong hand to keep the young lord from straying too far. “Once again, it’s been awhile since Percival has shown his face to the public since the death of his family. I fear that bringing it up only made his anxieties worse. We’ll have to continue working on public appearances.”
And with that, the Briarwoods had guided Percival de Rolo out of the dining hall. Vox Machina never missed the tense shoulders on the white haired man, nor the tight grip from Sylas on his shoulder.
Oh this is bad. Sure, what everyone saw was two adults happily describing how they obtained their own family in a boy that lost his entire house. But what Vox Machina saw was a Lord and Lady from a distant city playing puppet master to a rich and beautiful city using the third child of the family. The one that was smart, inventive, but also close to his family. Something happened six years ago in Whitestone that went beyond a simple illness.
Vex sincerely hopes that her twin can find something incriminating on the Briarwoods. Upon thinking this, she suddenly went pale and looked over at her fellow mercenaries, whispering to them “Vax is still up there.”
Scanlan, Pike and Keyleth looked over at Vex (Grog was too invested in dessert to even notice something is wrong), before Scanlan waved his hand. “He’ll be fine, Vex. Remember, he’s invisible. So long as I keep concentrating on that, he won’t be seen.”
“Still… I can’t help but worry. He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”
“Do we even know who we’re dealing with?” Pike asked, bringing the other three to really think on the question. “We need to wait for Vax to give us some intel before we decide to make a move.”
Vex wanted to argue, wanted to say that Vax could very well be in danger and they wouldn’t even know it, but Pike was right. They had no idea who or what they were dealing with. And it was best that they didn’t engage until they had more information. The half-elf sincerely hoped that Vax was okay all the same, however. She’d never forgive herself or anyone if something awful were to happen to her twin brother.
As suspected, tucked in the second floor or Sovereign Uriel’s castle, Vax’ildan was going through the Briarwoods’ personal belongings as quietly as he could manage, which was relatively an easy feat for the rogue. He had rummaged through their trunks that had been brought in by the coachman, and on the surface, it seemed like an innocent stay in Emon. But then he noticed that the trunk contained a secret compartment, which brought him to locating the mechanisms that would open the compartment. Once he managed to get it opened, he was impressed by how… thoroughly cryptic a journal can look. Flipping through the journal, Vax squinted his eyes at language he couldn’t comprehend. It definitely wasn’t common, that’s for sure.
The more pages he flipped through, the more confused Vax became. There was something, however, written in common. It was the only thing in common it seemed.
The Whispered One.
Just as Vax read the name, he heard voices coming from outside of the room that weren’t the guards posted at the door. The half-elf tensed and he tucked the book into the inside pocket of his jacket and rearranged the clothes back into the trunk in the way he had found it.
He stood up from his crouched position and walked towards the door, devising a way to leave the room unnoticed. Just as he was going to though, the voices came closer, and Vax cursed silently as he backed away. The door swung open to Lord and Lady Briarwood harshly guiding a bleeding Percival into the room. Vax held his breath.
“Honestly, Percival, shattering a glass?” Lady Briarwood scolded. “Aren’t we a little past these temper tantrums of yours?”
“Ease up on the pup, dear.” Lord Briarwood said as he brought Percival into the room. “It wasn’t wise to bring up his family. This is his first time outside of Whitestone since everything, give him a break.”
“Please stop talking like I’m not here…” came Percival’s broken voice. Between the dinner, the public conversation of his family, and his currently bleeding hand, it was all becoming too much.
Vax watched with grim interest as Lady Briarwood walked over to the trunk and grabbed a purple vial with a dropper of some sort. He could only guess the vial contained some kind of potion of healing that doesn’t need to be ingested. “Quiet. Glove off.” Lady Briarwood demanded.
Percival let out an indignant sigh before he tenderly peeled off the bloody glove, wincing and cringing at the pain as he held his bloodied hand to Lady Delilah. The woman had loaded the dropper with the potion and began applying it to Percival’s wound, the young man wincing and hissing slightly. “There. You’re fine now.”
Lady Briarwood had then placed the vial back into the trunk. “We got what we came here for.” Lord Briarwood said. “So many willing souls ready to put everything down for Whitestone. You should feel proud, pup. Your family seems to have made a positive impact across Tal’Dorei.” Percival was quiet, hesitant to speak highly about his family in the presence of his new family. Lord Briarwood grinned, and Vax could swear that he could see fangs within the pearly whites.
Vax’s heart started pounding. These three looked like humans, acted as humans and tired as humans should. But Lord Briarwood was not human, he could now confirm it. (If he was at dinner, he’d notice that both Lord Briarwood and Percival had not even touched their food, instead opting for a glass of wine.) His suspicions (and by default, fear) were soon confirmed when he looked back at Percival and Lord Briarwood.
Staring right back at him.
One pair of eyes surprised.
The other pair delighted.
Suddenly, Vax’ildan did not feel safe.
Notes:
Next time: Vax'ildan brushes with death after being bitten and throwing himself out of the window and into the courtyard. Whispering the safe word into the earring, he only hopes that Vox Machina comes to his aid, rather than being dinner for two.
Chapter 3: A Brush with Death and the Inappropriate Interest in the Bloodsucker
Summary:
Vax was not gifted with the silver tongue. He couldn't sweet talk his way out of the Briarwoods' grasp, and fears for his life when the young Lord of Whitestone takes a taste of his blood. In a panic, he jumps out the window of the castle, whispering the safe word 'Jenga' which alerts the rest of Vox Machina. A battle ensues at the courtyard, and the mercenaries are introduced to Percival's weapon, the Pepperbox.
Notes:
Happy pride :) Here's another chapter for all your troubles!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Vax’ildan tensed in place when he saw two pairs of red eyes looking directly at him. For a moment, he thought that the invisibility spell wore off, then he reminded himself that it was Scanlan who was concentrating on this spell. So then why are Lord Briarwood and his ward looking right at him?
“What’s the matter, dears?” Lady Briarwood asked when her husband and adoptive son (?) stared off in a different direction.
“It seems as though our private quarters are not so private,” Lord Briarwood said.
Vax’s heart picked up and he swallowed a lump in his throat, terrified. He had been compromised. Once Lady Briarwood had picked up on what was going on, she let out a very ominous chuckle. “It’s a damn shame. Shouldn’t people know to leave a family alone?” Vax had no time to react, as Lady Briarwood raised up a hand, and in a flash of black and purple, Vax’s invisibility dissipated then and there.
“Uhm… goodness me, I apologize for barging in your rooms so secretively,” Vax said, his voice filled with nerves. “You.. You see, I work for the, uhm, city. I was just making sure your belongings traveled safely.”
“Mhm, and what exactly is it that you do? What is your job?” Lady Briarwood asked.
“I’m a, er… guard? I don’t really have a title for what I am. I just do my job!” When that didn’t convince the Briarwoods, Vax gulped. He slowly began inching towards the open door. “My gods, you all are beautiful.” It was low, flirting. But it got him out of a lot of harried situations. “I must be going now. Sovereign Uriel is summoning me!”
Vax immediately turned to run out of the room. He was barely to the door when he felt a surge of magic hold him down, his muscles stiffening as he was stopped in his escape. “We really didn’t want to resort to this sort of means,” Lord Briarwood said, his large and strong hands clamping down onto Vax’s stiff shoulders. The lord started dragging the half-elf back towards the center of the room, away from the now shut door. “Shall we, my darling?”
Lady Briarwood chuckled. “It’d be for the best,” she said and walked over to Percival, who up until this point, had been frozen by the bed. “Doesn’t he smell delicious, Percival.”
Vax had watched in terror, literally a conscious statue as Lord Briarwood took Percival by the shoulder and urged him over to the rogue. “A five days’ journey without feeding, a dining hall filled with delicious dignitary blood. A dining hall with strong warrior blood.” The lord whispered into the young man’s ear, and Vax could see Percival shake, and his jaw tighten. “Even I know you’re still not strong enough to resist the frenzy that comes with meeting strangers. We were going to find something quick to feed on before we disembarked tomorrow. Perhaps you need not wait longer, pup.” Vax’s eyes widened, and he tried to open his mouth to protest, to plead for his life, but even that was futile. “Feast.”
The fire coming from the mantle on one side of the room was mysteriously snuffed out. Using his darkvision though, Vax saw Percival dash over to him, and suddenly the younger male was behind him. Defenseless, Vax could only make strained noises of pain as he felt two very sharp, needle-like fangs dig into the flesh of his neck. Warm blood immediately began spilling from his neck as the Lord of Whitestone fed from him. Vax could feel the hold Lady Delilah had on him slowly fade away, and despite his blood starting to drain into the mouth of a vampire, the half-elf managed to elbow the white haired man behind him into the ribcage, effectively shoving the younger against the door, stumbling forward and bringing a hand to the puncture wound in his neck.
He caught a glimpse of the young vampire clutching his chest and glaring at him with glowing red eyes, blood dripping from his mouth. Vax would’ve found it hot were it not for the fact that it was his own blood on the boy’s fangs. The half-elf only had a few more seconds to react, so he turned and jumped out of the window, glass shattering as he touched the earring and whispered in a pained voice, “Jenga,” before crashing into the courtyard fountain.
Vax’s vision swirled with black, nausea forming in his stomach as he caught both Lord Briarwood and Lord de Rolo jumping from the window and landing so smoothly on their feet.
He sincerely hopes that his friends come and find him.
Jenga.
The safe word was whispered into Vox Machina’s ears. Vex immediately tensed up. Dessert had finished being served, the Briarwoods and Percival had since left the dining hall 15 minutes ago. The mercenaries had suspected that Vax’ildan had managed to safely evade being caught in the Briarwoods’ room. But when they heard the very pained mumble coming from the earring, they knew it can’t be good.
Vex immediately searched for Pike and Keyleth, though the druid was already taking action, shifting into an eagle and flying out of the dining hall. Pike, Grog, and Scanlan turned to Vex’ahlia for further instructions. “We need to grab our weapons and get to Vax, now!” she ordered, and the four of them rushed over to the weapons keeper, disregarding their tickets and going straight for the weapons.
Without telling the guards what was going on, (because to be fair, they don’t even know themselves) the four other members of Vox Machina intended to follow Keyleth, who had flown up the stairs towards where Vax was last seen. But just as they were halfway up the first flight of stairs, Vex had felt the pull coming from her Hunter’s Mark. The ranger paused at the stairs, causing Grog, Scanlan and Pike to stop with her. “Vax is outside… and he’s not alone. The Briarwoods are with him too!” Vex shouted and she turned to run back down the stairs.
“Okay look, why don’t I stay here and act as a distraction to keep everyone from getting suspicious?” Scanlan said.
“That could work,” Pike responded before looking at Vex.
“Fine. Distract them” Vex waved off, not giving it a second thought.
Back in the courtyard, Vax was unable to pick himself back up for the inevitable fight. Prone to the water of the fountain and bleeding profusely from his neck, the rogue could only hope that the Briarwoods and Percival left him be, figuring him to be useless. He watched as, in a striking purple and black, Lady Briarwood had descended from the secondnd story window to the courtyard, tsking.
“Even I’m smarter than interrupting a vampire feasting after 5 days without blood.” She taunts. “Normally, dear Percival hesitates and cowers over the thought of hurting another. But when his food is practically running away from him, well… an animal will hunt their prey all the same.”
Lord Briarwood stepped forward with a chuckle. “A shame really, that this is what has become of Tal’Dorei’s heroes. Helpless and prey.” he said with a booming vibrato. “Shall we try this again, pup?”
Without any question, Percival began walking over to Vax as he bled out in the fountain. Vax could no longer see the piercing red eyes from the white haired male as the moonlight cast a glare over the round, gold wired glasses.
This is it, Vax’ildan thought, gulping hard as he watched Percival approach him. This is how it’s going to end. Dinner for a vampire.
Vax shuts his eyes tightly, preparing for the young vampire to grab his neck and sink his fangs into his neck for more. And then, very faintly, he hears the screech of an eagle, and the WOOSH of feathers as a giant eagle swoops down the second story window and descends upon Percival, knocking him out of his tracks. Vax opens his eyes again, looking up with blurring vision as the eagle had screeched and moved on to Lord Briarwood, scratching at his chest with her talons.
Kiki… The half-elf thinks graciously as the bird then takes the form of his friend, Keyleth.
“Look dears, the whole team of supposed heroes have come to save the day.” Lady Briarwood said.
“It’s always fun when our dinner fights back,” Lord Briarwood said with a rumbling chuckle. “They’re really giving us an opportunity to train the pup, aren’t they? Percival, I think it’s time to put that brilliant creation of yours to good use.” The vampire reaches over his shoulder, and Vox Machina could see a sleek black blade materialize at his will.
There was a roar of rage as the goliath Grog, bearing his large ax ‘Warhammer,’ lunged at Lord Briarwood, taking the summoning of his blade as a challenge from the vampire. Grog swung the Warhammer, the blades of the ax and sword striking with a CLANG for every move made. Lord Briarwood had managed to get a few nicks in on the goliath, but Grog proved to be effective in his fighting to not be jarred by this.
Lady Briarwood decided to turn her attention and fight to Keyleth and Vex, easily countering Keyleth’s swarm of bees using her own magic to turn the swarm against the two women. But she wasn’t alone in her fight. Percival had reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a strange weapon. The mercenaries had forgotten completely what Lady Briarwood said about Percival being an inventor. He pulled the trigger of the weapon, and fired two shots at both Keyleth and Vex, only able to strike the red-haired half-elf in the shoulder. Keyleth yelled out in pain, and placed her hand on her bleeding wound.
“What the fuck is that thing…?” Vex muttered in surprise, her eyes wide as she saw the smoking barrel of the weapon.
“Do you like it? A creation of his very own kind.” Lady Briarwood chuckled. “Try not to kill them, Percival. We want them alive and off of Sylas.”
“Alive? Didn’t you want him drained only two minutes ago?” The younger lord said with a hiss, glaring at Lady Briarwood with glowing red eyes.
“That was before we knew he was a part of these mercenaries, you insolent child!”
“Both of you enough of your arguing and focus on the task at hand.” Lord Briarwood said with grunt as his sword met Grog’s ax blade.
Pike used the Briarwoods’ distraction to rush over to Vax who had lost consciousness from his blood loss and fall. “No, Vax, please stay with me,” she said softly, one hand resting on Vax’s chest while the other grasps on the symbol of Sarenrae. “Everlight, please help me.”
A soft glow emanated from her hand on Vax’s chest, as the blood slowly started receding back into his body, and the wounds he received began closing. Pike felt Vax shift beneath her hand and he opened his eyes, looking up at his gnome friend with a pained smile. “Thanks, Pickle,” he said tightly.
Pike’s attention was then turned to Lord Briarwood and Grog’s fight. The goliath had a few more deep cuts from the sword owned by the vampire, and the blood that dripped from the blade had been absorbed. Grog watched as Lord Briarwood’s blade grew with the absorption of his own blood, and it almost made the goliath jealous.
“Hang on, Grog!” Pike exclaimed, the hand she had on Vax’s chest lifting up to reach forward at Grog’s Warhammer. The hand clutching the symbol of Sarenrae tightened as her outstretched one glowed, casting a Bless on Grog’s ax and making it glow a vibrant golden color.
“Ooh! You’re the best, Pikey!” Grog said gratefully with a smile, before he turned back to Lord Briarwood with a grin and resumed their battle.
Lady Briarwood had left Keyleth and Vex at the mercy of Percival’s pepperbox before she appeared on the other side of the fountain, focusing on Pike. “This little one is far too much trouble.” She said, and a surge of Necrotic energy bursts from within her, striking Pike from behind through her back and exiting her chest. The energy had cracked the symbol of Sarenrae around her neck and practically disabled all of her magic.
Two loud cracks can be heard as Percival fired from his pepperbox, this time focusing on Vex as she had managed to hit the younger vampire with three well aimed arrows. It had further fueled Percival’s rage further, and with shaking hands he fired at Vex. The arrows brought a bad memory; the memory of losing his parents, his siblings, seeing Cassandra with arrows in her back, getting shot by Anna Ripley’s arrow which led to his death and rebirth. Arrows held a dark place in Percival’s unbeating heart. He wanted to be a sharpshooter by different means, which was how the pepperbox came to be. No arrows. Just a small bullet and black powder.
A shatter can be heard from the fountain as well, as after Pike’s magic had been snuffed out, so was the blessing upon Grog’s Warhammer. It gave Lord Briarwood the upperhand, as he struck his blade on the ax, breaking the ax head into pieces.
Lady Briarwood joined her husband and Percival, Lord Briarwood ready to swing down on Pike as he said “Your gods cannot help you now.” Keyleth had very little time to react, but with a grunt and a flourish of her hands, a hedge of vines emerged from the ground separating the Briarwoods and Vox Machina.
Lord Briarwood lets out a huff before he turned towards the approaching carriage. He opened the door for his wife and adoptive son to step in and walked over to the coachman. “I will take things from here.” Lord Briarwood hissed and tossed the boy off of the coach seat and onto the ground.
As the carriage began riding off, Lady Briarwood peeked her head out of the open carriage door. “You are all welcomed in Whitestone any time, Vox Machina. We’d love to have a more civil conversation with you,” Lady Briarwood said with a taunting laugh before shutting the carriage door.
Vox Machina could only helplessly watch as the Briarwoods disappeared from Uriel’s castle.
Vax was helped up from the water and supported by his twin. He was still reeling from everything that occurred over the course of 10 minutes. Or was it 20 minutes? Either way, he couldn’t help but think of the way each of the Briarwoods treated Percival. Clearly, there was still some sort of fight in the man, if what he saw in the bedroom was telling. It seemed as though Lady Briarwood didn’t have a strong hold on Percival, with how passive aggressive she was with him, and how much they argued on the battlefield. Lord Briarwood seemed to be the more dominant of the two, easily swaying Percival with a few candied words. The way the older vampire would grip Percival’s shoulder in a commanding way, the pressure Lord Briarwood would instill on the younger. Vax remembered the surprised look on Percival’s face when he caught the half-elf in his invisibility state. It looked almost…
Scared.
Scared for what was to come for Vax if Lord Briarwood found out… when Lord Briarwood found out. Percival was tense and nervous for Vax when he was under Lady Briarwood’s hold, when Lord Briarwood dragged him back to the center of the room. Then came the silver tongue, the sweetly spoken words from the older vampire into the younger vampire’s ear. The reminder that it was a 5 days’ journey to Emon from Whitestone, and the younger was hungry . It only drove Percival off the edge of sanity and into a frenzy.
That’s what Vox Machina saw. They saw a damaged young man teetering off the edge into a hunger frenzy. He had gotten a taste of Vax’s blood, and wasn’t going to stop fighting until he got his fill.
It only made Vax worry for the Lord of Whitestone.
The carriage was barrelling down the road as fast as the horses could go out of Emon. Percival was hunched over himself, arms around his torso where one of the arrows had struck him. His mind was spiraling, his throat burning. He could still taste the blood from the half-elf, the one that slipped away from him. Percival kept a whine from escaping his lips, opting instead to watch Delilah rummage through the trunk, opening the secret compartment.
“Where is it? It’s not here!” Delilah growled. “Sylas! Stop the carriage!”
Percival felt the carriage jolt into a stop, and the boy winced as he slightly lurched forward, aggravating his wound. “What is it, Delilah?” Sylas asked as he halted the horses.
“The book is not here. The one for the ritual.” Delilah moved to open the carriage door and stepped out. “That half-elf from Emon took it. He had to have taken it.” Percival also stepped out of the carriage with another wince. Delilah looked at him and glared. “You should have drained him instead of letting him push you off.”
Offended with the mixed orders, Percival glared at Delilah. “Didn’t you just say earlier during the fight that Vox Machina should be left alive? Why are you going back on your word again?” he hissed.
“Don’t you dare use that tone with me, boy.” Delilah threatened, grasping Percival by the chin harshly. “You are only still alive because my husband allowed this. You live because your mind is still brilliant. It’s why you still have your will. If it were up to me, I would have left you on the hill with your sister to die.”
This struck a chord with Percival. Delilah was still human, with fresh blood flowing through her. All he had to do was pounce at her and drain her from her life. But Sylas, ever the savior, stepped in between his wife and Percival. “Enough. Your bickerings are getting worse.” Sylas hissed. His wife stood as always, ever defiantly. Percival on the other hand, shrunk in on himself submissively, much to his dismay. He hated that he had this bond with Sylas.
After the older vampire turned him six years ago, Percival felt almost a string tether him to Sylas. He relied a lot on the older vampire to keep him calm, away from harm, and more importantly (and disgustingly) he saw Sylas as a father figure.
“You need to feed now, before the sun rises.” Sylas told Percival, and the boy meekly nodded in agreement.
“Find a cemetery, feed the undertaker to the boy, while I make preparations to get my book back.” Delilah said with a huff, turning to go back to the carriage. “Perhaps we’ll lead Vox Machina to Whitestone. Plenty of sacrifice options to choose from.”
Sylas turned to Percival. “Get in the carriage. We shouldn’t be too far out from a cemetery,” he ordered the boy, and the white haired male nodded and climbed back into the carriage. He had calmed down significantly, pliant. Good. It was best for him to stay that way. Sylas turned to go back to the front of the carriage, continuing on their journey to the cemetery.
At Greyskull Keep back in Emon, Vox Machina recovered from their night of hell. After the Briarwoods fled, the guards had finally arrived at the courtyard, but not to help them. Sovereign Uriel had said that Vox Machina would be under the confines of Greyskull Keep for attacking the esteemed guests from Whitestone. After trying to defend themselves, saying the Briarwoods, specifically Percival, attacked first, it was clear that Uriel wasn’t willing to hear them out.
Vex worried that Lord Briarwood may have done something to Sovereign Uriel that made him either too trusting of the Briarwoods, or distrusting of Vox Machina. Either way, they were confined to their keep until Uriel can “investigate” the Briarwoods.
Pike was all out of energy to heal Vax any further, so Keyleth took over until the half-elf was at least able to keep himself standing on his own. Vax rubbed at his neck where the Lord of Whitestone had bitten him. Even though there was no pain, he still winced and flinched when he grazed his fingers over the puncture wounds. “I feel different. I’m not turning into a vampire am I?” Vax asked in a panic. Vex’ahlia gave her twin an amused smirk before pointing to the window, where Vax saw his own peering back at him. He flushed in embarrassment and cleared his throat. “I retract my statement.” Vax then remembered about the journal he managed to swipe from the trunk, and he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled it out. “Oh, I managed to snag this from the Briarwoods. Can’t really read what’s in it, written in a language I can’t understand.” Vax set the book on the table. “Don’t suppose one of you can decipher it?”
Scanlan snorted and waved Vax off. “Pshh, allow the actual smart person to do this,” he said and took the book into his hands. “Of course, this is going to take me a bit of time to actually translate because, uh, well… it’s a uh… big book.”
“It’s not like we’re going anywhere anytime soon,” Keyleth said with a heavy sigh. “I can’t believe Sovereign Uriel wouldn’t listen to us about the Briarwoods.”
“He might not be open to it,” Vex said. “I have a feeling, if what Vax said is true and Lord Briarwood and Lord de Rolo are vampires, there is a possibility that Uriel is being controlled by one of them.”
“Which means we’d have to kill them to free him, and ultimately, all of Tal’Dorei.” Vax said, taking a deep breath.
“Wait so… does that mean we’ll be traveling to Whitestone. Taking their invitation for certain death?” Scanlan asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Only way we could actually stop the Briarwoods,” Vex said.
“I’m in. Only problem we’ve got right now is our arrest.” Keyleth said. “How would we even get to Whitestone while we’re, you know, under house arrest?”
There was silence in the kitchen as the mercenaries pondered on the druid’s question. It would be difficult to escape the confines of Greyskull Keep, especially with the amount of guards posted up outside the keep’s walls. “I mean… there could be some super secret underground dugeon-y pathway that we may not know about?” Scanlan said finally.
“Do we actually have that…?” Keyleth asked and looked at the twins; Vex looked as though she wanted to smack herself at not thinking that idea first. “Vax?”
“Right… I’m on it.” With a heavy sigh, Vax left the kitchen to do some investigating.
The cemetery posed a solution for two different problems. For Percival, he was able to drain the blood from some unsuspecting undertaker the moment they entered. It was amusing to Sylas, like unleashing a puppy for playtime. The moment Percival spotted the undertaker, he wasted no time in pouncing on the man and sinking his fangs into his neck, starting to drain his blood. For Delilah, she was able to use a few of the souls locked in their graves to reanimate them. “Search for the book. Bring it back to me. No matter the cost,” the woman commanded, and four ghouls fled towards the direction they came from.
Sylas approached his wife and gently placed his hands on her shoulders and rubbed small circles with his thumbs. “Do not worry, my love. I have a feeling, whether or not the ghouls find the book, that we’ll be getting it regardless. These… heroes of Tal’Dorei, I feel, may be foolish enough to make their way to Whitestone.” The vampire lord then looked towards Percival who was making his way back over to the two. “And we have a pup who would take all the hits for us willingly. Anything to protect his family .”
As Percival approached Sylas and Delilah, he heard the end part of their conversation. “What were you two talking about?” He asked cautiously, still very afraid of what the Briarwoods have in store for him.
“Nothing, Percival, dear. Just talking about how we’re a family,” Delilah said, a sweetness in her voice. She gently places her hand on Percival’s face in a matronly manner.
“And how families always protect each other, no matter what.” Sylas added, one of his hands moving from Delilah’s shoulder to gently brush Percival’s cheek with his knuckles.
The gentle touch from the Briarwoods made Percival weak. He missed this touch from his parents. The de Rolos were never affectionate, but he always was able to obtain some form of affection from his parents. He may have been the third child, a middle child at best, but he was a spoiled boy. And for the Briarwoods to use this to their advantage, use his desires for physical affection, he should be fighting it. But it’s been so long. And he needed this.
Percival closes his eyes, and leaned his head into their hands to chase their affection.
A brush from Sylas’ thumb on his cheek made his mind crumble.
Notes:
Next time: The Briarwoods and Percival return to Whitestone, where Percival dives back into his workshop and neglects his own health. Somewhere in Whitestone, a revolution was forming, lead by a former employee of the de Rolos, and the once-thought-dead youngest de Rolo.
Feel free to comment and leave a Kudos <3
Chapter 4: Whitestone
Summary:
The Briarwoods and Percival return to Whitestone, where we catch a glimpse of the 'normal' life of the castle. Percival is reminded of who owns him, who he currently is, before he dives deep into his work, neglecting food and sleep.
Somewhere in Whitestone, the Rebellion is devising an operation to liberate the castle.
Notes:
WEEEWOOOWEEEWOOO new chapter alert! This one's a wee bit shorter than the rest, but it's more of the inner workings of the castle life :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Despite having taken 5 days to get to Emon, with the speed Sylas made the horses travel 3 days back to Whitestone. It was honestly impressive how they were able to return to the castle by nightfall on the third day. Once the carriage approached the front of the castle, several servants approached, one of them opening the door, while a few others took their belongings after Delilah and Percival stepped out.
“Companions and servants of the house,” Sylas said in his booming voice after he stepped down from the coach’s seat, drawing the attention from the servants. “A new age is coming upon Whitestone. Very soon, we’ll be visited by outsiders from Emon. Keep your eyes opened for anyone coming from Emon.”
There were a few mutterings of agreement from the servants before they continued what they were doing. Sylas walked over to his wife and offered up his arm to her as they entered the castle with Percival.
The castle of Whitestone was… sad. After the death of the de Rolo family, any remnants of the family were taken down. Paintings of the children had been removed, save for those of Percival. New paintings of the Briarwoods were added. Even a “family” painting of Sylas, Delilah, and a 17 year old Percival was the largest portrait on display for all to see.
It was a sick reminder for Percival of what the Briarwoods were doing; stripping away who he was and being molded into what they wanted him to be. He was still Percival de Rolo III, it will never change, the Briarwoods made sure that he had this. But that was all in the name he had. He was, by force, a Briarwood. And so long as Sylas walked the earth, Percival was bound and tethered to the older vampire’s control.
Percival looked up at the displayed portrait of him and the Briarwoods, grimacing at how he looked. Due to his vampiric state he was unable to see his reflection, and he never really saw what he looked like since that fateful night. He remembered himself having brown hair like his mother, sea blue eyes like his father and other siblings. Staring up at the portrait now, he was a far-cry from the boy. Paler skin, white hair, piercing red eyes, and a perpetual frown showed Percival a young man riddled with nightmares, pain, and the desire for a family. A desire for his family.
The de Rolo family.
This young man that he was staring at in the portrait was, as much as he hated it, a Briarwood by force.
A pair of large hands clamped down firmly on Percival’s shoulders, the boy flinching and tensing up. “You always seem so surprised that this is you.” Sylas’ smooth voice rattled in his ear, and Percival could feel the bass of his voice vibrating against him. “Like you could never get over how much you’ve changed, how unlike a de Rolo you’ve become.” Percival squirmed beneath Sylas’ grip. The older vampire growled, and harshly turned Percival around to face him. One hand moved from the boy’s shoulder to grasp onto his chin tightly. At that moment, Percival felt fear. Were his heart still beating, it likely would’ve skipped several beats at the sudden aggression. “You are only a de Rolo to avoid suspicion, pup. I can’t have anyone in Tal’Dorei think the de Rolo met their demise through other means. Outside of Whitestone you are Percival de Rolo, but within the confines of this castle, you are a Briarwood. Understand?” The question hung in the air, the tension thick. It was only about 3 seconds of silence before Sylas tightened his grip on Percival’s jaw. “ Understand ?”
Percival whimpered and nodded his head frantically, his hands moving up to pry the harsh grip off his chin. “Within the confines of this castle, Percival, what are you?” Sylas demanded.
“A… A Briarwood.” Percival said, turning his eyes away from Sylas.
“You should be grateful, pup. After all, between you and your six siblings, your parents had very little affection to give.” Sylas’ toxic words were spoken with a sort of honey to them. It was gentle, inviting. “Delilah and I would be solely focusing on you. Our affection is yours. Our gentleness, if you earn it, yours. Your previous parents would never let you have a workshop for fear that you’d hurt yourself.” This was… not entirely false.
Percival was 14 when he had asked his parents if he could turn one of the vacant rooms downstairs into a forge, a workshop. Of all seven of the de Rolo children, Percival was the one that liked to tinker. His parents, however, refused to turn a room into a forge because they feared that Percival was too young to handle molten metal.
“ We give you that privilege because we want you to be comfortable.” Sylas said, his grip easing up on the boy’s jaw. “We give you rewards because we love you. And we wish to see you happy, see you thrive.” The older vampire grinned when he felt Percival relax, his hands letting go of Sylas’ wrist. Sylas completely released the boy, pulling his hand back. “Now, we must get down to business, pup. As of now, Delilah is trying her very best to obtain the book that half-elf stole. I’ve no doubt that he and that group of mercenaries will try to infiltrate Whitestone, perhaps in an attempt to kill us. When this happens, Percival, I need you to stay within your chambers.”
“Wouldn’t that be one of the most obvious places they’ll look?” Percival asked, skeptical that Sylas would even suggest that he lock himself in his chamber.
“They will be more obligated to chase down Delilah and I. Once we set the trail for them, like lemming they will fall into our trap. The ritual will be held when the stars align, and the Whispered One will rise.” Sylas spoke proudly, flourishing his hand and gesturing out the window, where the stars in the sky twinkled brightly. He then turned back to Percival, and his hand once again found the young man’s face, but it was gentle, affectionate, intoxicating that Percival couldn’t help but lean into the touch. “And we will be blessed. All of Tal’Dorei will bow before us, before you and many will respect you. No more shall we need to fear for our lives from hunters who would drive a stake through your heart without considering all you’ve been through. No more shall we hunt for our next feed, when people will come at the beck and call of their masters.”
Sylas brushed his thumb gently across Percival’s cheek bone. He grinned when the younger’s eyes fluttered at the attention. “We will be a proper family, fully protected by the Whispered One. You will have all you ever desire.” The vampire lord brought Percival closer to kiss the top of his head, as a father would to his young child. “ That is why I need you to keep yourself in your chambers when the time comes. Hide yourself in your coffin if you need to. But I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to you.”
The promise was set in stone. Percival fully trusted Sylas and Delilah to protect him, to make up for what they did to his family. If they were going to convince everyone, including himself, that they were his new family, they needed to show him that they meant it. And Sylas’ honeyed words were enough to get Percival’s full submission. The younger vampire looked up at Sylas after he had finished explaining the full extent of his plans, and the boy gave him a nod in acknowledgement. Sylas smiled and he dropped his hand from the boy’s cheek. “Good. You are dismissed. And remember, do not forget. What are you to all of Tal’Dorei?”
“A de Rolo…” Percival responded.
“And what are you within the walls of this castle?” Sylas urged.
“A Briarwood…” came the solemn reply.
Sylas hummed, before he nodded, fully dismissing the boy. Percival swallowed and turned to leave down the stairs to his workshop that the Briarwoods had so graciously given him.
How could he truly deny his fate when he was spared from the clutches of the Raven Queen? How could he hate who he was when he was given the chance to thrive, to be in his element?
He could only hate who he was a little, for he was the de Rolo that got to live.
Percival spent an ungodly amount of time in his workshop, especially when his mind was occupied with several thoughts. He often forgot that, when the sun rose, he should head to sleep. But after a week of being away from Whitestone and dealing with the nuisance that was Vox Machina, Percival wanted to keep himself distracted with his work.
He sat at his work bench with his Pepperbox laid at the table, a blueprint of the weapon’s design in front of him and a stick of graphite in his hand. He roughly sketched out a new design for a weapon to pack a bigger punch. Its design was meant to scope in to accurately target an enemy, using black powder to give it its powerful blow. Unfortunately for Percival, it was still in its rough stages, and he had no room to test it out. Confined to the walls of the castle, Percival couldn’t even use the giants out in the city as his target practice. It would draw too much attention, and the Briarwoods would not approve of it.
Percival sighed heavily, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose as he felt his vision swirl black. Placing the glasses back on, he turned towards the clock at the wall and noticed the time. 5:34, the clock read, though he wasn’t sure if it was evening, or just before dawn. Judging by the exhaustion and his blackening vision, he would have to guess that he stayed past daytime. Sighing, he sat up straight and winced when he felt the bones of his back crack as he arched it. His hunger should have been an indicator to just how long he had been holed up in his workshop. Normally, a hunger frenzy doesn’t happen until a few days after his last feeding. The last feed he had was that undertaker in the cemetery during their retreat from Emon. And that was three nights ago. Well, maybe 4 nights ago considering he worked far longer than he realized.
That familiar burning in his throat was prevalent again. Typical of him to neglect basic needs like feeding and sleep.
He stood from his stool at his workbench, stumbling slightly at the light headedness and hunger he felt. With a whining groan, Percival left his workshop, noticing that the thick curtains were drawn over the windows in the hallway. So it was evening. It made sense. He tended to work overtime, and it wasn’t as if he needed sleep.
One of the great things about vampirism is that sleep was scarce. Sure it was best to sleep and replenish with blood when seriously hurt, and from time to time, it was necessary to sleep to conserve energy. But considering Percival was practically in a gilded cage within the walls of his home in Whitestone, there was simply no need for him to conserve energy. He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon if what Sylas said was true. He was just ridiculously starving now.
“Percival, dear, what are you doing up?” He heard Delilah’s voice ask him. He turned to look at her and swallowed. “The sun hasn’t gone down yet, and you haven’t slept in nearly a week.”
“I, uhm… I seem to have neglected my basic needs in favor of working,” Percival said sheepishly. “I hadn't realized I had been so caught up in my work that I was… starting to become ravenous.”
Delilah sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. “Sylas isn’t awake to supervise you, and I highly doubt he would want me to step in as an intervention.” She thought for a moment before looking at Anders, who had become a fulltime servant of the Briarwoods. “Professor Anders,” she called. The name made the hairs on the back of Percival’s neck stand, and the boy turned his head to look at the plump man. “Can you perhaps go down to the dungeons to see if there are any traitors left for the boy to feast on? It seems the pup neglected his needs.”
“Of course, my lady. Anything for my masters,” Anders said, his voice sending chills down Percival’s spine. Ever since Delilah gifted him with the silver tongue, a literally tongue of silver able to control people’s minds with a few words. Since the night of the de Rolos’ death, and the turning of Percival, the young man decided to keep his distance from his former professor.
Percival watched as Anders walked past him and down to the dungeons. He watched as the man gave a wicked and perverse grin as he walked by, and Percival grimaced, cowering slightly and moving closer to Delilah. “Oh relax, dearest. You know Anders means well to the Briarwoods.”
“I’m not sure how easily I can trust him…” Percival muttered, flinching slightly when Delilah’s hand came to gently rest under his chin. “Lady Delilah-”
“Ah-ah! None of that ‘lady’ formalities, pup,” she interrupted with a smile. “You know the proper term for me.”
A beat.
Percival has never ever used the desired term the Briarwoods want him to call them. That was just something he could never bring himself to do. But reminding himself of the talk Sylas had with him, the big plans set out for him, Percival decided to bite the bullet. “ Mother … Please don’t come near me. Not while I’m this way.”
Delilah smiled, setting her hand down. “Of course, pup. I keep forgetting about Sylas’ little rule while you’re this way,” she teased lightly and stepped away from Percival. After about ten more minutes, (ten more minutes of his throat burning in an agonizing way), Anders returned with a squirming page boy, cuffed and bruised.
Percival looked at the boy, his next meal , and the burning in his throat only flared up as he heard the rapid heartbeat from the page boy. He hissed, instincts kicking in as he all but lunged forward, grabbing at the boy’s shirt collar. Delilah watched with morbid fascination as Percival sunk his fangs into the boy’s neck and started draining him from his blood.
The difference between the page boy and that half-elf from Emon was clear as day. This page boy was kept in the dungeons for insubordination after nearly driving a stake through Sylas’ heart. Rather than killing him then and there, Sylas granted him mercy by tossing him in a cell. The next time Percival was in desperate need of a feed, the page boy would be the perfect meal. Spending months with little to eat can break the fight within. Meanwhile, the half-elf was healthy, skilled in stealth, and already an experienced fighter. Breaking out of Percival’s fangs was challenging but not entirely difficult. But that half-elf managed to do it with a well placed elbow to the sternum. It was only meager proof that Percival was by no means a fighter, which made it all the more important for him to stay within the castle of Whitestone.
Delilah watched as the page boy, now pinned to the ground with Percival on top of him like an animal, stopped squirming. She could see the boy’s skin going pale, the blood drained completely from his body. Percival finally retracted his fangs from the page boy’s neck and lapped at the remaining blood with his tongue, satisfied with his fill. He let out a contented sigh and stood back up from the ground, fixing himself and wiping the spilt blood from around his mouth.
“I always marvel at how carried away you get. Anders, get rid of the body.” Delilah said, waving the man off.
“Yes, ma’am.” Professor Anders said and grabbed the body by the shirt, unceremoniously dragging the corpse away.
“And you,” Delilah addressed Percival. “You need a bath and then you need rest. No ifs, no ands, and no buts.”
Percival was reminded of the tone his mother would often use with him and all of his siblings. He tried not to crumble at this, his mind and hunger satiated which caused this trancelike state. “Yes mother,” he said, exhaustion and satisfaction in his voice.
He turned towards the stairs and started making his way up to the washroom where he would clean himself as told, and then head into his chambers to sleep for the rest of the evening.
Somewhere within the dilapidated city of Whitestone, amongst the giants that roamed the streets, and the Pale Guards surrounding the area, a rebellion was being led by the son of a former cook in the de Rolo castle as well as the remaining de Rolo child. After the attempted escape from the clutches of Anna Ripley, Cassandra de Rolo had been shot in the back by two arrows. By some miracle, she had passed out from blood loss, and was then dumped into the freezing river below. The cold water snapped her right awake, and she clung on desperately to the river bank. She pulled herself out of the water and crawled away from the edge. Cassandra was then founded by Keeper Yennen, who brought Cassandra home and healed the girl of her injuries. After Cassandra told the story of what happened to her family, what Percy had to endure from Doctor Ripley, and what inevitably became of him, Keeper Yennen mourned. She pitied the girl and held her close in her arms.
After recovering from her injuries, Cassandra had given what information she had on the Briarwoods and Anna Ripley. How they tortured Percy to get information out of him. How he never really knew what they were talking about and kept torturing him until she got them out of the cell.
She was 13 years old when all of this happened.
Now at 19 years old, Cassandra de Rolo co-lead the Whitestone Rebellion. With the information they had on Sylas being a vampire, Delilah being a wicked enchantress, and Percy himself being a vampire, Archie had mapped out the secret entryways into the castle through the prison manned by Sir Kerrion Stonefell and Duke Goran Vedmire.
While the plan was simple enough, they didn’t want to get too cocky. If they rushed into the plan, they were bound to be caught. If there were more than two vampires in the castle, they’d likely be a feast. If there was an army waiting for them, they were horribly outmanned. They needed to plan this right.
“Remember, Percy’s in there. I’m not sure of the state that he’s in but it cannot be good.” Cassandra gently reminded Archie.
“If we find Percy, we will get him out of that place. You will be able to reclaim Whitestone.” Archie said.
“But we need time. We need time, we need people, and we need support.”
“We’ll give it all we got, Cass. I promise.”
Cassandra sighed softly and looked back down at the map of Whitestone castle. It was extremely detailed from top to bottom thanks to Cassandra and Archie’s memory. Her index finger light grazed the image of one of the rooms located in the castle; Percival’s chambers.
Don’t worry, Percy. We’ll save you. I promise.
Notes:
Next Time: Vox Machina venture outside of Emon and travel to Whitestone, where they meet Keeper Yennen, the Whitestone Rebellion, and Cassandra de Rolo.
don't forget to leave a comment or a kudos :)
Chapter 5: A Little Bit Dangerous
Summary:
Vox Machina head to Whitestone after a series of undead attacks fell upon Greyskull Keep. Once at Whitestone, they meet Keeper Yennen, and the once thought dead Cassandra de Rolo.
Notes:
Yet another chapter out. Sorry this one took a little bit long to get out <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
One thing that Uriel’s guards did not consider when it came to keeping vox Machina under house arrest in Greyskull Keep was if any imminent threat came to Emon, the little army Uriel had would most likely be severely unequipped to fight it off. And true to their fears, a mysterious occurrence of undead ghouls began to infiltrate the walls around Greyskull Keep, corrupting the guards that were spread around the perimeter. Captain Jarett had rushed into the keep and aggressively questioned Vox Machina, but when he was met with confusion and fear, his anger shifted from them to the unholy ghouls.
The ghouls had one thing on their mind and that was grabbing the journal that Scanlan was still trying to decipher, and a very ill equipped Vox Machina had to figure out exactly how to defeat them. They relied on Keyleth to figure something out, they relied on Keyleth to hone in on her earthly powers. Between her self-doubt, and the screaming and painful grunts of her friends, Keyleth panicked under an overturned table. She watched as her friends practically spewed out black goo from their mouths, eyes, noses and ears. It was horrifying. She didn’t know what to do.
“Kiki,” breathed a struggling Vax, grabbing her attention. “Please… Now is the time to do something.”
Keyleth looked at him, her eyes wide and worried as these ghouls practically drowned her friends with their necrotic energy. Then she remembers; they originally took out the Keep’s light sources before entering and going for the book. She knew what she had to do. The half-elven woman focused her energy outwards, and created a big ball of pure light. It was bright enough to light the room.
Where nighttime was outside Greyskull Keep, inside the kitchen, Daylight was coursing through Keyleth’s fingertips. The ghouls burned and screeched, flying to the closed doors and banging their heads against the wood. With this distraction of pain, Vox Machina and Captain Jarett picked themselves off from where they were pinned and sprung into action. Vax whipped out Flametongue and threw it at the head of one of the ghouls. Vex rolled to her bow, grabbing an arrow and drawing it back, releasing and letting the arrow fly at another ghoul.
With the screeching and bubbling ghouls being slaughtered one by one by the weapons of Vox Machina, Greyskull Keep was now silent, and Keyleth’s burning Daylight shimmered and dimmed, her energy absolutely spent.
“Alright… I’ll be the first one to ask this,” Scanlan broke the silence after a few minutes of their stunned silence. “What the fuck were those?”
“Not sure,” Vex muttered as she looked at the corpse of the ghoul. “But considering they perished under Daylight, likely they were sent by the Briarwoods.”
An eerie understanding bled through the air as Pike kicked at one of the corpses. “So you all really think the Briarwoods did this?” Jarett asked, grasping all of their attention.
“As sure as we are when killing dragons,” Grog said, cleaning the blade of his ax.
“Then you might need to head to Whitestone soon.”
“Wait but what about our house arrest?” Keyleth asked after coming out of her initial shock.
“If it’s as you say, and the Briarwoods have taken hostage of Sovereign Uriel’s mind, then it’s best if you all make haste. Protect Tal’Dorei as you have done before. I will inform Uriel what has transpired after you all have left.” Jarett had begun to walk out of the kitchen towards the main hallway. “Do me a favor, Vox Machina, do not make me regret this decision. Liberate Whitestone.”
The large double doors swung close, echoing loudly in the now quiet keep. The mercenaries all turned to each other.
“I guess… We’re going to Whitestone.” Keyleth said with a hint of nervousness in her voice.
Which brings them to now. After narrowly escaping yet another onslaught of the undead, losing the book to them, and their caravan, Vox Machina found themselves face to face with Whitestone. It was gray, overcast and sad looking for a city that was so well respected in all of Tal’Dorei. The large tree that stood parallel to the enormous castle… was dying. A fact that pained Keyleth.
The place was overrun with sad faced humans and halflings, Pale Guards at almost every corner, and the occasional giant or two stomping around looking for any rebels. There was a prison that was heavily guarded. And of course, at the far end of the city, the castle, which stood impressively intimidating as it casts a shadow over Whitestone.
The city was in deeper trouble than anyone really thought. Has this happened in the six years since the de Rolo family’s passing? If so, then the de Rolos were a family to applaud, because the city looks, for lack of a better term, shitty under the Briarwoods.
“This place has seen better days…” Scanlan muttered. “Whitestone used to be this amazing beautiful city and that tree used to be so full of life.” A few eyes from the group turned to the gnome. “Whatever happened here…. It definitely was not just a disease that killed a family.”
“Scanlan, I think it’s best that we keep this talk to a very minimal,” Vex whispered as she looked around. “We don’t know who works for the Briarwoods, and whoever does work for them, they’re definitely dangerous to deal with.”
“Vex is right. We need to lay low until we can find someone trustworthy.” Vax said.
“Trust is hard to find these days in Whitestone,” a gentle voice said, and all of Vox Machina froze. Tensely, with their weapons close at hand, they turned to the voice. Standing before them was a hooded woman, her dark skin wrinkled with age. “Please, follow me. It’ll be easier to talk to you away from the Pale Guards.”
There was no movement from Vox Machina. “No offense, but you did just say that trust is hard to find here… so why on Earth should we trust you?” Vex’ahlia asked.
“You’re the ones that are called Vox Machina, correct? Then perhaps you could help our rebellion in taking back Whitestone from the Briarwoods.” It was low, the declaration, but loud enough for the more keen members of Vox Machina to hear. She then turned and gestured for them to follow, beginning to walk to a building on the outskirts of the city. “The Whitestone Rebellion had been planning for liberation for as long as the Briarwoods had taken over the city. We have members here that worked closely with the de Rolos just before their tragic slaughter.”
“Wait, slaughter?” Keyleth asked with a shaky voice.
“I knew something was off,” Scanlan muttered.
“Can you… Tell us more?” Vex’ahlia asked.
The woman held up her hand. “All will be revealed very shortly-”
“Keeper Yennen,” a voice from behind the woman interrupted. Again, Vox Machina were on edge. There was a girl, young, perhaps 18 or 19, with short brown hair that had a white streak at the bangs, and pale blue eyes. “Who are these people?”
“Cassandra, these are potential heroes. Vox Machina, this is Lady Cassandra de Rolo.” The woman, now known as Keeper Yennen, explained.
“De Rolo…? But… the Briarwoods said that all the de Rolos were dead, that only the third child lives.” Vex said.
“There’s a lot of lies the Briarwoods have been telling; that being one of them. Keeper Yennen, are you sure it’s safe to tell them?” Cassandra asked. Yennen looked at the young girl with a solemn smile that was enough of an answer. She sighed and looked at the mercenaries. “Six years ago, my family, the de Rolos, hosted Lord and Lady Briarwood for dinner. We all waited in the dining hall for them. It was a peaceful evening at first. I was sat by my father’s left side, my elder sister Vesper at his right. The oldest, Julius, was bringing another glass of wine for my father and Vesper. The twins were fooling around, with the youngest as well. Percival was seated with our mother at the head of the table. It…” Cassandra trailed off, obviously in pain for what was to come. “Everyone was so happy. It was supposed to be a happy day for Whitestone and Wildemount.
“Then the slaughter began. I had no idea what happened first, the knife to my father’s back or the arrows sticking out of my mother’s neck. Vesper tried running for the doors to scream for help, but she was thrown against the wall. Julius was the first of us to go down after our parents. And I remember so vividly… Percy, just running out to get help. I tried to follow, but then I was grabbed. I don’t remember who it was, and suddenly I see Professor Anders throw Percy down in the dining hall, the Briarwoods forcing him to look at the bodies of our family. I was taken away after that.
“Then came the month of torture. Doctor Anna Ripley and the Briarwoods wanted information. And they thought Percy had it, so they tried torturing it out of him. I was never in the room for the first week of it, but then I was brought in as a motivation. Still, to this day, I never knew what kind of information they wanted from Percy. He was smart, bloody intelligent, but he was never knowledgeable in the secrets of the castle. That belonged to Julius, as he was the heir. But because Julius was older and able to fight back, they killed him and believed Percy was the easiest target.
“After a month of relentless torture, I snuck out of my room and freed Percy from his cell and we made a break for it. We would’ve made it too, had Doctor Ripley not shot us down. I thought for sure I was dead. I had to watch Sylas Briarwood drain the life out of Percy, and I thought… I thought I was next. When I woke up, it was only because I felt the freezing water of the river below. And Keeper Yennen managed to find me. I didn’t know what became of Percy until recently. There were whispers from the families nearest the castle that they had seen someone else outside of the usual servants. They believe it was Percy.”
Silence. An agonizing and painful silence. Keyleth had not realized it, but she had tears brimming her eyes. Grog looked as though he wanted to murder something, or someone . Scanlan looked like he wanted to throw up. Vex was a mixture of Keyleth and Grog, ready to murder with tears in her eyes. And Vax… Well he was stunned silent.
What kind of sick and twisted people would prey on two children? The Briarwoods.
“Well, you’re definitely right about that,” Vax finally said. “Percival… er, or Percy as you call him, definitely is alive… He’s just one of them.”
“So it’s true then… Percy’s a vampire…” Cassandra said and looked at Keeper Yennen. “We’re too late…”
“We might not be too late, yet, child. There’s a possibility we could still save Percival.” Keeper Yennen said. “I’ve read things about vampires. But that was long ago. I would need to brush up on my reading.”
“Forgive me, Keeper Yennen, but we do not have time to brush up on reading.” Vex’ahlia said. “After my brother was bitten by Percival-”
“Oh gods, he bit you?!” Cassandra asked, her face paling as she looked over at Vax.
“It was just that… it was just a bite, thankfully” Vax said with a heavy sigh. “He didn’t drain too much, and I needed to get out of there so I jumped out a window. After the Briarwoods and your brother left Emon, we went to a temple to seek help.”
“The cleric in the temple told us that Vax was lucky. Vampirism usually takes a couple of feedings to the point of near death.” Vex explained. “The cleric also said that the vampire, which we know is your brother, didn’t aim to turn him. He aimed to drain him fully.”
“ Gods , please forgive me. Please forgive Percy. He’s… He’s likely not in a good state of mind.” Cassandra apologized on her brother’s behalf.
“Which means, as stated before, we have very little time to waste. Lady Cassandra, any word from Archibald?” Keeper Yennen asked the young woman.
“That’s… That’s what I came to report to you about, Keeper Yennen,” Cassandra said and looked at all of Vox Machina. “Archie is a member of the rebellion. He actually was the one to start it, and gathered up everyone who wants to reestablish the de Rolo rulings.” She explained and turned back to Keeper Yennen. “He’s been captured. Currently, he’s in a cell in Duke Vedmire’s prison. He was caught by Stonefell, but he does have information. Lots of it. Which means we need to get him out.”
“Well, this definitely sounds like a job for the one and only, Vox Machina,” Scanlan finally said, a cocky grin drawn on his face. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We are a perfectly capable team of mercenaries able to get in and get out with no one noticing we were ever there.”
“Is that what we’re calling Vax?” Vex asked with a smirk to her twin, who rolled his eyes. “Well I’m not quite sure if we’d avoid being seen, but we can definitely get out with your friend alive.”
Cassandra looked at the mercenaries. They all seemed capable enough, but she was still wary of a possible ambush. “You should probably take a few more members from the rebellion. We’ve got skilled fighters, probably not to your level, but still a good number to stand a chance against the Pale Guards.”
“Oooh as long as I get to smash some heads in, I don’t care who comes along!” Grog said with a strange morbid joy in him.
“Yes, Grog. We promise we’ll let you do a bit of slaughtering if it comes down to that,” Vex said and smirked at the goliath’s childlike joy.
Cassandra felt the corners of her mouth turn upwards a bit. These strangers are willing to put their lives on the line, help her liberate her city, and most importantly, save her brother’s soul. Her heart twisted and ached at the thought of possibly saving her older brother.
Don’t worry, Percy. Help is coming.
When Sir Stonefell approached the Briarwoods at dinner and explained that there was a rebellion happening somewhere in the city, Sylas thought it was adorable. A rebellion for what? To bring back the de Rolos? As far as anyone knew, there were no de Rolos left in Whitestone. Nevermind the fact that Percival would be reintroduced to society.
“And how did you come about this information?” Delilah asked after Sylas had finished his chuckle-fest.
“Caught one of them rebels. He’s currently in Vedmire’s prison, regretting his decisions.” Kerrion said with a humorless laugh. “Apparently, he used to work in the castle when the de Rolos still lived. A friend of the boy.”
Delilah and Sylas straightened up. “This information never leaves this room,” Sylas said as he gestured to one of the Pale Guards to shut the doors. “The boy is not fully broken. If word gets out that a friend of his is out there forming a revolution, six years of work would be gone. And then what?”
“Relax, my dear.” Delilah said as she placed her hand on Sylas’ arm. “It will not come to that. And even if the boy found out, it’ll be very easy for us to force him into submission.”
Sylas growled and rolled his shoulders. “I need close eyes on the pup. Make sure he doesn’t wander, or stray from the castle.”
“Hah, he’d hardly do that. Not with how invested he is with his tinkering.” Delilah reminded her husband. “The boy is working on fumes. I’d be impressed if you were able to drag him out of that workshop. The pup will be fine dear, I promise. No need to treat him like a fragile prince.”
Oh if only Delilah knew. If only she and Sylas were able to detect that outside the doors of the dining room, the very boy they spoke about listened on with his heightened hearing, his eyes hardening. Archie was out there, in a prison ran by Duke Vedmire where he is no doubt facing terrible torture. And… Archie was leading a rebellion. For Whitestone.
Percival looked between the door and the stairs to his room, a stupid plan forming in his head. Dawn was almost upon them, he was well fed, and his finger was itching to pull the trigger of his Pepperbox and unload the bullets into someone's mouth.
Vengeance. Vengeance. A voice creeps into his mind. A voice that he did not recognize. His fists clenched as he quietly went up the stairs towards his chambers. He prepared a small bag of a healing potion and a reload of bullets. Percival looked out the window and noticed the dark sky beginning to grow pink. He had very little time now. Grabbing a cloak, Percival threw it on, flipping the hood over his head before grabbing the Pepperbox and storing it in the holster on his hip.
Hang on, Archie. Percival thought to himself and walked over to open the window. This was a stupid plan, disobeying Sylas and Delilah as well as sneaking out at dawn. If he didn’t burn into a pile of ash, then he most definitely would be locked away by his “parents.”
Percival took a deep, unnecessary but comforting breath, climbed onto the window sill, and leapt out to the bushel of shrubbery below. Were he still human, this leap would’ve seriously done a lot of damage to his body, considering the height of his bedroom was higher than the room in Uriel’s castle. Still, though, Percival landed gracefully onto the ground and kept low, looking around. No sign of the Pale Guards. That was good. They were paying more attention to the people.
Still, Percival kept himself low, sneaking off the castle grounds and using his speed to dash behind buildings. His goal was to get to the prison, hopefully free Archie, then wait out the sun without being seen. Gods, this was the worst plan he came up with. But it was his only other option. His only option to let the people of Whitestone know that he was still here, somewhere in a monster’s body.
Upon arriving at Vedmire’s prison, Percival waited and watched as Pale Guards came in and out through the front door. That meant his best bet was the back door. And he needed to move swiftly. Though, as he rounded the back of the building, he froze in place, his eyes widening in shock when he sees none other than the half-elf from Emon, and a gnome having a petty argument over, of all things, a door. Specifically, the prison’s back door; the very door Percival had planned on using. His eyes quickly started darting around for a place to hide, panicked that he might be spotted by someone other than these two.
“Oh what the fuck…” A voice drew Percival’s attention back to the two mercenaries. “Wait a fucking-”
“Shh! Shh! Shut up!” Percival hissed in a low whisper, quickly approaching the gnome and the half-elf. He waved off the dagger drawn by the latter. “What are you doing here?”
“We can ask you the same question,” the gnome said. Percival noticed he was a bit wary of him, though the boy can’t blame him. He did almost kill the half-elf.
“I’m here saving a friend. You two have no business in Whitestone. You shouldn’t even be here.”
“Can’t really blame us, after that mess you and your family caused in Emon,” the half-elf muttered. “Nearly killed me.”
Percival bristled and glared at him. “The…. The Briarwoods are not my family. My family is dead,” he muttered and immediately stormed past the two mercenaries to the door. (He ignored the way they both jumped back when he brushed past.)
“Could’ve fooled me the way you completely crumble like some obedient- NGH! ” The half-elf was immediately shut up by a hand grasping the front of his armor and pulled close to the now angry vampire.
“You don’t know what it’s like being at their mercy. I’m risking my life by even being out here trying to save my friend. I’m risking my life being outside when dawn is approaching, and I’m risking my life by going against the Briarwoods. So pardon me if I’m not apologizing for what I did to you back in Emon, but I have more important things on my mind.”
Percival’s eyes glimmered red as he hissed at the half-elf’s face, his fangs baring dangerously. He could hear the older male’s heart pound against his chest, his hazel eyes dilating in fear at being so close to the fangs of the very vampire that made his mark on him. Percival released the half-elf before turning back to the door, startled when it opened from the inside. He hid himself against the wall opposite the door as a Pale Guard stepped out to toss a privy of urine… right onto the gnome and half-elf.
It was an awkward silence, about 3 seconds, before the dagger in the half-elf’s hand was thrown, lodging into the Pale Guard’s chest before the man could even take his own weapon out. Percival and the two mercenaries took this to their advantage to rush into the prison, the gnome making various gagging noises after being doused in piss.
“Alright hang on,” the half-elf said, grabbing Percival by the cloak. The vampire grimaced and gagged at the new smell that was now radiating off of the half-elf. “If we’re going to let you in on this rescue mission, we need to set some ground rules. And maybe an introduction, but we’ll see. First things first, Mr. Prissy de Rolo; keep those needle point fangs away from all of our necks.”
“Yes, I am very aware of this. I’m not an animal,” Percival said and rolled his eyes. “And to be fair, I have no desire to feed from either of you, given the fact you both smell like piss and shit.”
“Consider this vampire repellent.” The half-elf said, releasing Percival, who turned his face away and took a deep breath. “Name’s Vax’ildan by the way. That’s Scanlan. We’ll see if you deserve the names of the rest of us.”
Percival glared at Vax’ildan as he turned to walk down the hallway, Scanlan following after him. Once he knew their backs were turned to him, he couldn’t help but feel the beginnings of a smile form on his face at the prospect of potential allies.
Maybe this wasn’t all that bad. Teaming with the mercenaries.
Maybe it’s exactly what he needs to save him from the Briarwoods.
Notes:
Next time: Percival meets the rest of Vox Machina as they arrive outside of Archie's cell. Old friends reunite, and when Stonefell gets wind that Percival is out of the confines of the castle, something within the young Lord urged him to end the captain. The end up leaving, alive, and a heartwarming reunion for the last of the de Rolos was much needed.
Feel free to leave a comment or a kudos <3
Chapter 6: No Mercy Percy
Summary:
Percival joins Vox Machina in rescuing Archie from Vedmire's prison. He feels a warm feeling in his heart when the mercenaries don't treat him like the villain he was back in Emon. The warm feeling vanishes, though, after rescuing Archie and coming to contact with Kerrion Stonefell.
A voice urges Percival to seek vengeance.
Notes:
Fair warning for this chapter: violence, a lot of it. And a lot of blood. And more importantly, towards the end, there is abuse and brain washing.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Percival had flipped the hood of his cloak down after he was sure that he was in the safety of the indoors. He was wasting precious time now, but was hopeful that the castle was now asleep. He was only here for Archie, and no one else. But he would be a liar if he said he didn’t enjoy the company of Vax’ildan and Scanlan. They were two very weird, very interesting pairs of comedians, making light of otherwise dire situations.
But the moment of lightheartedness ended when the three of them had met up with the other three members of Vox Machina. “Vax, dammit, what took you so long,” the female half-elf said as soon as they approached.
“Caught a stray along the way,” Vax muttered. “Ah shit, right. Percy, this is my sister Vex’ahlia, that is Keyleth, and the goliath over there is Grog. Everyone, this is Percy. Great, introductions are done, let’s get to finding this Archie person.”
“Stop, stop. Vax, Scanlan, a word with you two.” Vex’ahlia stated, pulling Vax and Scanlan away from Percival and closer towards the rest of Vox Machina. Percival couldn’t help that his hearing was heightened, that he eavesdropped on the conversation, but opted to turn his head away. “Are you two fucking nuts? Are we forgetting that this is the very person that we’re supposed to be tentative with?”
“Look this isn’t my fucking choice. He was already down here trying to save Archibald too. I have no idea how he knew about this but here he is.” Vax tried explaining.
“So you just let him tag along? The very thing the Briarwoods are protecting?”
“Okay look, we get it. Vax fucked up, (“Scanlan!”) but we really think this can be beneficial to us.” Scanlan whispered. “Look, I know we shouldn’t trust the kid because of the whole vampire thing but we also have to remind ourselves that he is the victim in this circumstance.”
Several pairs of eyes landed on Percival, who stiffened and turned to look at them. “Right, Scanlan’s got a point. But what do we do when the Briarwoods inevitably figure out that we’re here, in Whitestone?” Vex asked as she turned her eyes back to her friends.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Percival spoke up, startling the group. “But the Briarwoods already know you’re here. In fact, they’ve been waiting for your arrival in Whitestone since the battle in Emon.”
“How the fuck did you hear- you know what? Vampire hearing, never mind.” Scanlan said and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so now we have an even bigger problem. They know we’re here, and more importantly they don’t know you’re here.”
“Yes, thank you Scanlan for the reiteration that we are horribly fucking unequipped for this.” Vax said and took a deep breath, before turning to Percival. “Do you think you could keep them off our trail?”
“The Briarwoods are not ones to chase after what eventually comes to them.” Percival said. “Now can we stop this idle chatter and get to Archie?”
The mercenaries all turned to Percival then to each other, before Vex’ahlia shrugged her shoulders. “Guess we push on.” She said,.
Vox Machina, with the help of Percival, snuck down the halls of the prison. The vampire was the one to take the lead in this rescue, as he knew Archie the best and he knew the prison’s layout. Vax’ildan, Percival noticed, seemed to have his dagger clutched in his hand. Percival also felt the piercing hazel eyes staring him down, though he chose to ignore it. He stopped for a brief moment at the base of the stone staircase, and held a hand out to the mercenaries to stop them as well. He sniffed air, like a predator hunting for prey. “Archie is definitely on the second floor. But there’s Pale Guards riddled everywhere in those halls… We need to lay low and keep quiet if we want to pull this off.”
“Alright, so here’s what we’re gonna do. We need to avoid these guards as best as we can, which means we need to- wait… Percy!” Vax whispered as he saw the young lord start for the stairs without even hearing the half-elf’s plan. He made sure he was quiet, gesturing for Vox Machina to keep quiet as they frantically followed up after him. “So are you normally someone who likes running into a fight without a plan?”
“Only if I know exactly what I’m looking for,” Percival muttered. He decided it was best to flip the hood of his cloak over his head. “Keep your eyes open for any of the Pale Guards. If you see Kerrion Stonefell… Leave him to me.”
There was a bit of an edge to Percival’s words, one that sent a chill down Vax’ildan’s spine as he spared the lord a glance. He turned to his twin, taking in her hardened stare at Percival. He could tell, from her tense shoulders and the way her hands keep at her bow, that she didn’t fully trust Percival or his lack of a strategy. Though to Vax, he believes that Percival has a strategy of his own, he probably just never anticipated another group achieving the same goal.
“Archie…” Percival muttered as his attention was now drawn to a cell containing a red-haired dwarf at the far end of the wall. Said dwarf was beaten, bloodied and bruised, with his left ear missing entirely. “Shit… someone get him out of there.”
“Vax?” Keyleth asked.
“Right… yeah that’s a thing I do,” Vax muttered and approached the cell, Percival stepping aside to allow the half-elf to work. Vax took a deep breath as he knelt in front of the lock. He pulled out his picking tools, wedging his rake pick into the cell’s lock, jimmying the extractor under. Vax muttered to himself a series of self-doubt after that fiasco with the back door, until he heard a click on the lock. Percival made haste, immediately opening the cell door and rushing in. “I told you that back door was cursed.” He told Scanlan.
Percival all but ran to Archibald, kneeling in front of the dwarf. “Archie,” he said softly, a hand resting on Archie’s shoulder. The red-haired dwarf groaned and looked up at Percival, who’s red eyes gleamed with worry.
“Percy?” Archie breathed and squinted his eyes. “Is this the afterlife?”
“We’re not dead yet, old friend.” Percival said, wrapping one of Archie’s arms around his shoulder after pulling the dwarf up. He steadied Archie and led him out of the cell. “Right. Now we just get out of here and you all get Archie to safety.”
“Percy, you must come with us,” Archie said, straightening himself from Percival’s hold. “Having you on our side with the secrets in the castle is beneficial to the rebellion.”
“I… I can’t. You must understand, I can’t quite join the rebellion. Not with this proverbial leash the Briarwoods have on me. Just me being here is risky enough,” Percival explained. “This is as far as I dare go outside of the castle.”
“Personally, I think with your brains, you could make a perfect asset to the rebellion. But I understand where you’re coming from.” The dwarf patted Percival on the shoulder. “But, if you change your mind, you would be welcomed with open arms.”
Percival looked down at Archie, stunned and… confused. Would the people of Whitestone even accept a monster such as himself as their lord? With the Briarwoods currently in rule, the people really had no say either way. But still Percival had the anxiety that no one would really accept him due to what he has become.
“Archie… as much as I appreciate the sentiment, I… I don’t think the people of Whitestone-”
“What do we have here?” A gravelly voice interrupted the conversation. Percival, Archie and all of Vox Machina turned their attention to the voice. Standing at the end of the hall, evidently blocking the exit, was none other than Kerrion Stonefell, flanked by an small army of Pale Guards. Percival tensed and his eyes went wide as he suddenly felt the dark cloud of his soul shift uncomfortably within. “Intruders and an escapee. Guards, bleed ‘em!”
The band of mercenaries drew their weapons as the Pale Guards advanced towards them. Percival drew his Pepperbox, taking a few steps backwards to create a distance between him and the guards. He took aim, pulled back the trigger, and with a loud CRACK, a body collapsed, bleeding profusely from the head.
“That’s a fucking loud weapon you’ve go there. Effective until you want to be stealthy,” Vax’ildan commented as he lunged at Pale Guard, grabbing at his arm holding a sword and twisting it to the man’s back before driving his dagger into the Pale Guard’s back.
“We’re not really in a stealth situation, now are we?” Percival hissed.
“Wonderful. The two of you are bickering like an old married couple.” Vex’ahlia said, drawing back an arrow and releasing it between the eyes of a different guard. “I don’t suppose you want a spot with our team, Percy?”
“Are you really asking a vampire to join your team?” Percival asked, firing two more shots from his Pepperbox.
“Eh, it was worth a try.”
“Uhh less talking and maybe more fighting?” Scanlan frantically asked as he stayed more in the backlines of the battle with his lute.
A laughter echoed through the halls of the second floor cell block. Percival looks towards the exit and sees Stonefell retreating from the fight. He could hear the sound of sizzling on the barrel of his Pepperbox, then he looked down. On one of the barrels of his weapon, the letters Cpt. Stonefell burned amber into the metal.
Vengeance. Vengeance. Vengeance.
The voice in Percival’s mind was loud; louder than it was back in the castle. Without an explanation, his throat began to burn with bloodlust, and his soul was suddenly lit aflame. Sparing Vox Machina and Archie a warning, Percival started following Stonefell, shoulder-checking past the Pale Guards. Vox Machina can easily clear them. Stonefell was his and his alone.
Following Stonefell down the stairs to the first floor cell block, the voice in the young lord’s head was now louder, practically growling into his ears. Going through a motion out of his own volition, Percival had manifested a mask from seemingly nowhere, flipping the hood of his cloak down to place the mask on. A black smoke emanated from Percival’s entire being, curling itself around his arms and legs, around his neck.
Stonefell felt the dark presence behind him, and he turned to see Percival’s looming figure of black smoke and a bird-like plague mask. “What are you supposed to be, freak?” Stonefell laughs.
“I am vengeance for the de Rolos,” Percival growls, lifting up his Pepperbox to point it at Stonefell. The human scoffed, and he dashed towards the young lord, lifting up his ax to swing. Percival fired from his Pepperbox, and it seemed to have missed Stonefell, but upon a second glance, as the human brought his ax down, the blade of his ax had shot clean off. Stonefell looked at the splintered wood in confusion, and as he looked back up at Percival, he was shot in the chest and knocked onto the ground. The young lord took a few steps forward and aimed his weapon down, shooting three more times before he took the mask off. “I want the last thing that you see be the one you wronged,” he hissed. Percival’s eyes no longer held this red glow to them, but rather his sclera was now pitch black, and his pupils a golden amber. He shot one more time, painting the floor red with Stonefell’s blood.
The sizzling letters on the barrel of the Pepperbox burned away, the black smoke seized their curling, and Percival’s eyes returned to its normal red color. The vampire’s hand holding the weapon shook, before he stored it back into its holster. He let out a sigh, before his attention was drawn to the stairs where Vox Machina was making their way back down.
“Holy shit, Percy, what happened here?” Vex’ahlia asked as she looked at Stonefell’s corpse.
Percival only looked at her then at the body. “Only what needed to be done,” was the answer he managed to say. “Best we should head out. Dawn must surely be on the horizon, and I don’t want to take the chances of burning to a pile of ash.”
There was a bit of humor laced in his tone, and Vax actually dared to chuckle lightheartedly. “Alright, I’ll bite. You’re okay, I guess.” he told the vampire.
“Ah, uhh, thank you…” Percival said with a nod, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. He cleared his throat to gain his composure. “Shall we head out then?” he asked.
Vox Machina, Percival, and Archibald made their way outside of the prison through the front entrance. And waiting for them outside was none other than the rebellion’s co-leader, Cassandra. Percival’s red eyes widened, and he was assaulted with memories. Memories of his little sister slipping from his grasp, shot down by Dr. Ripley. Memories of his little sister breaking him out of that damned cell. Memories of his little sister sitting next to him during Professor Anders’ lecture, bothering him with her spitballs. Memories of his little sister sparring with him with wooden sticks outside the garden of the castle, letting her win.
“Cassandra…?” Percival said softly, his eyes never leaving his little sister as she looked back at him. Her own blue eyes held sadness but also relief.
“Percy!” she cried out and ran at him, throwing herself into his arms in a big, much needed hug. Percival held her in his arms almost immediately, holding her tightly and refusing to let go. “I knew you were still in there. I knew you weren’t fully taken by the Briarwoods. Thank the gods you’re alright.” Cassandra buried her face into Percival’s shoulder, her eyes damp with tears and catching onto his cloak.
“Cass…” he said again, this time, his voice wavering; tiny. He felt 16 again. Tears had started brimming his own eyes as he came to terms with what was happening. “You’re alive… But… Ripley. And you weren’t moving… you-”
“I don’t want you to even think about that. Percy, none of this is your fault I hope you know that. Whatever has happened between the time of everyone’s death and now, it’s not your fault.”
Percival fought back the tears, fought back the urge to completely crumble and fall apart in front of the mercenaries, in front of Archie, and gods above, in front of Cassandra . But he did not let his sister go.
“Percy… Please talk to me. I need to hear it from your own voice.” Cassandra said and looked up at the vampire. “I need to hear from you that it’s not your fault.”
“I…” Percival started, but his voice was caught on something. “It’s…” He tried again, and he pulled away from Cassandra, a hand flying to his throat. “I can’t…”
“Percy, you can say it. It’s not your fault-”
“No, Cassandra. I can’t . I physically cannot say it. It’s as if… As if I have no control.” Percival explained. He looked up towards the sky and saw pink bleeding into dark blue. “Cassandra, I need to go. I… I’m just so glad you’re alive and well.” He placed a hand on her cheek before pulling back immediately, suddenly remembering the way the Briarwoods used this piece of affection on him. He refused to lure Cassandra into a false sense of security. Instead, Percival just wrapped his arms around her in another hug.
“Don’t worry Percy… we’ll figure out how to stop the Briarwoods.” Cassandra said into her brother’s shoulder. “We will stop the Briarwoods, and you will be free from them.”
The two surviving de Rolos broke apart from their embrace, tears in Cassandra’s eyes as Percival fought so hard with himself to keep him from wiping her tears. He opened his mouth, wanting more to say but the sunrise was starting to creep over the horizon. He spared a glance to his sister, then to Archie, and finally to Vox Machina before he turned to run back towards the castle. Were his heart still beating, it most likely would’ve clenched and skip beats at the prospect of leaving his friend and sister.
Percival clenched his jaw tightly as he ran towards the castle, using awnings to protect himself from the sunlight. He hissed when he felt his flesh burn under the sun. He clutched his right hand as the skin blistered. Percival winced and whined in pain as he scaled the castle walls back to his bedroom, grasping on vines as he pulled himself through the window.
The young man immediately closed the window and drew the curtains closed, taking his cloak off and looking over his burns. A majority of it was on his hands and even trailing up his arms. He hissed in pain and stumbled over to his dresser, opening up one of the drawers and frantically searched for a vial of a healing elixir.
His stash of elixir was missing. Percival cursed as he instead went for the medical wraps instead, twitching slightly as he wrapped up his arms and hands. “Looking for something, pup ,” said an all too familiar voice by the bed. He immediately turned to see Sylas standing by his bed, then his eyes shifted to the door which held no sign of ever being opened or closed. Sylas had been here prior to Percival sneaking back into his room. “Are you, perhaps, looking for this?” Sylas asked and held out one of the vials of healing elixir.
“I… I was…” Percival said, his voice breaking.
“I’m assuming it’s for the burns you’d managed to get on your arms, mhm?” Sylas asked and started stepping closer to the younger vampire. “What were you doing outside?”
“I-I…. I thought a change of scenery would be nice. Fresh air while I worked on a new schematic. I must’ve lost track of time as per usual.”
“So this truly has nothing to do with what you may have heard after dinner?” Percival tensed as Sylas began walking towards him. “Are you telling me that you didn’t leave the castle to visit Vedmire’s prison? Trying to help save your friend ? Your friend who abandoned you? Are you trying to tell me that if I tasted your blood, I wouldn’t taste your betrayal?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about-” The younger vampire was interrupted when he felt the burning pain in his arms, as Sylas grabbed his wrist tightly. The older vampire lord then used his other hand to clamp down on the back of the younger’s neck, pinning him to the wall. “N-No! Please, I promise it’s not what you think!” Percival pleaded.
“Then you wouldn’t mind if I checked for myself then, mhm? You know the drill, pup. Any suspicion of insubordination must be proven. And the only way I can get myself proof from you is a taste.” Sylas leaned down, his face inches away from Percival’s neck. “You smell like the black powder you work with. But you also smell of blood; blood not of your own.” The older vampire then leaned down and sunk his much larger, much sharper fangs into Percival’s neck, and the blood began to flow. Percival cried out in pain, and out of instinct, he tried pushing Sylas away from him. This only angered Sylas more, and he tightened his grip on the younger.
After tasting Percival’s blood, Sylas dropped the boy onto the ground, leaving him a whimpering mess. The older vampire licked the blood from his lips, looking down at the boy. He then chuckled. “Tal’Dorei’s heroes are in Whitestone I see. Interesting.” Sylas began circling Percival like a prowling predator. He licked his fangs, taunting the boy as he watched Sylas’ every move with terrified red eyes. “You’re friends with these heroes of Tal’Dorei? How adorable, pup. Teaming up with those who tried to stop the familial bond we have!” Percival flinched and covered his face with his bandaged arms. “I’m not finished with you, Percival.” The boy cried out in fear as Sylas grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and hoisted him off the ground. He grabbed Percival’s white hair, and snapped his head to the side. He sunk his fangs to the unmarked skin on the other side of Percival’s neck. Sylas pierced the flesh and tasted the sweet flowing blood. He could taste the fear radiating from the boy as he drank from Percival, relishing in the way the boy’s shaking body started faltering in strength. Sylas pulled away from Percival’s neck, tossing the boy onto the bed.
“You freed that traitor… Oh Percival, and you killed Captain Stonefell. Pup, I am severely disappointed in you.” Sylas growled, grasping at Percival’s neck. “Insubordination from my own kin,” another lick of the blood that made the younger vampire whimper. “You should know that such a thing hurts a father.”
Then, Sylas pauses. He looks down at Percival who trembles underneath him, red eyes glinting with hurt and fear. Another lick of the blood. “Cassandra lives… One last de Rolo lives…” Sylas said, and Percival freezes. The older lord releases Percival’s neck, licking off the rest of the blood from his hand, before biting his own wrist and bringing it to the boy’s lips after forcing him to sit up. He waited until Percival accepted the blood from his sire. “This never leaves this room. You will learn from your mistakes. You will never leave this castle again, do you understand?”
The wrist was pulled away from Percival’s mouth, the young lord swallowing a whine attempting to escape his mouth. The blisters on his arms and hands started to grow numb as new skin healed, and the four puncture marks on his neck closed, leaving no trace. He looked up at Sylas in fear. Sylas’ red eyes then glowed a golden hue, slightly illuminating the room as Percival’s own glowed the same color. Percival felt his free will leave him, his mind that he once thought was his own became someone else’s to control.
Percival felt lightheaded as he succumbed to the blood of his sire and the mental hold Sylas had on him.
The rebellion, Archie, Vox Machina, and Cassandra became nothing more than an afterthought locked away in his mind as he once more became a puppet for Sylas to control.
He laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling.
He hears Sylas fixing locks onto his windows.
He hears the shuffling of Sylas’ feet against the floor.
He feels Sylas’ hands take the Pepperbox from its holster and set it aside.
He hears Sylas leave his room.
Percival closed his eyes soon after, falling into a dreamless sleep.
Notes:
Next time: Percival is now Sylas' puppet to control. He only responds to Sylas and no one else. Not even Delilah. Not Vox Machina. Not even Cassandra.
His mind breaks at the ziggurat.Thank you for reading, feel free to leave a comment or kudos! <3
Chapter 7: A Sister's Love, A Brother's Plea
Summary:
Numb to the world, and numb to feeling, Percival's consciousness was chained to the back of his mind as the puppet master controls his strings. Cassandra puts her trust in Scanlan to be... well annoying, after she knew for certain that Percy was currently with Anders. A near brush with death brings her closer to her brother.
But is it enough?
Notes:
WOWIE THIS TOOK FOREVER TO POST. So sorry about that. I had a wee bit of writers block with this one because I couldn't quite figure out how to word half of this chapter. But enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Numb. It wasn’t as if Percival was unaware of his surroundings. He was aware. He was aware of the pale faced servants wasting away as they become nothing more than blood bags to the two vampire lords. He was aware of Professor Anders constantly being around him by request of Sylas. He was aware of the Briarwoods’ preparation for the ritual being rushed now that Emon’s heroes were in Whitestone. He was also aware, so painfully aware, of the leash Sylas now has on him for his insubordination.
Percival was aware of everything. But he was trapped within his own mind. It was fuzzy, with his consciousness being only an afterthought. He felt odd, being under Sylas’ control. He wanted his autonomy back, but he just didn’t know how. It was hard to fight against his sire’s hold on his mind, and it didn’t help that the hold acted as a replacement for Percival’s need for a father. It was sickening, his need for reprieve; his need to feel comforted by a parent. He was 22 years old for Pelor’s sake! He didn’t need his parents.
That’s a bold faced lie, and you know it Percy. Percival hissed to himself, and yet he didn’t know which part of him was speaking, the brainwashed part or the suppressed part? Either way, the thought was annoying but true.
The young lord went about his day in a way that Sylas liked it; appear before the Briarwoods, stay for dinner, work on his schematics, and help with preparations for the ritual. He was also given a very special task by the third night. He was to use the Pale Guards that made their rounds through the city and used their blood to keep his eyes on Vox Machina and the rebellion. As much as his inner voice didn’t want to rat out his sister, he was given no choice under Sylas’ hold.
After telling Sylas and Delilah that the horde of undead Delilah had summoned were working, that they were successfully pushing the mercenaries away from the castle, the Briarwoods exchanged looks with one another. A silent conversation, Percival concludes.
“Well, I think it’s best if you… lured them into a false sense of security, pup.” Sylas spoke up, and Percival lifted his head to meet with his sire’s eyes, confusion filling his own. The older vampire lord simply chuckled. “You will pretend to help them. Lead them down to the ziggurat, kill any of our allies if you must.” Sylas approached the tense boy, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “Show them your loyalty and determination to them; kill Anders. Feast on his blood and avenge yourself, your family.”
Percival winced and tried to nudge Sylas off of him, but all he could really think about was the raspy voice of Professor Anders as the older man shoved him and Cassandra onto the floor of the dining hall where the bodies of their family laid bleeding, all while cackling “ Death to the de Rolos! ” as Percival stared wide eyed and frozen on the floor. The boy was tense as Sylas moved from one ear to the other. “ We might even let you take down Anna Ripley once and for all. After everything she’s done to you pup. The pain she inflicted on you that drove you to become this. I never wanted you to be a vampire like me. ” A hand came to gently caress the boy’s cheek and Percival became tense. “ This life brings unhappiness and pain. Knowing that the person you love will never live a long life like you. I only saved you from an untimely death. Had you successfully escaped, I would’ve treated it like a game. But never intended for you to die. ” Sylas’ words held some truth in them, that much Percival knew. Ripley was expendable, much to her dismay, and she forever resides in the dungeons of the castle, where she belonged. Percival clenched his fists and turned his head away. “ You deserve the right to enact your revenge on Dr. Ripley. If these heroes of Tal’Dorei just so happen to lead you to the cell of Dr. Ripley, then who am I to get upset when you decide to end her once and for all. ”
It was such a golden opportunity, to be given this chance at revenge for all the harm and pain caused to him by her . And it was being given to him on a golden platter, just to ensure a viable sacrifice for the ritual down in the ziggurat. How could I pass up this opportunity? Percival thought to himself, and only snapped out of his trance upon hearing the dark chuckle from Sylas. “Good to know that I have your loyalty, pup.” Sylas finally said out loud, running a hand through Percival’s white hair. The older vampire lord then looks at Delilah and approaches her. “We have his loyalty, my dear. We’ll have our pick of a sacrifice if all goes well.”
Delilah smiles and she places her hand on Sylas’ chest. “Wonderful. And we can finally move forward with our plan,” she said, dropping her hand and walking over to Percival. “You better not make us regret this decision, pup.” A threat. But there wasn’t really anything in her tone that stuck, which could possibly mean that nothing serious would happen should Percival make a mistake.
The deeper part of his trapped mind saw this as an opportunity. It was risky, considering a majority of Percival’s will was completely at Sylas’ hand. He would need to plan this when his sire was asleep in the morning, when his mind was more his own than it was Sylas’.
In the meantime, Percival simply gave the Briarwoods a nod. “May I go back to my work, now?” He asked tightly, a shakiness in his voice that he tried so desperately to hide. (Percival missed the way Sylas’ eyes shifted, recognizing the way the boy’s voice wavered.)
“You’re dismissed for now.” Delilah said and waved Percival off.
As Percival turned to leave the de Rolo study, he heard the bassy purr of Sylas’ voice creep into his mind. “Don’t even think about trying to sabotage this ritual, pup. You’ll only do yourself more harm than good. After all, how long will it take for one’s mind to be completely broken?” The boy swallowed a lump in his throat, and looked over his shoulder at Sylas, who’s eyes flickered glowing red as a warning.
Of course not, father. Percival thought, fighting back a full body cringe at the use of the undeserving title.
It felt wrong to call someone that wasn’t Fredrick de Rolo his father. Just as it was wrong to call someone that wasn’t Johanna de Rolo mother.
It was especially wrong to call the murderers of the de Rolo family his parents , like some sick and twisted joke.
Percival turned his head back to the door, eyes trained to the ground as he walked out of the study. One. Two. Three. Four. Were Percival still alive, his heart would’ve pounded.
Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Were he still alive, he wouldn’t have to rely on blood from unwilling people.
Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve steps down the hall, Percival broke out into a sprint down the stairs to his workshop, slamming the heavy wooden door, and throwing the latch on to secure it.
It was time he planned.
With Cassandra’s newfound hope that her older brother was alive and still there , Vox Machina felt that they could actually pull this off. After retrieving Archie from Vedmire’s prison, and reporting back to Keeper Yennen with who exactly helped him, Yennen told Cassandra there might still be a chance of winning. With Percy on their side helping and hopefully giving them intel, Cassandra had no doubt in her mind that anything can go south. There was still this inkling of dread going through her body, remembering Percy unable to say that none of this was his fault. She shifted uncomfortably.
Could the Briarwoods be telling Percy that their family’s death was actually his fault? Because that was most definitely false information; Percy was only 16 when the Briarwoods killed their family. Cassandra would also argue that despite Percy being skilled at sword fighting, he was also a dork who, up until recently, would never hurt anybody. That was, until she learned from Vax’ildan that Percy took a bite out of him at Lord Briarwood’s orders (and then proceeded to block out what Vax said about how he would’ve “found it incredibly attractive had my life not been on the line.” Thank Vex’ahlia for scolding her twin for that ridiculous comment).
Cassandra brushed aside all of those negative thoughts, of her brother thinking it was his fault for the death of their family, and of her brother being seen as a monster because of what he now feeds on. Right now, the resistance needed to focus on their next course of action. And that seemed to be finding a way to get closer to Percy and more importantly, closer to the castle.
Archibald had mentioned to Cassandra that they might be able to get answers from Professor Anders’ office in his home just near the castle. If they can somehow break into his home without alerting any of the Pale Guards. “The best course of action right now is to divert the attention of the guards to one place,” Archie explained to the rebellion and Vox Machina. “We need to keep them away from Anders’ manor. My idea was that we create a distraction in Duke Vedmire’s mansion that’ll lure the others away.”
“Creating a distraction of that caliber can be rather risky,” Vex’ahlia muttered. “Would we even be able to handle pulling off a stunt like that? Splitting the group up again for something like this is asking for trouble.”
“Or, and hear me out Vex, you guys let me go in that fucker’s mansion and create a distraction so huge that you guys can ambush this Anders fucker.” Scanlan suggested.
Cassandra flinched when Grog bursted into a fit of laughter. “Good one, Scanlan! You, going in all by yourself,” the barbarian had said.
“Scanlan, we don’t have time for jokes,” Vex said as she rolled her eyes.
Cassandra watches as Vax’ildan pulls himself up to the high window towards where Vedmire’s mansion was located. “If we can somehow set the mansion ablaze; that’ll certainly grab the attention of the guards. Question is, how do we do it without getting ambushed, imprisoned, or killed?”
“I’m telling you guys, let me do the distracting. I have all these potions-”
“That do what exactly?” Vax interrupted the gnome’s attempt to speak. Cassandra noticed Scanlan getting increasingly more agitated with every idea getting brushed aside. But she was curious. She wanted to know what idea that this simple gnome had.
“Look, I know I’m not the type to come up with these elaborate and grandiose plans. But Vex, you always say that I’m annoying.” All eyes turned to Vex who didn’t really deny it. She simply shrugged and nodded her head once. “Let me be annoying!” Scanlan then pleaded.
The twins looked at each other before at the other members of Vox Machina, then the mercenaries looked to Archie who then turned his attention (and ultimately everyone else’s) to Cassandra. The young woman thought for a second, glancing out the window at the view of Anders’ mansion then back at Scanlan. “If you do this, you have to understand we have no means of saving you. Vedmire aims to kill, and he never misses an opportunity to do so,” she finally spoke. “Once Scanlan successfully wards off every Pale Guard nearby, the rest of us move out.”
“Cassandra…. Are you absolutely certain you want to go through with this?” Archie asked the young woman gently. “No one outside of the resistance knows you’re even alive.”
“They’ll be in for a rude awakening then…” Cassandra then looks at Scanlan. “Go. We mustn’t waste anymore time. We’ll wait for your cue.” Scanlan’s eyes widened slightly before he gave her a charming grin, gathering his lute and pack and leaving the hideout. Cassandra reached into the pocket of her trousers to pull out a spyglass, shimmying herself to the window facing Anders’ home. She looked into it, focusing the lens towards the windows of the building and looking through every room carefully.
She then saw a familiar pale face looking out a window from what Cassandra could only guess was Anders’ study. Red eyes held an emptiness under gold rim glasses, and his face was gaunt with dark circles under his eyes. “He’s there… Percy’s with Professor Anders… I can’t make out what he might be thinking, though. I can’t read him…” Cassandra told Archie, handing him the spyglass so that he can take a look for himself. The shorter took the spyglass, and looked towards the direction Cassandra gestured to, confirming that his friend, who mostly had an inquisitive mind that was constantly turning with Zimages of inventions, eyes that once held a fire of determination in them, was now devoid of emotion, devoid of passion.
Those unnatural red eyes held a painful emptiness, one that the Lord of Whitestone should have.
“What the fuck have they done to him in so little time?” Archie hissed.
“I’m not sure but whatever they’ve done, we’re most definitely running out of time.” Cassandra said nervously.
Professor Anders was delighted to personally have Percival with him. He loathed teaching the two de Rolo siblings, but he couldn’t deny the unbelievably talented mind the third child had. After Ripley’s little interrogation (which was fruitless), the Briarwoods were convinced that they needed to utilize the boy in other ways. His mind was too precious, too valuable to just allow it to go to waste. So when the boy was on the verge of death thanks to Ripley, the Briarwoods seized the opportunity. Anders learned that a bond between the spawn and sire was one that can only be broken if the sire were to die. And given Lady Briarwood’s devotion to her husband, it’ll be hard to even kill Lord Briarwood. This made Sylas’ hold on Percival that much stronger, and with no strength to fight it, the boy was the perfect pliant soldier.
Unfortunately for Anders, his silver tongue had no effect on Percival, as he was under complete control under Sylas Briarwood. But as far as he knew, Anders was on good terms with the Briarwoods, so he had no fear for his own life.
Professor Anders didn’t anticipate the rage that ran through the boy after he sliced into the throat of whelp’s little sister, someone who everyone in the castle thought to have died six years ago.
Anders was fully under the impression that the scent of Cassandra’s blood would send Percival into a feeding frenzy.
It didn’t.
Instead, whatever little control of his mind Percival managed to gain was enough for the spawn to drop to his knees and apply pressure onto the girl’s neck to stop the ever flowing blood.
When Keyleth and Vax managed to slip out of the ambush from the main room of the mansion below and into the study of Professor Anders, they were shocked to see Cassandra, the resistance’s leader, on the ground with a bloodied throat. They were even more surprised to see Percival with his hands on her throat to stop the bleeding.
Percival turned his head to the two mercenaries, his red eyes pleading with them. “Please… please help her,” the Lord of Whitestone begged.
Vax turned to Keyleth as the two rushed for Cassandra. “Kiki, I hope you’ve got a trick up your sleeve.” Vax said as they knelt on either side of the fallen woman. He glanced at Percival, who seemed to be attempting to stabilize himself, either from the blood or the sight of his sister rapidly losing consciousness. There was also a spark in the younger’s red eyes.
Anger. Vax hesitated for a moment before he placed a hand on Percival’s shoulder, snapping the boy out of his dissociative state. “Keyleth and I’ve got this. Go after that slime bag.”
Percival nodded and he stood up on shaky legs, reaching into his coat for his interesting ranged weapon, before storming off after Professor Anders.
Vox Machina had seen the violence Percival de Rolo was capable of. They didn’t see what happened with Stonefell, they just knew Percival killed him. But the sheer grotesque violence radiating from the young Lord as he shot off Professor Anders’ jaw, severing the silver tongue, it was… well they all had opinions.
For Keyleth, she was mortified at Percival’s calculative eyes glancing all around the armory for an angle. The way he shot a bullet that then ricocheted into the jaw of Professor Anders.
For Grog, he thought it was awesome. He didn’t understand all the need to flourish the bullet around, but the result was bloody, gory, and so very beautiful.
Vex was disturbed. Sure, she expected this level of violence from a young vampire who is being controlled, but if she was being honest, she would’ve expected Percival to aim his weapon at them, not on the ally of the Briarwoods. She studied the way a cloud of smoke emanated from under the Lord’s coat. She studied how it coiled around his right arm, to his hand, and wrapped around his trigger finger as he dug the barrel of the weapon into the bloodied face of Professor Anders.
For Vax, he was a mixture of terrified and slightly aroused. Mostly because he wasn’t on the receiving side of Percival’s anger and bloodlust. But of course, the rogue could always appreciate a well aimed shot- where did the mask come from? Something was… not right, Vax knew that now.
“You were the face I saw when murder entered my heart.”
BANG!
The large window behind Professor Anders shattered as the blast of Percival’s pepperbox knocked him through, blowing his head clean off. The body was falling, falling, falling into the courtyard below with a splatter of blood. The blood lust was gone, satiated despite the fact he had no taste of Anders’ blood, nor did he want to. He knew just by smell alone that his former tutor’s blood would be extremely unappetizing.
Percival came back to himself when he heard the soft voice of his sister calling out, “Percy?”
The young vampire lord immediately dropped his weapon and ripped the mask from his face, and he began running to Cassandra, checking her over. “Cass… I’m so sorry. I never meant for you to get hurt.” He said softly, gently brushing his fingers through his sister’s bangs, frowning at the white locks she had obtained overtime. “Are you… are you alright?”
Cassandra looked up at her brother with a sad expression in her eyes, but a smile forming on her face. “I’ll be fine.” she reassured her older brother. “I’m lucky to be alive-”
“This is my fault…” Percy interrupted, which earned him a very impactful punch to the shoulder from his sister. “Ow!”
“Stop that, Percival! It’s not your fault, none of this is your fault. Not the Briarwoods, not our family’s death, and definitely not what just happened.”
“Cass, you don’t understand…”
There was a hand being placed on top of his own. He looked down at their joined pale hands before looking back to her blue eyes, a color that Percival wished to reclaim. He saw the hint of pain in Cassandra’s eyes as she tightened her grip on Percival’s hands. “Then help me to understand, brother.” She said gently. “I will always be there for you. As will the rest of the resistance, all of Whitestone, and even Vox Machina.” Her hands moved from Percival’s hands to grip onto his shoulders. “The Briarwoods may have you now, but we’ll get you out of this.”
There was a pregnant pause. Red eyes stared into blue eyes with a glimmer of hope and desperation. Percival’s hand goes to the back of Cassandra’s neck, bringing her forward and pressing their foreheads together. “I have so much to say. You have no idea how long I’ve needed this very moment. But I can’t stay. The Briarwoods expected me to kill Anders, they’ll know if I’ve run away. They’ll also know where to look.” Hesitation. Percival’s fingers curled around Cassandra’s hair as he struggled to find the right words. He closed his eyes, shoulders tense. “The Briarwoods know you’re alive…”
Cassandra’s eyes darkened, her grip on her brother’s shoulders tightening. “They what?” she asked slowly.
“I tried, Cass. I really tried not to let him see. But he holds more power over me than I can ever imagine. I thought I’d be able to make it back ho- make it back to the castle before the Briarwoods noticed. I was utterly mistaken. I’m really sorry Cass, I’ve put you all in danger.” Percival said, the guilt eating away at him as he opened his eyes and saw the hardened look in his little sister’s. “That’s why it was my fault. The Briarwoods know that Vox Machina is here, they know you’re alive, and they knew I was the one to go against their wishes.”
A beat. Percival can hear the sound of his sister’s heartbeat quicken, and can hear the footsteps of the four mercenaries walking out of Anders’ study. He waited for his sister’s response, his fingers uncurling from Cassandra’s hair when he worried she was taking too long.
“I… I need to go,” he said and moved to stand up, when Cassandra’s hand immediately shot out to grab him and pulled him back in for a hug. “Cass, I… I really do need to return to the castle-”
“Just wrap your arms around me, you stubborn fool.” She said, her words muffled against his chest. Percival’s expression softened and he wrapped his arms around Cassandra, tightly, protectively. “We need your help in this mess, Percy. You’re the key we need to liberate Whitestone.”
This caused Percival to pull away from the hug. “What…?”
“Percy, look around you.” Cassandra said and grabbed his chin to turn his head at the members of Vox Machina. “And the gnome from earlier? He’s in Vedmire’s manor creating a distraction for the Pale Guards. The people of Whitestone are with you, Percy. They’re with us. They’re with the de Rolo family.” Percival looked at the three half-elves and goliath, then turned his head to Cassandra. “We would really appreciate it if you were to help us.”
Another long moment, and a very impatient comment from the goliath, Percival got up finally and walked to Anders’ office without a word, but his demeanor was clear. He wanted them to follow, and so they did. After rummaging through every journal and book in the office, Percival finally opened a drawer and pulled out a star chart. “This is as much information I can give you without putting you all in immediate danger with the Briarwoods. Collect yourselves and whatever you need, then meet me at the secret tunnel to the dungeons of the castle.”
Cassandra looked at the star chart before a smile formed on her face at Percival’s instructions.
They were breaking through, finally.
Notes:
Vox Machina give the people of Whitestone the hope they needed, even under the attack of an army of undead. Then they venture down to the dungeons, and familiar faces meet once more.
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