Chapter Text
There was a prisoner on the ship.
Vex had been down in the cargo hold, studying the one half of the amplifier they had been sent to retrieve, thinking to herself ‘I thought it would be bigger’, when Vax had poked his head through the doorway to the brig.
“Vex, you’re going to want to see this.”
Yes, she generally did want to see whatever prisoners they had, but right now her mind was on the amplifier, the intricate pieces of metal that circled a white crystal like a gyro, and how they had only seemed to retrieve half of the damn thing. Sighing, she stuck the object on her belt and stood up, fixing her vest.
Now, she stood inside the brig, watching as her brother picked the lock on a cell door, tapping her fingers against her arm as she thought. Behind the metal bars sat a young man, skin pale and hair white as snow, wrists manacled to chains that were set in the wall, curled in on himself in the corner. He was warily watching them from behind round lenses that shone in the dim light, hiding his expression.
A prisoner could be here for numerous reasons. Murder, mutiny, ransom. And despite the lawless company the man found himself in, being in the brig of a pirate ship was no indicator for innocence. Yet a prisoner alive… that suggested value, fiscal or otherwise.
Vex stilled her fingers. A ransom would be nice. Return this man to whatever family and get themselves a nice reward for it. A win-win for everyone.
The lock opened with a click and the man shifted as the door swung open. No praises sung for his possible saviours. Just wariness, suspicion, distrust.
That didn’t bode well.
“Hello there,” Vex greeted as she waltzed into the cell, “I’m Captain Vex’ahlia of the Vox Machina, and we’ve just seized this vessel here for stolen property belonging to the crown of Emon. Now, seeing as we’ve found you as a prisoner on this ship, I suppose that makes you the enemy of my enemy. So I’m going to ask this once; to us, are you friend or foe?”
The pale man kept his eyes low, brows furrowing slightly, and answered through a split lip, “Friend.” His voice was low and gravelly, thick from disuse, and his eyes flicked up briefly to watch her from beneath his brows. Vex detected a hint of an accent, one that came from a proper education.
Oh, please be rich.
“Friend,” Vex mused with a smirk. Nine times out of ten that’s what they all said. What she really wanted to ask was ‘why are you here’, but that almost never got a truthful answer. So instead, she played this little mindgame. “Then, make your case as to why we should let you return to the Vox Machina with us.”
He shifted forward, onto his knees. “I uh, I can be of personal service to you,” he murmured, voice softer now, almost hesitant. Yes, definitely an accent, elegant and clear. “Whatever you desire; I’d be yours to do with as you please.” A shaking slender arm mottled with bruises came up to tug on his shirt collar, chains clinking as they were lifted, revealing beneath angry red welts that marked his throat, and a delicate silver collar that hung around his neck, shining in the lantern light.
Vex’s anger flared at the sight of it. Images of women hanging on the doorways of brothels flashed in her mind, silver chokers glinting in the sun. She saw graceful courtesans being brandished as symbols of wealth and status, as to afford one with a collar like that, meant they’d been paid a pretty price for. The memory of the ship raided three seasons ago pushed into the forefront with a fury, where they had found cages full of people, some still children, starved and battered and filthy, naked save for the piece of jewellery that hung around their necks, all on route to a place where most of them would not survive the education to come.
Those fucking silver collars. Vex had stood by each and every one’s side as they went through the painstaking process of disenchanting them, and then getting them cleaved off at a blacksmith, as the cursed things were fused shut, so that the wearer could never remove it themselves.
The man swiftly retracted his hand as if he’d done something wrong and stared at the floor.
Vex crossed the short distance between them and crouched before him. No wonder he had been so watchful—he was probably expecting to be thrown onto their own ship to be used as another plaything. “What’s your name?”
“Percival.”
“Look at me, darling.”
He did so, tilting his bruised face toward her. This close, she could see his eyes were a light blue-green like seafoam, and the bags beneath them darker than the deepest trenches in the ocean. There was defiance in the set of his jaw, a fire that blazed within his gaze, but that didn’t conceal the fact that underneath it all, he was terrified. He clearly had been so scared for so long, his face had forgotten the shape of anything else.
“Percival, when we next get to port where we are going to remove that collar from your neck, and then you are free to either stay here with us, or leave, or we can take you to another port. The choice is yours.”
Percival searched her face for a long while, suspicion clouding those eyes, wary, ever so wary, before something finally softened. A crack in the mask. A barely contained hope that he seemed to be even more afraid of than the prospect of a lifetime in slavery. Vex only waited. “Thank you, Captain Vex’ahlia.”
She smiled at him. “It’s just Vex.”
Twisting round, she nodded at Vax who stalked over and began to pick the locks on his manacles. “Where’s Keyleth, on deck?”
“Last I saw her,” her brother murmured, attention focused on the lockpicks.
“Get her to take him to the infirmary and make sure he gets a meal. I’ll send Pike to look at him once she’s done here.”
“Can do.” The manacles opened, falling to the ground in a clunking of metal. Gently, Vax reached down to help Percival to stand, Vex stepping forward to assist as the pale man teetered on his feet, looking on the brink of passing out.
Beneath her hands he was so thin, worryingly so. When was the last time he had eaten?
“It’s all-right,” she found herself saying as they steadied him. “We’ve got you.”
In Vax’s grip, Percival shook like a leaf, looking very much like he did not wish to be touched. Vax tried to wrap his arm around the paler man's waist to secure him, but pulled back as he let out a sharp cry, somehow blanching further and swaying dangerously in place.
Vax let out a curse as he caught him.
“His back,” Vex murmured as she stepped forward, catching the other arm. As she lifted up his shirt, Percival made a sound of protest, straining fruitlessly in their grip but ultimately too weak to do anything, collasping between them. Thankfully, or not so, Vex didn’t need to lift the fabric very far before she caught the source of his pain.
She sucked in a sharp breath.
Beneath his shirt, which was stained with old blood, the man’s back was a shredded mess. Thick, long gashes lacerated his flesh, lashes upon lashes, red and inflamed, pus oozing within the wounds which had been left to fester.
“Oh Gods,” she heard Vax murmur.
Pressing her lips into a line, Vex lowered the fabric. “All-right,” she sighed. “All-right. I’ll take his other side, and we go slowly.” She looked up at her brother, who nodded in agreement.
She moved her attention to Percival, who was breathing heavily, ragged breaths as he shook violently between them. Gently, Vex brushed his hair back from his face, and those light eyes moved towards her, unfocussed. She cupped his jaw. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “A short trip to the infirmary then we’ll get you fixed up, all-right? Just hold on; can you do that for me?”
The man swallowed and nodded.
Gingerly, the twins secured the human between them before setting off at a steady pace. Vex spared one last glance at the cell as they left, at the now open manacles, the dirty blanket in the corner, the blood-stained floor. Exhaling deeply through her nose, she turned towards the door, swallowing down the ugly fury that was roiling in her throat.
After handing Percival over the Keyleth, Vex went in search of their cleric, eyes scanning the decks. The surviving crew of the Umbra had been gathered near the mast and tied up, while their fallen members had been dragged off to the side, the injured members of the Vox Machina gathered on the other. A shock of white hair sat in the centre of activity, and Vex moved towards it.
“Pike!”
Pike looked up from where she was kneeling beside a half-orc crew member, golden light glowing beneath her hands. As Vex neared, she smiled a closed lip smile. “What’s up, Captain?”
“I need you to head to the infirmary immediately. You can finish up here later,” Vex told her, voice softening as she added, “be gentle with our guest.”
The cleric nodded, understanding falling on her features. “Always am.” With a pat on the crew members arm, she stood up and took off.
Vex then did another round of the captured ship, issuing orders to her company to comb through every nook, cranny, and crevice they could find. She checked for hidden compartments, went through all their stores and supplies, even searched through personal trunks and under beds. Nothing, except a whole lot of clothing, some illicit substances, a few smutty books.
Despite having pinched a little of each for herself, when Vex returned to the main deck, her mood was thunderous.
Adjusting her hat as the sun hit her face, Vex spun on the spot, searching for a dark cloak in the masses. Finally her eyes fell upon a familiar black-haired figure, overseeing as the sails were lowered. “Vax!”
Stopping in place, Vax turned in search of the source of his name, gaze swiftly falling on his sister. He jogged towards her.
“Have we found the second half of this amplifier yet?” Vex asked as her brother came to a stop beside her. So far she has had no such luck down below deck.
“Not yet, we’ve scoured almost every corner up here. if it doesn’t turn up, it might be in some of the cargo we’ve already taken aboard.”
For her part, Vex did not share her brother’s optimism. Sighing, she pressed her fingers against her forehead. “We’re on a fucking ship. Where could it possibly have gone?”
There was a commotion starboard as one of the captured crew managed to free themselves. The milling members of the Vox Machina all shouted and readied their arms for attack, only to have the man run straight ahead to jump overboard.
There was a splash as he landed into the water.
A line of people stood at the railing, staring down at the sea, some shouting, some laughing.
“Leave the idiot be,” Vex yelled at them. “If he would rather drown, that’s his prerogative.” She turned back to her brother and rolled her eyes.
“There’s also the possibility that the amplifier just isn’t here,” Vax continued.
“Maybe they sold it?”
Vax looked doubtful. “But only the half?”
“Perhaps, if they didn’t know what it was. I mean, if I didn’t know what this is," she said, gesturing to the half on her hip, "I would have just assumed it was some sort of fancy lamp.”
A snort. “It’s a possibility.” He paused, just as he always did when it preceded something she wasn't going to like. “Maybe we should ask Whitey. He might’ve seen or overheard something.”
Whitey, Gods, that was not Vax’s best work. “Perhaps,” she responded slowly, even though for a myriad of reasons she would rather not. “Let’s finish our search here first.”
The other half-elf nodded and took off.
Vex turned her attention to the captured crew of the Umbra. She approached slowly, hand resting upon the hilt of her cutlass as she crossed the deck, letting them stew in their fear and revelling in the way they flinched each time her heels hit the deck. Finally, she came to a stop before their captain, who had been singled out, hip cocked as she stared down her nose at him.
“I see you’ve taken the whore as spoils,” the man stated conversationally, talking to her as if she were an old friend and not like she was responsible for the bleeding gash on his shoulder. All fake bluster. “Tell ya what though, he’s a fuckin’ brat—won’t do what you tell him and got a mouth on him too. Little word of advice, captain to captain, if he gives ya shit, starve him for a couple days. Or toss him to the crew. He’ll be more compliant after tha-”
She had heard enough. Vex punched him square in the jaw with a sickening crack.
Fuck! Oh shit, that hurt.
The captain laughed, blood dribbling down from a broken nose. “Hit a nerve, huh bit-”
Shaking her hand, Vex elected this time to kick him, dislodging a tooth which went skittering across the wood.
“All-right then,” she said, staring down at the glaring captain, “if you’re quite done running your mouth now, would you care to tell me where the other half of the amplifier is?”
“And why the fuck would I tell you that, bitch?”
Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, she pulled his face towards hers and leant in close. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to tie you to the mast, whip you raw, and then starve you for a couple days. And if you still don’t talk after that, I’m going to personally castrate you, then toss you to the crew, and while they’re having their fun using you as a pincushion, I’m going to go catch a shark, and then I’m going to feed you to my new pet, piece by pathetic piece.”
“Captain,”
Vex turned at her brother’s voice, finding him sauntering out the captains’ quarters, a large book held open in his hands. As the door swung shut behind him Vex caught a quick look at the room beyond, which looked as if an exceedingly small and targeted tornado had gone through it.
“Found the ledger. The amplifier is on a second ship, called the Ida.”
Vex threw the captain to the deck and straightened, spinning towards Vax. “Of course it is,” she murmured, putting a hand on her hip. “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket and all that.”
Vax shut the book with a snap. “They’re scheduled to land in Mara in about two weeks, which puts them around a day ahead of us. If we’re smart, we could catch them before they reach port.”
“Well, I suppose we better get going then.” Vex looked over the ship, eyes skimming across the debris from battle and the captured crew. Most of her own crew were standing around the deck, having finished searching the ship and carting over supplies. Her gaze flicked to the kneeling people. “You all loyal to your captain?”
The surviving crew of the Umbra all looked at her, looked at each other, and shook their heads.
“I see.” She turned to Vax. “Kill the captain, leave the crew. We don’t need turn-cloaks on our ship.” Meanwhile she was going to go hunt down Pike and get her hand healed cause fuck, she probably broke something.
As Grog and another member stepped in to grab the captain, the man started screaming at Vex’s back. “Hey! You cunt! You fuckin’ coward! Come back here and face me yourself! You’re gonna fuckin kill me?”
She paused then, flicking her braid off her shoulder as she twisted back to tell him, “It’s nothing personal, darling. I just can’t stand seeing a rapist with their head still attached to their neck.”
----------
It had taken everything Percy had to not pass out. He couldn’t remember when last he had eaten, he knew his last drink of water was about two days ago as if it were any longer, he would be dead, and all of his body was a fuzzy wash of pain. Thought was hard, his mind cloudy. He felt numb, blunted, and not being able to think, terrified him.
Well, he would be more terrified if he weren’t so ready for death.
Percy had squinted and blinked against the brightness of day as the captain and quartermaster of the Vox Machina had half-carried him out of the brig, almost falling again as the sun assaulted his senses. When was the last time he had seen the sky? Too long, he decided when he couldn’t remember. Too long since he’d last felt warmth on his skin.
No, wait, he remembered now. He had been tied to the mast, hands above his head, back bare and exposed.
On deck the captain passed Percy over to another half-elf, a redhead covered in freckles, Keyleth he supposed, who helped the first mate carry him between the ships and to the infirmary. She had nervously talked to him for the entire short trip, as if she were allergic to silence, while the darker man had been more or less silent. But as annoying as it sounded, Percy honest to the Gods hadn’t minded—in fact in a way it was familiar—and without even knowing or meaning to, the druid had helped comfort him in a small yet meaningful way. It had been years since someone had spoken to him like this. Percy was just content to soak it in, too exhausted to contribute or even actively listen, but cognizant enough to appreciate what was friendly company.
Not too long after the two had helped him into the infirmary, a white-haired gnome who must be Pike, had come and filled his body with healing light. The aches were gone, the wounds on his back closed, and some of that fog in his brain lifted as the pain dissipated from his body. The relief was—Gods there weren’t words. Percy was no stranger to pain. The past several years of his life has been filled with nothing but pain and agony, and he had learnt very quickly to appreciate the fleeting moments in which they were minimised.
But they were never absent.
Keyleth had dashed off and returned with some food and water and told him to eat slow. It had taken some restraint—he hadn’t eaten in days, but the knot in his stomach was so tight that he couldn’t stuff himself even if he wanted to. She sat with him while he ate, silently mending holes and slashes from a pile of clothes beside her, getting distracted every now and then by growing increasingly complicated flowers in the palm of her hand. They ended up being placed in her hair, where some would fall through the silky strands.
Having finished with his meal of stew and bread, Percy shifted towards her and picked up a white flower which had fallen on the floor. Keyleth turned at the movement, pausing her sewing as she watched him.
Percy held up the flower, which shook in his grip, and gestured to the others in her hair. Gods, he would offer to help mend clothes if his hands weren’t shaking so much. “May I?”
Keyleth smiled at him. “Sure!” Needle and thread abandoned, she immediately started pulling the floral decorations from her hair and placed them all on the cot beside him.
With a gentle hand, Percy sorted through the flowers. They were beautiful, otherworldly, with soft petals in an array of colours and whimsically shaped. Silently he wondered if these were real flowers, perhaps from whatever lands Keyleth had come from, or if they were unique, cultivated within her own mind. Perhaps when she grew them, her magic responded to her mood, surprising even herself.
Selecting an orange bloom to be the centrepiece, Percy set to work.
Despite the trembling in his fingers, having something to tinker with was helping. He lost himself in the fine motions, working on a mix of muscle memory and a critical eye, delicately threading the stems, weaving them together. Vesper had taught him how to make flower crowns, and years of summers spent carefully constructing these floral arrangements came back to him. For a moment, the world faded away, almost as if no time had passed at all.
He pushed the thoughts from his mind, focussing solely on the task at hand. A few finishing touches, dotting clusters of little white flowers throughout the crown, before he was holding out the finished product to Keyleth, whose face lit up as she looked up from her sewing, almost just as Whitney’s used to. “Gods, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed, almost stabbing herself in the face with a needle in her enthusiasm, the breeches she was working on slipping from her lap. But instead of taking it from him, she instead asked gently, “Would you do the honour?”
A small smile blossomed across Percy’s face. It felt so foreign, his muscles unused to the genuine expression after years of having to fake enthusiasm for those who had paid for his time. He hadn’t had much occasion to smile over the past few years. “It would be my pleasure.”
Keyleth bowed her head, and he affixed the crown atop her hair, keeping his touch light. She straightened up with a grin. “Thank you…” she said, before pausing, blinking at him expectantly.
“Percival,” he supplied.
“Percival. Can I call you Percy?”
He hadn’t heard that name in a while either. “You may.”
“In that case, nice to meet you, Percy,” she greeted. “I’m Keyleth.”
He already knew but inclined his head all the same. “A pleasure, Keyleth.”
Then he had been left alone for a little while, presumably to sleep. But laying open in an infirmary cot, a stranger on this new ship and unsure what he was to this crew, rest did not come to him.
After an hour or so, Keyleth returned, looking a little flustered and face flushed as if she’d been running around. Percy noted with some small joy that the crown was still on her head, although a little askew. “Hey, so,”
Percy lifted himself to sit on the edge of the cot.
“Captain said you’d probably appreciate a hot bath, and some fresh clothes, so there’s a tub set up for you along with some stuff that hopefully fits.” Her eyes flicked down to his bare feet. “And boots.”
A hot bath… oh Gods how he missed being clean. But as much as he wanted to, Percy couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this was some sort of trap. To use water on a ship for bathing seemed like a waste. And for a non-crew member…
Unless the captain wanted him clean.
Percy exhaled through his nose. Well, a hot bath wasn’t going to change his situation by much. He may as well enjoy it.
“We’ve also set you up in one of the officer’s quarters,” Keyleth continued. “There were only two spots available, either with Grog and Scanlan, with or Pike, Vax and myself, and we figured that you wouldn’t want to share with Scanlan because no one does, so I hope you don’t mind being in a room with us. You’ve met everybody already. But we can totally set up another hammock elsewhere if you don’t want-”
“Keyleth.”
She stopped her spiralling and blinked at him.
“Thank you, truly. I appreciate it.”
The redhead nodded and smiled at him. “Of course. Come on, I’ll take you over.”
As Percy stood from the cot, lights danced behind his eyes and his legs threatened to give out on him. Keyleth moved to grab his arm, but Percy shooed her away, instead steadying himself on a nearby chair and blinking as his vision cleared. So, it seems magical healing was great for physical ailments, but couldn’t fix malnutrition and dehydration.
“I’m fine,” he murmured as he gathered his bearings. Keyleth gave him a doubtful look but said nothing.
Once the world had stopped spinning and returned to the normal amount of swaying, Keyleth led him to the adjoining room, where sure enough a large tub stood in one corner, vapour dancing off the water’s surface. Hot water… of course, it must have been heated by using magic. Gods, his wits were slow. It shouldn’t have taken him so long to figure out this little detail.
“I’ll be in the infirmary,” Keyleth said. “When you’re done, I’ll show you to the quarters and leave you to get some rest.”
“Thank you once again, Keyleth.”
She smiled and nodded, before taking off.
Once she left, Percy turned to study his surroundings. The room was small, with bookshelves covered in vials and boxes lining two walls, a desk buried beneath a large book of inventory and an assortment and paraphernalia Percy couldn’t be assed to name pressed against another, and windows along the last, some which were open to let out the condensation. A couple shirts and pants had been left for him on the desk chair, along with a few pairs of boots to try, and a blue vest that Keyleth had mended. Percy took the folded clothing, hung them all over the screen, and wedged the seat right under the door so that nobody could open it, or at least do so without making a ruckus.
He turned towards the tub. Despite being alone in a (somewhat) locked room, Percy still elected to hide behind the screen before shedding himself of the filthy, ragged clothing he wore, peeling off the shirt where dried blood had glued it to his back, and pointedly not looking at the scars that covered his body. He threw the rags all in a corner before moving for the tub, finding a stool beside it, with soap, a cloth, and a flask which he noted with some amusement and a healthy dose of distrust.
Anxiety still thrummed in his chest, yet Percy felt the safest he had in a while. Placing his glasses on the stool after they fogged up, he sunk into the steaming water and settled his head against the ledge of the tub, eyes falling closed. The heat dug into his muscles, eased the tightness of his scars and helped to dull some of the constant ache that assaulted him, turning his limbs into weightless putty. A hot bath was probably not the wisest thing to do when one was feeling lightheaded, but if Percy was to pass out and drown… so be it.
In the steaming water, Percy could feel the collar grow hot against his skin.
With a sigh, his eyes opened, staring sightlessly at the ceiling above. After years of wearing it, its weight had become a constant, and sometimes he even forgot it was there. Sometimes. He reached a hand out of the water and wrapped his fingers around the silver, squeezing hard. How he hated the damn thing, hated how it defined him, how people’s eyes were blinded by the light glinting off it. Just like the scars that covered his body, it was another thing that marked him as owned by another. Even when Captain Vex’ahlia has asked him what he could bring to the ship, he had deferred to the godsdamn collar as he knew that the piece of jewellery was worth more than the fucking neck it circled.
And what did the captain want from him? He had offered himself to her and she hadn’t explicitly said no, but it was hard to believe that she would allow someone to stay on her ship without earning their keep. Yet, she did say she’d get his collar removed. Percy wasn’t going to hold out hope. He was more valuable with the damn thing attached. He supposed he was just going to have to wait until they docked somewhere, maybe plan an escape, and survive on the ship until then.
Fatigue was reaching up to wrap his body in its heavy embrace. Percy allowed his hand to slip from his throat and back into the warm water where it floated, before sitting up in the tub. Reaching over he grabbed the soap and cloth and begun to slowly scrub the dirt and blood from his body, watching as the water turned murky, feeling as he grew heavier and heavier, until finally he felt ready to slip into unconsciousness.
And when he finally hit his mattress in the officer’s quarters, belly full, pain reduced to a minimum, bathed, and clad in clean clothes, he all but collapsed, and the comforting embrace of nothing swiftly came to claim him.