Chapter 1: In Which the Band Gets Extremely Lucky
Notes:
Songs Included:
Hot for Teacher- Van Halen (I'm gonna be so honest here, the one I was picturing while writing this is the glee ver because I really unfortunately think Puck sounds like Scanlan)
Chapter Text
There was a loud metallic clang from the back of the small, oddly scented rehearsal space, and Percy de Rolo felt the distinct sensation of his left eyelid twitching.
“Vax, I told you not to get too close to my drums; your stupid little cable keeps getting caught up in my foot!”
“Where the fuck else am I supposed to stand then, Grog!”
“Well, I don’t know, but somewhere else!”
They had a gig in exactly four hours, and Percy was starting to come to the conclusion that they absolutely would not be playing well at all if things kept going as they currently were. They’d yet to make it through a single one of their songs without some kind of mishap or, as was currently the case, a spat between members.
“Can you both shut the fuck up, please? I am genuinely asking.” Vex’ahlia’s exhausted voice came muffled from behind the hands she’d had over her face. She seemed to be just as exhausted as Percy currently was.
Vax’ildan stuck his tongue out at his sister as Keyleth’s voice piped up from the front of the room, “Percy, can you give me an A4?”
Halfway out of a yawn, Percy dutifully sang the note as Keyleth tuned her banjo. “Thanks, Percy!”
“Can we please at least make it through one song relatively intact?” Vex practically begged.
“Yeah, alright, alright, alright,” Scanlan drawled. “Let’s start again from the top—Grog?”
Taking the cue, Grog banged his wooden drumsticks together three times before Percy began to weave his fingers over the cool plastic of his keyboard, leading them into their most well-practiced song.
Vex’s deft fingers joined the melody with a strong guitar line, steadfastly backed by Vax’s bass. Pike whooped triumphantly as she managed to successfully jump in with her second guitar line, effectively creating a three-part harmony with the string instruments.
Scanlan’s upbeat voice began to forge his way through the first verse followed shortly by an upper harmony from Keyleth.
Aside from a few sharp notes, the rest of the song went well enough to please the more particular members of their group (Vex) and they were able to walk out of the rehearsal space feeling less doomed than they had a few hours previous. Despite this small fraction of hope Percy still had a sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach that this gig would not go well.
—
The venue they’d been hired to play was actually nicer than Percy had anticipated. It was the type of brewery that overcharged on mediocre alcohol and claimed to be “classier’ than your average bar all the while still playing host to the intoxicated masses of Emon’s nightlife. Something about the place made him feel vaguely uncomfortable.
“Guys trust me it’s the PERFECT song” Scanlan’s voice pulled him away from his musings.
“We are not playing your horny teacher song for our opener, Scanlan,” came Vex’s short reply.
“Do you have a better idea then?” Scanlan raised a triumphant eyebrow, knowing he’d won.
Vex gave a weary sigh and waved her hand in acquiescence.
The crowd funneled in slowly and surely during their sound check and subsequent preparations, turning out to be much larger than Percy had anticipated. Up until this point they were rather used to small venues with the odd drunk who barely had the wherewithal to pay them any mind. He hoped that perhaps this would be a welcome change.
With the completion of their brief sound check, the overhead lights began to dim, making way for the illuminating stage light from the back of the space, and Grog led them into the intro of Scanlan’s aforementioned “horny teacher song,” banging on his drums with a vigor only he could achieve on an inconsequential Wednesday night.
Vex’ahlia stepped up past Percy’s keyboard with the same fluid grace she always carried herself with. Percy found himself mesmerized by the way her long, curly hair moved against her back. He watched as her fingers began to work over the frets of her guitar in a fast-paced series of notes, forming a more structured melody and guiding Pike and Vax to join in.
Percy nearly lost track of his own part of the song as he admired the way her skin looked under the fluorescent stage lighting.
Vax and Scanlan engaged in a brief bit of on-theme banter before Scanlan launched into the song’s first verse. His voice was electric and very quickly brought the slightly unenthusiastic mood of the room to one of high-energy excitement.
Percy joined in just before the chorus, adding a third harmony beneath Keyleth’s and Scanlan’s. He truly could not believe he’d been goaded into participating in this asinine lyrical abomination but so far it seemed to be working out well.
It all seemed to take a moment for the sound to really register in the minds of the audience members, but after a good few seconds, they erupted into raucous cheers.
Gods, they actually sounded good. Percy almost couldn’t believe they had managed to pull this off, given how poorly their rehearsal had unfolded only a few hours previous. Just as soon as they hit the halfway point of the song, however, is when Percy’s tentative optimism came to bite him in the ass… hard.
Vax, in his excitement, had once again made his way a bit too close to Grog’s drum set, and the man’s abnormally large foot got caught up in the cable attaching the half-elf’s bass to his amplifier. Grog, who didn’t notice the impending disaster, jerked his foot towards his kick drum, inadvertently pulling Vax across the stage with a strength to rival a ten-ton oil rig. The force of his body pulled the cable from the bottom of his bass, effectively relieving the pressure on the instrument, but it was not enough to stop Vax from crashing through the mic stands and towards the front of the stage. Keyleth and Vex both made a very valiant effort to catch him; however, in doing so, they collided with one another in a display that was truly difficult for both audience and band members to behold. Keyleth, now unbalanced, went toppling right over the edge of the stage just behind Vax as they crumpled onto the sticky floor in a heap. Vex just barely managed to catch herself before she joined them and turned around to look back at the shocked faces of the rest of her band.
Nobody moved for a beat. Then two. The shock and disbelief permeated through the room before Scanlan, champion and chief of ‘the show must go on,’ picked his mic stand up from its side and cleared his throat. “So, uhh… does anyone wanna hear a limerick?”
—
The backstage area that the band had been using as their dressing room was, for once in their entire history, dead silent.
Percy knocked back two ibuprofen like a straight shot of vodka and dry-swallowed them both. This particular habit of Percy’s habitually horrified poor Grog, who still took gummy vitamins due to his steadfast refusal to swallow pills.
Meanwhile, Vax and Keyleth were sitting side by side on one of the folding tables as Pike, an EMT, went back and forth between them checking for injuries or other ailments. She straightened up from her crouched position in front of Keyleth, flipping off the light she’d been using to check them for concussions. “You’re both a little scraped up, but nothing too serious; you’ll be fine in a day or so.”
The room lulled into silence once more until Keyleth finally spoke, “Guys, that was like… really bad, wasn’t it?”
Percy removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, Keyleth, that was bad.”
Before anyone else could contribute their two cents, there was a gentle knock on the door. Vex made her way over and turned the handle. In the open space stood a tall, almost regal woman with long blonde hair tied into two thick braids that hung down either of her shoulders, reaching nearly down to her hips.
Percy immediately spotted the designer clothes and the expensive manicure; this woman was clearly wealthy. It wasn’t until she spoke that Percy also concluded that she was extremely intelligent. “You’re Vox Machina, right? The ones responsible for the rather… momentous display earlier?”
Vex stepped forward as the group's official unofficial leader. “Of course, darling, we live to put on a show.”
The woman gave a small smile and reached into her coat, pulling out a business card and handing it to the half-elf in front of her. “Allura Vysoren,” Vex read off. “Talent manager?”
Her brother stepped up next to her and eyed this ‘Allura’ with an air of skepticism. “Surely you aren’t suggesting what I think you are?”
The woman actually gave a polite laugh at that, waving her hands. “Oh, no, nothing of the sort. I am simply interested in prospectively procuring your services.”
The twins practically balked in her face. “You… actually want to hire us after that?” Vax asked with a vague gesture of ‘that.’
“What do those words mean?” Grog failed to stage-whisper.
“They mean we might not be eternally fucked.” Percy answered at a normal volume.
Allura crossed her arms over her chest, her expensive blue coat making a slight swishing sound. “Look, I'll be honest with you. You were actually quite good before the mishap, and I am in dire need of someone who won’t mind stepping in at such short notice.”
Vex leaned back and crossed her arms in a mirror of Allura’s position. “How short are we talking?”
“Tomorrow night.” Allura answered with a sigh, “Our previous band has pulled out at the eleventh hour, I’m afraid, and Uriel has had this extravagant opening planned for his new nightclub for months now. I would be a terrible manager if I wasn’t able to procure a decent replacement in time.”
Scanlan jumped up from his place against the wall with a fervor that actually startled Percy. “Uriel, as in Uriel TAL’DOREI?” he screeched.
He looked around at the rest of the room for validation, and when no one seemed as enthused as he so clearly was, he sighed. “You fucks are way too young. Uriel Tal’dorei is only one of the biggest reality TV stars from my childhood.”
Recognition dawned on the rest of the room as they all chimed in with similar statements of agreement that they remembered seeing him on reruns now and again.
Allura cleared her throat. “So you’ll do it then?”
Before anyone else could get a single word in, Scanlan practically shouted in the affirmative, “We’ll be… wherever it is… where is it exactly?”
Taking the business card back from Vex’s hands, she wrote the address onto the back in graceful script before handing it back. “The show begins at 7 pm, so be there at 5 for sound check and preparation.”
“We’ll be there,” Vax replied.
Allura nodded before exiting the room, the smell of honey and linen trailing behind her.
Percy looked to each member, who all had similar looks of confusion and shock on their faces.
Keyleth finally broke the silence, giving a voice to the singular thought going through every head in the room: “What the fuck just happened?”
Chapter 2: In Which the Band Proves Competent for the First Time Ever
Notes:
Songs Included:
School's Out- Alice Cooper (Once again, I'm ashamed to say the version I pictured was, in fact, the Glee version)Content Warnings:
Emetophobia: Gagging but nobody actually gets sick. I have emetophobia so you'll never catch me writing anything with actual vomit. If you'd like to skip stop reading at "When he opened her brightly decorated door" and continue at "I can't do it, Percy."
Chapter Text
Percy’s phone began to ring, giving him quite the start, just as he was rushing into the front entryway of his rundown apartment. He fumbled with it for a moment before finally managing to get enough of a grip to see Keyleth’s contact photo flashing on his lock screen. He quickly hit accept and was immediately greeted by the redhead’s frantically high-pitched voice, “Percy, oh thank god!”
Percy stopped in his tracks, concern welling up in his chest. “Keyleth, is everything alright?”
“My banjo string snapped,” she said, near tears. “Uriel’s gig is tonight, and I don’t have another one, and even if I did, I’m really not good at re-stringing it, and—” She rambled almost to the point of breathlessness.
“Keyleth It’s alright.” He cut her off. “I’ll be over in ten, and I’ll grab strings from Gilmore’s on my way over.”
Keyleth sniffed. “Thanks, Percy. You’re the best.”
He clicked the end call button and put his phone back into the pocket of his coveralls with a sigh; there went his opportunity to shower before the gig.
He changed into the nearest decently nice items of clothing he could find before throwing his coveralls on top of the washing machine to be dealt with later.
His keyboard and amplification equipment were already in the back of Pike’s hefty pickup, so all he needed to bring with him were some backup strings and cables for the various instruments they’d be using tonight.
Just as he was pulling his shoes over his heels and preparing to head out the door, he heard the distinct sound of crutches tapping on hardwood. A moment later, his baby sister, Cassandra, appeared from down the hall. Her shock of white hair nestled amongst the rest of her walnut-colored strands was unkempt and sticking out in several odd directions; she had clearly just woken from a nap. Percy frowned; he knew she needed rest to recover, but the sheer amount of time she’d spent sleeping as of late was beginning to worry him.
She paused directly in front of where he was sitting on their ugly thrift store couch, raising an eyebrow. “You’re really wearing that to your big show?”
Percy looked down at himself and saw exactly what he’d expected: a powder blue sweater and plain black slacks. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” he questioned, only mildly offended.
Cass didn’t answer; instead, she made her way over to the kitchen table and grabbed the long dark coat that hung on the back of the outermost chair. “Put this on.” She instructed.
“Isn’t this one of yours?” He asked incredulously, “I doubt it’ll fit.”
Cass rolled her eyes. “It’s big on me anyway, now put it on.”
Percy obeyed and shrugged the coat on overtop his sweater, holding his arms out in a nonverbal question of ‘How’s this?’
Cass nodded. “Better, now go or you’ll be late.”
Percy paused in the doorway and scrutinized her for a moment. “Did you eat?”
Cass huffed. “Not yet. I was on my way to the kitchen when I had to fix that .” She gestured to his person.
Percy ignored her unserious dig at his appearance. “Did you take your pills?”
“This morning.”
“Make sure you finish your homework before the tutor arrives tomorrow.”
Cass rolled her eyes in earnest this time and gave his shoulder a shove towards the door. “Yes, I’ve got it, Mum. Now GO .”
Percy placed his hand on the back of her head and gave her forehead a small kiss. “Alright, I love you; I’ll be back before too late.”
Cass waved him off and closed the door. He waited a moment to hear the click of her locking it before he made his way down towards the lobby of their building.
—
The bell above the door to Gilmore’s gaudy purple-themed storefront gave a pleasant little chirp as Percy stepped into the threshold. Behind the counter stood the namesake of the shop: a large man draped in a multitude of scarves and flowing robes in varying shades of purple. Glittery amethyst makeup dusted his dark skin in a way that was perfectly complementary to the thick strands of hair that framed the sides of his face; he really was quite beautiful.
He smiled when he saw Percy. “Well, hello there, sunshine.” His expression morphed into a playful frown. “I see you didn’t bring the cute one with you—a shame.”
Percy gave a small laugh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d be offended; besides, you give him far too much credit.”
The corners of Gilmore’s lips lifted once more as he came out from behind the counter. His abundant pieces of gold jewelry jingled together in a sort of melody as he moved to greet Percy with a brief kiss on the cheek.
He pulled away and regarded Percy kindly. “What brings you here today, dear? If you’re looking for a new project, I just picked up a few synthesizers; the couple who brought 'em in says they think there’s something faulty with the wiring.”
Percy raised an interested eyebrow. “That’s not why I came, no, but I am rather interested. Tell me more about them another day?”
Gilmore nodded before Percy continued, “I actually came to pick up banjo strings; Keyleth’s broken hers, and she’s in a bit of a state over it.”
Gilmore chuckled warmly. “I see, that one does know how to work herself up, doesn’t she?”
“You have no idea.”
Gilmore began to dig through a bin he had hidden beneath the counter out of Percy’s immediate line of sight with the promise of finding him ‘the good ones.’
“How’s that sweet little sister of yours?” His voice came slightly muffled.
“About fifteen minutes ago she said my outfit looked like shit and forcibly redressed me before shoving me out the door, if that answers your question.”
Gilmore stood back up, strings in hand, and beckoned Percy over to the register. “Ah, the joys of being sixteen—I remember them well.”
His face sobered a bit. “I’m glad she’s doing better.”
“So am I.” Percy replied quietly.
He paid for the strings, and with a quick goodbye to Gilmore, he began the short walk to Keyleth’s apartment.
—
When he opened her brightly decorated door, he was immediately greeted by the strong smell of incense and the same lavender cosmetic that always seemed to accompany her presence. “Keyleth?” He called.
The sound of retching from the direction of the bathroom had him immediately picking up his pace. He rounded the corner and saw the absolute disaster that was his best friend.
She was sitting on the floor in front of the toilet with thick black streaks of mascara running down her cheeks, and she looked up at Percy with the most pitiful expression he’d ever seen on another person.
“Oh, dearest.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, her lip started to quiver in earnest and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, broadening the already abundant mascara tracks. She drew her knees into her chest and tried to make herself as small as she possibly could. A quick glance in the toilet told him that she hadn’t actually been sick; the dry heaving was likely from nerves.
“I can’t do it, Percy.” She sobbed, “I’m going to mess it up so bad I can feel it.”
Percy crouched down in front of her and placed a hand on her knee. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can discuss, alright?”
Keyleth nodded and allowed Percy to pull her up and sit her on the now-closed toilet lid. She sniffed and wiped her cheek, further smearing the mascara, as Percy grabbed a towel from the cabinet just outside the bathroom door. He knew the layout of her apartment well enough by now to know where most things were kept. He dumped a bit of makeup remover onto the corner and began to wipe the mascara off her cheeks. As he did so, he began to hum some old lullaby he remembered his mother singing; he hardly even remembered the words to it anymore.
Even through her panic, a hint of surprise was clear in her eyes. She wasn’t used to hearing him get anywhere even close to singing for more than a few seconds. As predicted, his lilting tone began to calm her, and she leaned into his hand.
They didn’t speak as he cleaned her face and reapplied her makeup, the only sound being his voice softly making its way through the long-forgotten melody.
It wasn’t until they were sitting on her couch with her head resting on his shoulder that she spoke. “Your voice is really nice.”
Percy felt a bit of a twinge in his chest. “Thank you.”
They both went quiet for another minute, each of them watching Percy’s fingers move over the frets of Keyleth’s banjo as he restrung it. “You should sing my part tonight.” Keyleth said quietly, nearly begging.
Percy sighed, suddenly feeling just as tired as she seemed to be. “You know how I feel about that, dear.”
Keyleth let out a breath that sounded like she might cry again. “I know, I’m sorry. I just… really don’t think I can do it.”
Percy shifted, forcing her to move her head from his shoulder. “Look at me.”
She met his eyes, looking just as miserable as she likely felt. “You’ve performed before, yes?” He asked, already knowing the answer.
She nodded.
“You’ve performed quite well, to my memory, enough to blow me away on more than one occasion.”
She gave a small, reluctant laugh.
“The size of the crowd makes no difference, dearest.”
She looked away then, unconvinced and avoiding eye contact. “But this show is so important for all of us. It’s the biggest one we’ve done, and we were personally invited by someone with power in this industry.”
He gently grabbed her chin and made her look into his eyes again. “Listen to what I’m saying, Keyleth.” He commanded, not unkindly. “Neither the size of the crowd nor those in attendance makes any difference. You know the songs, you have the talent, and I’m not saying I think you will, but if you do happen to mess up, Scanlan and the rest of us are there to cover for you. You aren’t going to be up there all by yourself.”
She gave a long, shaky breath and seemingly forced herself to nod in agreement. “Okay, you’re right. You’re right. I can do this; it’ll be okay.”
“There we go.” Percy smiled. “Now, shall we go before Vex’ahlia has our skins for being late?”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
—
As predicted, the second they stepped into the venue, they were met with a furious and practically manic Vex. “Where the FUCK were you two?”
Keyleth looked ashamed at the ground before Percy jumped in. “Ah, a bit of a hiccup, I’m afraid, but everything’s alright now.”
Vex sighed and ran a hand over her face. “You’ve got grease on your face, darling.”
Percy went to wipe his cheek and looked back up at Vex. “A side effect from work I’m afraid, better?”
“Mmm, no, it’s just to the left.” Vex replied.
Percy attempted to remove it once again, but he could tell by the look on Vex’s face that he’d only smeared it across his cheek. He watched with barely concealed terror as she licked her thumb and moved it up towards him.
She leaned her entire body into his space as she wiped his cheek. Percy could smell her evergreen-scented shampoo, and he could see down into the never-ending expanse of her beautiful brown eyes, and—oh gods, she was really close to him.
After a few world-ending seconds she leaned away, satisfied with her work, and beckoned them into the venue to begin their rehearsal. Percy dutifully followed, even just as an excuse not to think too hard about the way his body had reacted to that extremely brief proximity.
—
Sound check went, mercifully, uneventfully. Allura, who was standing at the back of the space observing them, gave an approving nod when they finished their run-through.
Percy had been keeping a watchful eye on Keyleth, and although she still seemed jittery and nervous, it seemed that their previous conversation had actually helped her get out of her own head a bit.
They savored the last few minutes before the venue doors opened and the crowds began to pour in. Some people stole glances at the stage as they moved about the space and went to the bar to order their drinks for the night.
The group got settled into their spots on the stage and began to take up their instruments. Percy gave Keyleth’s hand a quick squeeze as she went to the front of the stage to take her spot next to Scanlan, and she gave him a small appreciative smile over her shoulder.
From the back of the stage, Percy watched as Scanlan looked to each member to confirm everyone’s readiness before launching into his opening speech. “Hello, hello, patrons of Tal'dorei, how are we doin’ tonight?”
The crowd gave some, if not enthusiastic, polite cheers in response.
Scanlan continued, “We’re thrilled to be here, we really are, and we hope you all enjoy what we’ve prepared for you. This first one is a song I wrote during my last semester of college. Who here's still a student?”
There were various cheers from different clusters of people around the room. “Alright, I see you, I see you.” Scanlan continued, “Fuck that place, am I right?”
The cheers grew even louder, and Percy could see excited smiles appearing on the faces of those closest to the stage.
“I know, I know,” he continued. “I hated it so much that I, naturally, went back.”
The room gave a mix of confused and excited laughs.
“Anyway, this one’s for my students who, I’m sure, hate that place just as much as we all did.”
With the room sufficiently warmed up, Grog counted them in, and Vex moved to the front of the stage and opened the song with a riff. Percy and Grog jumped in on keys and drums a moment later, picking up the rapid tempo.
Finally, Scanlan started in with the first verse.
“Well, we’ve got no choice.”
“All the girls and boys.”
The crowd began to cheer in earnest, now, some of them looking to their friends to exchange excited glances as Scanlan continued the verse.
Percy could see Keyleth steel herself as the next verse came. She stepped up to the mic, and her voice came out invigorating and flawless.
“No more pencils.”
“No more books.”
“No more teacher’s dirty looks.”
Despite himself, Percy smiled. He knew she’d be marvelous. Vex turned around to look at him, a similar smile on her face. He should've known she’d figure out exactly why they had been late, and she had given him shit instead of Keyleth.
His smile grew wider as he very pointedly did not ponder on the fact that he might really be in deep with her.
—
They rushed backstage in an absolute whirlwind of sweat and positively electric energy, tripping over each other as their excited chatter permeated the air around them.
Grog was carrying Pike and Scanlan on either of his shoulders as the absolute behemoth of a man practically ran in circles on the path to their dressing area.
Percy was flanked by a twin on each side, their arms over each of his shoulders. The two of them were drunk on sheer adrenaline, and Percy was all but holding them on their feet. “That was INCREDIBLE!” Vex shouted, accompanied by a hysterical laugh.
Keyleth appeared in front of them, walking backwards on her heels. “We did it! We actually did it, and we were GOOD —no, no, we were GREAT —we were—”
Inevitably, walking backwards turned out to be a mistake, as before she could finish her sentence, she pitched back over a cord that was strewn across the ground. Before she could hit the ground, however, Grog’s large arm intercepted her flat-footed descent and draped her up over his shoulder next to Pike.
Grog gave an overzealous war cry and bent his legs as he began to do exaggerated squats with the weight of three people on his shoulders.
Percy felt an unfamiliar warmth well up in his stomach. It moved to his chest and up his throat, and before he knew it, a fit of unrestrained laughter had him gripping onto the twins to keep himself upright.
When he straightened back up, he was met with the sight of six matching expressions of surprise; they weren’t used to such open displays of laughter or any kind of emotion from him, really.
He cleared his throat and looked down at the ground, embarrassed.
A squeal of “Freddieeeee!” sounded from his left as Vax began to shake him like a rattle toy and planted a big wet kiss on his cheek, to which Percy immediately wiped off with an air of synthetic disgust.
The moment they rounded the corner into their dressing room a tall man stepped into their line of sight, his hands clasped behind his back. He had dark skin and a white beard and he carried himself with an air of distinct importance. This was a face they all recognized as that of Uriel Tal’dorei and he seemed pleased.
Uriel stepped forward to greet them, “Vox Machina.” He stated, “You performed well tonight.”
“Thank you, sir.” Percy nodded.
“And thank you for the opportunity.” Vex added.
Uriel smiled. “About that… How would you feel about a more permanent position?”
Despite her calm demeanor as she replied, Vex’ahlia had a steadying grip on Percy’s arm that could very easily shatter a lesser man’s bones. “Are you asking us to become regulars?”
Uriel nodded. “Yes, well, my nightclub has been in dire need of some real talent for quite some time, and if I’m not mistaken, you all are looking for an avenue into the industry?”
They all gave tentative nods, to which Uriel continued, “Perfect, this place gets a surprising amount of foot traffic from many an influential name. Keep doing what you did tonight and you’ll start to make waves in no time.”
He began to make his way towards the door. “Allura will finalize the details with you all in a few days. Welcome aboard, Vox Machina.”
The door closed behind him with a click, and Scanlan was the first to speak. “So is this just gonna happen every time we come backstage now? A random and incredible job offer outta thin air?”
Nobody else had their wits about them enough to conjure any semblance of a reply.
“No, like seriously, this is becoming a pattern.”
Vax recovered enough to speak, and he smiled. “I guess you’re right, little man; time to break out the champagne.”
Chapter 3: In Which the Band Attends a Party
Notes:
Because singing killed his grandma okay >:(
Apologies for the late update, I legit finished it with 30 minutes of Wednesday to spare so I'm sorry if it feels a bit rushed.
As always thank you for reading :)
*If y'all saw the version before I edited where I accidentally pasted a line from the middle of the chapter in the very beginning no you didn't*
Chapter Text
It wasn’t exactly fair to say Percy hated his job. He liked to work with mechanical constructions in whatever form, really. Sure, vehicles weren’t his first choice, and he worked on more complicated mechanisms in his spare time, but given his lack of higher education, he had few other options.
He was sure none of the others loved their jobs either; he knew Vex didn’t. She was quite good with animals and the general outdoors; thus, she had landed a spot as the chief animal trainer at Emon’s local low-budget amusement park. They were quite in need of her abilities, but everyone, including Vex herself, was well aware that the occupation was far beneath her.
The last of the repairs finished for the day, Percy slid himself out from under the humid underbelly of the ancient minivan he’d spent his afternoon beneath.
His knees gave off a few sharp cracks as he stood, raising his hands above his head. His back gave an answering pop as he stretched out the stiff muscles connecting his shoulder blades to the rest of his body.
Grabbing a nearby rag, he began trying to get as much of the motor oil off his hands as possible. He was about two seconds from giving up on the hopeless case that was his overly saturated nailbeds when his boss hobbled into the room. “Hello, my boy!”
"Eccentric" was probably the most mild term one could use to describe Victor. He was probably about Pike’s height on a good day with two prosthetic legs and a prosthetic hand from various motorsports accidents in his youth, and he walked with such a severe hunch he was practically bent in half a good majority of the time. Percy honestly couldn’t tell if he was sixty or a hundred years old, and the man was less than forthcoming when asked.
Keyleth had made fast friends with the bizarre fellow when she’d gotten her job at the flower shop across the street, and it only took a few weeks for her to drag Percy into the auto shop to get him a job.
“Hello, Victor.”
Despite himself, Percy was rather fond of the man.
“I’ve just finished with that grey minivan, if you’d like me to give Mrs. Webber a call to let her know it’s ready to be picked up?” He continued.
Victor waved his hands in front of his face in an exaggerated manner. “Bah! I’ll do it; you and the redhead have a rehearsal to get to, if I recall, so you’d better skedaddle!”
Percy gave an appreciative nod. “Thank you, Victor. I’ll see you on Monday.”
The bell above the front door of the autoshop gave a chime as he made his way across the street over the rather small building that was situated just at the corner of the busy cross street leading into the shopping center Victor’s shop stood in. The sign above the door read ‘Emon’s Finest Blooms’ and was decorated with colorful illustrations of various springtime flowers, courtesy of Percy himself.
She looked up from the counter when she heard him enter and gave a blinding smile. “Are you ready?” He asked.
He made his way inside, where Keyleth was making her way through her closing procedures, checking that all the buckets of flowers had water, disposing of the expired bouquets, and the like.
She popped up on her toes with a cheerful “Yep!”
Flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and locking the door behind them, they made their way into the parking lot. “Are the twins ready?” She asked.
Percy opened the driver’s side door of Keyleth’s fern-colored beetle. “Vex’ahlia’s just arrived back after her shift, so we’ll grab them from the twins’ place.”
Keyleth and Pike were the only two of them that had cars, so carpooling amongst their group was a must, and, ironically, Keyleth hated to drive. She climbed into the passenger seat as he put the car into reverse and pulled off onto the main street.
The drive wasn’t a long one, lasting only a few minutes before they were pulling up to the front of a large apartment complex that was no less shitty than Percy’s.
He shot a quick text to Vex, and a moment later the four of them were desperately trying to figure out the best way to cram all of the twins’ gear into the backseat and still leave enough space for everyone to fit.
After twenty solid minutes and a brief argument between Vax and Percy about who got to drive, Percy found himself crammed in the backseat holding the pile of musical equipment up with his shoulder.
Vex stood outside the car surveying their work before, to Percy’s shock and terror, she climbed into the backseat and sat herself firmly on his lap.
The sound that escaped him must’ve sounded positively otherworldly, as Vax and Keyleth both jumped and turned to look into the backseat. Percy clamped a hand over his mouth, feeling a distinct burning in his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “Apologies, I’m fine.”
Vax and Keyleth exchanged a look in the front seat, and Percy very pointedly avoided eye contact.
The more pressing issue, however, came a few moments later when he realized he had no idea where to put his hands. He’d normally place them in his lap, but for obvious reasons that was out of the question. Vex shifted against him, and he had to focus extremely hard on not reacting in any way whatsoever even as the smell of her perfume permeated every one of his senses. After a few more moments of awkward fumbling, he settled on keeping his hands stiffly at his sides like an automaton.
Vex, for her part, seemed wholly unbothered by the arrangement and was idly scrolling through her phone, completely oblivious to Percy’s internal meltdown.
He was beginning to sweat at this point and found himself praying to any god he thought might listen.
“How—” his voice came out high and squeaky, “how long is the drive?”
“ETA says 30 minutes.” Came Vax’s reply from the driver's seat.
Percy seriously considered the merits of jumping out into moving traffic.
—
The twins began hauling their equipment into the space the moment they pulled into the parking space. Percy stumbled out of the car, breathing for what felt like the first time since they set off, just as Keyleth was shutting her door.
She wore the most smug look he’d ever seen on a person’s face in his entire twenty-three years of life.
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t even say anything!”
“Shut up anyway.”
Pike’s big yellow pickup rolled into the spot next to theirs, and she rolled down the window. “Y’all chucklefucks ready? Scanlan’s got some new shit ready for us.”
The aforementioned gnome hopped out of the passenger seat brandishing some new sheet music. Grog followed immediately after, having taken up the entire backseat by himself.
Their rehearsals had been going much the same for the first few months of their tenure at Uriel’s club. Those with day jobs would get off and immediately make their way across town to rehearsal; they’d go over whatever they felt needed going over for a good few hours before Vax and Grog would have to make their way over to the dive bar across town as bartender and bouncer, respectively. Pike’s shifts as an EMT afforded the most irregular hours of all of them; she’d make it when she could, but oftentimes they’d have to try and work around her schedule.
This one was no exception. They ran through Scanlan’s new music, testing different chord progressions and harmonies to see which ones they felt sounded the best.
An hour before they were set to finish, Allura breezed in with a particularly joyful air about her. Following behind her was Uriel’s personal bodyguard, the rather short muscular woman with the auburn hair that Percy couldn’t quite put a name to.
They watched as Allura and the bodyguard he now remembered as Kima made their rounds to everyone in the building before they finally made their way up to the stage.
The blonde held out a shiny piece of cardstock, to which Vax slung his bass over his shoulder to take. His eyebrows raised as he read the words printed on it, “You’re inviting us to your wedding?”
Allura took Kima’s hand and smiled down at the shorter woman before turning back to the group. “Engagement party, actually, but the wedding as well, yes.” Allura’s smile grew impossibly wider as she held her hand out, brandishing an impressive sapphire ring.
Scanlan whistled in response.
“Perhaps you’d be willing to play a few numbers for the evening as well?” Allura continued.
“Of course, darling.” Vex replied, taking her hand. "Wouldn't miss it for the world.”
—
The rehearsal came to a close as it came time for Vax and Grog to start their shifts for the night. Pike agreed to drive them back across town, Scanlan going with her “to keep her company.” That left Vex, Keyleth, and Percy to pack their equipment back into Keyleth’s impossibly small car.
While Keyleth was outside trying to reconfigure their storage space, Percy and Vex had been wrapping cables in companionable silence for about fifteen minutes before Vex broke the silence. “Darling, can I ask you something?”
Percy was mildly startled, having been lost in an idle daydream. “Of course.”
She hesitated, almost seeming unsure of herself now that she’d actually initiated the conversation. “It’s only… you don’t sing, not really anyway.”
He pressed his lips together, fearing he knew exactly where this was going. “No, I don’t.”
“Can I ask why? From what I’ve heard, you have the talent. You just… don’t. Whenever anyone suggests you for a lead vocal part, you practically bite their head off.”
Percy sighed, bracing himself against his keyboard stand. He didn’t turn to look at her.
“It’s—I don’t—” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s hard to really put into words.”
Vex cast her gaze towards the stage and wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s alright.” Percy assured her. “You know I was classically trained, yes?”
She nodded.
He continued, “It was determined when I was very young that I do, in fact, have perfect pitch. My voice overall is very technically perfect.”
Vex tilted her head, “but…?”
“But there’s nothing behind it.”
“Nothing behind it?” she repeated.
He turned to face her. “It’s cold, soulless; there’s just something inherently ingenuine about it. And if I allow people to see that, they’ll realize that it’s something that’s intrinsically wrong with me ; that I lack feeling.”
Vex didn’t reply.
“Vex’ahlia, please say something.”
Vex gave a heavy exhale. “I think you’re too hard on yourself.”
Percy looked away from her.
“Feeling isn’t just grand gestures and explosive meltdowns, you know. It translates into the way we love those around us. The way you sit with your sister and teach her all the things she missed out on because you don’t trust anyone else to do a good enough job, the way you inspire confidence in Keyleth when she doubts her own abilities, and the way you quietly support every single one of us without asking for anything in return.”
She looked like she wanted to say more but stopped herself before giving in to the impulse. “Look, darling, I think the reason none of that translates into your music is because you don’t allow it to; you’re afraid of what might happen.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Percy sighed. “I just can’t yet.”
Vex reached out like she wanted to place her hand on his shoulder, lowering it back to her side at the last minute. “Whenever you feel ready, we’ll be there.”
—
The evening of Allura and Kima’s engagement party brought about a mad rush for black-tie attire.
Vex, a connoisseur of markdowns and discount racks, was tasked with sourcing outfits for as many of them as she possibly could. Between thrift stores and bargain racks, Vex did manage to procure some impressively nice outfits.
The party was being held in a rather pompous country club not too far from Club Tal’dorei. When they entered, they were met with a splash of gold and blue from the banners to the tables, and in the far corner of the room stood Allura and Kima, radiating the unfettered joy one would come to expect from near-newlyweds.
Allura leaned over to whisper into Kima’s shoulder and gave her a brief kiss before breaking away from the group she’d been with. She made her way through the crowd toward Vox Machina. “Thank you for coming.” She pulled Vex into an embrace.
Vex responded in kind. "Our pleasure, darling; we’re so happy for you both."
Percy felt odd being at such a high-class party. It felt familiar, of course, having grown up the way he did, but he was removed enough that a distinct feeling of unease undercut any sense of nostalgia he may have experienced otherwise.
He was quickly distracted, however, when he was pulled up onto the makeshift stage by Vex, where they proceeded to cycle through some of Scanlan’s more mushy songs, written about nobody in particular, or so he claimed.
The night was in full swing even as Percy stuck to the walls of the venue, preferring to keep his distance from the crowded dance floor. He looked up upon hearing a bit of commotion from the direction of said dance floor and saw the rest of his band absolutely barreling towards him.
Pike shoved her phone all the way in Percy’s face and practically shouted over the music, “Percy, you have to fucking look at this!”
He had to move her hand back a bit, but when his vision finally focused, he understood what the group was in such an uproar about. Pike’s phone was open to an article in the ‘Emon Times’ that had just been published five minutes before. It read, ‘Local Up-and-Coming Band That You Need to Get In On!’
Percy looked up to his friends’ faces. Six matching expressions of pure elation looked back at him. “Keep reading.” Keyleth urged.
Percy cast his eyes back down to the phone. ‘Vox Machina is making major waves over at Club Tal’dorei, ladies and gentlemen! Our expert sources claim that this newly emerging rock band will be the next hot topic sooner than we think!
The article trailed off from there to include short biographies of their members along with an attached photo from their most recent performance.
Keyleth was practically vibrating where she stood. “Imagine how many people will read this!”
Percy handed Pike’s phone back and immediately found himself lifted off the ground by large goliath arms. “Let’s go get a fucking drink!” Grog cheered.
—
The group slowly petered out back to their homes and jobs for those who worked nights. Vex and Percy found themselves to be pleasantly inebriated by the time their celebrations had come to an end.
A mostly sober Pike agreed to drop them off at Percy’s place for the night, Vex resolving to just stay the night at his.
They stumbled through the door, attempting to be relatively quiet in order to avoid a scolding from an irate and freshly awoken Cass.
Vex landed hard on the yellow-brown couch in the living room as Percy tossed his wallet and keys onto the kitchen counter. He opened the refrigerator in search of something to offer her when he spotted a cheap bottle of red wine he’d kept on standby for either a very good or a very bad day. He thought this counted as a good day.
Pulling two glasses out of the cupboard, he raised the bottle in a wordless question to Vex. She smiled in answer, and he poured a generous amount into each glass.
Before he could set the bottle back into the refrigerator, her voice sounded from the living room, “Bring the bottle, darling; we’re celebrating after all.”
Percy was no fool; he brought the bottle.
Vex took her glass with thanks and took a healthy drink. She lowered the glass to rest on her crossed legs as an expression passed over her face. “I never thought we’d actually get this far, to be honest.” She admitted.
Percy was mildly surprised; Vex always seemed so sure of herself.
“I want this so bad, Percy; you have no idea,” she continued. “Ever since I was a little girl… and we’re finally right on the verge.”
Percy took the seat next to her. “And yet you seem melancholic.”
“Do I?” She gave a humorless laugh. “I suppose I was brought up to believe that people like Vax and I weren’t meant to have that sort of life.”
“And who would teach something as foolish as that?” Percy raised a brow.
The mournful smile stretched further over her face “Someone who did not have our best interests in mind, that’s for sure. But that’s a story for another day.”
She raised her glass and drained the rest of it in one go.
“For what it’s worth,” Percy paused to sip his own glass. “I think you’re the best of all of us.”
He lifted his gaze back to her face and met her eyes. Her expression had changed to something inquisitive. He followed her eyeline as it flicked down to his lips.
In turn, his own eyes refocused on hers. Dusted with a neutral gloss, her lips slightly parted as the alcohol loosened her disposition.
Their eyes met, and neither one of them moved. The only sound in the room was their increasingly heavy breathing.
He wondered if he should be the first to lean in.
Before he could decide, Vex pulled away and cleared her throat. “So enough about that, I have this movie I’ve been wanting to show you.”
They made it about thirty minutes into the movie, and the next thing Percy knew, he was waking up to a knock at the front door.
A significant amount of time must have passed, as there was sunlight beginning to filter in through the kitchen window.
When he went to lift himself off the couch, he became aware of the weight on his chest; Vex had fallen asleep with her face pressed against him. She’d slept in her makeup, and the stale hairspray was making her hair stick up in several odd directions; he thought she looked perfect.
He contemplated leaving whoever was at the door to their own mercy until a second knock sounded.
He gave an irritated sigh, slowly and carefully extracting himself out from under the sleeping half-elf.
The deadbolt chain rattled against the door as it swung open to reveal the face of someone Percy had very sincerely hoped he’d never see again.
Short hair, sharp eyes, and the cruel smile that haunted his darkest and most evil thoughts to this day.
Dr. Anna Ripley.
Chapter 4: In Which House De Rolo Falls
Notes:
Hello ladies, gents, and those in between, outside, or otherwise! This was originally supposed to be one super long backstory chapter, but alas, it ended up being way too long, so I've decided to split it into two parts. :)
Songs Included:
"Dido's Lament"- Henry Purcell (The specific vibe I went with is the version from Castlevania Nocturne by Sydney James Harcourt)
"Un bel di vedremo"- Giacomo Puccini, Maria Callas
"Donna e Mobile"- Giuseppe Verdi, Luciano PavarottiContent Warnings:
Emetophobia: Only the use of the v* word. If you'd like to skip stop reading at "He could try to wake them, as he had the others, but he knew deep down that the result would be the same." and continue at "He wasn’t strong like Julius"
Housefires/Arson
Non-consensual drugging
Anna Ripley
Chapter Text
“When I am laid, am laid in earth,”
Percy filled his lungs.
“May my wrongs create”
His sister lifted her left hand from the ivory keys.
“No trouble, no trouble in thy breast;”
She gave a gesture, her long nails angled towards the ceiling. ‘More emotion,’ she said with a glance.
“Remember me, remember me, but ah! forget my fate.”
She nodded her approval, mouthing, ‘Bring it home.’
“Remember me, but ah! forget my fate.”
Vesper lifted her hands away from the piano and primly placed them onto her lap. “That was lovely, Percival.”
“I’m not ready, Vesper.”
Her features, much like Percy’s own, only softer and kinder, tensed into a polite frown. “I think everyone will be pleased to hear—”
A slow whistle interrupted Vesper’s argument, sounding from the entryway of their opulent music room.
Julius De Rolo stood in the midst of an over-exaggerated slow clap. “Lovely indeed, Percival, though sucking up to Mother is a bit...” He waved his hands in an uneasy gesture.
Percy rolled his eyes, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Yes, thank you for the input.” Percy replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Julius raised his hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying perhaps you should popularize your own aria instead of riding Mother’s overskirt!”
“ Perhaps I just like the song?” Percy scoffed.
Julius smirked, “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
He approached the music stand in a few strides and stuck his larger hand into the perfectly groomed strands of brown hair atop his younger brother’s head. Percy smacked his hand away, giving into the immature impulse to stick his tongue out.
“Good luck, kiddo!”
Julius exited back through the ornate doorway, his bombastic cackle echoing down the hall.
Percy fixed his hair, now with a particularly irate air about him, and stood up taller.
“Ignore him; aside from Father, he’s the only baritone in the family, and it makes him feel very self-important for whatever reason.” Vesper’s soft voice chimed from behind him.
She stood and made her way towards him, her short heels clicking on the marble flooring with each step. “Besides,” she let a small mischievous smile spread on her face, “he’s probably going to perform ‘Donna E Mobile’ for the fourth year in a row anyway. Quite a basic choice if you ask me.”
Despite himself, Percy felt the urge to smile.
She reached up and smoothed a few of his hairs that were still out of place. He was taller than her by several inches now, and yet he still felt like she could move mountains if she set her mind to it.
She took a step back and surveyed her work. "Alright, switch with me; I have to make sure I've got the pronunciation down before tomorrow."
Percy took his seat behind the piano and watched as Vesper arranged her sheet music on the stand Percy had just vacated. She likely didn’t need it; she was the best of all of them, really, but as always, she liked to be prepared for any eventuality.
He cast his gaze to the spot above her head. There, perched on the cream-colored wall, was a framed poster of their parents’ production of Dido and Aeneas.
They were both much younger here, probably about Julius’ age if he had to hazard a guess; perhaps his father had been slightly older than their oldest son was now. His features were far less severe then, likely due to the lack of his now graying facial hair.
His mother hadn’t changed much. Her smile lines may be a bit on the sharper side, and a crow’s foot or two may have made themselves a home beside her eyes, but she still maintained the same effortless elegance present all those years ago. This very same elegance allowed her to silence a room simply by entering through its threshold, and it had inspired each of her children to follow in her footsteps.
Percy’s song choice had quite a bit less to do with ‘riding his mother’s overskirt,’ as his brother had so tastelessly claimed, and had much more to do with the comfort that this character brought to their family.
Some of his fondest memories were of lavish social gatherings where the masses of distinguished company would beg and badger his mother until she relented and regaled them with a live performance of her most famous aria. He could remember clutching her skirt and looking up through too-thick glasses, thinking about nothing more than how much he wanted to be just like her someday.
And if it had also crossed his mind that he’d like to try and make her proud when he chose that particular song, nobody needed to be any the wiser.
When he looked back down towards Vesper, she stood with her hands clasped in front of her, seemingly aware he’d been lost in thought and patiently waiting for him to return. “You alright, Percival?”
“I’m fine, sorry.” He replied, placing his fingers onto the piano’s pristine white keys.
He’d rehearsed with her enough that he didn’t feel much of a need to reference the notes perched on the stand in front of him.
He led her in, and, as he suspected, she had long since perfected her performance.
“Un bel di vedremo”
She had assumed a ramrod-straight posture, her shoulders back and her hands clasped in front of her stomach.
The notes flowed straight from her chest at a volume that could likely be heard all the way across their rather substantial family home. Most wouldn’t expect her to be capable of such a feat; the dichotomy between her powerful belt and her ever-soft speaking voice left most in shock and awe for quite some time.
There was no doubt in Percy’s mind that Vesper would surpass them all one day.
Her voice came to a softer interlude just in time for a faint clicking to sound from the hall. It grew louder as the source, which Percy now identified as the steady tap of crutches against marble, drew closer to their music room.
A moment later, the impossibly thin frame of his baby brother, Ludwig, appeared. Percy waited; where there was one, there was always— “Wait for me!”
Cassandra bounced in behind her brother, energy through the roof as usual.
Ludwig slowly made his way over to the piano and sat down heavily and breathless onto the bench next to Percy. He’d had a recent flare-up and had been bedridden for the past week or so. He wouldn't say it aloud, but Percy was quite pleased to see him up and about.
A smile crept onto Vesper’s face, breaking her ever-steady discipline. She reached her arms down and hoisted Cassandra’s small body up onto her hip, her voice not wavering in the slightest as she continued through the aria.
“Per non morire al primo incontro”
She brought the aria to a neat close.
“Well, I think you’ve got it down.” Percy stated matter-of-factly.
Vesper nodded her thanks. “Shall we switch again?”
Percy made his way through his own piece once again as their two younger siblings crowded Vesper on the piano bench with absolutely zero remorse.
Truly, Cassandra was the mastermind. Ludwig was a quiet child, and he’d go along with nearly anything she decided they, as a unit, needed to do.
Percy found the company actually made him feel a bit better about his impending performance.
“You’ve improved quite a bit since last week, Percival.”
The voice that came from the doorway carried a familiar air of authority as well as a distinctive rasp.
“Ah, thank you, Dr. Ripley.” Percy bowed slightly.
Percy was slightly confused as to why she was there. “Forgive me, but we don’t have a lesson today, do we?”
The corner of Dr. Ripley’s mouth rose almost imperceptibly. “No, not today. I dropped by to have a quick word with your parents about the impending concert.”
“I see. Are you planning to attend?”
“Of course, I’d like to see how our training has paid off. You are quite the gifted individual, Percival.”
“Thank you, Doctor; I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
Dr. Ripley nodded and continued back on her way, the sound of her footsteps fading.
Cassandra squirmed in her place on Vesper’s lap. “I don’t like her; she’s scary.”
Vesper frowned half-heartedly. “Don’t say that, Cassandra; it isn’t nice.” Her tone betrayed her reluctant agreement.
—
Naturally, Percy was too nervous to sleep that night. The pressure of his impending performance weighed heavy on his already overactive mind. The entire day had gone by in a blur of half-coherent thought and straight shots of espresso, and before he knew it, he found himself fatigued and grumpy as he got himself ready.
The Melanie Von Musel Theatre was exactly what one would picture something like ‘The Phantom of the Opera’ originally taking place in. It had been around nearly two hundred years and was named for Percy’s maternal great-great-grandmother, who had been the first in their line to break into stardom.
As a result, he sat touching up his light stage makeup in an old-looking dressing room that was very likely haunted by the ghosts of performers past.
Percy didn’t believe in ghosts, but that didn’t stop him from jumping out of his skin when a soft knock sounded on the open door behind him.
The makeup brush he’d been using clattered onto the table in front of him as he whipped around to see his brother and sister on either side of the doorway.
They were already in their costumes; Julius had opted for a more simple black tux with a plain black bow tie. A histrionic fellow, though he was, when it came to his performances, Julius did not often rely on glamorous costumes to showcase his talents. He allowed his voice and the hard work he’d put into it to do that for him.
Vesper, on the other hand, felt as though the costume was as much a part of the performance as the actual performing was. She stood dressed in a plum-colored gown that cascaded all the way down to her feet, stopping just above the ground. It hung off her shoulders in a way that elegantly wrapped around into a train that largely resembled the wings of the purple emperor butterfly. She held the matching mask in her hands, both enveloped in long gloves in the same plum color, reaching to the spot just above her elbows.
Percy, as it turned out, was a mix of the two of them. He wasn’t one for vivacious costumes as Vesper was, nor was he willing to wear something as simple as a plain black tux. Instead, he wore a deep blue set of tails, with gold accents cresting along the lapel.
“Are you ready, Percival?” His sister asked.
He breathed a shaky sigh and rose to his feet. Vesper linked her arm in his, and the three of them made their way up into the wings.
Julius stepped forward as the current vocalist brought their song to a close. “I guess I’m up first then.”
He wasted no time in entering onto the stage with a saunter that only four years of previous professional experience could have beat into him.
The orchestra began to play, and, to Percy’s amusement, the opening notes of ‘Donna e Mobile’ permeated through the room.
He looked to his left to find Vesper already making direct eye contact. ‘Told you,’ she mouthed with barely concealed laughter plain on her face.
Vesper went on shortly after, Julius taking her place beside him. It seemed the two of them had some sort of pact not to leave him alone before it was his turn.
As she did best, Vesper made her way back into the wings, not a dry eye present in the audience behind her.
Finally, it was Percy’s turn.
Julius gave a bright smile and clapped him almost hard enough on the back to send him stumbling. “Don’t fuck it up, kid!”
Percy gave him a dirty look.
Vesper’s encouragements were much gentler, of course, sending him off with a kiss on the cheek and a soft “Good luck.”
His dress shoes clicked as he made his way to center stage. The bright lights trained on him prevented him from observing the full size of the audience for a moment; however, when his gaze focused, he understood the true scale of what he was doing.
A sea of onlookers stared back at him, cheering and clapping.
This was quite the exciting year for Whitestone opera fans, as was every year a new De Rolo child made their debut.
He saw their enthusiasm more than he heard it, as his quickening heartbeat had all but taken over every one of his senses.
He squared his shoulders, took a breath, and the music began.
—
He’d blacked out.
Of fucking course he’d blacked out.
His first professional performance ever, and he couldn’t remember a bit of it.
He was counting his beats and preparing to start one moment, and the next thing he knew, it was over, and he was receiving a standing ovation.
His senses came back to him slowly as he stood center stage, probably looking like he’d had his thumb up his ass.
He turned to glance over his left shoulder; there he could see his big brother and sister positively bouncing up and down like children. Vesper held both of her shoes in one hand, grasping onto Julius’ arm with the other as the two of them expressed a level of excitement he hadn’t seen from them since primary school.
Their approval far surpassed any kind of validation he could’ve garnered from the crowd of critics and opera legends before him.
—
The afterparty was, of course, lavish, as it was every year. Percy had lost count of the hands he’d shaken and the congratulations he’d accepted with thanks since arriving back at their home.
Dr. Ripley, who’d been making herself scarce, had even found him and shared her congratulations in the same curt manner she did everything.
The bulk of the festivities took place in the old-style ballroom in the center of the building. Champagne was abundant as servants made their rounds carrying trays upon trays of the sparkling alcohol, stopping to offer their burdens to the clusters of partygoers gathered around the room.
Percy had long since abandoned the party atmosphere in favor of one of the neighboring guest bedroom’s balconies. He rested his arms on the cool stone railing, breathing in a lungful of nighttime air.
He smiled to himself, a giddy feeling welling up in his chest. He had just opened up a world of possibilities; he’d made his professional debut. His dreams of having a career like his parents’ felt so close he could taste it.
The patio door opened behind him and closed. Footsteps approached from behind.
He was slightly surprised to see Julius; it had been Vesper he’d been expecting.
His brother sidled up next to him, leaning up against the same railing. When Percy turned to look, his brother was holding up a glass of champagne in his direction.
Percy smirked, “That isn’t legal.”
“Just take the damn drink.”
Percy took it, regarding it for a moment before taking a sip. He’d never had champagne before, and his reaction likely made that extremely obvious.
The bubbles went straight to his nose, and they burned . Not a regular burn either; this one felt much like there was a swarm of bees very intently buzzing through his sinuses on a direct path to his brain.
Despite the bees, Percy found he rather liked it. His brother chuckled as he went back for another sip.
Julius shifted slightly, bumping Percy’s shoulder with his own. “You did good, kid. I’m proud of you.”
Percy was quite convinced he’d heard that wrong, and in his shock he inhaled a bit of the drink. He spent the next minute or so hacking as his lungs attempted to rid themselves of the intrusive liquid. Julius gave him a few half-hearted pats, wincing in sympathy.
When he finally regained control of himself, he turned to his brother. “ What did you just say?!”
“I said you did shitty. You peed your pants on stage, actually; don’t you remember?”
“Uh huh, that’s what I thought.” Percy shot back.
Julius pushed himself off the railing into a standing position. He blew into his hands. “Come on, it’s fucking freezing out here; let’s go inside.”
Percy reached over and plucked Julius’ glass from his hand, downing it in one gulp. His brother raised a bemused eyebrow.
“I can’t drink once we go inside,” Percy defended himself. “Mother and Father would kill me.”
Julius smiled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
They made their way back through the balcony door and were rather surprised to see every other member of their family on the various pieces of furniture around the room.
It seemed they’d all had the same idea.
His mother smiled when she saw him. “Come here, my dearest.”
Percy obeyed and allowed his mother to sit him in between herself and her husband.
He could smell his father’s cologne, the familiar sensation putting his body at ease as he settled into the couch.
“You’ve done us proud tonight, son.” His father’s deep voice came from beside him.
The warm feeling in Percy’s chest grew even warmer.
Julius sat down heavily onto the couch opposite the one Percy had just taken up, nearly displacing Vesper beside him.
He cast a mischievous glance over in the direction of Oliver and Whitney. “You two better get ready; it’ll be your turn pretty soon here.”
The twins had just recently turned fourteen and were steadfastly preparing to make their own entrances into the professional opera world in just three short years.
Whitney smirked, “There’s no need to worry about that; we have it handled, or I do at least. Not sure about him.” She quirked a thumb in her twin’s direction.
Oliver stuck his tongue out at her.
Percy allowed the lull of his family’s conversation to pull him into a relaxed state. He watched Cassandra engage the twins in some kind of slap-fighting game, Ludwig inevitably being pulled in against his will.
The alcohol must have gone to his head, as his eyes began to grow heavy and his head drifted onto his mother’s shoulder. Her hand came up as she carded her manicured nails through his hair in a gentle rhythm.
His eyes drifted shut, pulled into sleep by the tender lullaby of those he loved most in the world all around him.
—
When he woke, he was back in his own bedroom, tucked neatly underneath his comforter and wearing a clean set of pajamas. This was likely a joint effort between Vesper and Julius, if he had to guess.
Although he had been comfortable, it became very apparent very quickly that something wasn’t right.
Percy was a light sleeper, and it didn’t take much time for the grogginess of recent slumber to leave him in the mornings. Despite that fact, he was currently so out of it he didn’t know if it was still the same night or if morning had come; perhaps that had been what roused him.
He attempted to swing his legs over to the side of the bed, and the entire world tilted. He braced against the wave of nausea that followed and spent a good few seconds regaining control of himself.
He didn’t feel good at all. He reasoned that it had likely been the alcohol; he resolved to make his way down the hall to ask Julius to help him, given his brother was the only one with any experience being drunk.
He made his way over to the door and froze the moment he got there. The realization hit him hard and fast as his senses finally caught up to him.
The faint smell of smoke was leaking in from underneath the crack in his doorway.
Even though he still felt extremely loopy, he had enough wherewithal to remember to check the door before he opened it. It did not radiate the characteristic heat that would indicate a fire immediately on the other side.
He stepped out into the hallway, keeping himself low to the ground in order to avoid the smoke. Despite his efforts he could barely see, but he knew the layout of the house like the back of his hand.
He kept to the wall on his right side and found his way to Vesper’s bedroom. He barely managed to drag himself over to her bed, where she still lay asleep beneath the covers.
“Vesper, wake up! I think the house is on fire!”
He shook her shoulder.
Nothing.
A bolt of fear ran through him like nothing ever had before.
He shook her harder. “Vesper, please wake up!”
Something was wrong. Something was so fucking wrong.
He placed his finger beneath her nose and felt her faint breathing against his skin; good, she was alive.
He needed to find someone to help him carry her. He wasn’t sure what exactly was wrong, but he knew he wasn’t strong enough to do it himself.
He’d go get Julius; his big brother would surely be able to help.
He didn’t bother crouching on his way to his brother’s room. The adrenaline took over his body, and he found himself there in moments, the persistent grogginess falling to the wayside.
He swung the door open to find that Julius was also still in bed. Percy attempted to wake him too.
He wouldn't wake. The rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was still alive, but no matter how hard Percy shook him and no matter how much he begged, Julius’ blue eyes stayed firmly shut.
All reason and logic was beginning to leave him. In a frantic dash across the house, he burst into the master bedroom. His mother was in bed, unmoving and in the same state as his older siblings, but his father was not. Frederick De Rolo, noble, proud Frederick De Rolo was crumpled in a heap just a few steps short of the bedroom door. Percy nearly tripped over him in his haste to find someone, anyone in the house who was responsive.
His father had clearly woken up to the fire just like he had, and he’d attempted to reach the door. He’d likely found his wife in the same catatonic state and tried to push his body beyond its limit, falling victim to the strange illness just before he could reach the door.
Percy’s eyes burned, though whether that was from the smoke or the grim reality he found himself in, he wasn’t sure.
After some more frenzied searching, he found that the little ones had all fallen asleep in that same spare bedroom they’d all sequestered themselves away in earlier that night.
That content feeling of warmth and mild drunkenness seemed like a lifetime ago now.
Percy stood at a crossroads, then. He looked into the faces of each of his sweet baby siblings. Whitney and Oliver had curled up on the bed together, Whitney’s foot nearly in her twin’s face as she’d somehow ended up upside down. Ludwig slept on the couch Percy had shared with his parents, and someone had put a soft pink throw blanket over his thin shoulders. Finally, Cassandra had fallen asleep sitting up on the armchair immediately next to the door.
He could try to wake them, as he had the others, but he knew deep down that the result would be the same.
Percy fought the urge to vomit; looking from each of them to the next, he could only carry one of them.
He wasn’t strong like Julius; he couldn't carry them all, and he didn’t have time to bring them all out one by one. The flames were already licking at the hall just outside where he stood.
Percy steeled his inhibitions and grabbed Cassandra. He held her tiny body tightly to his chest and allowed his fight-or-flight instinct to take over his body completely.
The fire was beginning to come in behind him; he was out of time. He ran across the room to the large window that overlooked the courtyard and threw himself and his baby sister through the glass.
He only remembered that they were on the second story when his leg connected with the grass below them. It gave a sickening crack as white-hot pain shot up through his left shin.
His knees buckled, and he just barely managed to twist his body so Cassandra would land on top of him and not the other way around.
He lay there a moment, panting and attempting to come to terms with the fact that his entire life had just ended in the space of an hour.
Numbness overcame him as he managed to push himself into a sitting position. The sound of sirens grew closer as the emergency services came to their aid.
Percy reasoned that they had likely been called by a member of staff, speaking of whom, were gathered to the other side of the courtyard. Though they were all in their nightwear, they seemed… odd. None of them looked as though they’d really struggled to escape the house, appearing far cleaner and more put together than they should.
At the forefront of the pack stood Cassandra’s music teacher, Professor Anders. He spoke to the fire captain that had just jumped from his rig, and he was seemingly explaining his understanding of the situation.
The professor was flanked by the only two guests that had been given permission to stay the night in one of their guest rooms, Sylas and Delilah Briarwood. This was in light of the distance they had traveled to attend the concert. They’d come all the way from Emon, according to the word of Oliver, and, given their status as wealthy theatre critics, the De Rolos elected to make a good impression.
Before Percy could spend any more time pondering upon his observations, the small body against him stirred. “Perc’ wh—” Cassandra tried to speak, though the persistent grogginess seemed to be tying her tongue.
“It’s alright, Cass, it’s alright.” He attempted to soothe her in a way he thought Vesper might.
Cassandra whimpered, “don’ feel goo—”
Percy looked down at her just in time to see her eyes roll into the back of her skull. Her entire body went completely rigid, and he instinctively let her fall into his lap.
A bloodcurdling scream tore out of his throat before he was even aware of it. He tasted blood as his vocal cords felt shredded from the smoke. “ CASSANDRA WHAT’S HAPPENING?! SOMEONE GET OVER HERE! ”
As the paramedics ran towards them, Percy tried not to think about the fact that his life had just been irrevocably changed for the worse.
Chapter 5: In Which Percival Has to Pick Up the Pieces
Notes:
Hello ladies, gentlemen, and those in between outside or otherwise!
Don't hate me but uhhh y'know how I said the backstory would span for two chapters? Well it's looking a lot more like three. I want to make sure I dedicate enough time and attention to each segment of the events that lead up to his current life with the band :)
Next week shall conclude the backstory trilogy!
Also this is a sad one y'all be ready.
Content warnings:
Description of burned bodies
Mild gagging and mentions of someone "wanting to be sick" but nobody is actually sick
Chapter Text
Percy wasn’t sure how long the doctor had been speaking for. His hearing had been going in and out intermittently in favor of a high-pitched ringing that would completely negate his ability to hear.
He was sure he looked like hell, the lower half of his leg bound in an obnoxious white cast, his skin littered with scratches from breaking through the window, and his arms wrapped in gauze to cover second- and third-degree burns he couldn’t even remember receiving. Worst of all was his hair.
At some point between waking that night and being hauled into the ambulance, his entire head of very brown hair had gone completely frosty-the-goddamn-snowman-white.
It would almost be a funny comparison in any other circumstance.
“Mr. De Rolo?” The doctor’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.
Percy blinked. “Sorry?”
The doctor frowned, concern lacing her features. She pressed her lips together, seeming to be at war with herself between human empathy and professionalism.
Professionalism won in the end.
“I was explaining that you’ve suffered a fracture to your left tibia, so you must remain on bedrest for a minimum of two weeks.”
Percy swallowed past the dryness in his throat.
The doctor handed him a plastic cup of water and continued. “Additionally, we’ve administered a salve to the burns, but I’m afraid they will likely scar.”
He sipped the water. It tasted like cheap plastic.
“As for your hair…” she trailed off. “It’s exceedingly rare, but it is possible for acute stress to… halt the human body’s ability to produce hair pigment. I’m afraid we don’t know when or if it will ever go back to the way it was before.”
“What about my sister?”
The doctor seemed slightly startled at his complete non-reaction to his own diagnosis. It seemed that the empathetic part of her was beginning to fight back, as she sat herself on the end of his bed. “Mr. De Rolo…” She rested a gentle hand on top of the blanket over his unbroken leg.
“You have to understand,” she continued. “She suffered what we call, in layman’s terms, a widowmaker heart attack. Only twelve percent of those who suffer from that particular type of heart attack are known to survive…”
“But she did, right? Survive?” Percy leaned forward.
“She did, but I’m afraid she’s slipped into a coma. We aren’t sure if or when she’ll wake.”
Percy knew. He’d been told already, and yet it still felt like he was hearing the news for the first time. He could swear all of the oxygen left the room the moment the doctor opened her mouth.
He squeezed his eyes shut, begging the universe to spirit him away to anywhere other than where he currently was.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he came back to himself, and when he opened his eyes, the doctor was waiting patiently, still attempting to offer what little comfort she could.
Gods, she reminded him of Vesper.
“Mr. De Rolo, I don’t wish to overwhelm you, but you are her only family. You are still a minor at present; therefore, you won’t be able to make any decisions. However, if your chart is correct, you’re set to turn eighteen in a few weeks.”
Percy didn’t understand exactly what she was getting at.
“I only mean, once you become of age, you may want to consider whether or not you’d like her to stay on life support.”
His chest seized, and a nameless panic overtook him. The world tilted as his breathing quickened into short bursts. Black spots danced in front of his vision as his confused and oxygen-starved brain begged for any of this to make sense.
This wasn’t real; it couldn't be. It was all a nightmare, a cruel trick his sleeping mind had decided to play on him.
His family was not dead. They were just fine. He would go to sleep and will himself to wake up in that spare bedroom, dozing on his mother’s chest. He would feel the warmth of the alcohol in his chest and wonder if his mother could tell that he was slightly drunk. He would hear the younger ones chasing each other about the room, all boundless energy and high-pitched squeals.
If he tried hard enough, he could really fool himself into believing they were right there in the room with him.
“Get out.”
The doctor pulled her hand away. “Mr. De Rolo…”
“Please, Get. Out. ”
When he opened his eyes, she was gone. In her place lay a small scrap of paper with a phone number scrawled onto it, followed by a small note reading, “Don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything. - Dr. Finlay”
He hadn’t even known her name.
He picked the small missive up with shaking fingers and stared down at it for a moment. His fist closed around it of its own accord, crushing it into an unrecognizable ball of graphite and paper.
When he opened his fist and saw what he’d done, he felt better, like he’d transferred some of his pain into the tiny inanimate object.
He raised hand to hover over the trash can next to his bed and let the small offer of kindness fall into the depths below.
—
All he could do over the next two weeks was think. In between nurses coming to clean the oozing, blistering burns all over his arms, he’d think about nothing, everything, his family, and his future, and in his pondering, he began to realize something.
He hadn’t really had time to think about much of what had happened that night beyond the devastating blow he and his family had been dealt. But he thought back to how strangely the staff had been acting. They were all gathered around the Briarwoods in an odd sort of group. When he was lying in the courtyard clutching his baby sister’s seizing body, it’s like they were watching them and waiting to see if she would survive with bated breath.
It’s like they didn’t want her to.
Percy’s mind began to put the pieces together. The strange groggy feeling when he woke up and the way that absolutely none of his family members would wake up no matter how much he screamed in their faces or shook their shoulders.
There was something he didn’t like in the Briarwoods’ eyes in particular. Something cold and sinister as they watched two children writhe on the ground covered in burns and ash.
The staff had been gathered around the Briarwoods… The staff had been serving every single food and drink item that night.
They had all been fucking drugged.
He didn’t know why exactly, but he was sure of it. The Briarwoods had orchestrated it, and every single member of their staff had been in on it, apparently including Cassandra’s cello tutor, Professor Anders.
His grief and drug-addled mind could only put so many of the pieces together, he vowed to himself that he would figure out why they had wanted his family dead and why he had survived.
He was finally allowed to go see Cassandra after his bed rest was up.
She looked impossibly tiny in that adult-sized hospital bed. Her skin was pallid and thin; it looked like it would split at the most feather-light touch. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, spurred on by the tube they’d shoved down her throat and into her lungs.
He collapsed down into the chair next to her bed, his crutches clattering to the ground. He didn’t bother to pick them up, instead taking his sister’s cold and unmoving hand in his own. “It’s just us now, Cass.” His voice sounded brittle even to his own ears.
He felt just as weak and fragile as his sister looked as he breathed a quiet admission into the dead space of the nigh-empty hospital room. “I don’t know what to do.”
Cassandra didn’t respond no matter how much he wanted her to.
A knock sounded on the open door just behind him, and when he turned to look, a tall man in a police uniform stood before him. The man held his hand up in a small wave. “Hello, Mr. De Rolo, do you mind if I take a seat?” he said, gesturing to the empty chair beside him.
Percy nodded his permission, and the man settled himself into the hard beige chair.
“I’m Officer Howarth, but you can call me Jarrett.”
“Hello, officer, how can I help you?” Apparently the manners that had been drilled into him since birth were not about to disappear, even now.
Jarrett sighed, “I’m so sorry to do this, son.”
Percy got an anxious feeling in his gut. Sentences that started that way never ended with anything good.
Jarrett continued, “We were able to recover some of the bodies.”
He knew his gut was onto something.
“Some?” He wanted to be sick.
“Yes, that’s where we need your help.”
“You aren’t asking me to…” He trailed off; gods, he couldn’t even say it.
“We need you to come identify the bodies we were able to salvage.”
Percy made the very conscious decision to shut his emotions completely off, responding in monotone, “Whatever you need.”
—
Jarrett held the door for him as he made his way into the police precinct, slower than usual due to the unwieldiness of the crutches.
He could tell everyone around him was acting as though he might shatter at any moment, and, to their credit, he might. He’d been operating with the same zombie-like emotionlessness since his first conversation with Jarrett.
They led him into an examination room full of cold metal tables. On six of those tables were pristine white sheets laid over the remnants of the most important people in his life.
Only six of them.
One of the pieces of his heart had been entirely burned to ashes. He almost didn’t want to know which one.
“We’ll go slow.” Jarrett said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
He wished he could derive the intended comfort from the gesture.
Another officer began to lift the sheets, one by one. He hadn’t known how long they’d sat in the flames; each of them exhibited the same charred, blackened skin, and their hair had been burned away entirely, making them slightly hard to identify at first glance.
First it was His Father.
Then Oliver.
Whitney.
His mother.
Julius.
And Vesper.
It was Ludwig then. Sweet, quiet little Ludwig, who could hardly participate in regular sibling banter for fear of hurting someone’s feelings for real. Ludwig, who you could hear coming from a mile away by the tap-tap-tap of his dark blue crutches on the marble flooring of their home. Ludwig, who looked up at him with the biggest brown doe eyes the first time his mother placed him in his arms.
His baby brother had been burned away into nothing.
The composure he’d had a vice grip on snapped clean in half. His knees gave out, and he sank to the cold, sterile floor.
One of the officers moved to help him, but Jarrett grabbed his shoulder before he could. “We’ll give you a minute.”
He ushered the other officer towards the door, and it shut behind them with a soft click.
Big heaving sobs ripped out of him completely against his will. He gagged and choked on the tears for what could have been hours or minutes for all he knew.
He was someone who grew up wanting to be perceived as older and wiser than he was, likely due to the awe he felt for his parents and his elder siblings, but right now, for the first time, he felt his age. He was a seventeen-year-old boy without a family, without a home, and with no idea where he would go after he left this room.
All he wanted was for his mother to wrap him up in her arms and tell him everything would be alright. But she never would. He’d never see any of them again.
At some point he’d curled all the way into the fetal position right there on the floor, his knees to his chest and his head tucked down as if protecting itself. He didn’t think he’d ever felt more pathetic in his life.
He hauled himself to his feet, grabbing his discarded crutches and wiping his cheeks.
The officers were waiting for him outside, and they did not acknowledge the breakdown they could very obviously tell had just occurred.
“It was Ludwig. The body you couldn’t recover, it was Ludwig.”
A sadness passed over their faces as Jarrett wrote the information down on his clipboard. “I see. I’m so sorry, son.”
Percy couldn’t bring himself to respond.
Jarrett cleared his throat and continued, “Well, with your permission, we will begin internment. Given we aren’t treating their deaths as suspicious, they can be laid to rest immediately.”
Percy’s head snapped up. “Wait, you what!?”
Jarett seemed a bit taken aback. “Ahh yes, we didn’t find any evidence of anything suspicious—”
Percy cut him off. “But the Briarwoods—they did—it isn’t—something isn’t right !”
A look of pity passed over Jarrett’s face. “Son, I’m sorry, but nothing we found suggests—”
“STOP FUCKING CALLING ME THAT!”
Percy pushed him away and backed himself up against the wall, breathing heavily. They stared at each other for a moment, Percy unsure of whether he wanted to run and Jarrett seeming as though he were afraid of upsetting him again. “Did you get what you needed?” Percy asked.
“We did.”
“Alright then, goodbye.”
And he left.
—
He decided to leave town. He couldn’t stay there with every other newspaper and billboard exclaiming how sorry they all felt for the De Rolo family; he just couldn't do it.
He left his phone number with the hospital in case need arose with Cassandra and set off with naught but the clothes on his back and a pill bottle brandishing ‘Orthax Pharmaceuticals’ that the hospital had prescribed him. Catching the first available bus to Emon, he left Whitestone.
Perhaps going to the entirely opposite end of the continent was a bit dramatic, but Percy reasoned he was allowed to be a bit dramatic, given the circumstances.
He found a shitty little apartment on the bad side of town and decided that was quite suited to his needs and devoted himself to a singular goal: figuring out what the Briarwoods’ motivation was and finding evidence.
—
The years passed by in a blur. He would wake up, take his pills, and scour the internet for any articles, true crime blogs, police reports, or absolutely anything he could find. Then he would take some more of his pills and crash. He hardly ate, he hardly slept, he wasn’t working, and he’d been steadily burning through the little bit of money he’d gotten from his family’s life insurance policies.
Despite their collective family fortune, the legal matters concerning their untimely deaths and his age had tied the money up in situations he hadn’t even bothered to try and understand.
For the first year or so, he would regularly call the hospital back in Whitestone for updates on Cassandra. He’d hoped against hope that perhaps she would wake and he wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.
After an entire year of ‘I’m sorry, Mr. De Rolo, but nothing has changed,’ he’d given up calling.
The only two things that gave his life any purpose were research and his pills. When he took them, it was for his pain, yes, but somewhere along the way it had become less about his physical pain and more about his noncorporeal emotional pain.
They would dull the edge of it just enough for him to sleep for a good few hours each night. Then he could wake up and continue to dig into the Briarwoods.
He lived through five never-ending years of that same monotonous cycle all while finding next to nothing. Every day the small withered-looking crow on his pill bottle’s logo would taunt him as he reasoned to himself that he needed them. Just one more dose, just to get through today.
He had just taken his morning dose and turned on the television for some background noise. A mundane news channel blared to life, and he set about scrounging up something that wasn’t sour or covered with mold to have for breakfast. That was when he heard it.
“The tragic deaths of opera titans Frederick and Johanna De Rolo, as well as five of their children, are being honored in a touching memorial orchestrated by closer family friends, Sylas and Delilah Briarwood.”
Percy dropped the spoon he’d been holding, and it clattered to the ground with a noisy clang. The neighbor below him banged their annoyance against the ceiling.
The news anchor continued, “‘We were there that night,’ said Delilah in an interview. ‘We just barely managed to escape the fire ourselves and were devastated to hear that our friends did not, and we just felt we had to honor their memory in some way.’”
Percy stared at the TV in disbelief; his family had hardly even known them.
“The Briarwoods are said to have purchased the destroyed home of the De Rolo family and are currently in the process of restoring it to honor the late family’s memory.”
A boiling hot rage welled up inside him. These people had orchestrated the killing of his entire family, and now they were using their murders to garner public sympathy!
Grief he was familiar with; sadness and depression were his constant companions these five years, but anger was new. Anger was good. Anger meant he could actually do something that would make a difference.
In a spur-of-the-moment decision, he booked the cheapest flight he could find back to Whitestone and left, not even packing a bag. The TSA agent looked at him strangely when he showed up to the airport empty-handed, and he was positive they had been keeping an eye on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
He had one singular goal. Bring the Briarwoods down. He would get into their home, and he would find something concrete.
When he arrived at their expansive mansion, he waited around the area until he was certain the couple was asleep. It took a bit of searching, but he found a downstairs window that was easy enough to slip a knife beneath and push the lock open. That was the problem with these older historical homes; they were rather easy to force one’s way into.
He climbed into a darkened living room; the couches surrounding him looked stiff and stale as if they were only ever used for decoration. Something about that fit his image of the Briarwoods perfectly.
He crept around through the various hallways, opening doors into spare bedrooms and bathrooms and activity rooms, finding nothing.
That was until he entered the room at the end of the hall and found himself in a study.
He had found Sylas Briarwood’s fucking study.
A search through the various books and drawers only yielded things one would expect to find in the workspace of a world-famous theatre critic: sheet music, books on music theory, and unpublished critiques.
He gave up on the office itself and moved to the desktop computer. He wondered for a moment if he should’ve been wearing gloves, most likely, but it was too late for that now.
The computer wasn’t even password protected; Sylas was either extremely confident or extremely unintelligent.
Percy opened up Sylas’ email inbox. Inside, he found a whole cache of emails to and from various developers, all discussing turning his family’s land into a country club and all cc’ing his wife.
He had to stamp down the rage; none of this was particularly incriminating.
He opened an email thread with another unnamed party that signed off each one with a singular “R.” This party discussed details upon details upon details of exactly what Percy had been looking for.
The type of drug they had used to incapacitate his family, the point of origin of the fire, and the fact that they had paid off the goddamned governor to look the other way.
Gods, this was so much bigger than he had been ready for.
A floorboard creaked behind him, and his stomach dropped into his toes. Before him stood Sylas and Delilah Briarwood, entirely in the flesh and entirely unconcerned by his presence. “Hello, little Percival, it's good to see you.” Delilah’s voice dripped with a saccharine sweetness.
Percy was well and truly in over his head. “You—you did something—it’s right here; the proof is right here—”
Sylas placed his hand on his wife’s lower back. “And yet you won’t be able to prove any of it.”
For a godawful moment Percy wondered if they were about to murder him right there on Sylas’ gaudy purple rug.
“Sylas has already called the police, dear. They should be here right about—” She raised a finger as if to say, ‘Wait a moment.’ “Now.”
The sound of the door bursting open nearly made him jump out of his skin. He watched as Delilah’s expression pulled a complete 180 as tears began to stream down her face. She grabbed onto her husband and wailed, “Please, help! Someone’s broken into our home, officers; he’s in here!”
The officers barrelled into the room, spearheaded by none other than Officer Jarrett Howarth.
The man’s face seemed to fall into an indescribable sadness and disappointment as he registered who was standing in front of him. His face steeled after that fraction of a second, and he pulled Percy’s hands behind his back.
He didn’t even bother fighting back; he knew nothing he could say would help the situation. The Briarwoods had thought this out too far.
He ended up landing a prison sentence of two months, surprisingly lenient for the crime of breaking and entering. Part of him suspected this might be Jarrett’s doing. The man always did have a soft spot for him.
Percy honestly couldn’t say he missed the outside world all that much. He was still plagued by the same sense of purposelessness in prison that he was out in the real world. The withdrawals from the pills did suck, though.
He did have a cellmate, also. The guy had tried to make idle conversation for the first week or so, but when Percy gave him next to nothing (or sometimes actually nothing) in the way of a response, he gave up.
Here he was, twenty-two years old, in prison, and coming down off of an opioid addiction. God, his mother would be so disappointed in him.
A few days before those two months were over, Percy sat on the floor of his dingy little cell and celebrated his twenty-third birthday by himself. He drew a mediocre picture of a birthday cake onto the skin of his arm and made a wish, wiping the small inky flame off with his opposite thumb when he deemed it appropriate to ‘blow out the candles.’
It was a pathetic little display, really; his cellmate didn’t even bother to glance over in his direction, and by the end of it, he couldn’t even remember what it was he had wished for.
—
He was released without much pomp and circumstance, being all but thrown back out into the street with a plastic bag full of the clothes he’d been wearing two months ago, still unwashed. Without much other choice, he made his way back to his shitty apartment.
The next week or so was filled with even less routine and even more purposelessness than the past five years of his life had been. Before, he’d had a goal, something to get out of bed for; now he had absolutely nothing.
Most days he stayed in the same spot, underneath his filthy blankets saturated with his own sweat and misery. He considered going back to his old friend Orthax, but something inside him kept him from going that far. Perhaps it was the final bit of his will holding on; somehow, after all he’d been forcibly detoxed during his stint as a convicted criminal, he might as well keep at it.
He wasn’t sure what time it was when his phone rang beside his head, rousing him from an uncomfortable sleep. Nobody called him these days, so he was immediately confused and intrigued.
“Hello?” His voice came out scratchy and gross.
“Mr. Percival De Rolo?”
“Yes…?” He had no idea who the hell was calling him at this unreasonable (?) hour.
“It’s Whitestone General Hospital.”
There was absolutely no way this person on the phone was about to say what he thought they were.
“Mr. De Rolo, it’s your sister, Cassandra; she’s awake.”
Chapter 6: In which Percival becomes Percy
Notes:
Hello ladies, gents, and those in between outside or otherwise!
Little bit of tlovm influence in this one ;)
Also this is not the last time we will hear of the Briarwoods and co hehehe
Update: I've edited it a bit since initially posting it. It was an honest to god sleep deprived dumpster fire before I'm so sorry lmao. It should hopefully be better now.
Chapter Text
Percy hadn’t even bothered to shower before dropping everything and rushing to the closest Emon airport. The entire five-and-a-half-hour flight gave him quite the sense of deja vu; however, he could’ve sworn he might have been more nervous this time than he was when he’d been hunting down the Briarwoods.
It had been six years since he’d seen Cassandra awake and coherent. Biologically she’d be sixteen now.
What if she didn’t remember anything?
What if she remembered everything?
These thoughts went around and around and around in Percy’s head for the entire journey, and before he knew it, they were touching down on Whitestone tarmac.
He wordlessly climbed into the backseat of the first garish yellow taxi he spotted the second he crossed through the airport’s glass front doors.
Just as he was beginning to zone out, the driver finally spoke, “Are you alright?”
Percy jumped and released the vice grip he’d had on the seatbelt. “Ah—uhm, yes.”
He saw the man frown in the rearview mirror, and that’s when he finally took stock of his features. From what Percy could see, he was short and stocky, and his hair was cut into a rather unflattering red mullet that did not do much to frame his wide, blocky features. He knew this face.
“Archie, is that you?”
Archie whipped around to look into the backseat, nearly veering the car into the opposing lane. He looked just as surprised as Percy felt. “Percival, by Pelor, I—”
He seemed incredibly lost for words.
“You—but the fire—nobody knew where you—” He looked up at Percy’s stark-white hair. “Gods, what happened to you?”
Percy gave a humorless laugh. “I honestly wish I knew. I’ve been ‘living’ in Emon for six years now.”
Archie went quiet for a moment. “My father died in that fire, you know.”
Archie’s father had been the De Rolo’s private chef since Percy was in diapers. More of a family friend than an employee by the end. When Percy was around seven years old, he had mentioned that he had a son around his age and that he thought they’d get along quite well.
When Archie’s mother passed only six months later, Chef Desnay had been forced to bring his young son into work with him, and Percy had discovered that he and Archie did, in fact, get along quite well.
“Percival…” Archie caught his eye in the rearview mirror. “How much do you know about that night?”
Percy’s breath caught in his throat. Surely Archie couldn’t be implying what it sounded like he was implying. He leaned forward. “Archie, do you know?”
A bitter smile crossed over Archie’s face. “He died trying to stop them.”
“Gods.” Percy scrubbed a hand over his face. “I hope you’ll forgive me, but it is nice to hear that not everyone was against us.”
Archie’s smile grew sadder. “No, he was loyal until the end, Da was.”
“He survived the initial fire,” he continued. “They knocked him out and tied him up in the pantry; I reckon they’d hoped he would just burn to death along with—”
Percy did him the courtesy of avoiding any kind of acknowledgement of what they both knew Archie had been about to say. “And he escaped?”
“Aye, but the flames got him good before he managed. He told me everything once they finally got him coherent, but the burns took him naught but two days later.”
“Gods, Archie, I’m sorry.”
Archie nodded his thanks. “Aye, as am I. That fire made bitter men out of the both of us, I’m afraid. ”
The cab pulled up to the front curb of Whitestone General Hospital, just outside the designated space for emergency transport vehicles. He put the car in park and turned around to face Percy properly. “It was good to see you, Percival. Let’s talk again soon? I’ll fill you in.”
Percy properly smiled for the first time in probably six years. “I’d like that.”
It wasn’t until he’d stepped onto the curb and the cab was pulling out of the parking lot that he realized he’d never even told Archie his destination.
He gave a small shocked laugh. “That bastard.”
—
The walk to Cassandra’s room was just as treacherous as he spent his entire flight imagining it would be. He walked the same halls he had all those years ago and
As he walked he found himself pondering upon the fact nobody around him knew that he was actively walking towards what might be the most terrifying reunion of his entire life. A small part of him was almost envious of their ignorance.
He paused briefly just outside the threshold of her room, taking a steadying breath before he rounded the corner.
He didn’t know what he expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. Cass had been propped up with several plush white pillows behind her back. Her hair was long, cascading all the way down onto the pillows behind her in wispy strands. A large chunk of the hair near the front of her head had gone white, just as his own had. She looked older somehow, and yet she still looked like the same ten-year-old he’d left six years ago. Her face was made up of sharper angles, and her eyes were sunken. Most of all, she was impossibly thin. He could probably fit both of her arms inside a single fist.
She hadn’t noticed him yet, her face angled towards the sunbeams coming in through the room’s sole window.
He took a step towards her, and she finally heard the movement, turning her head to face him.
Neither one of them spoke for a moment, blue eyes each meeting an identical set as they stared at each other in mutual disbelief.
“Percival…?” Her voice came out weak and raspy, likely from the years of disuse.
He was only slightly surprised to find his eyes watering immediately. “It’s me.”
He wasn’t really sure what he should do. Vesper had been the one more inclined to physical touch. Should he hug her? Should he go sit by her?
He settled on awkwardly standing in place and wringing his hands.
Her eyes rose to his head of white hair, her hand drifting up to tangle into her own. She seemed to be struggling to process everything, which Percy thought was more than understandable. “What happened to you?”
Before he could reply, she continued, “Where are Mother and Father?”
Percy swallowed past the lump in his throat, finally making his way to sit on the edge of the bed. “Cass, they… Mother and Father and Vesper and everyone—there was a fire…”
He had to look away; he couldn’t watch the inevitable look of heartbreak pass over her face. “The Briarwoods, do you remember them?”
He looked back as she nodded. He continued, “They worked with a good majority of our staff, and they set our house on fire.”
Cass looked confused. “But everyone got out, right? Where are they?”
He reached out and placed a hand on her knee. “Cass, they didn’t make it out. I was only able to grab you… We’re the only ones that made it.”
She drew up instantly, “You’re lying—you have to be lying.”
She jerked her knee out from under his hand with what little strength she had. Tears began to cascade down her face. “Where are they?! Mother?! Father?! Where are you?!” She called out into the empty room behind him.
“I’m so sorry, Cass.” Percy tried to soothe her.
She turned to him with a look of scattered fury, her thin hands balling into fists. She attacked his chest, hitting him over and over again in time with her frantic yelling, “YOU’RE LYING! YOU’RE LYING! YOU’RE LYING!”
Her meager physical strength gave out, and she collapsed into his chest, breathing heavily. He held her and wondered what else he could possibly say, but she broke the silence first: “Where were you?”
He didn’t know what to say. “I… haven’t been living here for some time.”
“You left me.”
He couldn’t even try and defend himself because at the end of the day he really had left her.
—
Cassandra’s physical therapy was slow to start.
They hadn’t had a further conversation about their reunion. Percy couldn’t really bring himself to reopen that box just yet. Instead, he would accompany her to all of her appointments and sessions with the physical therapist despite the fact that it wasn’t strictly necessary.
He’d suppose this was his way of trying to make up for the past six years.
He shut the door of his apartment behind him and began the trek across the street to the hospital. He’d rented this particular apartment due to its proximity to the hospital, and so far it had been serving him well enough.
When he approached the big glass doors of Whitestone General, a reasonably tall woman with short brown hair pushed herself up off of the wall when she saw him. “I thought that was you.”
Percy turned and found himself face-to-face with none other than Dr. Ripley.
“How are you doing, Percival?” She asked.
“Doctor, I—wow, long time no see. I’m alright given the circumstances. Though I must admit seeing a familiar face is comforting.”
She made a sound of understanding. “Ahh yes, I had heard little Cassandra was awake; you must be here to see her.”
“Yes, she has an appointment with the physical therapist in—” he checked his watch—“ten “minutes.”
She smiled. “How has your music been going?”
He looked away then, slightly embarrassed. “Oh, that. I’m afraid I haven’t sung or played anything at all really, not since the fire.”
“That’s a shame; you were always so remarkable.”
“I’m afraid time hasn't much allowed for it as of late.”
She fished a small piece of paper out of her bag and scrawled something onto it, handing it over to him.
Glancing down at it, he saw a phone number written in navy blue ink. “I’d love to pick our lessons back up,” she said. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I allowed someone as talented as you to waste their abilities away.”
Percy smiled, tucking the scrap of paper into the pocket of his jacket. “Thank you, Doctor, I’ll call you. I’ve got to get going, but it was nice to see you.”
“Likewise.”
As kind as Percy felt the offer was, he didn't actually have any intention of calling. Something inside him had broken the night of that fire, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to play music quite like he used to ever again.
He made his way into the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor.
—
Cass was in a mood that day. A well and truly awful mood.
She was combative with her physical therapist, she refused to allow the nurse to administer her medicine without a fight, and she outright refused to even speak to Percy.
They ended the arduous day in her room, as they did every day. She sat scowling at the wall as Percy read a book.
The silence was tame, if not comfortable.
They sat like that for a good thirty minutes before she spoke. “Why was I the one you saved that night?”
He dropped his book in surprise; he had not been ready to have this particular conversation just yet.
“I mean, why did you grab me and not the others?”
“I really couldn’t say, Cass. I suppose because you were the closest to the door. I wasn’t thinking the clearest that night.”
He was lying. Perhaps to her, perhaps to himself, perhaps to both. He knew why he had grabbed her.
He’d always been a very logical person, and that logic didn’t shut off even in times of crisis. As he stood at the threshold of that guest room, his brain had quickly deduced that Cassandra was the only logical choice.
He knew he was only strong enough to carry one of them, and there was no reality where he could choose only one of the twins. Whichever one he saved would spend the rest of their life hating him for leaving the other.
He didn’t choose Ludwig for another, probably even more awful reason. Between him and Cassandra, she was the more likely to survive.
Ludwig was already heavily immunocompromised; if he even survived the smoke inhalation, it was unlikely that his fragile skeleton would survive falling out of a second-story window.
Perhaps Cassandra’s near-death was karma giving him his get-back at an almost comically immediate moment.
“I see him every time I look in the mirror, you know.” She spoke.
Percy was pulled out of his thoughts, shocked and confused. “What do you mean?”
“Ludwig… I see his sunken eyes, his protruding cheekbones, and his fragile skin.”
Percy felt his breath escape him. “Oh.”
“We never even looked alike before.”
Of course she’d see him everywhere she looked; Gods, he should’ve seen it coming. The two of them had been just as close as he and Vesper had been.
A profound sadness filled his chest as he considered that everything that had happened to him in these recent years had not just happened to him.
“Try and get some sleep, Cass.”
The door clicked shut behind him as he made his way back across the street. He shrugged his jacket off, throwing it onto the back of the kitchen chair.
The slip of paper fell out and fluttered to the ground. Dr. Ripley’s phone number.
He considered it for a moment; perhaps it would be good to force himself back into a bit of normalcy.
He picked up his phone and began to dial.
—
He double-checked the address Dr. Ripley had given him over the phone. “91408 Deansgate Avenue…” he whispered to himself.
This was it.
He reached up and knocked on the off-white door.
The sound of the deadbolt sliding out of its place alerted him to Dr. Ripley’s presence.
She beckoned him inside as the door swung on its hinges. “Good evening, Percival.”
“Good evening, Doctor.”
Her home was nice, resembling something one would find in a home decorating magazine. Just about what he’d expect from her.
“We’ll begin in a moment,” she said. “But first I have something to give you.”
She walked into another room for a moment, leaving Percy standing in the middle of her entryway.
He looked around. Her home looked exactly like what he would have expected: cold as ice and practical to a fault, just like she was.
A moment later, she re-entered the room carrying a sleek black violin case. She held it out for him to take. “I know you probably don’t have an instrument anymore; this is an old one of mine.”
It was beautiful, deep burgundy wood; Vermaloc, if he had to guess. It was strung up with tight silver strings that stretched down to the curved, ornate fingerboard.
Percy felt a warmth well up inside him. He wasn’t certain whether it was gratitude or panic. “Surely I can’t take this.”
The corner of her lips quirked up into a half smile. “A talent as grand as yours requires an instrument equally as grand, Percival.
He averted eye contact and nodded his sincere gratitude.
Playing was truly like riding a bike; as soon as he raised the bow to hover over the strings he found his body knew exactly what to do.
The instrument sang its resplendent melody into the cavernous room in perfect time with his well-practiced manipulations. He breathed a sigh of relief he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.
Playing again was like discovering a part of himself he hadn’t even realized he was missing, like a part of his physical body was finally being returned to the whole of him.
Before he knew it, the sky had grown well and truly dark, and their session was wrapping up. He tucked the violin back into its case and attempted to hand it back to her, but she held her hand up. “Keep it.” She said, “I’d like you to be able to practice at home as well.”
“I—are you sure? This is a rather nice one.” Percy protested.
Dr. Ripley smiled. “If it’ll keep your remarkable talent alive, then I’m sure.”
“Thank you so much, doctor.”
He left her home that night, clutching the black violin case to his chest, feeling happier than he had in a very long time.
—
With the start of these lessons with Dr. Ripley, Percy found himself settling into something resembling a comfortable routine.
She loved to go on about how remarkable she thought Percy’s own talent was but would often never say a word about her own. Every instrument and vocal technique Percy knew, she did as well, and then some.
Week by week they would rotate their area of study. First it was violin, then piano, then vocals. They were finally onto their fourth week of renewed lessons and had circled back around to violin.
As such, he made his way across the street to see Cass with the black case strapped to his back.
Every day he would visit Cass in the hospital, helping her with her appointments and sitting with her through the monotony, and twice a week he’d make his way to Dr. Ripley’s for a music lesson.
Cass was growing stronger and stronger by the day; she could finally walk short distances with her crutches now before needing to use her wheelchair. According to the physical therapist, she was beginning to regain some of the muscle density she’d lost during those years she’d spent unconscious.
He found that he was feeling extraordinarily proud of her efforts.
Percy had even found time to pick up a new hobby, albeit by accident.
It started when he’d come back from the hospital one night and found an abandoned amplifier on the curb outside their building.
He’d always been good with mechanics, and he figured if he was able to fix it up, he’d be able to sell it or something. They could always use a bit of extra pocket change.
He spent a good few weeks taking it apart and fiddling with its mechanisms, even going so far as to visit the local music store for spare parts.
After weeks of his living room carpet being nearly unwalkable, littered with all sorts of mechanical bits and bobs, he finally managed to get it working again.
Despite the fact that his original plan had been to fix the poor thing up and sell it, he found that he’d actually grown rather attached. He justified that perhaps he’d find a use for it once Cass was living with him again, or perhaps he just hadn’t found it a good home yet. He made it a comfortable little home in the corner of their living room, and if he placed it where he could see it from the couch and admire it, nobody had to be any the wiser.
—
The weather was positively dastardly on this particular evening, and Percy found himself cowering beneath an ugly yellow raincoat on his walk to Dr. Ripley’s place.
He shut her front door behind him, shrugging his wet coat and shoes into their designated spots in the entryway so as not to track water into the larger expanse of her neatly-kept home.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” He started, making his way into the living room. “Do you remember Archie, from the old days?”
Dr. Ripley looked up from where she’d been searching through one of her various books of sheet music, her violin on a stand next to her. “The name sounds familiar.”
“He was the chef’s son; I used to play with him quite a lot growing up.”
She nodded. “Oh yes, Chef Desnay’s son, I remember.”
Percy continued, “I ran into him the first time I’d gone to the hospital to see Cassandra. He happened to be driving the cab I’d gotten into, and, funny enough, neither of us noticed the other for the first ten minutes.”
“I see that is odd,” she replied, vaguely distracted, flipping through the pages.
“I only bring this up,” Percy continued. “Because I wondered, given that both of you stayed here in Whitestone after the fire, if maybe you might have seen each other in the interim.”
“No, I’m afraid we haven’t. I tried to keep my distance from everyone from that life for the years after, a bit painful, you understand.”
Percy nodded sagely.
She continued, “I’ve heard about what happened to his father, though, tied up and gagged like that—such an awful way to go.”
Percy opened his mouth to reply and stopped, something cold and uncomfortable settling deep in his chest cavity. “Doctor… how did you know that he was tied up?”
She turned to face him, rolling her eyes. “What do you mean? It was all over the news.”
He took a few steps back towards the entryway. “No, that detail wasn’t released to the public.”
She stood, regarding him with a cold expression. “Perhaps I was told as much.”
Her tone did little to convince either of them that she was telling the truth.
A shaky exhale escaped him. “Anna, what did you do?”
Her teeth bared into an animalistic smile, unlike anything he’d ever seen on her normally cold, impassive face. She stepped toward him, rearing back and striking him across the face in a vicious backhand.
He stumbled back, his gifted violin clattering to the ground as he fell.
She stood over him, dark and imposing. “Don’t get involved in matters you don’t understand if you aren’t ready to reap the consequences."
He was in disbelief, raising a hand to the rapidly forming bruise on his cheek, “All this time you’ve been pretending. How could you look me in the eye knowing you helped them?!”
The litany of emotions coursing through him was nigh unbearable.
A smile formed on Anna’s lips then, a wicked and cruel thing. “Do you really want to know the truth?”
Percy remained silent.
“I didn’t just help them.” She leaned down to his level, whispering into his ear. “It was my idea.”
“What did we ever do to you?” Percy whispered.
Anna drew back, fiery anger returning. “Because you had everything I deserve! You were born into what I have worked my entire life for, and you didn’t earn it.”
Percy furrowed his brows. “Jealousy I understand, but why did you pick me to survive? I was far less inebriated than the rest of my family. I only have to assume that was intentional.”
“You annoyed me,” she replied simply. “If one of you should have to live with the deaths of their entire family on their heads for the rest of their life, I thought you were just awful enough to deserve it.”
Percy schooled his expression into one of stoic, chilled fury. “Why did you even approach me those weeks ago if you were involved this whole time?”
The sinister smile that crept over Anna’s face could turn even the strongest of stomachs sour. “I wasn’t lying when I said your talent was truly remarkable. It really would be a shame to let it go to waste.”
—
Percy didn’t even remember leaving. One moment he was sitting on Anna Ripley’s living room floor, and the next he was sprinting home through the torrential rain without his raincoat or his shoes.
He burst through the doors of his apartment and found that he somehow still held the violin in a vice grip, the bow and case nowhere to be found.
He stared down at the instrument for a moment; it hadn’t done anything wrong, really. It wasn’t responsible for the egregious actions of its previous owner, and yet he felt an immeasurable anger consume his every sense when he looked at the innocent configuration of wood and wires.
A wounded howl escaped him before he was even properly aware of it, and he found himself swinging the violin around, smashing it into the wall.
It responded with a discordant clang as it impacted against the monochrome plaster.
He wasn’t done. He beat the thing against any surface he could find: the wall, the floor, the counter. It broke apart little by little with every strike, wood splintering and strings curling.
It was a bad habit he had, really; he found destruction soothing. When his negative emotions were at their highest, it was often the inanimate objects around him that took the brunt of his fury.
The fact that his particular object was a gift from the very source of his anger only made it all the sweeter.
By the time he came back to himself, it was naught more than a fingerboard.
His breaths came in uneven gasps as he dropped the glorified splinter to the ground, collapsing to the tile next to it.
He lay there exhausted, confused, and feeling as though his six-year-old wound had been violently torn open by the cruel claws of a wild beast. Pushing himself into a sitting position, he surveyed the damage left behind by his rampage and decided it wasn’t worth trying to tidy.
He left the front door without bothering to lock it and made his way across the street.
—
Cassandra’s room was dark when he entered, but he could tell she was awake. Her breathing had yet to slow to that characteristic rhythm that it always took when she was well and truly asleep.
He didn’t bother to say a word, crossing the room and climbing beside her underneath the blankets. He pressed his face into her pillow in a feeble attempt to comfort himself.
He felt her shift; her hand made its way down to where his lay, and she intertwined their fingers. Her voice came soft in the dark and quiet of the room, “Let’s leave. We can go back to wherever it was you were living after the fire, or anywhere really; I don’t want to stay here anymore.”
Percy gave a shaky and slightly emotional sigh. “Okay, we can go.”
—
They’d gotten lucky, moving back to Emon. An apartment that was far nicer than the glorified shithole Percy had been living in for the years before had just become available the week before their move. The landlord was flighty when asked for details about why exactly the previous tenants had left, but he knew he was not in much of a position to refuse such a nice place regardless of the reason. It was a lovely two-bedroom on the second floor, and it sat right across the street from a spacious park.
It would serve their needs just fine, he thought.
Better still, Cass was finally deemed healthy enough to move into the apartment with him. He hadn’t realized just how lonely he’d become. Having grown up with such a large family, he truly did not expect the toll living by himself under such circumstances would take. It would be nice to have a bit of that old familiarity back.
They spent the bus ride back to Emon sleeping, chattering about their plans for decoration, and reading their respective books. Despite the events of the past weeks (more like years, if he was honest), there was a distinct air of optimism about the wayward siblings.
They didn’t have much to their names; each of them had a suitcase with their clothes and a few sentimental belongings, and Percy carried a rather hefty backpack filled full of dishware and other miscellaneous items. He had also elected to rig that amp he’d fixed up to have wheels, making for easier transportation; there was no way he was leaving it behind. Cass had given him a semi-amused look when he emerged from the Whitestone apartment, dragging it behind him with a determined expression painting his features.
They finally arrived in Emon with just enough time to beg the clerk at a local mattress store to allow them five extra minutes to drag a clearance mattress home so at least they wouldn’t be forced to spend their first night in the new place sleeping on the hardwood.
They set up a reasonably cozy nest out of the spare blankets they’d pulled out of Percy’s backpack along with some of the bigger jackets and sweaters balled up into makeshift pillows.
He sat behind her, where she had her legs stretched out on the bare mattress, and ran a brush through her long, stringy hair.
“Percy,” her voice broke the peaceful silence that had settled between them.
“Hmm?”
“Cut it off.”
Percy paused with the brush still in her hair, slightly startled. “Your hair? You want me to cut it?”
“I don’t like it; it makes me look sick.”
To his credit, he didn’t argue at all. He went and rummaged through one of their bags and found a pair of scissors, taking his place behind her again. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
She nodded.
“Alright, I’m not a barber, but I’ll do my best.”
It took him about forty-five minutes to get it to a cut that didn’t look like a toddler had gotten ahold of some craft scissors and was left unsupervised. By the end, he’d given her a respectable little pixie cut and was actually quite proud of his work.
He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and switched on the camera app, handing it to his sister as a makeshift mirror.
She tilted her head this way and that, regarding it before giving her verdict, “It looks nice.”
“Good, we can go for a walk in that park tomorrow to show it off; I’m sure the citizens of Emon will be quite impressed.”
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
—
The next day was beautiful. The sky was clear, the sun was warm, and Percy could swear even the damn birds were singing like some fairy tale cliche bullshit. He was feeling very enthusiastic about their plans for a walk.
Cass had made it a good portion of the way on her crutches before needing to switch to her wheelchair; both of their moods were the highest they had been since their unfortunate reunion in Whitestone General Hospital.
They’d been investigating a small duck pond that was distinctly devoid of any ducks when the jarring sound of a guitar caught their attention. It seemed to be coming from the other side of an adjacent hill, and they exchanged a glance, wordlessly communicating their mutual curiosity.
Percy pushed her wheelchair over the small hill and found a modest stage setup. Atop it were three figures. In the middle was a tall redhead who was nervously grabbing onto the mic stand in front of her as if she were afraid it would grow legs and run away. She was flanked by two dark-haired half-elves who could only be twins, given how similar they looked to one another. The two twins each held a string instrument, presumably a guitar and bass, although at this distance he couldn’t tell which was which.
The twins were in the midst of playing the opening of a rather upbeat song as the redhead leaned in towards the mic and parted her lips, followed by… nothing. She glanced around and then tapped on the mic. Still nothing. A look of terror passed over her face as she looked back and forth to her bandmates.
“Oh dear.” Percy heard himself mutter.
A surprising compulsion stirred inside him; perhaps his recently attained hobby could be of use. “Sit tight,” he said to Cass, who gave him the same knowing smirk she’d given when he’d hauled that amplifier all the way across the country.
He made his way up to the side of the stage in an awkward half jog and waved to get the attention of the male twin. “Hi, sorry, I think something’s amiss with your equipment.”
The half-elf raised a sharp eyebrow. “Yeah, no shit, genius.”
Percy shook his head. “No, I only mean—I’m quite good with mechanics.” He gesticulated erratically. “If you'd allow me to have a look, I might be able to help.”
The dark-haired woman, who, at a closer glance, was definitely this man’s twin, put a hand over her brother’s mouth before he could say something even snarkier. “That would be lovely, if you wouldn’t mind.” She smiled.
She led him up to where they’d set up their sound equipment and beckoned for him to work his magic. It only took a moment to identify the problem. One of the cables on their speaker was beginning to fray up near the base, making the connection ebb and flow through the speaker itself. He reached out behind him, not bothering to turn around. “Do you have electrical tape with you?”
He wasn’t sure which of them placed a half-depleted roll into his outstretched hand, but he tore a generous amount off, wrapping it onto the damaged cable until he was certain it would at least be functional for the duration of their set.
He stood back to survey his work. “There, that should hold for now.”
The male twin clapped him between the shoulders, drawing a sound of surprise from his throat. “Thanks, buddy; your help is very much appreciated.”
The nervous redhead finally managed to speak, the crisis now averted. Her voice came out high-pitched and awkward. “You wouldn’t happen to play the keys, right? Our keyboardist bailed on us like… 20 minutes ago, and we’re kinda freaking out.”
Percy was a bit caught off guard. “I do, actually.”
Before he could say anything further, the female twin had grabbed his hand. “Fantastic, we’ll get you set up. We have the equipment already, so there’s no need to worry about any of that.”
She chattered on and on about improv and how he’d catch the vibe of their sound pretty quickly, but he was so bewildered he didn’t hear half of it.
She began to lead him further onto the stage when the male twin piped up again. “I suppose we should probably introduce ourselves. I’m Vax, my sister is Vex, and the redhead is Keyleth. What should we call you?”
He considered for a moment. “Percival, my name is Percival.”
Vax pulled a face. “How about we call you Percy? Sounds way less douchey.”
Despite the odd situation, he found himself smiling. “Percy… yes, I think I like that.”
m4cbethz on Chapter 1 Thu 31 Jul 2025 03:13AM UTC
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DeadDredd on Chapter 3 Thu 14 Aug 2025 01:26PM UTC
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nomercivalpercival on Chapter 3 Thu 14 Aug 2025 01:30PM UTC
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DeadDredd on Chapter 3 Thu 14 Aug 2025 01:51PM UTC
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nomercivalpercival on Chapter 3 Sat 16 Aug 2025 09:43PM UTC
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CrabbyQuill on Chapter 3 Thu 14 Aug 2025 10:39PM UTC
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nomercivalpercival on Chapter 3 Sat 16 Aug 2025 09:44PM UTC
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CrabbyQuill on Chapter 4 Fri 22 Aug 2025 03:13AM UTC
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nomercivalpercival on Chapter 4 Tue 26 Aug 2025 09:48PM UTC
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CrabbyQuill on Chapter 5 Mon 01 Sep 2025 02:17AM UTC
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nomercivalpercival on Chapter 5 Mon 01 Sep 2025 07:18PM UTC
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CrabbyQuill on Chapter 6 Thu 04 Sep 2025 11:17PM UTC
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nomercivalpercival on Chapter 6 Sun 07 Sep 2025 11:14PM UTC
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