Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tinkering has always been his escape. He can make parts fit together; he can cut them down, add things, reshape his materials. His projects may start as chaos, but he can mold things to make them elegant, to make them work. It’s much easier than dealing with people. It’s not that he’s bad with people, Percy tells himself - he spent his childhood surrounded by family, and in the years since, he’s had to learn how to get what he wants out of a wide variety of people - but there are always more problems he can’t solve with people than there are problems he can’t solve in his workshop. And in the end, solving problems is what he does best.

Vex is a problem he’ll never be able to solve.

Back in Emon, she’d come to his workshop and watch him from time to time, eager to see her arrows come to life. And for all she likes to talk, Percy finds her an excellent listener as well; explaining his process to her often helps him solve small, thorny problems he didn’t know he had. But now, it’s harder. It’s not Vex, not exactly. She still chatters as she always did, still asks the same sorts of questions, still somehow identifies which tool to hand him before he can even ask for it. She still presses too close to his side sometimes, as she watches him work, and he still feels her warmth in parts of him that he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

The problem is, when he sleeps at night, he sees her lifeless face, and remembers.

He still dreams of Whitestone, of the Briarwoods; a victory hasn’t erased years of nightmares. But those dreams no longer wake him in the middle of the night. These days, he sees himself reaching into a sarcophagus. He knows what happens next. He yells at himself, wants so very badly to stop, even just in his imagination … but then, he sees her face, the brief moment of shock before she falls over. He never sees the magic, cannot remember what it looked like, if it was even visible at the time. It’s just cause and effect. He reaches in; she dies. Every night.

Percy doesn’t sleep much these days, truth be told.

“Percival. I’m sure that piece of wood is fascinating, but you’ve been staring at it for at least a minute.”

He blinks. They’re in Scanlan’s ridiculous mansion, somewhere outside of Westruun. It’s not his workshop, but at least it’s not dirt and leaves in the middle of the forest. And there’s Vex, standing next to him, leaning an elbow on the table and looking from the half-finished broom seat to his face with a teasing grin. That smile should warm him, but …

He looks away. “Sorry. Lost in thought.”

“As always.” When he looks back, her smile has faded. “Talk to me. Please.”

Percy’s answer is automatic. “It’s nothing.” Because it is. It’s just his own guilt. He’s been living with it for years.

“Bullshit.” When he tries to step away, Vex blocks him. “Percy. Stop.”

“Stop what?”

He doesn’t know the language she curses in, but whatever it is, Percy is pretty sure she just called him a eunuch.“What’s wrong, Percy? I’m sick of the silent and brooding thing.”

He squints and adjusts his glasses. “Are you confusing me with your brother?”

“No. I mean, that’s his thing, yeah, but I can only slap him so many times before fatigue sets in. You’re the one I’m worried about right now.”

Percy averts his gaze. Her clear, clever eyes are too much right now. “There’s a lot going on, Vex. A lot to worry about.”

“I know that. But you …” She crosses her arms. “You haven’t really talked to me since … since I died. Not like you used to.”

With that, he slumps back against the table. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing and start talking, for fuck’s sake.” Vex leans on the table next to him again.

It takes him a few moments to start. Half words and phrases stumble out of his mouth, only to trail off. Vex waits patiently, more patiently than she usually does. But then again, she’s a hunter. She knows how to wait until her prey lets down its guard.

(Not that Percy is prey. He thinks. But even if he is … he might be okay with that.)

Finally, he takes a deep breath. “I can’t stop seeing you in that tomb. I can’t stop … remembering that it was me. I did that. I killed you.”

“Only for a minute or two.”

“Vex’ahlia.”

She falls silent. Percy silently curses himself. “You don’t deserve to be burdened with this,” he says. “You’re the one who went through it. That’s why I haven’t really talked about it.”

“That’s the thing. I didn’t go through it. Not like you did. Not like Vax did.” She looks down at the floor. “I felt a blast, and the next thing I knew, everyone was staring at me with these awful faces. I may have felt …” She trails off, then shakes herself. “I don’t know what happened when I was … gone. But for me, the traumatic part is watching the people I love suddenly treat me like a different person. I lost a couple of minutes. But my brother might have lost his soul, and it’s all because of me. And you …” She stands up a bit straighter and punches his shoulder. “Well, buck up, Percival, because if I have to be the cause of my brother’s predicament, I refuse to be the reason for yours. I deserve better than that.”

A part of Percy’s brain registers the fact that she mentioned him in the same breath as her brother, in the same breath as … but he’s not equipped to think about that, not now, maybe not for a long time. “Vax made a choice,” he says, almost automatically, to distract himself. “He would have called the Raven Queen whether or not you wanted him to do it. You’re not responsible for anything.”

“But you are?”

“It was my mistake.”

“Yeah, you made a big mistake. But I chose to come over to see what you found, because I couldn’t stand not knowing. We were careless, and exhausted, and it was completely understandable that we’d make mistakes.”

“I know. I know that,” he repeats, pushing his glasses to his forehead and rubbing his eyes. “But this one was bigger …”

“Was it? In the end, was it any bigger than when Keyleth cast that spell that turned us into those wispy things? We’re lucky none of us died. Or my idiot brother, ignoring Asum and getting himself caught by the Briarwoods? He was moments away from dying, and it was all his own damned fault.” Vex sighs. “I can’t even count the number of times I’ve done something stupid and made a bad situation worse. And I’ll do it again. I know I will, because I’m me, and I do stupid shit.”

“You mean like stealing a broom and learning how to fly?”

That provokes a grin. “Exactly like that. But that’s not going to be stupid, because I’m at least smart enough to get you to make me things that will keep me safe.”

“Safer,” he corrects her. “If you want totally safe flying, I’ll build you a fucking airship.”

“Don’t lie, if you build an airship, it’ll be for yourself. And maybe Scanlan.”

“Not Scanlan. He’s got a mansion, what more does he need? You’re the one who likes to fly.”

“And that’s why-” Vex cuts herself short, glancing away. When she looks back at Percy, her smile is soft, and it makes something flutter in his belly. “You get it. I’m not always sure Vax does, but I know he loves me enough to deal with my stupidity, the same way I deal with his. He’s my anchor. But you ... “ She chuckles softly. “When I say I want to fly, my brother tells me he’ll be here when I land. You’re the one who helps me figure out how to get into the air. No mistake you make will ever change that.”

There’s a lump in Percy’s throat, one he can barely speak around. “Even if it kills you?” he murmurs.

“Even if. I’d rather live before I die, you know?” Vex moves close enough to bump shoulders with him. “So stop being scared, and keep helping me fly. Okay?”

“I can’t promise to not be scared,” he says, “but I’ll always help. All you ever have to do is ask.”

“I know.”

Vex leans her head on his shoulder. Percy takes a deep breath and allows himself to wrap an arm around her back, pulling her around so he can give her a real hug. She stills for a moment, before squeezing her arms tight around his waist and burying her face in his shoulder. Percy just lays his cheek against her hair. She smells like sweat and forest (and bear), but she’s reassuringly solid, and a knot inside Percy’s chest loosens. He holds onto her for too long, most likely, but she doesn’t make any move to let go until he does.

When he pulls back, her eyes are suspiciously bright. “So,” he says, clearing his throat and turning back to his work table. “If you’re going to take to the air, let’s make sure you’re sitting comfortably, shall we?”

A moment later, Vex is once again a warm weight at his side. He can’t imagine wanting her to be anywhere else. “Just tell me what you need to make me something amazing.”

If Percy were a more sentimental man, he’d tell her that he already has what he needs. She may be unsolvable, but if he can solve problems for her, maybe that’s good enough. And maybe tonight, he’ll feel the phantom brush of her hair on his cheek, and finally get some sleep.

… probably not, but a single moment of peace is better than he’s had for a while. He’ll take it.