Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

No one plans for things to go to shit. Vox Machina rarely even plans for things to go well if they bother planning at all. It’s a talent. Cassandra envies those who can think on their feet when everything inevitably goes wrong, especially when it comes to fighting.

“Vax, on your right!”

Cassandra hears her brother shouting over the din of combat. The following blast is tailed by the kind of profane growl that usually accompanies misfires, but Vax’s faint “Got ‘im, thanks!” means she can keep her attention on the dragonborn whose wild knife slashes have been driving her back into the underbrush.

“Percival, some help would be appreciated!” She calls while just barely sidestepping a swing and coming away with a nick across her collarbone. There is a crackle of magic dancing across the man’s claws, but her brother is predictable. She ducks and knows the clang of metal above her is a familiar rapier, which buys her the precious moment she needs to dart around the dragonborn and plant her shortsword in his lower back.

“Stick with the group, would you?” Her brother chides as the body thumps to the ground. He is masking the nerves in his voice with annoyance, but she can see the way his hands are shaking as she pulls her blade free. There is a fresh burn on him and he is dusted in gunpowder. “But stay out of the way!” He pleads as she rolls her eyes and sprints past him.

“Best make up your mind, Percival.” She teases, but still she wants nothing more than to do as he asks. Be useful, but stay out from underfoot. Do not interfere with those who are more capable.

The hum and smell of ozone in the air warns of incoming magic. It is just enough warning to turn and see the downed dragonborn pulling a wand from his sleeve. He is aiming for Percival, but Percival is quick on his feet. Cassandra has always envied him for this. The bolt of energy that slams into her scatters into static in her bones. Everything blurs. She has time to think that the headache digging into her skull feels wrong, and then she stops thinking altogether.

- - -

“Where the HELL is she?!” Percy has Vax’ildan by the collar. “She ran right past you! Where did she go?!”

“I don’t know, man! We’re not babysitters. In case you didn’t notice, I had a half-orc up my ass the whole time!” Vax shoots a glare at Grog when he snorts.

“Percy, darling…” His shoulders twinge at Vex’ahlia’s gentle tone. “I promise you, we’ll find her. Did you see what she was hit with?”

“Could be Fear.” Scanlan suggests when there’s no response. He hisses through his teeth as Pike pulls a crossbow bolt from his thigh. She apologizes distractedly before pushing a soft pulse of healing magic into the wound. “I didn’t see what he cast but at the rate she was running, I wouldn’t be surprised. She went back towards town, right?”

“I… could try examining the wand?” Keyleth offers, having raised her hand as if waiting for permission to interrupt. “If it was a single use thing…” She trails off when Percy’s dark eyes turn on her.

This is useless. It didn’t matter unless they found her first…

Percy drops his hold on Vax, grinding his teeth and turning to limp off down the road.

- - -

Keyleth was circling above as an owl to keep tabs on everyone. The twins had nigh disappeared into the trees. Scanlan and Pike had caught up to Percy and were now helping him comb the river while keeping wary eyes on the white knuckles and the shaking gun.

Grog, on the other hand, tended to get distracted. He meant to search the woods, but that led to thinking about keeping track of the road, which made him remember Scanlan mentioning town, which made him think of the keep, which gave him the idea that maybe Cassie just got lost and went back home.

So now, here he was. Walking home. He very nearly walked past the broken down cart, too—until it squeaked. He doesn’t have to be the team genius to know stationary carts didn’t do that.

The goliath crouches and lifts the edge of the cart with ease, freezing as he spots what’s made itself comfy in the overgrown weeds.

“What’re you doin’ under there, pipsqueak? Everyone’s bustin’ their balls tryin’ to find you.”

The girl is curled up as tight as she’ll go, like a rolybug under a log, and her hands are clamped over her ears. He thinks maybe she didn’t hear him until he notices the big, glassy eyes staring up at him in terror.

“Hey… uh…” He looks back uncertainly, then back down at Cassie with his large brow creased in confusion and concern. “It’s aw’right. We got ‘em. Nothin’s coming to get you.” She doesn’t even blink, but when he overturns the cart with a final shove, she yelps and cowers under her arms. That’s no good. He’s not great with calming people down. Usually that’s Pike’s job… He could go get her, but it didn’t look like Cassie could be left alone right now.

“Can I pick you up? Are you hurt?” No answer. “Right… Here we go then.”

Grog’s careful. His two best buds are little so he knows how to be gentle, but he almost thinks he’s hurt her somehow when a fluttery gasp catches in her chest and suddenly she’s limp in his arms. Then he realizes she’s still panting and shaking in fright. She’s playing dead.

This is weird and he doesn’t like it. Cradling his find against his shoulder, he frowns and turns to bring her back to the people who could do something about this.

“It’s aw’right. I gotchu, little bit.”

- - -

The worst part of all this is how Percy doesn’t know where to look first. He’d made a beeline for the river because that was the most pressing danger he could think of, but it’s dark and his shitty human eyesight can’t make out details. The most he’s doing is splashing through the shallows uselessly while Pike and Scanlan actually look for her.

It’s so much worse than not being able to see at all. It’s almost being able to make out shapes and panicking every time something catches his eye. He’d gone charging out into the water after a piece of driftwood, only for Pike to drag him out, wheezing in mounting panic and looking like a drenched cat. Someone should have found her by now. She couldn’t have gone that far.

“Helloooo?” Grog’s voice crackles over the earring and Percy nearly tears it off in his rush to grab it. Nearby, the gnomes calmly reach a hand to their own.

“What’s up, Grog?” Scanlan turns his head upward, keeping an eye out for Keyleth in case she was trying to round the group up. “You’re really quiet over there.”

“Right. So. I found her…”

He was so quiet and that sounded like dread oh gods no—

Slipping on the muddy bank, Percy was already scrabbling up the woven tree roots, throbbing ankle forgotten in his mad dash back to the road.

…

Percy stares in horror. Grog’s making his way slowly down the road with a limp figure in one arm. A slender hand was hanging lifeless and swaying with his step.

“Pike… Pike, help…” He thinks he’s saying, but only a strangled noise reaches the cleric. “Pike, please…”

Overhead, Keyleth hoots an alarm and the slightest rustling of leaves is the only warning of the twins’ approach. When they break from the trees, both are clearly out of breath. Their druid takes her human form again and multiple hands are on Percy’s back and shoulders now, whether out of attempted comfort or to keep him upright.

“Oh no…” Vex breathes. Percy takes a wobbly step forward to meet Grog and it turns out the hands are definitely there to keep him up.

They are all preparing for the worst, or for an explanation of some sort. No one is prepared for Grog to sound so perplexed.

“Pike, I swear you weigh more than kitten here does.”

“…What?” Several voices ask in unison.

“Listen, I dunno what’s wrong. She was hidin’ under a cart an’ I figured one of you could talk to her or somethin’. She’s real spooked I think.” He is still speaking in a hushed tone—or, more stage-whispering since this is Grog, after all.

“Cassandra, dear, what happened? Are you alright?” Vex tries gently, but the limp figure only whimpers and twitches, fighting very hard to stay still. She’s not convincing anyone up close.

“Can you do anything for her, Pickle?”

“Oh… Well, I don’t know. Maybe! But, I’m seriously out of magic right now and I don’t know what’s wrong with her… Keyleth? Scanlan? Have you seen anything like this?”

The group proceeds to launch into a debate over what could be wrong with their Rogue Jr. The realization that she is alive for now brings great relief to everyone but Percy, who limps forward and holds out his arms out to Grog. He’d seen her do this before. This wasn’t the magic—at least, not all of it. If she was playing dead now, magic or not, she had to be utterly terrified.

“Thank you for your help. Let me carry her.” The goliath pouts slightly at the request.

“It’s no trouble, and you’ve got a bad foot—“

“Grog.” Percy growls, silencing the group altogether, but Grog can take a hint. He reluctantly passes Cassandra over to her brother, though the pair nearly topples over when she jolts to life and wraps her arms and legs tightly around him, uttering heartbreaking little cries as she tangles her fingers in his hair.

“Well… at least she recognizes you.”

“Tiberius and Allura won’t be done working for a few days yet, but whatever this is, we can at least ask them about it.” Keyleth suggests. “One of them should know something.”

“Or we can stop by the temple of Seranrae. The clerics there could help for sure!” Pike says. Vax nods.

“Probably our best bet. Even if Tibs or Allura have the magic to help, they’ve been working all day. For all we know, they’re as spent as Pike is.”

On reaching this consensus, the group begins the trek back home. Percy still insists on carrying his sister, though he’s visibly struggling with it. Behind him, someone chimes a healing word under their breath and the pain in his ankle lessens. This kind of help he will gladly accept.

Conversation is halting at best. After only getting a blank stare in response to asking after her name, it's clear that Cassandra has no clue about what was going on around her or what anyone is saying. No amount of reassurance stops her trembling or keeps her from jumping at every sound around them. It’s her interest in Scanlan’s habitual humming that gives him the idea. He’s her big brother. It’s his job to be that much-needed distraction for her.

Pulling back from the group, he waits until the conversation has knit around his absence before beginning to quietly sing one of his old Celestial hymns. It was small comfort that she wasn’t in the mind to tease him for it at the moment.

Älziriuen,

She jumps, trying to pull away for some reason. He readjusts his hold on her to make sure she doesn’t squirm out of his grip. She was fine when Scanlan was singing. What was wrong now?

Ei dullan weire Rein deran
Val miekken auru el weiral
Undin ei pellor biae an sephal
Weiral fei var odstaper giran

Älziriuen,

He looks back to her, but there is no change in her darting pupils or her quickened breath. Why does she seem to be even more on edge? But she’s looking at him attentively now, which could be a sign of improvement.

Neroc dobra, Sehan alzi arn
Ei rycer pyaru gifen aret—

Celestial is powerful. It’s one of the reasons he enjoyed learning it so much. Weaving a sentence draws magic from the world around it, echoing the energy of creation. A single spoken word is inherently musical. A full solo carries its own harmony and greater power the speaker could hope to achieve in his mortal tongue.

It does not sound mortal, and this is what scares Cassandra. She does not recognize her brother’s voice. The more he sings, the more tense and distrusting she grows of him.

“Percy, Percy, that’s a pretty ditty for sure, but you don’t know anything about putting a lady at ease.” Scanlan has sidled up to him out of nowhere and Percy nearly jumps out of his skin. The gnome is already strumming a ballad, but when it starts with a rather… lewd metaphor, Percy clears his throat and glares.

“I do not appreciate that being aimed at my sister when she is not capable of slapping you on her own volition.” Scanlan merely laughs with a shrug.

“Sure, but it got you to stop moping for a second and I’ll take that.” He tucks his instrument under an arm and nudges Percy, appearing genuine for once. “Honestly, I think you’ve got the right idea. Try something else that doesn’t sound like you’re about to dump another dose of magic on her.”

“I…see your point.” He avoids eye contact, kicking himself for not considering that.

“Does she have a favorite? I bet you I’ve heard it somewhere. Give me a key.”

To give Scanlan credit, he can think of one, but it’s one he does not want to sing. Taking a deep breath, Percival sighs and nods, uncertainly starting up a tune again.

Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,
Lavender's green

Cass quiets, blinking at him. He can hear his mother singing it and he bets she does too.

When you are queen, dilly dilly,
I shall be king…

He doesn’t acknowledge the iron band clamping down around his throat.

Who told you so, dilly dilly,
Who told you so?….
'Twas my o-own heart d…

‘Twas my…

Percy falters, pulling to a stop. He’s somewhere else entirely now, staring down at the dirt underfoot and seeing snow. He’s hearing ghosts, with the occasional faraway voice calling to him from the present. It’s the young hands patting his chest and the worried keen from Cassandra that pull him back.

Shame heats his face when he realizes Scanlan isn’t the only one who has stopped with him. Everyone is looking now. In this moment he is thankful for his glasses to hide how his eyes are burning, and for his armful of a sister to keep his tremor from giving him away.

He also notices Cassandra is quiet. Scanlan is still humming, rocking back and forth on his heels with his eyes closed. Vex moves in to take Percy’s arm and gives him a warm, patient smile.

Call up your loves, dilly, dilly
When you might fall
Keep your friends near, dilly dilly,
You shall stand tall.

He stares in disbelief and Keyleth joins in eagerly. She has been nodding to the music but did not want to be the first to intrude on it. Even Vax seems to be mouthing it under his breath with some familiarity. Was it really so well known?

Snow may drift down, dilly dilly,
Rains they may pour
Whilst you and I, dilly dilly,
Keep ourselves warm

Scanlan is conducting with his fingers, marching ahead while Grog attempts to join in with the crowd. He doesn’t know a single note, but he joins in confidently on each “dilly dilly” anyway with Pike’s help from atop his shoulders.

Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,
Lavender's green
When you are king, dilly dilly,
I shall be queen

They’re walking again. Drifting along in a daze, Percy realizes even Cassandra is swaying back and forth slightly, humming along nonsensically and blessedly calm.

Who told you so, dilly dilly,
Who told you so?

Vex leans over to leave a coy kiss on Percival’s cheek and grins as she sings in his ear.

'Twas my own heart, darling Percy,
That told me so.

Chapter Text

“Absolutely NOT. You are staying right here with that troublesome bear--”

“Trinket has been far more helpful than you have, Percival.”

“Low hanging fruit. That’s unlike you.”

“I just don’t see why I am being made to stay here like a child being put in a corner!

“I believe I’ve made it clear I am not about to have you running headfirst into danger again. End of discussion.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes with an irritated huff and turns on her heel, taking only the mildest satisfaction in her coattails swatting against her stubborn mule of a brother. Ever since the Feeblemind incident, Percival has been absolutely insufferable. Overprotective, bitter, and far too paranoid—even beyond his usual anxieties. Every time she volunteers to help or go off on her own, he shuts it down immediately. Without fail. She was, quite frankly, going stir-crazy.

As her brother huffs and slouches against a dead tree to repair his gun for the coming fight, Cassandra finds herself unbothered as she stalks off into the trees. Not for lack of trying on Percival’s part of course, but blessed Vex’ahlia is the one to intervene by whispering that perhaps it would be best to let her cool off alone.

Yes, bless dear Vex’ahlia. So understanding of a moody young woman in need of her space for once. Nothing brings Cassandra quite so close to smugness as knowing that she got away with selling it. In fact, it’s because of this performance that she now quietly makes her way through the trees to get a glimpse of the Orc camp that was supposedly too dangerous for her to even go near.

There had to be at least half a dozen people reported missing by this point. Yet, despite the pressing danger the possible survivors were in, the decision had been made—without her—that Vox Machina would first rest in shifts for the night. Reasonably she knew they weren’t in any shape to take on a whole camp this very moment after that giant spider fight on the way here, but it still wasn’t sitting right with her to just… wait.

She spots the flicker of a campfire through the brush and is contemplating stealing an even better glance before she’s missed when a hand lands on her shoulder. It’s enough to startle her into a gasp, but before she can stumble over excuses, it’s Vax’ildan who puts a finger to his lips with that wry smirk that always makes an appearance when he’s about to make his twin very cross.

“Want to go on a field trip?”

“I wasn’t going out, I promise. I just wanted a closer look.”

“I didn’t ask that.”

“Are you suggesting we go… together?”

“Sure, we’ll just be a second. They won’t even know we were gone. Come on.”

She pauses to consider the mischievous glint in his eyes and his words. Her gut protests that being accompanied by another member of the team will be no different than it has been so far. The questionable influence in the back of her mind offers that this is not the expression worn by a condescending chaperone; these are the glittering eyes of a co-conspirator. Percival never looked at her like that anymore.

Chin at a defiant tilt, Cassandra accepts.

----

So far, this was turning out to be a quick jaunt just like he promised. Together, Vax and Cassie darted through the dancing shadows of the tents—Vax skirting the telltale forest debris with his young protégé following his lead to the letter. He would frequently look back to check on her progress only to find her alarmingly close behind.

Man… The kid liked to pretend she wasn’t like her brother if asked, but sometimes her steel-blue eyes took on the same manic intensity that admittedly rattled him a bit. He didn’t trust Percival when he got that look. When Cassie wore it… it worried him for different reasons. Vax knew that hunger to prove all too well.

Between the two of them splitting up to check out both sides of the camp, the intrepid pair manages to take stock of the weapons rack, the location of the chief’s quarters, and an approximate count of six Orcs. Altogether a wildly successful scouting mission, and Vax considers this plenty enough to satisfy both de Rolos and a perfect time to scram.

The trouble comes when Cassie attempts one of Vox Machina’s trademark impulsive decisions. You see, the girl had spotted nine humans chained to the base of a tree. One woman was bleeding from a vicious gash across her forehead, and the others were in various states of starving and bruised. What tempts Cassandra the most is that they are currently unguarded. Surely it would be best to free them quietly while they’re not in danger.

The loud TWANG of a slipknot trap pierces Vax’s ears like a snapped lute string. When he spots the streaks of white hair dangling upside-down in the fire light and the gaze of three Orcs who are now confusedly blinking at this intruder, the bottom drops out of his stomach and for exactly half a moment he’s too terrified by what he’s done.

Then Cassie slowly grabs for her earring and her plea reaches him from two sources. A small squeak of a voice. One that should raise alarm, and yet for some reason he just can’t hold back the helpless guffaw that gives his own position away.

“Uh… Jenga?”

----

Vox Machina rallies to the call as they always do—in frantic and disorganized chaos—but they’ve certainly made a method out of it over their short time together. Before anyone has the chance to cut Cassandra down she’s already freed herself and made a mad dash for the weapons rack, tipping it all into the campfire as her friends swarm the camp. Grog predictably heads right for the chief while Scanlan and Pike rush to evacuate the prisoners before they can be caught in the fray.

The fight is nasty. It’s clear the party wasn’t prepared. By the time the first orc falls, Vax has nearly been snapped in half over an Orc’s knee and at some point a pained roar and the smell of singed fur hits the air as poor Trinket is thrown onto the bonfire. He’ll recover, but Vex becomes distracted in leading him away from danger and patting the embers out. Pike’s nose is gushing more blood than any gnome should be losing at once, but this isn’t stopping her from climbing an Orc and bashing one of his tusks in.

Seeing as it was an impulsive decision that led them into this mess, Cassandra is surprised when it’s another strange and even more improbable impulse that turns the tide. The injured chief had just turned to run for the fleeing prisoners when Cassandra finds herself being scruffed by the back of the coat. The grin Grog gives her is framed by bloodshot eyes and frothing spittle that catches on the corners of his mouth.

“Get ‘im, little bit!”

For just a moment, she had been truly shaken by the ferocity in Grog’s face, but the shock doesn't last long. Why? Because in the following moment she now finds herself airborne without a clue as to what exactly Grog had been hoping to achieve. In the seconds before she lands, she decides to do as her barbarian friend likely would have wanted to do himself. Which is to say… she grips her shortsword tight and tries not to think too much about where it lands at all. Let instincts drive it.

When the blade plunges deep into the chief’s back, it happens to serve as a convenient handhold as the huge figure topples like a tree.

----

Needless to say, Percy is furious.

“What were you thinking?! Yes, yes, you sure showed me how wrong I was! You can clearly be trusted by yourself! And you—“ He jabs a finger into Vax who winces as he’s still standing a little crooked, “You really know how to string up a guy by a false sense of security. For two stupid weeks I actually thought you all would look out for her. Boy, this really sealed the deal on how mistaken I was.” Vax, through all of this, had been uncharacteristically quiet, but here is where he frowns.

“Now that’s not fair.”

“Like I suddenly give a shit about your feelings when you escorted my sister right into an Orc herd.”

“I mean that’s not fair to Cassie.” Percy blinks at this, leaving Vax to take advantage of the pause this buys him. “Yeah, she got herself into trouble, but who among us hasn’t? The most important thing you’re missing is how she got herself out of it too.”

“Only because we got there!”

“So you conveniently forgot the part where she got her own damn self out of the trap and had already taken charge by the time any of us set foot in the camp.”

Percy looks to Cassandra who is watching from a short distance away and who is caught between both glaring at him and stealing guilty looks askance. He’s clearly struggling with words that are evading him, but eventually the fight goes out of the gunslinger’s shoulders. His only further words are a quietly growled, “We will be talking about this later,” to his sister before disappearing in the direction of their camp.

Vax sighs and turns with half an apology in the works, but it dies in his throat as he finds that Cassandra is grinning. Downright beaming if he dared used such poetic words for it.

“You’re in a good mood for someone who just got chewed an entire new one.”

“My brother shouldn’t be giving you too much trouble,” is her coy reply.

“…Yeah? What makes you so sure?”

“I’m sure you know that one learns to read sibling tantrums. He’s conceded.”