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Chapter Text

Halfway home, Vex’ahlia had to admit that she’d maybe been wrong not to call her brother for a ride home from work on a bitter winter night. 

There were snowflakes melting through her thin coat, feeling an awful lot less beautiful when they were turning to icy sludge down her spine. Her fingers felt numb no matter how many times she flexed them inside her pockets, she was worried they’d snap off at the joints if she tried it again. Her ears were beginning to ache, their tips bright red with only her hair between them and the cold, and her boots were developing bone cold puddles inside. 

She should have called Vax’ildan. He’d told her to, before she’d left for the bakery that morning, calling after her as she headed out of the door, not wanting to linger and spoil his and Shaun’s quiet breakfast together. Vex knew they wouldn’t have minded but, even after living with them for nearly six months now, she still sometimes felt like an intruder. Like a smudge on the surface of the wonderful life Vax had worked so hard to build for himself. 

He didn’t need his sad, broken sister haunting every moment, reminding them of darker times. 

She imagined him and Shaun sat on the sofa together, Vax doing that thing where he twined their legs together, insisting he was cold when the both of them knew he just wanted to be close to his husband, neither of them paying a blind bit of attention to whatever was on the TV. As much as it made her nose wrinkle, she imagined Shaun stealing kisses just because he could, choosing to let her mind linger more on how he’d look at her brother like there was nothing else in the world. Just the way she’d always thought he deserved to be looked at, completely as himself. 

And then she imagined the high, shrill cry shattering their moment, bringing Vax to his feet so hurriedly, she could see him falling flat on his face if he wasn’t careful. Raven, jolted from his nap and crying because he’d woken up alone and that terrified him. 

Vex felt her steps double in pace, as much as she could without risking her neck on the icy sidewalk, as much as she could get her aching feet to accelerate after a long day standing behind the counter at the bakery. Her arms felt that aching absence they got sometimes, the need to have her son’s warm, comforting weight in them. 

She did hate being away from him on these long hours, even if it gave her brother a chance at date night without needing to check on her every five minutes or include her. Even if it did give her these trickling feelings of freedom in the form of her paychecks and having somewhere to be each day, this confirmation that her life and its purpose really were hers to decide again. Saundor was far away, she was beyond his reach. 

Six months on, Vex caught herself actually believing that sometimes. 

She was getting used to being in the city, as intimidatingly different as it was from Byroden and Syngorn, worlds away from Saundor’s isolated forests. It was loud and complicated and detached but that was strangely comforting. Vex could move through the streets and the endless people, never worrying that one would know her face or her past. There were always other people’s voices around her, other lives continuing on at their own hurried paces like river currents just passing her by, she never felt isolated the way she’d been feeling for so long. 

Vex could understand why Vax had come here after escaping their father. And why he’d known it would be the perfect place to bring her to get back on her feet after she’d pulled herself from a similar mire, even if it took her longer and she made more mistakes along the way. 

She wrinkled her nose, feeling a stab of guilt. She wouldn’t think of her son as a mistake, even by association. He was the only thing that saved it all from being a complete and total waste. And she could understand better than anyone how you couldn’t help who your father was. 

One thing she still wasn’t used to was how things in the city could change so quickly. Like how you could be on your way home from work, tired and cold and ready for sleep you knew would still be a long time coming when you got home, and suddenly there would be a shop on the corner than you hadn’t seen before, lights so unconscionably bright at this hour that you had to squint. So bright that you stopped in your tracks for a reason you wouldn’t be able to remember later. 

Vex couldn’t be certain of what she was seeing for a few long moments, it didn’t make enough sense at first. The shop on the corner didn’t look at all like it belonged in the city. In fact, it looked like someone had made a collage of the block, choosing for some unknowable reason to paste a scrap of some idyllic countryside storybook village amongst the grey concrete. The roof was painted red, so was the door, the windows were the kind of antique looking leaded glass that bubbled slightly in places to warp the warm, cosy scene within. For some reason, the snow didn’t seem like such an uncomfortable inconvenience when it was frosting the shop’s slanted roof and gathering like a fluffy scarf under it’s windows and dusting the exquisitely painted sign that hung on an honest to goodness iron bar so it swung in the winter flurries. 

de Rolo’s Handmade Toys. 

Vex exhaled as a thought struck her, her breath turning to a faint whiteness in the air. She felt her paycheck against her chest, heavier than the slim envelope tucked into her inside pocket should have been. Most of it would go to Vax and Shaun, fully against their will as they’d asked for absolutely nothing in return for her living with them. But Vex couldn’t forget the weeks and weeks just after she’d left Saundor, when all she’d been able to do was lie on the bed in the spare room- the bed she’d recently allowed herself to think of as her own- and stare at the wall while her son cried beyond the door, his uncles comforting him and doing what she didn’t have the strength to. She couldn’t forget the meals Vax had brought her that she hadn’t been able to eat, the hours he’d spent sitting in the chair next to the bed and eventually when she was able, lying beside her, telling stories and chatting complete nonsense about whatever entered his mind just so the silence wouldn’t drive her mad. She couldn’t forget those mornings when he’d so patiently coaxed her up, helped her sit down in the shower fully clothed to let the water sluice the dirt off her skin and done her braid for her so neatly afterwards. 

So much was foggy and piecemeal about those months but Vex would not forget those kindnesses. And she wasn’t going to let them pass unrepaid. 

But there would be some left over, even if Vex would gladly have given it all over to Vax and Shaun, they’d more than earned it, but there was only so much she could stuff into the register at Shaun’s shop without being caught. It felt so freeing to have even that small amount in her bag, knowing no one would be asking her what she did with it or asking her to justify why she was allowed it. To have the freedom to buy something just because she could. 

And she knew exactly what she wanted. 

Of course there was a bell to ring out a cheery, brassy note as she pushed the door back. The inside was every bit as idyllic, if a little empty. There was no one else browsing the shelves, full of toys neatly organised into sections. There was an array of intricately painted wooden soldiers standing to attention, there was a zoo’s worth of hand sewn plush animals dominating one wall, a well stocked garage of intensely detailed vehicle models of all shapes and sizes and types. There were hand carved ships that looked ready to set sail in some child’s bathtub, miniature animals that were so lifelike Vex could picture them moving the instant her eyes left them. There were dollhouses ready for occupation, a circus set, rainbow kites hanging from the walls, jack in the boxes ready to spring, dolls beaming prettily up at her. There were even wooden swords and a tiny archery set that would have delighted her younger self. 

It was like stepping into a child’s dream. 

Vex hoped the emptiness was down to the lateness of the hour. Toys like this just deserved to belong to happy children and with Winter’s Crest approaching, she hoped they’d all find homes. 

She was a little startled to see there was no one behind the counter either. Was there a closed sign she’d missed? But all the lights were on and the door had opened with its zealous announcement…

From a back room she could hear a saw going, grating through some material with a metallic rasp that somewhat dampened the illusion of having walked into a traditional Winter’s Crest poem. But it stopped, something that sounded wooden clattering off the floor, and footsteps in her direction. Vex forced her shoulders back from the tense, anxious set they tried to rise into, made her fingers unclench from the fists they wanted to make. 

She was getting better at not immediately assuming every stranger was a threat to her but there would always be that first, sickening instant before catching herself. She told herself at least it was an improvement from being terrified to go outside just because there would be faces she didn’t know. 

The man who stepped out of the back room so fit the name on the sign, so fit the whole aesthetic of the shop, that there was no doubt who he was. He was owlish, a snowy owl to be precise, with thick glasses (that on second glance were actually several lenses on some clever hinge) and hair that was feathery and stark white. He wore a thick leather apron, deep nicks and grooves all over it showing its wear, a simple collared shirt underneath like he’d been trying to dress like a shop owner but had gotten lost. 

And when he saw her, he smiled as bright as the lights in his window. 

“Good evening. Sorry, I’ll just be a moment…”

“If you’re busy, I can come back another time,” Vex said quickly, as he sat an actual hand saw on the counter by the register. 

“No, please, you have my full attention,” he promised, wiping his hands off on his apron. She noticed he had a bandage wrapped around his thumb and old burn scars across his knuckles, “It’s my fault for getting distracted back there again. I keep forgetting it’s only me here and I can’t just spend all my time in the workshop.”

Vex smiled, though it was ever so slightly awkward to be the only customer in the shop. She wasn’t even fully certain what she wanted. Coming in here was starting to feel a little like a mad impulse born out of exhaustion and too much sugar. 

“So...you are de Rolo?” Vex tilted her head. 

“I am,” he smiled again, “Percy de Rolo. Just Percy is fine though.”

“Percy,” she nodded, not offering her name in return. She’d spent far too long with Saundor to give that up on a whim, no matter how far she stood from Shademurk right now. 

It didn’t seem to bother Percy de Rolo in the slightest, he only looked at the snow caking her cheap work shoes and staining the bottom of her trousers, “The weather’s only gotten worse, hm? Here, have some tea.”

Vex opened her mouth, about to insist that he needn’t go to such trouble, but he’d already crossed to a small antique serving cart at the other end of the counter, where a pot was steaming invitingly and sugar and cream were neatly arranged around a sign that invited Please help yourself! in a neat, looping script. And she was thirsty, after all. The bakery had been busy today, there hadn’t been time for her break. As long as he wasn’t going to any extra trouble…

“Thanks,” she sighed gratefully as she accepted the mug, wrapping her bitten fingers around it’s warmth. 

“Think nothing of it,” Percy folded his arms, “It is there as an apology mostly, for when I inevitably keep my customers waiting while I mess with something in the back.” 

“What were you making?” Vex asked curiously, her eyes travelling over the shelves of handmade toys. 

“Something new actually,” Percy’s voice flooded with enthusiasm, his eyes lighting up behind the thick lenses of his glasses, “I’ve been working on a new double bracketed hinge design for better articulation and more lifelike movement while keeping them invisible which is hard because often you’re sacrificing delicacy for ease of movement but with this one I was trying to see if…um…”

His face flushed and he bit down on his lip like he was physically stopping the words from coming, “Sorry. You don’t need me prattling on, what was it you came in for?”

Vex felt a smile tugging at her own lips but she held it back, fearing he’d take it as mockery. She just loved it when people who were very passionate about something talked about it. Vax did with the balance of different throwing knives, Shaun did it with magic and fine wines. Vex could have done it about her arrows or woodland animals, if thinking about those things didn’t still ache inside. 

“I want to buy a Winter’s Crest gift for my son, actually.”

“Wonderful,” Percy inclined his head, sounding suddenly businesslike, “How old is he?”

“He’s only six months,” Vex explained, picturing him in her mind as she spoke, as her voice softened. The thick, black hair and dark skin that was all her’s, the round cheeks and pudgy little hands and feet and full stomach she was so grateful to see on him. The bright eyes and enormous, sharply pointed ears that weren’t hers but looked beautiful on him all the same. He was so small and yet so much bigger than he had been, growing faster than she felt she could keep up with sometimes. Becoming his own person so quickly.

“He’s only little but I wanted to get him something that he’d grow up with,” she continued, before the sadness settled into her throat and cut off her words, “Something he’d always have and keep even when he’s older and done playing with it.” 

Percy smiled at that, “That’s the best gift we can give children, isn’t it? Happy memories.”

If there was a tinge of sadness to his voice, he’d moved on to the shelves before Vex would properly place it.

“So, what are his interests? Does he like animals, cars, boats? Things that make noise, things he can pull along…”

“He does like animals,” Vex smiled, thinking of how Raven would sit and watch the birds out of the window on a morning, reaching up his hands like he could grab them, how he’d stare with dark eyes wide and delighted at every dog that passed them on the street, how he’d only fall asleep if he was resting against Trinket’s side, “Um...forest animals, especially.”

Percy turned away from his menagerie of plush animals, looking at her with a sudden curiosity, “Oh really?”

Vex stiffened, taken aback by the surprise in his voice, like there was a joke he wasn’t sharing, “Yes. Bears and foxes and badgers and the like.”

But he was smiling that smile again, the one that lifted his wan face and made him look like an actual toymaker from a storybook. 

“I think you were meant to come in here tonight, madam. I’ve got just the thing for you.”

Vex waited until he’d dived back into his workshop before wrinkling her nose. Madam? She’d never been madam to anyone, even after Syldor had claimed them. This certainly was a strange man she was dealing with. 

When he returned, when she saw what was in his hands, she reclassified that. Percy de Rolo wasn’t simply strange. There had to be some magic about him. 

“Here. It’s exactly what I was just working on when you came in!”

It was a bear. A perfectly carved, exquisitely life-like wooden bear with bright, intelligent eyes of dark glass and realistically painted fur that shone with lacquer. As Percy moved it, the limbs seemed to take on a life of their own, swinging and swaying with such natural looking movements it was as if the bear cub were sitting contentedly in the crook of his arm all by itself. A double bracketed hinge for better articulation and more lifelike movement, Vex thought, completely awed. 

It was a perfect wooden recreation of the young bear she’d left sleeping on her bed back at home. A perfect little Trinket to protect her Raven. 

“It’s…” Vex shook her head, no word seeming like it would be enough, “It’s perfect. It’s exactly what he’d love.”

Percy beamed, smiling as only an expert who’d shown just how much they excelled in their field could smile, “Wonderful! I do love when things fit together nicely. I’ll wrap him for you right away…”

“How much?” Vex asked, doing some wary maths in her head. So much work had gone into that bear, so much skill, multiple gold piece’s worth…

“Oh,” Percy blinked as if the thought had never crossed his mind, “Well...really, it’s not a finished product. This is just the prototype after all, I was testing the hinge design and there’s still some amendments I could make. Why don’t you just have it?”

Vex looked at him, alarmed, “Oh, I can’t. I can’t give you nothing in return for something so beautiful.” 

“Well, you wouldn’t be,” Percy chuckled, some colour dusting his pale cheeks ever so slightly, “You’d be paying with a promise.”

“A...promise?” Vex asked warily. 

“Call it market research. If you take this, you’d need to come back and tell me exactly what your son thought of it so I can improve the design. That’s what prototypes are for, of course.” 

Vex relaxed, “Oh. I see.”

Promises weren’t something she made easily. She’d been caught by them before, lost years of her life to the wrong ones. But to this sincere man who spent his life making things to bring children happy memories, she didn’t see too much harm in that. 

She found herself smiling, “Of course I can do that. It seems like a fair exchange.” 

“Thank you,” Percy inclined his head, “You would be doing me a huge favour.” 

Sure, Vex thought bemusedly. But it had been so long since she was given any sort of kindness by a stranger and the warm feeling it gave her was hard to let go of, like turning away from a fire when you were so cold. 

Percy wrapped as skillfully as he seemed to do everything else. By the time he handed it to her, it looked so perfect that the idea of being able to give it to her son made her lower lip threaten to wobble. 

“Thank you,” she said instead, holding it close to her chest, meaning it as sincerely as she could ever remember meaning anything. 

The way Percy looked at her made her think he could guess at some of the thoughts behind her eyes. Whether he’d read it in her work attire, her worn down shoes, the fact that she’d mentioned a son but no partner or just the look on her face, she found herself not caring. For some reason, as long as she was in this shop it was like she was somewhere her walls and defences weren’t needed. 

“It’s my pleasure to help you, madam,” Percy smiled softly, watching her to the door, “I look forward to seeing you again.” 

Vex paused before going back out into the night, taking a moment to meet his eyes properly. 

“Me too. And you can call me Vex'ahlia.” 

Chapter Text

Having a child in his toy store shouldn’t have made Percy as nervous as it did. He saw so many of them every single day. 

On one level he knew that, of course he did. But it didn’t help that this was the child of the woman who he...well. 

A woman he was growing rather fond of. 

It had been a slow morning when Vex had burst through the doors of his store in the early hours of the morning. Percy had been sitting behind the counter without so much as some sanding to do, scribbling some new concepts in his notebook, when the door had opened so quickly he’d worried the bell would fly off its hook. 

Seeing Vex standing there had made his chest feel a little tight but in that good way he was starting to get used to. She did come by most mornings now, midway through after her early shift at the bakery to bring him some pastries that hadn’t sold from the bakery and a coffee. At first it had been to talk about how Raven enjoyed his Winter’s Crest gift, giving feedback on how the little wooden bear moved and functioned. Now it was weeks past Winter’s Crest and Vex was still coming nearly every morning if she worked the right hours. And now they talked about everything and anything that came into their heads, minutes running past nearly completely unnoticed. 

Percy wasn’t sure how Vex saw him now, as a friend or as the man behind the counter in a strange little store or anything else. He just knew she brightened his days. 

He’d been about to smile and say how lovely it was to see her earlier than usual when he’d noticed just how harried she’d looked, how she’d clearly been going at a frantic pace, the panic and guilt in her eyes. Of course there was always guilt settled in the back of her eyes, like clouds stirring in a slate grey sky, but this morning it had been at the forefront as the story came pouring out. 

Being called into work last minute on a day off, Vax and Shaun having left the city to spend a week in Marquet for Shaun’s birthday, no one else available to watch Raven, could Percy maybe, could he possibly, only if it wasn’t too much trouble but she didn’t know where else to go. 

Percy had agreed immediately of course, accepting the warm weight of the little boy into his arms. He didn’t need her to say it in so many ways but he understood how important her job was to her, how much she needed the money it brought in. There had been a time in his life when every minute had been counted in coppers too. 

And the look of relief on her face when he’d agreed, when he’d promised it was all okay and he’d take care of Raven until her shift ended in a few hours, was worth so much. 

But now the door had closed and he was left alone, holding a seven month old boy and, if he was being absolutely honest, no clue at all how to look after one at all. 

But how hard could looking after a kid in a toyshop be?

Percy had broken his third pencil in twenty minutes, cracked to splinters in his grip like the first two. He slumped until his forehead hit the counter with a painful thunk. 

And still Raven kept wailing at the top of his lungs. 

Percy made himself jerk up, pushing back his chair and sinking back down beside Raven’s stroller. The little toddler, this tiny little thing that could make so much gods damn noise, with Vex’s soft, sweet eyes and her dark hair and those enormous ears, thrashed in his puffy winter coat, face red with the effort of his crying. 

He’d been like that ever since Vex had left, after one last kiss to his chubby cheeks. He’d watched her round the corner with his enormous dark eyes, and no sooner had the last edge of her scarf disappeared from view than his lower lip began to tremble, his eyes filled and his lungs burst. 

An hour later and he still hadn’t stopped. Percy had dangled shiny things in front of him, he’d offered him the bottle Vex had left in his backpack, he’d turned the radio in to try and give him something to listen to but none of it had worked. 

“Look,” Percy hissed through a very tense jaw, firmly reminding himself that he could not lose his patience with a baby, “I know this isn’t where you want to be. I know I am no one’s first choice for a babysitter. But I’m what you have, okay?”

Raven just wailed harder, clutching his little wooden bear that Vex had passed on was named Trinket. He held it tight in his pudgy little fists, pulling it close as if in comfort. 

Percy exhaled, shoulders slumping, any frustration that had been building draining out of him. He could remember when a little boy with dark hair had clung onto a cloth bird just like that when he’d wanted someone to come and stroke his hair and keep him safe. 

“You just miss her, don’t you?” he murmured. 

Raven burbled miserably, eyes huge and streaming. Percy shook his head at himself, genly picking him up out of his stroller, settling him on one hip as he walked to the door, turning the sign to closed. They’d barely had a handful of people in the shop all day anyway and clearly this young man required his full attention. And deserved it. 

“You seem a curious little chap,” Percy hummed, bouncing him gently to chase away the last of his sniffling, which had petered off as soon as he’d been picked up, “Maybe you’d like to see my workshop?” 

Not many people would find the little room he kept at the back of his shop as a comfort. But with no room with his little apartment for the bigger tools he needed for his work, that space had become his little piece of calm. Everything was ordered there, everything in its proper place. He could put his hand on whatever he needed, make beautiful things and solve any problem. Things made sense as long as he had that heavy door closed behind him.

Which was why he’d never invited anyone else in here. But he could make an exception for Raven. 

Almost immediately, the little boy seemed entranced. Percy didn’t know if it was the shine of the tools lined up on the wall pegs in their neat marker outlines or the warmth of the old furnace combined with it’s gentle crackling but his hitching shoulders stopped almost immediately. He made a kind of soft humming instead, not unlike the purring of a cat. 

Percy smiled, “See? I thought you’d like it in here. You look like a young man who appreciates quiet.”

He took a seat at the workbench, making sure to sweep away any wood shavings with his free hand. He’d been painting the last time he’d sat there just before opening, his case of paint pots was by his elbow, a neat rainbow of colours in their little leather pockets. The carved animals he’d been bringing to life were half done; he’d always intended to come back to them at the end of the day. There was a dragon crouched before them, coiled as if ready to spring, top half in a pale pine and back half in glittering green scales.

Raven’s huge eyes fixed on it immediately, mouth dropping open in awe. 

Percy chuckled, “Would you like to watch me finish him off? He looks rather odd like that.” 

Raven made a burble that seemed very much in the affirmative so Percy set him in his lap, with Trinket in his little one, and let him lean against the edge of the bench as he selected a brush. He found the pearlescent green he’d been using, back in its proper pocket of course, making sure Raven could see it catch the light as it dripped from the brush. 

It really did seem that as long as he had something to look at and someone holding him, the little half elf was perfectly content. He only made the slightest of happy, contented noises as he watched Percy fill in each tiny scale, slowly bringing the dragon from dull pine to colourful life. Before long, he found himself smiling fondly, an emotion he welcomed but couldn’t quite name roiling in his chest at the fact that Raven trusted him so much. 

Percy had very clever eyes to go along with his clever hands. Just like he didn’t need to be told that Vex needed to take every shift she was given, he didn’t need to be told that their situation before she’d moved in with her brother and his husband had been less than ideal. It was in the way her eyes darted quickly around the room each time she entered, like she was dramatically mapping it to see how to respond. It was in how tightly she clung to everything that mattered to her, it had been a good handful of visits before she’d let Percy hold Raven. It was in those clouds of guilt and sadness moving behind her beautiful grey eyes, like everything she did, some buried part of her mind questioned. Someone who spoke with another’s voice. 

He would recognise those signs a mile off. He saw them in the mirror everyday. 

And it leaked onto Raven as well, the same ink stained the both of them. There was a bond between them that was in addition to the one between a mother and a child, something sadder and stranger. 

So he was more than touched that Raven settled into his company so easily. He understood what it took. 

And Vex’ahlia…

He would take his time. He would do nothing until he was completely and totally sure it was what she wanted. And if that never happened, well, he was happy just to be her friend. 

Together, he and Raven painted all of the animals he had left, the dragon got his shining green scales, the lion got his rich honey gold coat, the giraffe got his blotches, the parrot got his rainbow brilliance. Hours must have slipped by in drops of shining colour, with Percy humming to himself and Raven eventually dozing in perfect contentment, neither of them paying the slightest bit of attention.

Because when Vex pushed back the door to the shop, face set in a confused frown as to why the store would be closed in the afternoon, knowing to go straight to the workshop when she didn’t see either of them behind the counter, she came in to find them both asleep. Percy, nodding in his work chair, chin tucked to his chest and Raven curled up tightly in his arms, settled happily and safely.

Vex felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight. Even Vax and Shaun struggled to get Raven to go over, he’d usually refuse for anyone but her. To see his face, soft and gentle in untroubled sleep, held so safe and protected in Percy’s arms brought tears to her eyes before she could stop them. 

But maybe that was okay. 

She didn’t wake them up right away, enjoying the little scene too much to ruin it. As she leaned in the doorway of the workshop and the gentle smile crossed her face, she felt the same want ache in her chest, the one she’d been feeling for some time now. And she told herself the same thing she had again and again. 

Take your time.