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The first time Vex died, she didn’t even know it had happened. One moment, she was watching Percy run his hands over the dark leather of the Deathwalker’s ward, then a second of blackness, and the next she was surrounded by her friends, cradled in her brother’s shaking arms, tears running down his face and breaths heavy. The first time she had died, nothing happened at all- almost like she was always fated to come back.
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The second time Vex died, it was only for five seconds. The last thing she remembered was the heat of Thordak’s sweltering lair, one hand clutching Fenthras and the other holding onto her broom before Raishan opened her toothy maw, exhaling a cloud of poison that surrounded her, her eyes watering and searing, her throat and nose burning as she gasped but couldn’t seem to get in any air, the panic, and falling from her broom. After that, it was blackness, blackness that she now recognized– until, if only for a moment, she saw a flash of a porcelain mask gazing upon her. She wasn’t entirely sure if it was something she had made up as the next second she was gasping for air, looking into Pike’s concerned eyes, feeling the hot air of her surroundings envelop her body again. But as she continued the fight, despite the burning heat of Thordak’s lair, all she felt was cold.
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The third time she died, she was almost used to it. And while she knew that it was a horrible thing to say, it was the first thing she thought- a bitter, biting comment that started in her gut and traveled through her fingers, colder than anything she’d felt before, colder than Vecna’s unfeeling expression as he smiled and said “sleep,” colder than any of the times she had died or came back before, because she thought of her friends, her brother, her love, her family, fighting the evil creatures that haunted their dreams at night without her. She didn’t have time to wallow in her grief, however, because after a moment, a figure flickered in front of her, in and out of existence, almost like it wasn’t quite sure which side of the veil it belonged on. She stepped forward, reaching out a shaking hand as the flickering became more and more frequent, the formless silhouette becoming long dark hair, sharp bones and angles, lankiness and all-black.
“Vax?” she whispered, breathless, confused, because if she was here and dead, seeing her brother here could only mean one thing, one horrible, twisting, gut-churning thing and she could not handle that, if her brother followed her here because while she knew they were never meant to be apart for long, this wasn’t how she wanted them to be together. After another moment, his form materialized, settling into the blackness she had come to know too well.
“Vax?” she asked again.
“Vex,” he smiled, a smile that was so warm it made her forget how cold this place was before. She opened her mouth to respond, but suddenly she was taking in a gasping breath and her eyes were open again to the familiar worried visage of Pike, wiping a tear off of her face.
“Hi,” Pike grinned as Vex opened her eyes.
“Pike,” she exhaled in relief, relief at being here and real and alive and, “Are they dead?” she asked breathlessly, asking about Delilah and Vecna and the Death Knight, yes, but also about Vax, mostly about Vax, and-
“No,” Pike responded, her brow furrowing and eyes hardening as she prepared again for battle. Vex let out another exhale, one of worry for the ongoing fight, but also of relief to know that Vax was okay, it was some odd vision or dream. They were the twins- if she was here, so was he.
Then she turned and saw the lifeless form of Delilah Briarwood, and the adrenaline kicked in, of battle, of life-or-death, of her friends around her as they fought a battle they seemed to be quickly losing, and she didn’t look for her brother on the field because she was alive and the blood pumping in her ears as she shot her bow and dodged spells and attacks were all that surrounded her. She grabbed onto Pike’s hand and reached her hand out desperately, sighing as Percy finally reached her and they all disappeared, plane shifting into a landscape of lush color, the six of them holding tight and-
Six? She looked around, for a moment, heart dropping because maybe she missed something while she was gone, some kind of plan or something, because suddenly, half of her was missing.
“Where’s Vax?”
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The fourth time she died was the worst, for a few reasons.
Firstly, it was the first time she actively knew she was dying before it even happened. Whereas before, it was quick, the frenzy of battle taking over with nothing more than a second or a word before nothingness, this time, she knew. She felt her lungs burn, her panic as she desperately tried to rid herself of the heavy metal chains, the vision of Percy in front of her struggling too and she knew she was dying and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Then, of course, there was how sudden it all felt- no big battle, no dangerous tombs, no traps or poison or spells or months and weeks of anticipation. It was supposed to be one of the happiest days of her life. The fighting was over, they were no longer adventurers, and she was content with standing still for the first time in her life. She was supposed to be safe, supposed to be happy, supposed to be celebrating her and the love of her life, when suddenly Sylas Briarwood was there and there was nothing but terror.
Then there was death itself. The terrible blackness felt suffocating as she sobbed, the fear and panic and pain- because drowning fucking hurt- and grief wracking her body as tears began to fall. Death was cold and dark and lonely, and Vex’ahlia had just begun to feel like her life was the opposite.
And as fucking shit as all of that was, nothing was as painful as thinking of Vesper. Her baby. She didn’t know where Vesper was, if she was alright, if god forbid Sylas had found her, if she was scared or lonely or crying and Vex couldn’t hold her little girl in her arms and comfort her, couldn’t do that ever again, because she was gone. Vesper would grow up without her mother. Vex knew what that was like and she wouldn’t wish it upon anyone- let alone her baby, a part of her heart, the tiny soul that began to mend a wound so painful she didn’t think she could ever recover. Dying was awful, but it was so much worse when she knew of the sweet infant waiting in her bassinet for her, not knowing she would never hold her again. It paralyzed her, and she was here in this strange place and she was so cold.
“Vex,” rang out a voice, and it almost felt like coming home. She didn’t dare look up. She didn’t dare look to see if this was who she thought it was, if this was really happening. “Sister, look at me.” She tilted her chin up, sobbing, and she felt like she couldn’t get enough air and that was what drowning was like and oh god she drowned and she had really died and– “Breathe, Vex. Breathe. Deep breaths, alright. Like mum taught us. In and out. Nice and slow.” Some part of her panicked haze could understand enough to do that, to listen to the oh-so-unfamiliar voice as it told her what it had so many times before.
“It’s alright. Our friends will bring you back. I made a deal, sister. I intend to keep it.” Finally, through some odd burst of courage or strength, she looked up at him, but where she expected to see hazel eyes and a cocky smirk was just a mask. She opened her mouth, unable to find the words and shuddering through the remnants of her tears.
“Vax, I–” and then she was coughing, water coming up out of her airway, hacking on the beach as a small hand rubbed her back. She coughed until there was nothing left to cough up, first water and then the contents of her stomach, her hand clutched around her airway as if she would be drowning again when she pulled it away.
“I’m sorry, I–” Pike held her hair back as she dry heaved, not sure if it was from the water she inhaled or the panic in her body or the vertigo of coming back from the dead or the sickness to her stomach from all encompassing grief. Grief for herself, for dying, for the cold that felt bone-deep, grief for her husband, whose face as she drowned was seared into the back of her eyelids, grief for Vesper as she felt the phantom weight of her daughter in her arms, grief for her brother, who she had lost and then saw and now lost him again.
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The fifth time she died, Vex was oddly at peace. It was still a horrible experience– being stabbed to death isn’t fun– but as the glass blade pierced through her ribcage again, she was alright. She wasn’t in pain anymore, her mind far away from the fearsome man above her or the battle around.
Instead, she thought of her children. She thought of Vesper, who was now a woman, who had inherited Vex’ahlia’s charm and manner, who would be able to lead with grace and fearlessness, who would keep Whitestone safe.
She thought of Wolfe, who never left her side as a baby, who copied everything she did as a child, who reminded her so much of herself some days it scared her. She knew he would take her death hard, but she also knew that he was quietly the strongest of all her children, and he would grow and become something incredible.
She thought of Leona, of afternoons spent walking through the Parchwood, of deep conversations and hard truths, who inherited her ability to feel so deeply inside, to put on a mask that, when let down, revealed a vulnerable person underneath, just like her. She knew Leona would be alright. After all, she had her twin brother.
She thought of Vax’ildan, all shadow and smirk, so like her brother it almost hurt some days if it wasn’t so wonderful. Vax’ildan, who had her stubbornness and sass, who taught her how to love the features in the mirror again that had reminded her far too much of a missing half. She did not worry for Vax’ildan. He was a force of nature itself- the world should be worried about him.
She thought of Gwen, and for a moment, her heart twinged. She was still so young, younger even than she was when her mother died. But Gwen would have her siblings and her father. Gwen would have a home and a family, Gwen would be loved, Gwen would never once be told she wasn’t good enough or made to feel like she was lesser.
She thought of Percy, then. She remembered the pain of losing him the first time, and knew that it wouldn’t be any easier this time. But she also knew that her husband, despite his protests, was truly a good person. He was a good father, and she knew he would not shut down or let his grief break him, not when he still had five pieces of her that he loved with all of his being. And selfishly, she was happy that they wouldn’t have to spend so much time apart, that she got to wait for him on the other side rather than waiting for her time to be up long after he was gone. As she looked upon her husband, her wonderful, beautiful Percival, she smiled.
She thought of her family. Of Keyleth, of Pike, of Tary, and Grog, and Scanlan. They had already lost so much. But they were the bravest people she had ever met, and they had each other. She just hoped they all knew that.
Finally, she thought of Vax. The part of her that was taken away, whose life and happy ending was stolen from him. But as she felt the blade pierce her again and again, she knew that she would gladly take each blow again if it meant getting him back.
She reached out her hand towards Percy, her love, his face filled with horror as he stood, unable to stop the bloodshed. She took in her last breath, a tear running down her face, and she whispered with all the oxygen left in her body, “Save him.”
There was blackness, for barely a second. And then she was alive again, somehow, a fifth time defying death, and as she saw everyone she loved around her, she knew she would die a hundred more times, come back a thousand more, if it meant being with them.