Archive of Our Own

After pressure that had gone on for a myriad of eons and barely 3 seconds, something changes. Not the pressure, not exactly. Whatever magic has been holding him has a thrum about it, a vibrational frequency that rattles him down to the roots of his teeth. It is a significant part of the strain, a binding, restrictive field of energy he’s meant to feel and know at all moments. 

But then it changes. The frequency shifts, reasserts itself and then emanates from an origin point on his shoulder blade. Warm as the sun, a steady tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump and it takes him an impossible amount of time to recognize it. A heartbeat he hasn’t heard or felt for… time is hard to quantify like this but it’s been so long that his soul feels like it’s rending itself into pieces. It’s her heart. 

It pulses through him, whatever his body might be at this point. It sinks down into his sinew and wraps around him like a warm breeze. It presses in again and releases and he remembers what breathing feels like, what flying feels like. A part of his mind wakes up and in the next instant, the pressure disappears all together, the last thump like an exhale and Vax falls to his hands and knees on the flat top of a pyramid. 

In the infinitesimal moments between the field around him disappearing and his body hitting the ground, he sees her. 

Keyleth . 

She looks like she’s barely aged a day but somehow, she looks older. He doesn’t know how to categorize it yet, although, to be fair, it’s only been a fraction of a second. Mostly he’s just trying to take her in. 

Her hair is short, still. Like when he’d cut it last, only days before setting out for Tharamphala. There are more tattoos adorning her arms now, coiling and dotting along cords of muscles, the tips of her fingers dipped in ash and smudged black by magic. There are new scars now too and the memory of when he called himself from the beyond, of her blood splattered across the ground and her body locked in place. He feels a pulse of rage, for the woman who hurt her, for the people who separated them again. 

He keeps looking, it’s all he can do, keep her in his view, categorize all the parts of her that are new and old. Freckles still. So many freckles across her cheeks, down her shoulders and arms. He’s still not sure if he ever counted all of them.

The mantle doesn’t look as big now. She wears it well. Years of practice, he muses. Part of his mind knows he’s been watching from afar. Has seen her lead and learn and fail and try from an uncrossable distance but seeing it with his own eyes is like seeing a whole new woman and the one he’s always loved sharing the same space. 

Her eyes are glowing brightly, pupils dilated with focus, the red reflection of their surroundings turning the green of her eyes amber. The staff clutched in her left hand radiates with steady, healthy emerald light, her right hand raised to direct the emanating waves of magic across the top of the pyramid and out around them. 

He hits the ground, eyes never leaving her face as its expression shifts from intense focus and fierce concentration to something more… vulnerable. Something hard to read, one emotion canceling out another; fear, grief, anguish, mistrust, guilt, anticipation, all over a current of hope so deep it seems to roll through her veins.

His lungs expand for the first time a second time. He wants to cough, breathe again but he can’t stop looking at her.

“You’re incredible, you know that?”

Of course, that’s the first thing he says as himself again. How could it not be? His throat hurts, more gruff than whatever his voice had been doing, back in the direction of jovial and warm. No longer detached from his heart. He sounds like himself to his own ears, even as his second breath is followed by hacking coughs, racking through his body like it’s trying to set itself back to a fully corporeal form.

The coughs subside almost as quickly as they arrive and when he lifts his head, she’s still staring at him with that unreadable look, chest heaving. She seems to be frozen aside from a slight tremor in her hands and Vax just wants her close again, after so much time, he just wants her near. His throat hurts but he shifts his weight, stretches out a hand, his hand, toward her.

“Kiki, I…” What can he even say though? 

Her throat bobs and she seems to flinch at the sound of his voice. But she doesn’t leave, doesn’t move further away. On the contrary, her feet seem to bring her closer against her own judgment and the staff lowers. Her shoulders quiver. 

“Vax?” her voice is barely louder than a whisper, like if she speaks too loud the gods will hear, will snatch him away again, “Is it really you?”

The feywild, a deal, walking naked through the night and into the middle of their camp, Keyleth, hidden away in a tree, calling out for Pike, her fragile voice, his sister’s arms around him. It all floods back, hits him like a war hammer to the chest. Some things stay the same.

The memories make him consider her question. He feels… connected to his body, connected to the world, not just an observer, cold and removed. (Not completely, never completely. He’s Theirs as much as he’s Her’s. He belonged to Vox Machina first.) His time as the Matron’s intermediary feels like a dream, the way his real life had felt when he was Her’s. But now…

Now, his knees ache from where they impacted with the ground. He can feel the hot wind snatching at his hair, pulling it around itself into knots. His heart throws itself against his ribcage. He feels alive. 

Slowly, he nods his head, “Feels like it. Like I’m… here.”

She lets out a sound that he can’t quantify. It’s not a laugh. Not a sob. Not a whimper or a hum or any other noise he’s heard her make before. It’s emotion made audible. It hurts so good.

Her hand shakes as her fingers come up, clasp around the earring, one of several now, nestled at the bottom of her ear.

“Vex,” her voice shakes, “You need to get up here.”

He reaches up, gropes for an earring that’s… somewhere. Not with him now, though. What happened to it after everything? He grieves for another small piece of connection with his family lost, a chance to hear his sister’s voice taken from him again. 

“Keyleth-” Her name tastes sweet across his lips, like the candied cherry blossom petals she’d sneak in for them both during meetings. 

He doesn’t make it much past her name. She moves then, swoops forward, catches his face in her hands, intent but not rough, moving his head until they’re eye to eye, until he can see the rivulets of tears begin to leak down her cheeks. He watches her eyes run over his face, searching for the truth or a lie, something concrete and definitive. 

She must find it. The sound comes again, out of her mouth and muffled in an instant as she throws her arms around him. Every nerve ending in his body lights up, distant senses now returned full force. It’s too much and not enough and Vax clings to her right back, a hand up in her hair, up to the antlers on her head, down across her cheeks, over her shoulders, under the mantle around her waist.

“Vax,” she chokes again, “You- why- what were you thinking?”

She still smells the same, like his Keyleth, dirt and fire and cherry blossoms, and even though his lungs ache at the manual breaths he’s pulling, he breathes deep, burrows against her neck, feels her skin against his lips as he answers.

“Wasn’t really. Just… had to get to you.”

“Old habits,” she laughs shakily, before it dissolves into a sob, “Vax.”

“Keyleth.”

They go back and forth like that for innumerable moments, drinking in the experience of saying each other’s names back and forth, a call and response. Her hands find his hair, tangling in along the side of his head (with a pang, he realizes his beads are gone, the braids he’d taken to keeping, unspooled), the back of his neck, along his shoulders. He realizes slowly that whatever growth had been protruding from his shoulder is gone now, calcified bone like an antler having disappeared, shed for the new season. 

And then someone else is calling her name. It’s not his voice but it might as well be; he knows it like his own, maybe better. She’s loud, shouting over the wind and the apparent storm that he’s been ignorant of until now, but hearing her call through it, how could he miss it?

“Keyleth!” There’s a clattering of wood on stone and feet pounding. Keyleth pulls away gently, one hand still knotted in his hair, like she’s afraid to let go, but her other hand goes out, stretches away and then he sees Vex.

She’s definitely older now. It suits her but it’s there.  It’s the first thing he notices and it sucks the air from his chest. She’s older now. Older now than our mother ever was. She’s a mother now.  He’d known it, in that removed way that he’d known all things before, but now, seeing her, the barely there laughter lines around her mouth, the beginnings of crow’s feet at her eyes, the handful of grey streaks in her hair. 

We’re not identical anymore.

The thought slides through his heart like hot metal and a sob erupts out of his mouth. His sister doesn’t slow, barely glances to check in with Keyleth, who nods and moves just enough for Vex to take her place and then it’s his sister in his arms, her crying in his ear. 

“Vax?”

“Hey stubby,” his voice trembles, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“That’s all you have to say?” She’s shaking against him. 

“Too much else.” His body feels strange. Too bright and present after so long Away. Something is tugging at the edge of his cloak, a steady pressure that he doesn’t have to look at to know it’s Keyleth. 

“What if we don’t have time after?” Vex whispers, terrified and clinging, “There’s so much I- we- Vax.”

“We’ll make time,” Keyleth nearly growls, “She already owes us, this is just adding to her debt in my opinion.”

Vax looses one hand from his sister’s shirt and fumbles until he finds Keyleth, catching first her wrist and then twining their fingers together when she twists around. His tether to the Matron is… hard to reach. Not impossible. Not severed, he can feel that much but She’s… removed. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about it, but here, sandwiched between his two favorite people, he can’t bring himself to spend the energy on caring. 

Vex pulls away finally, wiping her face furiously and touching the side of his face in between- oh he’s crying too . His chest heaves at the realization and he presses his face into his sister’s hands. 

The calluses are still there, though softened a bit by motherhood and a gentler life than they ever got to lead before. She strokes the tears off his face with a new tenderness he’s not seen before which brings forth a whole new wave of crying. 

“Stop crying,” she hiccups, “I can’t let you cry alone,” Vex pinches his jaw gently, “And Kiki’s turning into a lobster.”

Vax turns, and automatically looks toward the floor because… well, it’s Keyleth. It wouldn’t be out of the question for her to shape herself into a crustacean to get a reprieve from the wave of emotion they’ve all been weathering. But his eyes meet her knees and once they travel up the rest of her body (achingly aware that his sister is right next to him and will give him absolute hell if he ogles Keyelth now), he finds her face scrunched, shoulders shaking, and her cheeks flushing a deep red. There are two tear tracks tracing steadily down her face.

“Keyleth,” he breathes, bringing their twined hands to her face, “Breathe, love.”

“I’m breathing,” she rasps, voice wobbling, “I just. I’m gonna be really loud if I open my mouth too far and I didn’t wanna ruin the moment.” Her last word melts into a cry as Vex cups the back of her neck and brings her in to nestle between the twins. 

There’s a heave in Keyleth’s body and she crashes into them with a wail. Vax can feel her press a kiss to his forehead and then she moves and he hears the gentle smack of her lips on Vex’s forehead. His twin doesn’t even put on a show of groaning. She just tightens her grip on the both of them.

Vax breathes them both in, his ribs creaking at the stretch. It’s a battle scent he remembers all too well, wood oil and ozone, sweat and ash and blood, just the barest memory of perfume and flower petals, and the familiarity of that pulls him even further into his body. His arms shake as he tries to hold them tighter, imprint the feeling of their bodies next to his, burn the smell of them into his lungs so even if She wrenches him back, they’ll never truly leave him. 

Eventually, Vex pushes back from him, looking over him again, running her hands against his hair and down to squeeze his shoulder. He drinks her in, cataloging every new line, each new freckle.

“Who have you coerced into doing your braid?”

Vex narrows her eyes in a familiar way, “How dare you, your nephew did this one.”

It steals the breath from his lungs, “Wolfe.” It’s not a question 

Another sob bubbles past her lips, “Yes, Wolfe. He’s been practicing so don’t you say anything-”

“I wouldn’t, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. He put in good work, I can see it now, it’s the fighting that-”

Her voice trembles and she tightens her grip around him, “I wish you could- I want-”

“Vex’ahlia.” If she says it outloud, it’ll be too much. Vex presses her forehead against his and his shoulders  tremble. 

“Why can’t he?” Keyleth whispers, her fingers still clamped hard into the side of his cloak. 

“Keyleth,” it’s close to a whine, a little desperate, like Vex doesn’t want to even consider the option, lest it be snatched away.

“No, I’m serious. Why shouldn’t he? We can- he’s,” her fingers drift out, trail over his cheek and he moves his head fast enough to kiss her palm even though it makes his head spin. Her throat bobs and the next words tremble.

“He’s right here. He- why can’t we just bring him home?” 

Home. A great big tree, big enough to house them, dappled with sunlight, the laughter of children, cherry blossoms and winds that raced each other around cliff faces. His sister’s voice, and Percy’s. Pike. Scanlan. Grog. Tarry. Keyleth. Children, rushing past in a flurry of impressions. A giant bear lumbering to butt his head against Vax’s chest.

It sends a shard through him, imagining. 

“She hasn’t said anything to you, has She?” Vex winds her arm under Vax’s and it takes him a minute to realize she’s trying to pull him to his feet. He stumbles after her, knees knocking, and Keyleth swoops under his other arm.

The world tips horrifically when once he’s vertical again and Keyleth drops her forehead to meet his as he lists to the side.

“Back down?” She murmurs, barely concealing her terror. He tries to pull a smile up on his lips but the blood is rushing in his ears for the first time in who knows how long and his muscles wobble.

“No, I can-”

His knees fold. 

~~~

Vax floats for a while. It should be a very odd feeling; awareness of your own consciousness without any physical form, but he’s been disconnected from his body for long enough that it’s not as alien as one might expect. 

Somewhere in all the nothingness, he remembers Her. The Matron. The goddess with the loneliest eyes he’d ever seen. He’d known that solitude for a moment. Or an age. She’d been there, so really, he hadn’t been alone. 

But now, nothing. No golden string of fate, no porcelain mask, no looming presence over his shoulder. The urge to reach out to her strikes. Often. Every time he starts to cast his mind (or maybe it’s his heart) out, however, awareness comes to him in pieces instead. Those pieces are rarely present at the same time, never concrete enough for him to grab and haul himself back to a truly awakened state. 

The first thing he notices is the temperature. He’s warm. He forgot what warm was until now, but the honeyed liquid feeling seeps through him, torso to wrist and hip to ankle. He thinks someone put socks on his feet. His arms are uncovered and one feels like it has something draped over it, but he can’t really parse the textures or weights specifically. He can’t hear anything, either, no telltale crackle of a fire. But as he strains for something more, a small, cool something comes to grip his unburdened middle and pointer fingers. Sturdy little hands, rough and calloused but gentle all the same. Familiar hands, though his brain is floating  too far away to grasp the strands of who. The fingers squeeze, gold light (or at least he imagines gold) pours out of the hand and sings into his. He loses himself again. 

~~~

Notes. Music. A melodious little tune that slides up and down. A voice joins, quiet where it should be boisterous, “Cube, glorious cube. You really should try it. If you’re in the mood, I won’t even hide it.”

A purple beret, small, nimble fingers plucking at strings, tears in his eyes, You were going to save a wish for me? 

“I’ll pull down my trousers for any girl or dude, oh cube, glorious cube, wonderful cube, magical cube.”

Vax feels the memory of a laugh bubble in his chest, his breathing hitches,

“Yeah, you remember this one, buddy?” His voice is still warm. Slides from Vax’s ear directly into his heart.

Vax tries to take the reins of his body again, nod or huff, but he’s fading out again, and Scanlan starts the song again. Like a lullaby, Vax is eased back into nothingness.

~~~

There’s something wet on his lips. Cold. After all the warmth, earlier, it's a nice change. It trickles between his lips, over his tongue and to the back of his throat. It feels incredible. He hadn’t realized his mouth was dry. The cool, smooth thing on his lips disappears, and something rough wipes against his mouth. It’s coarse and he yearns for the cool and wet again, only just registering the slight tinge of sweetness that lingered and, like an answered prayer, it comes back, but he’s gone again before the coolness hits his tongue.

~~~

The smell of gunpowder. Grease. Cinnamon. 

Familiar. 

Memories bubble forth, like molasses from a tap; a campfire in the middle of a piney forest. A tent for one crowded with three bodies and one gigantic noggin. The gleam of metal and glass as the same cloth polishes first a gun then some glasses. 

“My brother always kept a bit of cinnamon stick in his pocket. He had a bad elbow that acted up when it rained. He always claimed the cinnamon helped, though I always thought he was just trading one sensation for the distraction of another. But, of course, as it turns out, he was right. Sometimes my scars pull, you know how it is.”

A steady, pale hand, reaching out, offering a small, dark roll of bark. The bite of it on his tongue almost feels as real now as it did all those years ago. Percy hadn’t been much of a talker, but one night, up late and punchy, not long after the showdown with the Briarwoods, Percy had let a little more spill than usual. 

Vax goes to breathe deeper, finds he can, and savors the familiar smell. 

~~~

He’s in the air when he resurfaces from the nothing, and for a moment he remembers flying. The jolt in his stomach on a dive, and the drop when he coasted. Of holding-

He was being held. Wide, warm arms swathed with muscle. Arms that had thrown him around a training arena and cradled his dying sister. 

There’s a vibration next to his body and Vax registers the sturdy, broad something that his side is held to. It rumbles and reverberates against him.

He’d know the barrel of this chest anywhere though and only one person that big who held so gently, and also didn’t wear a shirt. 

Grog lowers him gingerly until Vax’s form meets cool fabric, the texture closer to flannel than its predecessor. The arm below his knees slides away first, and it reappears as something heavy covers his legs. 

He slips away as Grog’s huge hand cradles his neck down to the pillow. 

~~~ 

Voices rouse him next. Plural. Young. 

“That’s not another version of momma” one child, teenager or near one, breaks the silence, his voice near a bark. 

“You don’t know,” a smaller, high pitched voice chirps back defiantly, somewhere closer to the floor. 

“Yeah, I do!” The older child snaps back. Vax can almost see the narrowing of the boy’s eyes. He feels like he knows where the boy learned that look.

“Then who are they?” Vax feels the memory of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His body doesn’t respond. The littlest voice has a spark.

“Shouldn’t we be quiet?” a young, subdued voice cuts through, “He might be sleeping and we don’t want to wake him.”

“I don’t know,” an older girl this time, close to the same age as the other teenager, “Maybe if he wakes up, Mum will stop being such a mess.”

“Of course Mum’s a mess,” the oldest voice yet, though not quite an adult. The confidence of an oldest sibling, “You know who this is don’t you?”

“Obviously,” the slightly younger girl replies haughtily.

“Obviously,” echoes the smallest voice.

“Well, go on then. Enlighten your brothers,” the oldest voice says, sounding a little smug.

“We already know, don’t we Freddy!” the older boy hollers and there’s a scuffle of feet on the ground.

“I… think so,” mumbles the younger boy, Freddy. The name stirs something in his mind. White hair. Percy . No. The voice was much too young. Then who-

“Do you really know, Gwen, or do you want me to whisper it to you?” The oldest girl speaks again, not unkindly. 

“I know. I do. But why don’t you tell me so I know that you know.” The littlest, Gwen, replies defiantly.

“Oh sure,” the middle girl snarks, “Just to be sure.” Her last word ends with a shriek and a, ”Vesper!”

“Don’t be a know-it-all, Leona.” Vesper snarks back at her and though Vax doesn't know this child, he can hear a smile in her voice. Something in the tone is familiar. 

“I wasn’t!” Leona protests, in another tone Vax knows well, “I just-”

“Don’t make me pinch you again.”

The threat is heeded with a huff. Then there’s a rustling of skirts and a whisper he can’t quite make out.

Finally, after several beats of silence the littlest voice, Gwen, pipes up again, “Yeah, I knew that. I knew it was Uncle Vax.”

His hearing disappears and the void washes over him again. 

~~~

“What if I was wrong?” It feels like he hears her from across the ocean and then his consciousness is pulled along an invisible thread back to his body. A cool, dry hand smooths over his temple and he feels his hair tucked back. 

“Keyleth.” His sister is on the other side of him, and he can almost hear her rubbing her thumb into her palm, a self-soothing she’s done since they were small. 

“No, Vex, I’m… He… It’s been almost two weeks.” A thumb skates across his cheek again.

“11 days.”

“Vex.”

His sister’s voice goes sharp, “You weren’t wrong.” The hand, Keyleth’s, pulls away and he misses it immediately. 

Vex’s voice softens as she continues, “He… he’s still here. He’s breathing.”

“But he’s not waking up.” The weight next to his hip disappears and the smell of fallen leaves wafts through the room. 

They’re quiet for an amount of time that Vax can’t quantify.

Vex’s voice is close at hand now, and he feels fingertips graze his arm, “How long did you say he was up there?”

“Since the solstice.” Keyleth sounds far away, though there’s a little bit of a breeze stirring through the room and it comforts him to know she hasn’t left. 

“And he was in pain-” Vex sounds wound tight and she skates her fingers down his arm again.

“It sounded like the whole time, yeah.” He wants to wake up and comfort them, but the truth would make things worse. He knows those times were… indescribable. Or at least for the moment they seem to be that way. An experience he knows he had but is locked in some corner of his brain.

“Fuck.”

“They wouldn’t tell me many details. But Orym, he said he and his friends saw him up there in the orb thing. And he was screaming-” There’s a choked noise. The bed next to him depresses on the other side and a hand gently takes his once more. The little bit of wind kicks up again, carrying the scent of cedar and flower petals.

“Keyleth?” Vex’s voice is down near his feet now, like she’s circling them both.

“Hmm?” 

“Have you kissed him?”

There’s a splutter and the hand in his is wrenched away. He silently mourns the loss of Keyleth’s warmth at his side as she chokes out, “What?!”

Vex’s sigh in an exasperated way, “Have you-”

“No!” Keyleth squeaks and he can almost see the flush of blood blooming in her cheeks.

He can definitely hear Vex rolling her eyes, “Well, why not? You know, true love’s kiss and all that.”

“Those are fairy tale , Vex! Has anything about our lives seemed fairytale to you?”

“Honestly, parts of it, yes.”

There’s a scoff.

“What? Not all of it obviously but… Worth considering.” Vex almost certainly has a shit eating grin spreading across her face and Vax is desperate to open his eyes and see it himself. It’s been so long since he’s been on the receiving end of her teasing.

Clearly not long enough for Keyleth though,  “Gods, Vex. I don’t even know if he would want that.”

“Darling. That man thinks you made the moon and the stars yourself. I have a bone deep certainty that there is no part of him that would ever not want that. I’m not saying stick your tongue down his throat,” Keyleth squawks in indignation, “but just a little peck.”

Hazy memories of kissing Keyleth drift through his consciousness and yearning lances through him, sharp and sudden, pulling him more fully into his body. The squeak of surprise when he’d caught her off guard, the soft swell of her bottom lip between his, the uncanny way she could make his knees go a little bit weak when she’d hovered close and brushed their noses together before leaning in to capture his lips. He almost misses her next words. 

“Well. I. Am just going to wait until he can tell me for sure if he wants me to kiss him or not. Just because that’s how you brought Percy back, doesn’t mean-”

“Yes please.”

Vax hadn’t even realized he was going to speak until the words were leaving his mouth. His throat hurts and his jaw clicks as it moves but the words are out. 

There’s a collective intake of breath from the room and two sets of hands grab him, one on either side. 

“Vax, darling, can you hear us?” His sister is to his right, can feel her strong fingers and smell the lily and pine scent that has followed her since they had enough money for her to feel comfortable splurging on such fineries as perfume. 

He tries to get more words out but his jaw isn’t working again and all he gets out is a soft kind of grunt. Ah well, better than nothing.

“Vax,” He can feel the side of Keyleth’s leg pressed against him from where she’s tucked up next to him, “Vax.”

He hums again, putting all his focus down towards his hands now, directing the muscles to squeeze. It comes out as more of a twitch but, again, he’ll take when he can get.

“Should we get Pike?” Keyleth asks softly, her voice a little watery.

One of his sister’s hands disappears as he hears her murmur across the earrings, “Pike, darling, can you come upstairs please? Now?”

Hands on his face, combing through his hair, “Vax, can you open your eyes? Can you try to speak again?” Kiki’s voice is light and quavering. He can feel the gentle infusion magic she lays into her words, the cool wash of her magic into his jaw where it had ached when he opened his mouth. 

“You heard him darling, he said yes.”

“He made a noise, I wouldn’t call it words.”

“What are you so afraid of after all this time?” Vex snaps.

“I’m not afraid,” Keyleth shoots back, “I’m just-”

Whatever she is is cut off by muffled, heavy footsteps and the slamming open of a door. 

“I left Scanlan and Percy with the kids. What’s going on?” Vax feels the impact of small feet like a vibration through the floor as Pike is set on the ground and her voice draws near. Heavy footfalls behind her make him pretty sure that Grog is on her heels. 

“He spoke.”

“He muttered.”

“Keyleth-” Vex growls 

“I just don’t want to see us all get hurt again, okay?” Keyleth’s voice is a bite and he feels her fingers clench.

“We were. You… We all barely survived after we lost him the first time. And what if, when he wakes up, She just comes and takes him away again?”

“Keyleth,” It’s Pike this time, closer than she had been and gentler than his sister. 

“You can’t tell me it’s not a possibility, Pike.”

“We won’t let her.” Grog murmurs from further away, “Not again.”

Two people let out an aborted little breath but it’s Keyleth that speaks first, “You want to fight a God in the middle of Whitestone? With all of your kids running around?”

“We’ve done it before.” Vex mutters and Vax feels a flash of panic and pain, remembering Velora, his baby sister suspended in the chest of a wanna be god. Of watching her tiny body fall to the rocks below and the sickening crunch of the resurrection. She must be so big now. The thought chokes him again. 

“He wasn’t yet a god,” Keyleth replies, “And certainly not the goddess of Death . And it wasn’t in your home.”

“You sound like you’d just let him go again.” Vex almost sounds accusatory but he understands Keyleth’s misgivings. He’s happy she’s thinking logically. Whatever connection he’d had to the Matron, and whatever one he still feels, it’s like he’s hearing her from underwater.d For the first time in so, so long, he can hear his family. He can feel them close and smell them and why shouldn’t he get a chance to come back to them? But he won’t let Her harm them. Never .

Vax hears Keyleth’s breath hitch. He tries to squeeze her fingers and feels like he’s about to burst with gratitude that his muscles obey and his hand clamps down on hers. Just enough to get her attention. There’s another gasp and a flurry of movement.

“Vax?” 

His throat strains and he feels his body reacting to breathing again, curling into a c-shape like he’s being drawn in by the tide. Something bright is shining in hisfaces. It takes him a moment to realize his eyes are trying to flutter open. 

“Vax, open your eyes.” His sister is by his side, and it sounds like her face is on a level with his. 

“Vax?” Pike’s heavy little hand is on his leg and Grog’s massive fingers are gripping the bed at his side. 

He tries to force his eyelids up again and it feels like sand is rolling across his sclera. But he finally raises his eyelids and blinks in the dim (but still painfully bright) light of the low fire crackling in the hearth. 

They’re just blobs at first, grey and white and red and brown and blue all kind of floating at his eye level, a low current of encouragement making its way into his ears, if not his mind. All his energy is on getting his damn eyes to focus. 

He blinks, the grit clearing a little bit and they become distinct from one another. Still no sharp detail but he knows who is who. Can see Keyleth’s hair and differentiate the feathers in Vex’s hair from the blue of Pike’s tunic next to her. Grog hovers, hulking at the periphery. 

His mouth opens to say… something. But the air is dry and his mouth is dryer and he rasps around his tongue. Pike swears and Vex giggles wetly. Grog snorts and Keyleth is eerily quiet, though he’s starting to make out the green of her eyes in the halo of red hair.

Pike puts something rough and cold and wet in his mouth and Vax realizes it’s a washcloth soaked in water. He bites down, drinks too heartily and immediately starts coughing, racking his body back and forth until his breaths are labored and, with clearing eyes, he finally croaks. 

“Stop staring, it’s weird.” 

–

Relearning being touched takes several days, but he comes to crave it. The zap of it across his skin reminds him that he’s really there, and so are they. Grog’s massive, cool forearms under his palms as the half-giant cajoles and baits him into movement. Displaced champion though he may be, it’s been almost two weeks of stillness that his body has never known. Every creak of his joints is worth what it means though. 

Wolfe practices his braiding over and over (usually snarking at his siblings as he does it) until every plait is smooth and uniform, while Leona and Freddy pick out new beads to adorn them. One for every family member, at Vax’s request, the littles on one side, Vox Machina on the other. Gwen sits in his lap and plays with his fingers when he starts to get bored, chirping about the strange dead lady and the rock person who had visited her some months past and helped her break some windows. 

Percy as a father is truly a thing of beauty. The children flit around him like moths and he gives each of them his attention in different specific ways. It’s a side Vax has rarely seen of him and the years have done him kindly. Oh, the horror is still there behind his eyes but muted now, covered up by love and joy and warmth. 

He always seems to be close at hand to offer a shoulder or an elbow, or even his own cane when Vax’s energy starts to flag. Quiet and unobtrusive, whenever exhaustion starts to draw his bones low, Percy would appear at Vax’s side, butting his shoulder up against Vax until he took the hint and leaned into him. 

Vesper sneaks him new daggers and a target that she helps him hide behind a painting. She’s every bit like Vex was as a teenager, if they’d been allowed to be teenagers. It makes his heart lurch as she details her plans for rehabilitating his aim. (And he tries not to laugh too hard at the put-out look on her face when there is very little for her to do in that department. You don’t become the champion of a goddess for nothing. He thinks, lips pressed tight together so another chuckle doesn’t escape.) 

Pike is still close by. The aches across his body and the migraines he gets are debilitating for the first few days and she pours healing across his skin like balmy honey. She tries the hardest to pretend like things are okay but he wakes up from more than one nap to have her watching him with brimming eyes. 

Scanlan always has a hand on his leg when he’s nearby. Calf as they walk, knee when they’re sitting, even going so far as to squeezing his thigh conspiratorially during dinner one night, which sent Vax into hysterics. Scanlan, red-faced after that incident, had kept it knee down after that. 

Vex is hard to get away from, not that he wants to. She hovers in the morning, making sure he eats and washes his face. She’s there when her children are, mingling and moving among them with practiced motherly ease, something entirely new to him. Every now and again the light catches her right and he sees Elaina.

There’s also the night that she brings a bottle of wine up to his room and they pass it back and forth like the old days. Well, she does. He gets about 7 sips in and the room starts to spin. Apparently, his tolerance has taken a heavy blow and he’s as giggly as Keyleth in the early days of adventuring. But Vex boosts herself up next to him on the bed and they reminisce and bask in the glory of being together again. He feels the edges of darkness and despair, at everything he missed starting to stalk through the back of his mind but then his sister snort-laughs at a memory ofGrog and Pike  and dribbles red wine down her chin and, really, not that much has changed.

The air is cool around him as he makes his way down the cobblestone street. Sunset is nearing and the lanterns that line the streets gently flicker to life. Pink clouds scoot lazily across the purpling sky as the last golden rays catch the barely-sprouting leaves at the top of the Suntree. And at its base, draped in her mantle with a long fingered hand pressed to the bark-

Keyleth. 

This is far from the first time he’s seen her or spent time with her. He craved her presence like a plant craves the sun and though she’d been at his side, attentive and watching him like a hawk, they’d not had any privacy. Always a kid bursting in to show him something ‘cool’ (Juniper and Wilhand’ildan (a name that still chokes him up, as did Vex’s youngest son’’s) liked to sneak bugs in in their pockets) or Pike nearby with healing or a stream of visitors from across Tal’dorei (Keyleth’s mother for one, with a leg made of vines and welling  eyes, which sends him into such a fit of tears that Pike has to pull out Calm Emotions) having heard of his return. 

No one is around except citizens of Whitestone now though and Vax makes a beeline for Keyleth. Her eyes are closed, a soft smile across her lips. She murmurs low to the tree, waits for a response. As he approaches, she lets out a low chuckle and Vax feels his heart swoop in his chest. 

She’s not wearing her antler’s today and the wind catches one of the braids Wolfe had insisted on tying into her hair that morning. She takes his breath away. 

His hand reaches, fingers lacing between hers. Though she jumps, she doesn’t pull away, like the first time they'd been here, lifetimes ago. She grips back, squeezes and runs her thumb along his knuckles. Murmurs something low and then lets her other hand drift slowly from its bark. Her eyes float open and shift to meet his gaze.

“I talked to the tree,” she whispers, “It talked back.”

Vax feels a lump form in his throat, more memories bubbling to the surface, but he swallows past it, “Oh yeah? What’d he have to say this time?”

“Spring’s coming.” She sighs, casting an eye up toward the top branches as the last of the sun shifts behind the mountains and the baby leaves slip into darkness.

“Rebirth.” 

“Funny timing, I’d say.” She’s still got her face cast upward but he knows what she’s doing and he plays along.

“Oh yeah, why’s that?”

She gives him a look, one he recognizes, love and playfulness, over another he doesn’t quite. Like she still can’t believe he’s here. 

“You know why.”

“I do,” he agrees, swinging their twined fingers and, taking advantage of her lack of antlers, lifts his arm to spin her underneath it. She goes willingly, smile deepening.

“You walked all the way down here on your own?” Keyleth’s eyebrows quirk as she spins back around to face him, cheeks flushed.

“One hundred percent unaccompanied.” And he never thought he’d be so proud of something so mundane.

“I’m surprised Vex let you out of her sight long enough.”

Vax snorts, “Please, I haven’t lost my touch yet.”

“She’s going to worry.” Keyleth presses a little bit, taking a step closer and scrutinizing him. But he feels fine. Better than fine, actually. He’s home , the sun is setting and he can see the stars winking to life above them like the lamps on his way. He’s really here. With her. He never thought he could have this life again.

“I heard what she said to you, the day I woke up.” 

Keyleth freezes, blinking like she’s trying to catch up and then blushing, “What do you mean?”

“About…That was why I talked, you know. I heard you and I wanted-”

“What?” She swallows hard but she still hasn’t let go of his hand and he takes that as a good sign.

“You… Well, you said you wouldn’t kiss me unless I said so.”

“Oh Gods,” She steps away but not far enough to break the link between them, “I’m sorry. She was- We were- It’s-”

“I was trying to say yes please.” The memory of their last kiss is seared into his soul like a brand, the ache in his chest as she wept and held him so tight. He’s desperate for a new last kiss, another one after that, something to ease the ache, like aloe she used to spread along his burns.

“What?” She sounds breathless and when he looks up, her eyes are wide, wild green and wet.

“Keyleth…”

“Vax.” Her voice trembles and he watches the delicate bob of her throat as she swallows hard again. Remembers what it felt like under his lips. Tries not to get side- tracked by those memories right now.

He just gives her a look.

Her voice cracks a little bit, “Are you sure? It’s… it’s been… decades and you were-”

He huffs a laugh and starts to reel her in closer, because trul, iit is ridiculous. She’s her. Keyleth. A love he never dreamed he could have and then to have had her even once…

“As if my answer would ever change,” Something strikes him and it’s his turn to swallow down an emotion he can’t quite put his finger on, and he eases his hold on her hand. 

“Unless… unless it has for you. Which is fine. Good, even. I wasn’t… I wasn’t coming back until you-” He’s babbling now, because Gods to see her with someone else… He’d do anything for her, he could do that. He could. But-

“I told you,” she whispers, tightening her fingers between his, “I’ll never get over you.”

Something like relief washes through him, selfish and hot down his spine and he starts talking again. “It would have been okay if you did though. I want you happy and loved, no matter what, and if you’d found someone in the time since… I would love to meet them because I know, whoever they are, they would be-”

Her free hand comes up, catches behind his neck and tilts his face up to meet her lips as she brings them to his. By all standards it’s a short kiss but she doesn’t go far when she pulls away, hovering just in front of him, forehead pressed to his and close enough that he can feel her lips move as she speaks. 

“You’re talking too much.” It comes out choked but he remembers the first time she said it to him too.

Her fingers tighten in his hair, just a little bit and he feels the sob he’s been fighting bubble up as she continues, “It’s just you. It could never be anyone else.”

He swoops into the distance between them (and marvels at the closeness of her) to kiss her again.