Chapter Text
Manners, Percy Dear likes to say, are the easiest currency to come by.
Trinket hasn’t figured out what currency is, yet - Vex talks about it a lot, so he’ll work it out eventually - but he knows what manners are. Vex taught him good manners when he was very young, and still reminds him that he won’t be able to go into cities or towns if he doesn’t use them properly. He knows how to bow to important people (the ones wearing shinier clothes, usually) and sit at tables and shake hands and give back massages, and all of these things are important - um, ‘currency’ - when talking to people.
So that’s why Trinket is ashamed, because he’s still confused about the human’s name. The male one, with the big blue coat, who always smells like smoke and metal. Names are a part of manners, and he has a very, very long name that Vex prefers to shorten, but Trinket can’t tell if it’s being shortened to “Percy” or “Dear”, because she says them both all the time (and sometimes together). Trinket errs on the side of caution and calls him “Percy Dear” when they talk, because Percy Dear is a ‘delicate’ human (so Vex says) and Trinket doesn’t want to offend him by accident. Percy Dear hasn’t ever corrected him, so Trinket is pretty sure he’s on the right track, but it’s hard to say for sure. For all that they practice good manners, humans sometimes have trouble listening to bears.
Trinket also knows that if you want a favour from someone, you have to say “please”, and that waking Vex up when she’s sleeping is very bad manners. So, that’s why he is where he is - poor, scruffy, tangle-furred Trinket, alone in Scanlan’s magic house with his brush between his teeth, waiting outside Vex’s door until she wakes up. He says “please” at some of the ghost-people who drift by in the hall, but they all seem very busy, and after about the sixth one (that’s as high as Trinket can count, anyway) ignores him, he stomps off to see if anyone else is awake.
Pike is awake, and running around the kitchen talking to the little fawn-man. Trinket does not like the fawn-man at all, because he smells odd and electric like the rest of the Feywild, and he doesn’t clean his fur half as well as he should. Trinket would help him, but he is not going to share his favourite brush with a muddy half-deer.
The only other one up, of course, is Percy Dear. His workshop doesn’t smell great either, but it’s not as bad as the fawn. He’s sitting at the table with a book open on his lap, doodling on the pages. Occasionally, he makes a big frown and a dramatic cross-out motion, left-right-left. Trinket says “Please!” around the mouthful of brush. The human glances up, and snaps the book shut.
“Ah,” he says, in a voice that’s all bright with happy surprise. “It’s good you’re here. You and I-” he looks over his glasses, and points with his book “-need to have a man-to-man talk.”
Trinket drops the brush (it goes clatter-clatter on the stone floor and he hopes it isn’t broken). Vex has told him to listen to Percy Dear when she isn’t there, so he puts his paws together and stands very straight. Sometimes when they talk to important people, Vex makes him stand up tall like this (but not on his hind legs; that’s bad manners and also it scares people).
“Good,” Percy Dear says, and rises from his chair. He tosses the book aside, and folds his arms. “So, Vex has learned a new spell, obviously, which is very exciting. I’m sure you’re glad she can talk to you and finally understand what you’re saying. I’m glad as well, of course. Er, that is, I’m very happy for you.”
Trinket blinks. Vex always understands him, doesn’t she? This is a weird mantoman talk. Maybe mantoman doesn’t mean what he thought.
His human friend is fidgety, like a skittish little tree-creature. He plucks at the white fur on his head, then sweeps his hand through it, leaving a little smudge of ink above his brow. He looks like the foxes and hares that live in cold places. They have white fur, too. Trinket remembers Vex telling him that Percy Dear comes from the north, so that makes sense. He says, “Well, you know-“
And then he stops talking for a little bit. He does that a lot. Vex says it’s because Percy Dear likes to plan what he says first, so he can sound smart once he says it. Trinket has his doubts. When humans try to sound smart after big pauses – Percy Dear included – they usually say things that don’t make sense.
(Except Grog. Somehow, Grog always makes sense. He is a true warrior poet, and Trinket is quite in awe of his wisdom.)
“You and I,” Percy Dear finally continues, “have talked about some very, uh – sensitive matters in the past.”
Trinket says, “We talk about Vex.”
Trinket loves to talk about Vex, even if the people in his family are poor listeners most of the time. He especially likes talking to Percy Dear about Vex. They both agree that Vex is very smart and very special, and Percy Dear always makes Trinket promise to protect her whenever their chats are over. Trinket is glad that someone else understands how important it is to keep Vex safe.
(He remembers – in that cold, stone room, the one under the lake – when everyone had been very, very worried about Vex, because she’d been thrown from the dais and didn’t get up for a while. Percy Dear had helped to fix her, with magic glass that burst into sparkling dust. Trinket wasn’t sure what he’d done – the whole thing was so scary and confusing, with Zahra’s strange glowing stone, and that angry cleric chanting horrible words, and Vax talking to the lady in black feathers. But Vex woke up. That was the important thing. Percy Dear and Trinket both knew that was the important thing.)
“Good,” he says. “Right. Sure. Well, I’d appreciate it if you could…refrain from telling Vex what I’ve told you. About her, and how I feel.”
What!? Trinket is so, so disappointed. Percy Dear has only ever said very nice things about Vex. He says she’s clever, and that he admires her, and once he called her beautiful (although he said it very quietly, like Trinket wasn’t supposed to hear it at all). Why wouldn’t he want Vex to know that? Trinket tells Vex he loves her every day and it still doesn’t feel like enough. He doesn’t mind passing on the message from Percy Dear, too.
“Don’t give me the sad bear look,” he says. His voice is hard and crisp, not quite a Trinket’s-in-trouble voice, but pretty close. “I talk to you because I trust that you will keep what I say in strictest confidence.”
This is so stupid. Trinket flumps down on the floor of the workshop and stretches his paws out as far as he can reach. Mantoman talks are no fun at all.
Percy Dear scoops the brush up from the floor, and settles down next to Trinket on his knees. Yes! Trinket immediately nuzzles up as close as he can, and starts to shove his nose under the brush with uncontrollable excitement, because this fidgety human is the best at brushing. Almost better than Vex, since he’s very careful to get every single knot out, and very patient, and he will brush Trinket for hours while he talks. He always starts just behind Trinket’s ears, which is the best place to be scratched. And he would never, neverstoop to something so evil as covering Trinket, in all his majesty, with ribbons. This time he starts brushing really hard, though, yanking at the knots like he’s trying to give Trinket a headache along with the grooming.
As he works, Percy Dear says, “You know I’m very fond of her. I’m certain I’ve mentioned that.”
Trinket huffs out a “yes”, and rolls onto his back, so Percy Dear can better brush the ruff under his chin. In a way, that’s all he ever talks about – how fond he is of Vex. At least when it’s the two of them having a mantoman, or whatever.
He continues. “And if she learns of that, I have no doubt she will tease me incessantly until the day I die.”
Yeah, Vex would definitely do that. She makes a lot of jokes. Sometimes she hides Trinket’s food behind her back and makes him guess what it is before he gets to eat. He thinks it’s fun (he usually guesses right!) but maybe Percy Dear doesn’t like being teased. He’s “delicate”. Usually when Vex tells Trinket someone is “delicate” it means he has to be very gentle if they wrestle together; in Percy’s case, it means Trinket has to be nice to him when they talk, too.
After a very long pause, the brushstrokes start to slow down. Trinket feels a little drowsy. Above him, Percy Dear muses, “I suppose that is neither the best nor worst case scenario. Worst case, Vax finds out and immediately stabs me in the neck just to be safe. Best, well-“
He trails off. Trinket doesn’t mind. He’s getting the brushing of a lifetime. Percy Dear works very steadily while he talks and thinks. He gets all the way to Trinket’s tummy before speaking up again. “I’m not yet resigned to being an atrocious human being. Perhaps I could be better for her sake.”
Trinket gives him another huff, because he’s really tired of having to explain this part. Vex doesn’t think Percy Dear needs to be any ‘better’ - she loves him as he is. She must, because Vex saved Percy Dear just like she saved Trinket. She saved him when he was weak, and cold, and imperfect. It’s another one of those magic things that Trinket doesn’t quite understand, but for a while, the poor pale human was really, really sick. He smelled like smoke and death. He buzzed with a strange, ugly energy, and Trinket started to feel the same way around Percy Dear that he always does just before earthquakes; he sensed the trembling of something big, inhuman and evil, about to unleash all its anger on the world at once.
But Vex was so brave! Whenever Percy Dear started to make those earthquake tremors, she would talk to him or hold his hand until they stopped. She worried about him so much she didn’t sleep most nights, and when he was okay again, she looked so happy! When Percy Dear makes her presents, she always brings them to Trinket and explains what they do, smiling wider every time. She talks to Trinket too – of course she does – and she thinks Percy Dear is very charming and wonderful, but that he needs to stop being so hard on himself.
On that, they agree. Even without being told, Trinket knows that Percy Dear is Vex’s favourite.
(Aside from Trinket himself, of course.)
Percy Dear doesn’t say much else. When he does, his voice is still soft, and he takes long, thoughtful pauses. “She’s so afraid of this place. I’ve never seen her doubt herself like this before, and it breaks my heart. So, we’ll be doing our best to look out for her, hm?”
He puts down the brush, and holds out his hand. Trinket gives him a paw, and they shake. Vex taught him that one too; it means a promise. He hopes Percy Dear is good at keeping promises. The human looks at him a minute more, and then laughs. “Trinket, you’ve given me a phenomenally good idea. We host this festival in Whitestone every year-”
Trinket slowly pulls his paw away. This is not good. Last time there was a Whitestone festival, Vex made him look like he had human clothes on and then fed him so much pie he nearly exploded. Percy Dear makes a pitying face, and scratches him soothingly behind the ear again. “It’s much more your speed than the last one, old chap. There’s a hunt in the woods, and a magnificent banquet under the Sun Tree. All the meat a hungry bear could want. I think you’d make an excellent fixture at that event, and your mum would be in charge of the whole thing. Sounds like fun, eh?”
With a happy huff, Trinket licks Percy Dear’s outstretched hand, and then swats at it playfully with his paws. That does sound like fun! He loves hunting, he loves Vex, he loves meat – and so long as he doesn’t have to wear ribbons or eat everything on the banquet table, a festival could be fun, too! He’s really starting to like Percy Dear. Maybe the human’s not so dumb after all, since he obviously realizes Vex is smart and should be in charge of everything.
He’s not quite smart enough, though. Percy Dear play-fights him a bit, making a mocking growling noise (racist) and Trinket plays along – just enough to deceive him. Lull him into a false sense of security. Percy Dear doesn’t want Vex to know how much he loves her. Pffft. Trinket knows better. Next time she asks, Trinket’s going to tell her everything he can remember, and he’s certain that Percy Dear will thank him for it one day.