Chapter Text
Before Kaylie had come into his life, he had forgotten her mother’s name. Sybil wasn’t someone who made a lasting impression outside of her attempt to cuddle and cling, but it hadn’t made her a lesser gnome than himself or his own mother. Juniper Shorthalt certainly deserved to be remembered, and after he had lashed out at the family he thought had loved him, he realized how alike he and Vox Machina had become. They were all truly shitty people.
He couldn’t let the same fate befall his daughter. The thought she was unloved hurt him in that newly discovered place in his heart. Kaylie had suffered enough growing up without a father. It was time he listened to her, learned about her. It seemed a fitting start to ask about Sybil, although Kaylie hadn’t taken kindly to it.
“Why?” She asked, eyes narrowing as she blew a tuft of chestnut fringe from her eyes. “Are you trying to see if you can have another go?”
“Kaylie, please.”
“She’s dead.”
That had been the end of the conversation for a while. Scanlan had stammered his condolences and Kaylie wiped her eyes and shrugged as if she had simply had her share of bad luck one too many times. Scanlan let the topic rest while they took a detour under the shade of forest trees and re-strung their instruments. They talked about spices instead, how one of his companions but definitely not Scanlan once bought a sack of fusaka, thinking it was for more recreational activities than sprinkling atop racks of lamb. Kaylie had chuckled then, and it seemed he had been forgiven.
His daughter still kept to herself, as she always did. Scanlan told her stories to fill the silence. She never seemed to mind them, and even smiled and asked him to do his impressions of Grog and Vax more than once as they walked. It was comfortable. It was their bonding, even if it felt one-sided at times. Scanlan only wanted more.
By the time they had reached the outskirts of Emon, he had a new plan for getting his daughter to open up. This time around, it involved a song.
Hitching his backpack up his shoulders, he flashed her a grin and cleared his throat. In a clear, jaunty tune, he began to sing.
“Oh she was a fiery one
A lady through and through
A little lass, I won’t be crass
She’d deck you so you flew”
Kaylie smirked and caught his eye. “Is this about me?”
“A voice so pure and sweet and yet
Could growl and make you wee!
She throws her voice and makes some noise
You’ll shit yourself and flee!
I wouldn’t say a word
against her dad against her mom
Cause he’s a mess and she’s the best
Her dad made up this song!”
Kaylie covered half her face as a nearby merchant smiled and waved at the newcomers.
“I had to let her know somehow
I love her and I’ve found
It’s hard to share your life
When someone just won’t stick around.
So little one, I swear to you
I’m here to stay and learn
All that I can about you
I’m your father, it’s my turn.”
He fell silent after that, looking expectant and catching Kaylie’s flush as they trudged along the road.
“Not good?” He asked. “Was I sharp?”
“No.”
“Flat?”
“This is still about mum isn’t it?”
They had stopped again, Kaylie looking him over like she was trying to rearrange the honesty in his face into the deceptive scoundrel she had met months ago in that tavern. Her father was all charisma and lies, and it was still fresh to her that he never tried to use those charms on her. Not after the first time.
Scanlan merely looked earnest. “It’s about you, my beautiful, brilliant daughter.”
“And mum.”
“Alright, and your mom.” He bit his lip, looking younger than his years. “I only know she was important to you, and that makes her important to me as well. I should know someone who was such a big part of your life.” Kaylie looked away. She reminded him of a parchment curling up to contain its secrets. After a short pause, she kicked the dirt.
“Load of good that’ll do now,” Kaylie grumbled.
“Please.”
“Not today, Dad.”
Scanlan felt his shoulders slump.
“Alright.”
At least he had gotten a Dad out of it.
Silence followed them the rest of the way to the city. By the time they’d reached a tavern, Kaylie had wandered off for a pint. Scanlan tracked down the owner to pay for their rooms, and once he’d turned around to speak to Kaylie, she had appeared behind him holding a piece of paper under his nose. Their eyes locked briefly as Scanlan took it.
“Goodnight, Father,” she said, and hesitated. It looked like she wanted to say more, but even those words were spoken so quietly Scanlan nearly missed them. He blinked at her.
“Goodnight, Kaylie.”
She scuttled off to one of the rooms, and Scanlan opened the door to the other. He sat on the bed, unfolded the piece of paper, and started to read.
“Her father was a fool
And her mother never knew
She wanted love and found it
With her daughter Kaylie June
She tailored clothes for other gnomes
Learned craftwork just for toys
She cried for days when she was paid
But only shared her joy
She liked a song, to sing along
But never had the gift
Instead she told her daughter how
To turn a phrase for profit
Wiser than the wisest
Lived a clumsy loving life
Gave everything to Kaylie June
Never ever ‘came a wife
Now her daughter runs amuck
To profit from her singer’s luck
And find the father she once took
For someone who looked like a schmuck.”
It was here Scanlan could see a previous lyric had been scribbled over. A far less flattering lyric. He smiled nonetheless.
“Thank you, Kaylie,” he said quietly. Scanlan folded the paper back over and into his pocket.
It wasn’t much, but it was a step in the right direction. And for now, that was all he really wanted.