Work Text:
Knocking on the partially open workshop door seems prudent before entering, he may be jumpy, “Percy I have the bag of holding. It’s your turn to pack."
Entering the warm room with Trinket, she can see the things he means to pack are strewn over every flat surface. Tools and materials placed in a semi-logical order of importance. The most important on the work tables and the least important on the benches.
He’s sitting on the only bench that doesn’t have a thing on it. His back against the edge of the forge, sketchbook in hand looking up at her. “And Grog is...?” It's a simple question, but one said with both worry and amusement.
Putting the bag of holding down on the work table, she says as calmly as possible, “He is unwilling to come down here at the moment." She's trying to calm his nerves, flashing back herself to that moment a few days ago, eyes shifting from Percy’s face to the corner where Grog almost attacked them.
“Vex, I…” he starts quietly as she sits down in the middle of the bench, “You sided with me?” he seems confused thinking back on it. He shouldn’t be.
Flashing him a grin and pushing away the fear she has from thinking back on that moment. It won't be the entire reason, but it should be enough, "It was the smartest thing I could do. Grog was being…"
“Grog?” he offers as a wholly reasonable explanation for their friend's behavior.
Nodding she glances back to the corner playing back that moment in her mind’s eye, “Thanks for pulling me away from his tackle.” She can see him shrug at that and scratch his cheek before going back to his sketching.
Shifting closer to see what he’s drawing he tilts the page away from her. Too curious now she has to ask, “What are you working on?"
“Just tinkering with something, I’m trying to figure out a way to get that working,” he says with a small sigh letting her see the page and pointing to the gun on the far table across the room, possibly left there in frustration. A strange attachment is added to one of the barrels in the sketch. That just seems dangerous.
Nodding in understanding, the fire crackles behind them and thinking of the smoke it is making above the keep she asks, “It’s not safe to be running the forge is it?”
“No probably not.” He begins to turn the pages in his sketchbook, looking for something, “I had so little time here Vex, I didn’t get to the arrows I promised you,” the regret in his voice as he says it is clear. He’s stopped flipping pages now, the book now open to a design for what he seems to be calling a Siege Arrow.
Oh, that looks very interesting, she reaches for the drawing for a moment about to ask what it would do before she realizes what she's doing. Neither of them should be thinking about something like that at a time like this.
Retracting her hand before she touches the pages she looks at him now, so he knows she's serious when she says, “It's not important, darling. Don’t think of it."
His eyes linger on hers for a moment too long, and she can feel herself blush, gods why is she blushing all of a sudden? Turning to the flames determined not to let him see, she realizes that it’s been so long since she was truly warm. The ice of the white dragon becoming more of a memory now because of the heat but it just brings up memories of the red monster's flames.
"Are you cold?" He asks from beside her, and she nods in response. How could he tell she was cold though?
His voice just a bit smug, “I’m not totally unobservant dear,” he must have seen the question on her face.
“I know you’re not,” she does know that, she does. Fuck, that means he definitely saw her blush.
“Would you and Trinket like to sleep down here tonight?” his question breaks her entirely from her trance.
It only takes a glance to see that his offer was genuine and friendly. “I will hold you to that offer Percy," a grin on her face, "Gilmore has my bedroll. He needed it more than me,” she says, not quite sure why she’s explaining herself.
“I know,” he whispers, and she’s unable to keep the surprise from her face clearly, “I went to give him mine, Pike said you had already supplied one."
He’s looking over to where his make-shift cot is in the corner now. Trinket seems to have already made himself comfortable at the side of it. “Pike’s been using it off and on the past two days for naps but I know she’s staying upstairs tonight in the temple to watch over Gilmore."
It seems he can read the next thought going through her mind, “I can sleep right here,” motioning to the wide bench below them, "besides I still need to do something about all of this,” gesturing wildly at all of the things in front of them. She laughs at the gesture.
“You’re the last one to pack, so all the room that is left inside is yours,” she says looking back at the flames.
“Is there anything from around the keep that you still need to pack?” he asks plainly.
“All the valuables are accounted for,” turning to him now, “I’m not going to leave anything that could be looted and used as a tribute to the…”
Just the thought of it makes her feel like someone has punched her in the stomach, knocking the wind from her. Her home ransacked for that monster, she can feel the tears begin to form in her eyes. She fights them off as best she can, gripping on to the edge of the bench to keep her steady.
“I wish we didn’t have to leave like this.” shaking her head, unable to look him in the eye, “This is is the second time I…” her voice cracks, “My home.”
He shifts closer, just a bit, “Vex?” his tone full of concern.
"That monster, he's the one that... We left, and she died without us, alone,” tears start to fall, letting go of the bench. She’s past being able to control this, just needing to say all of this aloud.
“I know, I saw your face when Allura mentioned Byroden,” he takes her hand, “What was her…?” he sounds so hesitant.
Breathing in deeply before answering, “Elaina, that was her name.” Sharing that with him was easier than she thought it would be. How long has it been since she said it out loud?
"Elaina," he repeats, her mother's name coming from his lips is less strange than she expected.
Fingers of his free hand wipe away some of her tears, "Oh. Vex,” his touch soft and his words full of worry.
He’s turned toward her now, and she allows herself to be gathered in his arms, brought in even closer to him, giving into the vulnerability and the comfort it brings. It's nicer than she's always imagined, being held in his arms. “I'm afraid to die,” she whispers into the air between them, "I don’t want to die the same way she did.” Why couldn’t Vax have just listened to her about this?
"If anyone is dying it's those dragons. He will be taken care of by us or someone else,” his free hand comes around to awkwardly rub her back, trying to be reassuring, and it is actually, "I have a feeling he won’t last too long." How does he know what she needs to hear most?
"I hope you are right Percy," she says softly, he sounded so sure when he said that.
A wet nose bunts her leg, and she turns towards Trinket seeing the concern on his face. Before she can say, anything, from beside her Percy reaches out and pets his head and says, “Thank you Trinket dear.”
They're both quiet for a while, petting Trinket. It helps calm her more. It gives her a moment to collect herself, her thoughts wondering to Percy, her feelings for him. Deciding in a moment that this, well, it is another thing that she shouldn't worry about for now. Nope, not going to think about that at all.
Standing and wiping her eyes one last time he says from behind her, "They’re going to die Vex. We’re coming back here and if we have to rebuild, we will. You will have a home when this is over, and if you fall, we'll bring you back." There he goes again, saying everything she needs to hear if only all of it could be true.
Turning to face him again she can see the honesty in his eyes, he believes what he just said. "What about you? Would you come back, Percival?"
"I haven't thought about it," his face changes a tiny bit, enough for her to know he's no longer telling the truth.
"You’re lying," she accuses, and the shocked look on his face is so worth calling him out on it.
"Am I that easy for you to read?" His voice is full of questions.
Not looking at him on purpose and picking up in one hand the bag of holding from the table, she shakes her head, "Not always dear."
He doesn't respond until she returns to his side, taking her hand again, "I don’t want to die either.” She believes him but that wasn't the question, it does, however, tell her a great deal more. He's worried about it too, dying.
Placing the bag next to him, whispering again she says, “Thank you for giving me a place to sleep,” then adding at the last moment, "you should pack." He nods slowly looking up at her.
Bending down she leaves a small peck on his cheek because she wants to. His cheek is covered in a small amount of stubble.
It's adorable how surprised he is each time she does that, "Thank you," he says as she straightens. His fingers reach up to where her lips just were. If she stays in this spot for much longer, she's going to make a mistake.
Patting Trinket's side, she gets him moving from his spot and walks over to the cot in the corner, deliberately not looking at Percy anymore.
After making herself comfortable she falls asleep slowly, listening to him pack instruments and supplies as quietly as he can, feeling warmer than she's been in days.