InsaneJournal

WHO: Vex'ahlia and Vax'ildan
WHAT: The twins get a canon bump.
WHEN: Very early morning of January 30
WARNINGS: Spoilers through the end of Critical Role's C1. Heavy talk of death, the sads.
STATUS: Complete

When Vax opened his eyes, he was nowhere that he would have expected himself to be. He did not know what to expect, truly. Where did one exist when they were the eternal champion to the goddess of death, no longer permitted to walk the planes of the living? Surely nothing as grand as the realms he had seen of the Everlight or Pelor or Ioun. They did not seem to match the Raven Queen's aesthetic.

Nor, he thought, did a luxurious bed filled with soft pillows and even softer blankets and a warm, solid, glorious man.

Vax laid amongst the comfort as the sensation of two lifetimes being merged together in his brain threatened to overwhelm him, just as it had the previous times it had happened. This time, he thought grimly as the events of a year and a couple weeks settled, it seemed would be the last time. A year in Zephrah, followed by a lich ascended to godhood, a fight for the good of Exandria to put him away alongside his family, and pain and death--so much pain and death and not just his own.

He sat up then, silent in that uncanny way he had mastered so long before, and looked down at Gilmore. As expected, he was sleeping, not wounded from Arkhan's axe. Vax felt the very real temptation to curl into his side, not leaving the safety of their bed, but he knew that he couldn't. Every time he had been gifted a flood of memories, Vex'ahlia had likewise gotten the same. With no reason to think this time would be any different, he knew that he would need to find her--for the sake of both twins.

Extricating himself from Gilmore and sliding out of their bed, the darkvision that his elven half gifted him allowed him to dress in haste into something relatively acceptable for the early hour and situation. With one more glance at his partner, Vax mentally promising to return and give him a proper update as well, he slipped out of their room.

The house was quiet and Vax was too, taking silent steps toward Vex's room--and hesitating at the door between the two rooms that led to their younger sister's. Glancing toward Vex's closed door, Vax approached Velora's room, heart in his throat as he cracked the door open to peer inside. He could clearly see his sister asleep, not yet in the habit of tracing (something they should talk to one of the elves that lived under the roof, eventually), arms wrapped around that owlbear plush that she loved so well. Despite what she had been through back home, she had been okay when Vax had last seen her; Kashaw had seen to that, his magic returning both of Vax's sisters to him.

Leaning, Vax let his forehead press against the frame of Velora's door, it still ajar enough to let him see her until he closed his eyes as a rush of emotions flowed through him. He gave himself a few seconds to breathe deeply, then straightened to check on his other sister.

It had taken Vex too long to pull herself from her bed. Paralyzed by the passing of a year and some days and the memory of snowdrops catching on her boots, the thought of even trying to move had seemed as impossible as existing from one heartbeat to the next. Maybe if she never opened her eyes the new memories she drowned in could never be real. Maybe she could will them to remain in some intangible dreamspace.

It was a multitude of things that weighed so heavy on her heart. A lifetime spent in a handful of months that felt both too much to be real, and too real to simply wake up from. It was Percival, and Whitestone. Vecna, and Velora. It was Cassandra, and her friends. It was Vax'ildan.

Vax'ildan.

His name a breath of a whisper on her thoughts. Vex was too afraid that letting it settle, letting it be heard would shatter whatever semblance of composure she possessed. The memory of her twin brother cloaked in darkness, snowdrops and feathers in his wake, was unacceptable. It was not right. A journey that some terrible part of her had known would end right where it had, that had begun in another lifetime, in a cavern, in the wake of a sacrifice she had never asked him to make.

She was angry. She was bitter. Grateful. Heartachingly sad, and hollow. Angry, again.

It was the knowledge that a different life existed outside of this room that pushed past the ice in Vex's veins and dragged her out of her bed. It was habit that found her arms slipping into a robe and clumsily tying it about her waist. It was worry buried deep in her gut that had her opening the door and trying to decide which room she'd stop at first.

It was mercy that Vax'ildan stood just outside Velora's barely open door and relieving Vex of the choice. Her feet took her toward him and, not yet able to meet his eye, afraid that she would look and realize it wasn't him at all, she peeked in and occupied herself for the moment with making sure her sister was all right. And when she could no longer use that as a crutch, she slowly closed the door the rest of the way and turned to look at her brother. Her best friend. Her heart.

Voice barely audible, trembling, she said, "Jenga."

Vax watched as Vex's door opened, as she advanced and looked into Velora's room, as she hesitated in looking at him--and then finally did, his heart immediately shattering at the expression on her face and the waver to that single word, a word that confirmed what he had already known in his heart.

"Vex," he breathed, reaching out to pull his sister to him, his temple pressing to hers. There were many things he thought he should probably say in that moment, yet none of them felt right. How could he assure her that everything would be okay, when he truly couldn't know that? How could he remind her that they were together now, here, in Vallo, when in another world they never would be again? For as accepting of his fate as Vax was and for as at peace he was over it even now, he knew that he couldn't expect the same of Vex.

And so, he pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her in a tight squeeze and whispered all he really could. "I'm sorry."

Despite the way Vex's emotions warred inside of her, she allowed herself to be held. She needed to feel the solidness of him, the realness of him. There was no warmth in it, though. He felt different. He smelled different. Her brother, but not her brother. Vex's Vax but also her Vax. The Raven Queen's champion. Not dead here. Apparently not quite alive, either. She couldn't think about that just now. One more thing and the limited composure she'd managed would come crumbling down.

She wrapped her arms around him, shoulders shaking from the silent tears she tried to contain. She wanted so desperately to hold onto the fact that he was here, but the knowledge of it was woven with the knowledge that here was even less of a guarantee than she'd thought their future back home could be. They had finally found what they had been searching for since they had been herded away from Byroden. They'd finally found home. Family. They were supposed to have long lives ahead of them to enjoy it together. They'd fought for too long to have that dream taken from them in the end. What was the point of any of it now?

Because Vax'ildan was gone.

Gone like Byroden. Like their mother. Like Percival and the twins. Like every godsdamned thing she could ever let herself love would eventually be.

"You left me, you fuck," she said, the words caught amidst a sob.

The words--and the accompanying sob--tore through Vax. She was right, of course. Vex was always right and Vax knew it. He had left her, no matter how much he hadn't wanted to. Yes, there was a peace in his fate, a knowledge that he had done all that he could to keep his family as safe as he possibly could before being taken to the other side, but he couldn't expect anyone else to feel that same peace, especially not when it was still so fresh.

And so, he held Vex, squeezing his eyes shut as he pressed his face to her hair. It was impossible to know what to say that would make any of this better. Were the roles reversed, he knew that there was nothing to be said to fix this. He had to try, though, and try he would.

"I know," he murmured, breathing out a shaky breath. "I know and I'm so very sorry, Vex."

Vex knew it wasn’t fair to feel the anger that she felt. Or maybe it was fair and her heart didn’t quite know where to channel it just yet. Her head knew this wasn’t Vax’ildan’s fault. It wasn’t even really the Raven Queen’s fault. She had given them more time, limited though it was, to fight together, to say goodbye. But even if her head knew that neither of them were truly to blame, even if she knew that this goodbye had been no one’s fault but fucking Vecna’s, the hole torn open inside of her made it impossible for her heart to catch up with her head just now.

She wanted to tell him that she was angry. She wanted to tell him that she understood and that she loved him. She wanted to tell him that she would never forgive him for leaving her to live a half life without him, but she wanted to tell him that there was nothing to forgive, too. The constant tug and pull of all of the things she felt right now made her want to scream, her chest full to bursting with the grief and the madness of it all.

Instead, she stayed there, wrapped in her brother’s arms, not quite comforted by the shadow of him and the tenuous hold he had on her. She was going to fall apart. She was going to fall. She didn’t think she would ever stop falling. How could she reconcile the reality of him here with the loss of him there? How could she convince her heart that this was what mattered?

Vax simply held his twin in return, knowing that it wasn't nearly enough and conscious of the fact that they were in one of the hallways of a very full house and on the other side of the door of a sleeping Velora. He knew that if one of the other Exandrians in the house were to stumble upon this scene, it would be just fine; there would be no judgment, only concerned curiosity. Still, he didn't know if Vex was ready for eyes on her that weren't his own--and even then, he was worried that his own gaze might have been too much.

Squeezing her gently, he pressed a kiss to the side of her head and then backed away just enough to get a look at her. His thumbs brushed along her cheeks, ineffectively trying to rid them of the wetness of her tears. He had always felt a certain level of helplessness when Vex felt pushed to tears. It was his job to keep that from happening in the first place, he had always told himself. Ever since their youth, he took the brunt of situations that he knew would hurt her most, in an effort to spare her. He directed the angry eye of their father to himself whenever possible, trying to keep it from lingering too long on Vex. This was different than any of those times, though. He was part of why she was feeling these emotions and much of what had caused them was another world, another lifetime away. There was no easy fix.

"I know I cannot do much to mend this," Vax said, speaking his thoughts out loud, "and I am just as sorry for that as anything else. But, for whatever it is worth, I am here, right now, with you, and I love you so very much, Vex'ahlia."

If possible, Vex’s face fell further, one shoulder shrugging helplessly as she shook her head then gestured toward him. “Are you, though? I remember everything, brother, so I know what this, all of this, means. Are you–” she paused, fighting past the way her throat tightened and burned at the acknowledgement of Vax’s physical changes. “Are you still here with me? Are you–”

She stopped again, burying her face in her hands as another terrible thought coursed through her. She let herself cry for a moment, unable to stop it even if she’d tried. “Am I going to have to say goodbye to you in a few days?”

That was the question, wasn't it? As much as Vax had wanted to ignore it in favor of focusing on Vex and what he could do to support her, he knew that he wasn't the same as he had been when he had gone to bed the night previous. He was alive, but not in the same way that he had been. He was flesh and bone, but he was also cold and different. He was what his goddess had made him, granting him a few days of added time so he could help his family and bring an end to Vecna--the latter of which just so luckily fell in line with the goals of the Raven Queen.

He didn't want to think about what her determination might have been, had the being that had disintegrated him and was seeking godhood had been anything other than an undead lich.

That hardly mattered in the moment, though. What mattered was finding some sort of assurance to offer not only his sister, but himself. He wasn't sure if there were answers that could be so easily found and given, but he could at least try.

"She isn't here, Vex," Vax murmured, his tone quiet, yet firm. Despite the very brief moment she had appeared in ghostly form over a year ago, he knew that was just an oddity of Vallo. It was something he'd come to terms with, despite his continued worship and maintaining of the space he'd made to do said worship; his faith and continued practicing of it was true, but also a comfort. He was certain that his prayers did not reach her between Vallo and their world's Shadowfell, but they brought him peace, so he continued to make them.

Still, he repeated, "She isn't. I know you have little love for her and I understand why, but--I have to believe that I will be here in a few days and many more days beyond that, for my sake as much as yours." He found Vex's hands, squeezing them with his own. "But I will talk to Shaun or maybe Caleb and Essek, see if there isn't a magical way to confirm it. Maybe Jester will have an idea, being a cleric." One more gentle squeeze. "I will not leave you again."

It was hard to let herself believe that this would not be the end for them. For the first time in her life, Vex didn't quite know how to trust the words Vax said to her. His earnest promise that he would not leave her again hurt in a way she could not put into words because she knew, she knew, that it was a promise that was no more his to make than it was hers. An empty promise, however sincere.

What she did know right now, though, was that finding a way to put it into words was not what her brother needed just then. Just as she'd spent the moments following their goodbye desperately maintaining her composure for the sake of her friends, for Keyleth, she knew that her brother needed some of that from her now, too. She knew he never wanted her to lie to him about how she felt, never wanted her to feel like he wasn't a shoulder she could cry on, but for as much as he spent his life taking care of her, she knew he needed to be taken care of, too.

Maybe he'd made peace back home, but she couldn't imagine this was easy on him now.

So Vex nodded, squeezing his hands back. And against all of her natural instincts, she lied. "I know, Vax'ildan. We have time to figure it out now, don't we? So we will. Together. Everything will be okay." She pulled her hands from his to wrap him in a hug again, needing desperately to believe that their days together were not numbered.

Vax had, of course, known his sister since before they were born. She was an integral part of him and he often felt that he knew her better than he knew himself. In this moment, though, he wasn't entirely sure how to interpret her words. Perhaps, with time, he would be able to better parse together her meaning, whether she truly believed him when he said that he wouldn't leave her--not this time, not in this place. He doubted that this would be the last conversation that they had about any of this, after all.

But, having checked on his sisters, Vax started to feel that bone deep weariness that seemed to always come with one of these damned updates from Tal'Dorei--or Issylra or the Shadowfell or beyond the Divine Gate or the top of a gods be damned Titan, if one wanted to be entirely too specific given how utterly ridiculous their lives had been back home. He had accepted his fate back home, but the Vax in Vallo had only just learned of it a handful of moments before. Perhaps he could be afforded another moment of adjustment.

And it was with that thought that he melted into Vex's embrace, part of him hesitant to take support in the same way he had offered it when she'd first found him in the hallway, but knowing that was just their way. Breathing in a deep sigh (out of reflex and perhaps also due to some subconscious need to remind them both that he could, even if he didn't need to) he hugged his sister back and repeated, "Everything will be okay." If they said it enough, he thought, it might just be true.