Chapter Text
“Alright,” Vex says, both her hands raised with all her fingers spread, “so, buddy, let’s say you had to do something that could be really, really embarrassing and terrible, but there was also the tiniest chance it could make you very happy – what would you do?”
Trinket stares hard at the stone floor for a few seconds, and then gives Vex a long, defeated whine. She sighs, and presses her hands to her face.
They are sitting on the floor of a cavern in Scanlan's magic house, and they are oddly alone. He can hear the footsteps and chatter of the rest of their family, and he can smell smoke and sweat and people-perfume-smells, but they are all distant. Instead, Vex has confined them in a dark, warm space full of sweet, grapey-scented barrels. Despite the lovely aroma, Vex won’t let him sniff at the barrels too much - apparently they’ll make him sick.
Trinket slumps down onto the ground, propping his jaw on his folded paws. He does not understand how this house can be everywhere they go, and how it always looks the same, so he is already a bit frustrated. Worse, his Vex is clearly upset, the way she's fretting with her feathers and pitching her voice so high and avoiding their family, but Trinket just doesn't understand her strange, vague questions. He is desperate to help, but he could get the answer wrong, and disappoint Vex, and that could make everything worse!
(And why would you ever keep so many barrels of something that would make you sick? People are so confusing!)
“Okay, okay,” Vex starts again. She’s sitting cross-legged, a few feet from Trinket. He perks up a little - Vex's new idea seems to have given her some energy. “Let’s say I shot you a big, juicy deer for dinner, only I left it out in the middle of a rickety bridge. If you went out to get it, you might fall off and splash water everywhere and make a big bear fool of yourself, and everyone would laugh at you – but also, you might get the deer, and it would be the most wonderful deer you'd ever eaten, and you were just starving for it. Would you risk it?”
Trinket buries his head under his paws, and then rolls onto his back, like he’s trying to untwist this twisty question. “Why would you put my dinner on the rickety bridge if I could fall off?” he asks.
Vex gasps, and reaches out to rub the fur on his cheeks. “Oh, darling, I’d never do that! It was just a metaphor - just an example!”
Her fingers dart up to scratch behind his ears, which is so nice and distracting that Trinket forgets to ask what a metaphor is. After a while, Vex releases him and lets him settle back down on the floor. She gives a long sigh, one that reminds him a bit of Percy Dear. “This probably isn’t the right approach, is it?”
“I don’t know,” Trinket says earnestly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Trinket,” Vex says. “I'm being confusing. I’m confused.” She plucks at the her tail of dark hair. Trinket has watched her weave that curious plait almost every morning since she rescued him, and still, she never seems happy with it. She fiddles with the ribbon tying it shut, and she tugs at fraying strands and tucks them away. Every morning, without fail, she takes it out starts it over. Perhaps she won't be happy until it's absolutely perfect. "I think I have to do something scary, that’s all. And I have to do it soon.”
Trinket presses up onto his front paws, and slams them into the stonework. That he understands. Finally! He puffs himself up as big and scary as he can, and says, “I will protect you from the dragons, Vex. They have cold hearts and I will bite them out.”
“I know, sweet pea,” she says. She leans forward, a big grin on her face, and grabs both his cheeks. “Did you know your mummy killed a great big white dragon yesterday?”
Really?! Trinket’s so excited and proud he stamps once on his paws again, breaking her grip by accident. “You see?” he barks. “You are very brave, Vex.”
She’s a hero! He’s so proud he doesn’t know how to express it, so he just lets his head flop down onto her lap and nuzzles up into her stomach. She gives him an eager scratch behind the ears, giggling, and then folds over to hug him around the neck. “Isn’t that just like me, hm? Dragons I can deal with, but a little conversation is scaring the shit out of me.”
Wait, is that all? She's scared of talking to someone, then? Trinket tries to imagine how a conversation could be scarier than a dragon. What kind of conversation could roast you up like a rabbit on a spit, or eat you all in one bite?
Then again, Vex has been scared of talking before. She doesn’t like talking to that one dry-voiced elf, the one they saw in the Feywild – Syldor? He makes her so angry she starts shaking. (Despite that, Trinket's still not allowed to bite him.)
Maybe she's not scared of him anymore, though. The last time they met the elf, Percy Dear cast a spell on her. Sometimes, Scanlan or Keyleth will point at other people in their family and say “I’ll turn you into a crow!” and then, bam! A swish and sparkle of magic and there will be a little black bird where a half-elf once stood. In Syngorn, Percy said he would turn Vex into a “Baroness”, which didn’t make her look or smell any different from regular Vex – but her tears stopped, and her smile was the biggest Trinket had ever seen it. It must have been magic of some kind, to make her so brave.
He thinks about asking Vex what a “Baroness” is, but before he can, she stands up, giving Trinket a quick pat on the head so he’ll stay where he is. Vex picks up one of the sweet-smelling bottles, takes a generous swig, and then sits down on the ground next to him with the bottle in her hands, leaning against his tummy for support. He settles back down obediently, wondering how he can possibly help his Vex if she won’t tell him what’s bothering her.
“So, Trinket, dear,” she says, her voice high and musical, “Totally apropos of nothing, completely unrelated – what do you think of everyone else in our family, hm? Grog, Scanlan, Keyleth, you know – everyone else?”
Trinket rolls so Vex is leaning against his side instead. These are easier questions, although he still can't quite pin down the reason behind them. He hopes he hasn't disappointed Vex, and thinks hard about his answer this time to make up for it. “They are all important to you,” he decides, “so I will protect them too.”
There’s a hollow glass sound and a swish as Vex sets the bottle down on the stone for a moment. Vex makes a beckoning motion, like she does when she wants Trinket to follow her somewhere. “Come on now, darling, details. Opinions. Juicy gossip.”
It’s an interesting question. Most of the time, he just thinks that Vex’s family is his family. They do annoying things sometimes (he will never forgive Vax and Keyleth for those ribbons), but they have all fed him and brushed his fur and protected him in battle, too.
“I like Grog a lot,” he starts.
“Of course you do,” Vex chuckles.
“He’s very brave and strong,” Trinket insists. “And he fights with his heart, like a bear.”
Vex is still laughing. “You’re the sweetest thing,” she says.
Trinket isn’t sure if she’s talking to him or to whatever she’s drinking, because she takes another swig from the fruity-scented bottle before she talks again. “I can’t believe we don’t do this more often,” she continues. “And the rest of them?”
“I think Keyleth is the most like me.”
“Huh,” Vex says. She leans her head back against Trinket’s fur, staring up at the ceiling. Trinket looks up too, following her gaze. There are wooden arches above, almost like tree branches, but much smoother. “I suppose it must seem that way, from your perspective,” Vex says. “Druids and their nature magic and all.”
“Scanlan is confusing,” Trinket confesses next, which makes Vex laugh. Now that she’s asked for his opinions, they’re coming out all in a rush. “He keeps popping in and out from place to place. Sometimes I like his singing, and sometimes it hurts my ears. And I don’t understand why Pike only gets to come on adventures sometimes. She likes to brush my fur and she’s very good at it.” After a moment, reconsiders. “Percy Dear is good at that too, though.”
“What was that, darling?” Vex cuts in. “What did you call him?”
“Percy Dear?” Trinket repeats, tentatively. “That’s what you call him. Is it wrong?”
“No, darling, it’s absolutely perfect.” She’s got a laugh trapped in her voice, like a butterfly trying to get through a closed window – and Trinket isn’t sure why, but it seems like a good sign. She continues, “So, you like Percy Dear, do you?”
“Yes,” he says. “I like that he makes you presents and keeps all his promises."
"Promises?" Vex echoes. "What kinds of promises, dear?"
Trinket briefly wonders if talking about this will get him in trouble. That mantoman with Percy Dear is still fresh in his mind, and Trinket can't break a promise, especially after shaking on it. That would be bad manners.
Although...technically speaking, he never promised to keep Percy Dear's compliments and good feelings a secret. The only promise he made was to protect Vex, which he was going to do anyway. Hah! Trinket wastes a moment on his own preening pride. Percy Dear's supposed to be the smartest human of all of them, and Trinket tricked him!
"We promise each other that we will protect you.” Then he adds, with great solemnity, “And we always do a handshake.”
Slowly, she says, “Are you telling me, dearest Trinket, that Percival de Rolo has been swearing oaths to my pet bear and shaking his paw when I’m not around?”
That sounds about right, so Trinket grunts, “Yes.”
Vex lets the bottle fall slack in her hand, and says “Fuck.” Then she sits up, puts her head down between her knees, and grumbles, “oh, no no no,” and makes a noise that sounds partway like sobbing but partway like laughter, and then with a sudden swish she throws the bottle against the wall where it shatters, and over the noise she half-yells, “That is so fucking cute Trinket goddamn it!” At last, she collapses, letting her head fall back against Trinket’s shoulder. Sprawled out there, she moans, “Oh my god, Trinket, I love him so much.”
At that, Trinket arches his shoulders upwards, giving Vex a little shove of protest. She reaches out, slightly dizzy, and pats one of his paws. “I love you most, darling,” she mumbles. Satisfied, Trinket lets her ramble on, her words slurring into each other. “But he’s so sweet sometimes, and so brilliant, you know?”
And she sort of punches the ground with a half-slack fist, her voice growing shrill. “And he’s all tall and charming, and what with that awful smile and those stupid blue eyes I can’t even look at him now! You know, we were in the library just the other day and he did this terrible thing where we sort of walked into each other in the doorway, so he stepped back and he held the door and he bowed.” She laughs. “Actually bowed, holding the door like I was some kind of proper lady. A real Baroness.”
Trinket listens to her sigh, and he starts to put things together. Love, he knows, makes people (and bears) happy until it is love of a very particular kind. There’s a love that makes them stop working right, that makes them hesitate and tremble and forget how to talk, and cry and complain just like Vex is doing.
“Is he going to be your mate?” Trinket asks.
Vex rears up from his back with a gasp. “Trinket!” she scolds, and that’s definitely the Trinket’s-in-trouble voice, so he flattens his ears to his head and lowers it to show he’s sorry. Vex puts her fingertip on his muzzle. “Where’d you learn that word, you naughty boy?”
That’s an odd thing to get in trouble for. “I just know it,” he says. “Where did you learn all the words that you know?”
For a long time, Vex is quiet. “Huh,” she says. “Good question.”
Then she sighs, rolls over onto her knees and leans into Trinket’s shoulder, plucking at his fur with her fingertips. “It’s not usually what we call it,” she continues, “but if that’s how you think of it, I guess it’s good as good a word as any.”
Wow. That’s serious. Honestly, Percy Dear strikes him as a weird choice, at first. Technically, Grog would have been the obvious pick. He’s much bigger and healthier than Percy Dear. Good mates protect each other, and fight for each other, and for bears they do that best when they are strong. Percy Dear’s one of those clever humans, though, and if he can keep Vex safe with cleverness instead then that might be enough. Still, Vex needs to know what she’s getting into. As gravely as he can, Trinket explains, “Your children will be skinny and it’s very cold in Whitestone, so make sure you buy them coats.”
“Our what?” Vex says flatly.
“Your cubs.”
She blinks, and then, in a small, tense voice, says “Oh, alright, well, shit. I really hadn’t thought about that, and now I am. Now I am very, very much thinking about that. Thank you, Trinket.”
“You’re welcome,” Trinket says, happy to have helped at last. After a moment, he adds, “I would keep your cubs safe, too.”
“I know you would, buddy,” she mumbles. After a long moment of quiet, she asks, “So, then – I guess I never thought to ask you this, but does that mean you approve? Of – um, Percy Dear?”
Trinket considers. Percy Dear is always nice to him. He’s good at brushing, and he thinks very highly of Vex. More importantly, that strange, smoke-scented human somehow knows all the best tricks to make Vex smile, and he has promised that he will keep her safe. There is always room for improvement, of course – he has made Vex cry before, and if he doesn’t want to know exactly how sharp Trinket’s teeth are he will not make that mistake again – but if he really wants to keep Vex happy, like he promised, then he will improve. Trinket will make sure he practices better manners.
“If he makes you happy,” Trinket replies, “then he is a good choice.”
“Funny you should say that,” Vex continues. Her voice is thin and small, like she’s telling a secret. “He’s been breaking my heart more often than not, these days.”
Trinket knows what she’s talking about. For a day, her Percy Dear was taken away from her – and that was the only word for what happened, because they carried a harmless, hollow thing that looked just like Percy Dear, but had none of him inside it. He’d never seen his Vex so shaken, so broken.
He doesn’t have much to say to that, so he turns around and noses up to Vex’s cheek in a way that makes her giggle instead. This time, her laugh is more like a cough, but when she shoves him playfully away she does look happier.
“So I bet you’ll say just what Vax said, huh, buddy?” she says. “That I should tell him how I feel, even if he doesn’t feel the same, and even if it’s pointless and will make everything horribly awkward for the rest of time?”
Trinket rolls under her hands, and she scratches his ears, his neck ruff, smooths out his fur. “I don’t understand, Vex,” he complains.
“What’s that, dear?”
He thinks back to Percy Dear, in the workshop. He wanted the same thing – he thought Vex was wonderful, and didn’t want her to know. It's the strangest secret to keep. “He loves you too. He wants to protect you and he thinks you are very special. How could that be bad?”
“Sometimes I wish things were as simple as that, Trinket," she sighs.
“Maybe they are," he argues. "If you tell him why he is important to you, that should make him feel good. I don't think he could ever feel horrible about that."
Vex pauses. "That's not a bad idea. Tell him why he's important to me," she repeats. "It's a nice middle ground. Thank you, buddy. I love you, you know."
Trinket licks her cheek, and nuzzles his way into her lap again. He knows, of course he knows - and he tells Vex he loves her too. He hopes that she'll be brave enough to say it to Percy Dear. It feels good to hear it, but it feels even better to say it out loud. Then the words are clear in everyone's hearts, and no one can make the mistake of thinking they are alone.