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Percival de Rolo was not a stranger to the dark.
The dark had been his acquaintance for a very long time. He had fought with darkness in his blood as a youth, he had grappled with it and fought against it. He had kept it at bay for at least thirty years now to where it couldn’t touch his family…but that didn’t mean the Darkness was completely gone. It had left its scar, revealing itself in his darkest moments, its fingerprints on his life. He’d done well to stifle it. To hide it before it could hurt his children, confusing them with the tumult of his youth, but that didn’t mean it didn’t linger.
It would always be there, a part of him.
He knew it.
His wife knew it.
Even their children knew it.
He just had to work hard to ensure his darkness would never hurt them.
Maybe then he could protect them all from the dark.
But he had failed.
It was that thought that kept him awake several nights after their battle for the Malleus Key, after the battle that had brought his brother-in-law back to them for such a short time. He lay in bed watching the shadows cast on his walls, monsters drawn in shadow by moonlight and trees.
The soft breaths of his wife were the only thing he could hear, and though there was never a more beautiful sound in his life, he couldn’t help but be reminded of his failure.
The darkness had taken that from him.
It had only been for a moment…but it’d been long enough.
He’d been lying awake most nights since it had happened, his mind a hurricane of anger and pain that he couldn’t quite decipher. It was a strangely familiar grief- after all their family was no stranger to death- but with it came a sense of guilt and shame that he was afraid to acknowledge.
He squeezed his eyes shut as the image appeared in his mind again.
Crimson blood against white armor.
A glass blade through his wife’s ribcage.
A weak hand outstretched for him.
Beautiful dark eyes turned suddenly blank.
He tried so hard to push the memory away, even as he listened more intently to the sound of her breathing beside him, but it still was there.
He could still hear the deafening thud of her body hitting the ground.
He could still hear the sound of the glass blade releasing her.
He could still hear her soft and dying voice…her final breath used to plead with him.
“Save him.”
He sighed heavily, reaching for his glasses on the bedside table. The ritual from the nights prior was to be repeated, it seemed. Sleep was held at a distance by the iron wall of his shame.
He was careful as he rose from the bed, not wanting to wake his wife- she was tired enough as it was. He reached for a dark blue robe and wrapped it around him, shuddering from something other than the cold. With one hand on his cane, he slowly and carefully made his way out of the room.
He stopped only for a moment to look at his wife.
After thirty years his breath was still stolen away every time he took in her beauty.
Her dark wavy hair was outstretched across her large pillows like a butterfly’s wings as she curled in on herself, her eyes closed and a small frown on her face. She always looked so angry when she slept. Beautiful…but angry. It was one of the many little things that had made him fall in love with her on a daily basis since they'd been married.
The thought of that bed being empty without her…
A life without Vex’ahlia…
No…
He pushed the thought away, listening again for the soft sound of her breathing.
She was safe.
They’d come home.
That was enough.
He closed the door behind him, allowing his wife to get the rest she deserved.
He’d done this every night since they’d come home, sleep evading him completely since it had happened. He knew exactly why, but he wasn’t quite sure how to handle it, especially when his family had been afforded the joy of having Vax’ildan back for so brief a time.
The children had been so excited to finally meet their uncle after nearly thirty years of hearing stories of him. For them to finally have the joy of meeting his wife’s twin, the man who’d been a brother to him, was a blessing and he didn’t want the fear and sadness that he held with him to spoil that, especially not for Vex, who’d wanted her brother back for so long.
He couldn’t take that joy away from his wife and children after they’d fought so hard and for so long to have it back.
He’d even allowed himself to experience that joy for a moment.
But when Vax was gone again, all of the fear, anger, and suffering had come flooding back to him.
The shock of what had happened to his beautiful, powerful, wonderful wife…the woman who had been a lifeline, a tether for him…the mother of his children… was too much to bear.
He found his way to his workshop, changing out the candle he’d melted into nothingness from the previous nights. As he lit the new candle, a golden glow was cast across the space, sparsely lighting the room littered with tools and sketches that had become messy in the past few nights. He would have to organize it again soon, he knew, but he just couldn't find the energy to do so just yet.
He sank into his seat at his workbench, his eyes instantly trained on the objects on the table before him.
His wife’s armor.
When they’d returned to Whitestone and changed into more comfortable clothes to enjoy their limited time with Vax, he’d brought her armor to his workshop, telling her that he would mend it for her.
In the nights he’d been awake since then, however, all he could do was stare at it.
He could only stare at the dried blood and pierced material where a glass blade had torn her from them. He could only stare at it and feel that emptiness and rage that had consumed him the second he’d seen that monster bring his blade down on her.
He was no stranger to seeing his wife’s blood.
He’d helped her wrap minor injuries and scrapes in their days with Vox Machina, long before they’d been married.
They’d seen many battles together, shedding blood to save a hungry, needy, and thankless world.
Gods, if they were thinking of the sheer magnitude of blood he's seen, he’d been present for the birth of all five of their children.
They’d seen more than enough of each other’s blood to be almost used to it, even in difficult situations. In their line of work and marriage, it was inevitable…but that didn’t mean that it still didn’t hurt to know that the other had suffered.
His mind flashed with the memory.
Vex, too far away from him, barely holding her own against the Sunder King, valiantly fighting him off with everything she had.
He could remember how he’d watched helplessly as he slashed at her.
He remembered the bright red stains of her blood littering the battlefield, and the feeling in his veins that begged him to be closer to her. That begged him to keep her safe and get her as far away from the monster as much as possible. He could still feel the ache in his chest, the panic and ire that had filled him at the sight of her fighting for her life.
And then he had seen the blade pierce her chest and watched the wretched beast drop her.
Like she was inconsequential.
Like she was nothing.
He had seen her hand lift, her eyes fluttering shut, and her voice…
Gods…her voice…
“ Save him.”
The moments after that had been blurred by the cold grief and rage that had curled around his heart. The fire that had sparked to life within him was familiar, the old friend of vengeance and rage sparking to life with the sudden anger in his chest.
He sighed, trying to push the memories away as he looked at his wife’s armor, a shaking hand coming out to brush against the bloodstained gap where someone had taken her from him. Where someone had stolen her from their children.
They’d made this to protect her.
Over thirty years ago they’d made the armor so that she could have an extra layer of protection aside from her huntress leathers.
He could remember how proud she was of her armor, the white dragon scales contrasting beautifully with her tanned skin.
This was supposed to protect her.
He was supposed to protect her.
And he’d failed.
He had to do better than that.
“Too much,” he muttered to himself, his breath catching in his throat, “Too much blood.”
He had to fix her armor.
He had to make it better.
He couldn’t let this happen again.
He felt limp as he stood and grabbed a small sponge from his bench, walking over to the sink in his workshop to fill a small bucket with water before setting to work, trying to clean the blood from his wife’s armor.
He moved like a man possessed, his hands working over her armor gently and carefully, scrubbing the rust-colored stains from the material, wincing as he watched the way it streaked against the pale dragon scales. He swallowed hard as he focused his efforts, the diluted blood staining his fingers, getting beneath his nails.
This was his wife’s blood.
His wife’s blood.
He unleashed a shuddering breath as he squeezed the sponge in the water, before wetting it again and going over the jagged edges of her armor where a blade had pierced through it, the blood continuing to stain his hands, but he didn’t care, his mind desperate to rid the armor of any sign of her pain. Trying to rid it of any signs that she’d been taken from them at all. The scent of iron and smoke filled his nose as he scrubbed insistently at the material. He would need to polish it and work hard to get it to a place where it would be repaired, but he didn’t know how he could improve it yet.
There was still too much blood on this damned armor.
He’d failed.
He’d failed as a husband.
He’d failed her.
As he scrubbed, his mind presented him again with the look in her eyes as life left them. The moment when the familiar fear of losing the woman he loved more than anything met him again.
He’d felt it in Purvan’s tomb.
He’d felt it when they’d battled Raishan.
He’d felt it when they’d battled Vecna.
He’d felt it at their second wedding.
That hopeless, all-encompassing fear that had struck him like a bolt of lightning.
All of those events were so far back in the past, he had thought he would never have to feel that pain and terror again…and yet, here it was, coiling around his heart like a viper.
He kept scrubbing.
He had to make it better.
He would not fail her again.
He couldn’t.
The force of his scrubbing against the white material almost ripped the sponge in two as he kept at it, the blood still streaking against the material as he desperately tried to clean it.
All he could see was her blood now.
Her blood on the ground.
Her own blood on her face.
Her blood on Pike’s hands.
And there was still too much blood on her fucking armor.
Too much blood.
Too much blood.
Too much fucking blood.
“Percy?”
He gasped at the sound of a soft voice, breaking through the haze of guilt in his mind.
Her voice always broke him free from the smoke that blinded him completely.
Part of him didn’t want to look at her, the shame and guilt hanging heavily in his chest. He had failed her. He had almost lost her. The shame of it…the anger and fear was still there. Still, he inhaled sharply and looked at her finally.
She leaned against the doorway of his workshop, her dark hair over her shoulders in a messy curtain that did nothing to silence the grace and elegance she carried with her. She wore a silk robe over her dark blue nightgown- one of her favorites with the low-cut neckline she would use to tease him on nights when the children weren’t planning on barging in at any second. Her dark eyes were trained on him, studying him intently, the way she always would when she knew something was wrong.
“Percival,” she breathed, taking in his appearance.
“Vex,” he greeted her with a nod, his voice coming out in a whisper. He worried that if he spoke any louder, he might break. His throat tightened, trying to get ahold of the worry in his head, trying to keep a lid on all that was rattling around in his mind.
She took a step forward, her eyes darting to the armor on the table, to the red watery stains on his hands and fingers.
Her eyes were sad as she stopped in front of him, looking from the armor to him, “Darling, what’s wrong?”
He said nothing, not standing from his seat at the table. He glanced from the armor to the sponge in his hand, to the blood that remained.
“Nothing,” he managed to whisper.
A stupid and pointless lie, but it had come so automatically to him that he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
She scoffed in a breath and shook her head, an affectionate but sad look in her eyes. A soft hand came up to cup his cheek, and she wiped away tears.
He hadn’t even realized he’d been crying.
“Percy…” she whispered, looking at him with gentle, knowing eyes, “Talk to me, love.”
He glanced down at the floor, not wanting to meet her eyes before he caught sight of her neckline. While normally he’d be staring incessantly at it, unable to tear his eyes away from it with how beautiful his wife was, what he saw only reminded him of his guilt and shame. The shimmering remnants of a killing blow marked her sternum, ever so slightly visible in the candlelight of his workshop. It wasn’t a fully visible, angry scar, just a shadow left behind from where Pike had mercifully healed it, bringing her back to him, but it was there. A reminder. She had others from the onslaught that Ozo Cruth had wrought upon her, but this was the one that had that terrifying finality in it.
There it was again.
Her blood.
The soft whisper of her last breath.
The blade ripping her from him.
He closed his eyes, trying to force the memory back to the recesses of his mind while tears pricked his eyes. He turned his face downward, unable to look at his wife.
He had failed her.
He had failed her.
“Darling…”
Her hands guided his face to look at her, her thumb gently wiping away the hot tears that rolled down his cheeks.
“You’ve come down here every night since we returned,” she whispered. Not an accusation. Just a simple statement. An observation.
He managed a nod, trying hard to swallow the lump in his throat but to no avail.
“That’s not odd,” he whispered, managing to look at her for only a second before staring back down at the ground, “I’ve come here late at night before.”
“But not every night after a battle,” Vex nodded, her voice firm and soft at the same time, as if she was trying her hardest to get him to talk to her, “This is different, love.”
He couldn’t deny that.
“In thirty years,” she started, her voice growing softer, “When have you ever been able to hide from me, Percival?”
He chuckled softly at that.
The obvious answer was never.
This woman knew him better than he knew himself.
“Please, darling,” she breathed, “Please…talk to me.”
Her voice sounded so sad.
So scared.
And his self-loathing rose in droves at the thought. How selfish he was, he thought. She had just lost her brother again after thirty years of separation, and here he was worrying her all over again. She was owed some peace of mind.
“I…” he managed finally, his brain scrambling for words, for an explanation that he might offer. He gestured uselessly at the armor on the table, still avoiding eye contact with her, “I…couldn’t…”
He swallowed hard, trying to find the words.
There was no name for the grief and anguish he had felt in that moment. There was no name for the sickening anger that still simmered deep in his gut. All of that whirling painful agony that he had felt in that moment was without a name and almost couldn’t be spoken into the world.
“You…” he whispered, his voice cracking as he managed the words, “You died.”
She exhaled in a sound that wasn’t exactly a laugh, and her gaze softened. She nodded softly, “Yes.”
“You…” he breathed, “You died, and I couldn’t…”
He couldn’t do anything.
He couldn’t help her.
He couldn’t keep her safe.
He had failed her.
“I…” he whispered, “I…I couldn’t…”
He cursed himself for not being able to find the words, tears coming unbidden, rolling down his face as he failed to look at his wife. He couldn’t look at her.
“You died,” he whispered, trying again for the words, though they ran dry in his mind, “And I couldn’t keep you safe…”
“Darling…”
She tilted his face gently to look up at her again and she shook her head.
“We knew the risks,” she whispered, “There was always a chance that something was going to go wrong. What happened…it wasn’t your fault.”
“That’s not…” he whispered, “I don’t…I couldn’t… I didn’t want to…”
He trailed off, the damned thought echoing in his mind.
She nodded softly, her thumb tracing his cheek as she looked at him, her eyes begging for him to talk to her. She had been the safe harbor for him to release his tight hold on all his fears for thirty years. There was no one safer for him to show all of his trepidation and sadness.
Like him, she was no stranger to the dark.
And to him, she was a candle in that darkness.
No.
Not a candle.
A beacon.
A bright light that could cut through all that rage like a sharp blade.
So why was it so hard for him to let go of this now?
He bit his lower lip before looking back up at his wife. At the woman who’d stood at his side through all of the storms he’d faced in his adult life. At the woman who had helped him reclaim his home when he’d been so sure there was nothing in this world that he wanted to live for. At the woman who had called him back from death and darkness more times than he could count.
The truth of his terror was there.
“I…I didn’t want to come home without you.”
The words were so quiet, barely a whisper, but her keen ears heard it all the same. Her mouth opened, then closed, as if she couldn’t find any words to say.
He shook his head, “I…I wasn’t going to go home without you.”
Because the truth was, that he couldn’t face a life without her light. He couldn’t face a day without that beautiful brightness. It was selfish, he knew…and her light could be seen in all of their children, but a life without his wife by his side might as well have been all nine hells on Earth.
“I watched you die,” he breathed, “And in that moment, I didn’t care what happened to me. The whole world could have gone to hell for all I cared. All I could think about was how I wasn’t going to go home without you. I wasn’t.”
When they’d spoken to Keyleth about the risks of the mission, the possibility of something happening was always to both of them or just him.
Not Vex alone.
A brutal fate like that wasn’t meant for his wife.
Besides, he’d always known that one way or another, he was going to die first.
He’d always made peace with the fact that he was going to leave first. That there would be a day when he would be gone, and his wife and children would still be alive and well. He knew that and was okay with it because his children would have their mother. His children would have the light and joy that had safeguarded his home and heart for so many years. He could leave the world in peace knowing that with the help of his wife, he had left the world better than he had found it.
But to live without that light…it was an unspeakable fear.
“We knew the risks, yes,” he nodded, swallowing hard, “But, you and our children are the most precious things in my life…and I failed you again.”
“Percy…” she whispered, shaking her head. She looked appalled at the suggestion, “Love, you didn’t.”
“But I did,” he looked up at her seriously, “I failed you. I failed our children.”
He thought of their wedding vows at that second wedding all those years ago.
“Every day since I met you,” he breathed, tears falling faster now, “You…you kept me honest. You pulled me from the darkness time and time again…and you believed in me. You made me a far better man than I ever thought I could be… a husband, a father… and I promised myself that…”
Her eyes were filled with tears as she waited for him to finish his sentence.
He inhaled sharply.
“I promised myself that I would always…” he whispered, “Always protect you. Always keep you safe.”
“Protect me?” she raised an eyebrow, a tearful laugh leaving her.
He scoffed at how silly the words suddenly sounded. He was talking to the Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt. He was talking to the woman who felled Vorugal of the Chroma Conclave. He was talking to a woman of legends.
“Not because you needed my protection,” he amended, chuckling humorlessly at how stupid he suddenly sounded, “But because I can’t imagine living in a world without you. I never want to.”
It was selfish.
But it was the truth.
“I’ve felt the same when we fought Raishan, Vecna…our wedding…” he trailed off, the cold painful memories washing over him. All the times he’d seen his wife fall. Of course, the powerful woman that she was, she had gotten up afterward like it was nothing, but the fear was still there. The fear that perhaps he’d have to face a world alone, “I don’t want to do this without you.”
He looked down, the guilt and shame washing over him all over again.
“I…I can’t do this without you.”
Without her, he would have never been able to reclaim his home all those years ago. Without her, he would have never been able to forgive himself for all the wrong his ire had caused. Without her, he would never have been able to keep going and become the man he’d become.
He’d never thought of himself as a good man, but she made him want to be.
She made him want to spend every day to be the man she thought he could be.
“I don’t want to do this without you, either.”
Her words were soft. A small whisper that made him want to start crying all over again. His eyes snapped up to her, a sudden shudder wracking his body at the vulnerability in her voice. Her hands still cupped his face, holding him softly, a reminder that she was there and that she wasn’t going anywhere. There were tears in her beautiful hazel eyes, and in them, there was a stifled pain that unfurled itself like a nocturnal flower.
“We can talk about mortality all day long,” she whispered, “But battles or not, the thought of facing this world without you…alone…it terrifies me, Percy.”
He thought grimly of the locket she still kept Trinket in to prolong his lifespan, refusing to let go of her oldest and most dear friend. Of the fear that would flicker in her eyes when he would complain of aching joints and age. Though he was younger than her by a few years, he felt the weight of age far more than she.
The fear of being completely alone in the world was one he knew haunted her.
“Do you remember what I told you,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek, “When we called you back…after Glintshore?”
One of her hands went to trace one of the starburst scars on his chest, faded with age, but still there. A reminder of his first death all those years ago at the hands of Anna Ripley. The memory of what she had said during his revival rite had come back in waves after he’d returned to life, but they were there all the same.
“Your heart was mine?” he whispered, a ghost of a smile tracing on his lips.
“Aside from that,” she smiled through the tears, “I told you…I didn’t want to be here if you weren’t…and that’s still true.”
She shook her head, and stepped closer, her hands falling to his shoulders as she knelt in front of him.
“The thought of a life without you terrifies me,” she breathed, “You gave me a home…a life I never thought I would ever have. A family, Percy…and the thought of living in that without you scares me beyond belief.”
He stuttered on a breath, closing his eyes as her hand cupped his face again.
“But what is love,” she whispered, “If not having something that would break you to lose?”
He glanced at her, looking into those beautiful eyes. The light from the candle flickered softly with the brown of her eyes, almost allowing for the small flicker of the Dawnfather’s divinity to reveal itself in the dim light.
“Then again,” she whispered, “What is love if not having something to live for? Something that makes you want to face this shitty world? Something that makes you want to pursue life?”
He couldn’t stop a small smile from tracing his face at the hope in her eyes.
“After all,” she smirked softly at him, “A wise man once said, life needs things to live.”
He groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation, almost choking on his tears as a hoarse laugh left him.
“You thought I’d forget a gem like that?” she winked at him.
“It has been over thirty years,” he complained, before nodding, “But I see what you mean.”
She smiled at him, leaning close to him and cupping his face gently, her eyes locked onto his, “I’m alive, dear. I’m here…and I’m not going anywhere.”
He closed his eyes and nodded.
“And,” she went on, her eyes growing serious, “You didn’t fail me. That’s bullshit your mind is trying to feed you, and I won’t stand for it.”
He sighed and looked down.
“When have I ever lied to you?” she raised an eyebrow.
He chuckled softly, swallowing down the lump in his throat, “Never.”
“Exactly,” she nodded, “And when have I ever been wrong?”
“Rarely,” he croaked, an answer that was meant to be snarky. He chuckled at her raised eyebrow, “Or…never.”
“See? You’ve got it,” she nodded at him, a small smile on her face, “I’m always right. Therefore, you didn’t fail me.”
He chuckled softly at her roundabout logic, before looking down at his hands, at the drying bloody stains underneath his nails.
The memory of that day flashed in his mind again, but her voice snapped him out of it as quickly as it came.
“Hey.”
He looked back up at her to find her smiling softly at him.
“I’m alive, Percy,” she whispered, “You’re alive. We’re okay. We’re safe. We’re home.”
He nodded, “We’re home.”
“We have five beautiful, rambunctious children,” she chuckled, her smile only growing, “And they still need us, regardless of what they may say.”
He smiled slowly at the thought of the five lives they had made. Of the five people who reflected all of their best and worst attributes. He’d been a father for almost thirty years…a fact that baffled and terrified him. There were five exceptional, talented, strong people that he’d helped bring into this world. Five people loved him enough to call him their father. Five people he could look at and see a reflection of the love he had for his wife, and the love she had for him.
He was so proud of all of them.
He cracked his eyes open to look at her, “We did very well.”
“We did,” she laughed, her smile growing as she looked at him. She still had tears in her eyes, but they were more hopeful than sad, “We have so much life left in us, Percy, and I want to share it with you.”
He nodded, chuckling tearfully at the thought.
He’d never know what he’d done in his life to deserve this woman. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this beautiful soul could always pull him from that ever-present darkness that followed him like a shadow.
And she was his wife.
He nodded, “Okay.”
“Okay,” she smiled, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
There was a moment of silence where he just leaned into her, her soft and strong hands wrapping around him, holding him close. He could hear her heartbeat through her warm skin, a reminder that she was there, and he listened to it. He listened to the reminder that she was there. That she was alive and she loved him.
She cupped his face again, and tilted his head up, meeting his lips in a soft and tender kiss. He hummed softly into it, his worries instantly being silenced, as if all of the fear and pain were gone, leaving him as his wife held him, reminding him without words that she was there.
She was safe.
She was here.
After a moment, she pulled back and frowned down at the bloodstains on his hands.
“Let’s take care of these,” she whispered, stepping backward.
He could only respond with a tired nod.
She led him gently over to the sink in the corner, and he followed her lead, surrendering his hands to his wife’s gentle and caring touch. With warm water and soap that smelled of pine, she started to scrub the blood from his hands, trying to remove the memories of the blood spilled during that fateful battle from him. She was silent as she worked, her eyes intently focusing on the blood beneath his nails, staining his skin. He just watched as her careful and kind hands firmly and gently worked the stains away. It only took a moment, and he released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in as the blood was finally erased from his skin.
After that, she just took his hands in hers and pressed a soft kiss to each one of his knuckles.
“Come to bed, Percival,” she breathed, cupping his face with one hand and holding his hand to her heart in the other.
He couldn’t stop himself from unleashing a small yawn as the weight of all the sleepless nights suddenly crashed down on him, finally allowing himself to feel the urge to sleep. He nodded with a small smile, leaning his forehead against her own, allowing her to take the lead.
The trek back to their bedroom was a blur, with her arms wrapped around him, slowly and carefully leading him back. He just leaned into her warmth, savoring the life that hummed beneath her skin.
She was there.
She was alive.
When they made it to the bedroom, she helped him shed his robe, tossing her own to the ground before leading him to their bed. Normally, such endeavors would lead to blissfully sleepless nights that they’d indulged in for the duration of their marriage, but tonight he just let himself be led, watching as she pulled back the plush covers, following her as she settled herself into bed. His muscles immediately seemed to release their complaints at the comforting warmth of their bed, practically begging him to rest. His mind, which had been running rampant since that mission seemed to be weighed down by fatigue
She opened her arms to him as he pulled the covers over the two of them, and he immediately accepted the invitation, curling into her side and laying his head on her chest. Normally, it was vice versa, with her head leaning against his heart, his hands combing through her silky hair, but today it was reversed, his ear against the steady and strong beat of her heart, rising and falling with every wonderful breath she took. Her gentle hands went to his hair, her nails scraping softly against his scalp, a gesture that always calmed him.
Sleep was coming fast for him, having been denied sanctuary for so long.
“Vex'ahlia,” he whispered, his eyes falling shut.
“I’m here,” she breathed, pressing a kiss to his temple, “Rest now, love. I’m here.”
He hummed softly, “I love you, Vex.”
He had said it to her every single day since they’d been married, and each time he felt as if he only meant it more and more. If he was honest, mere words couldn’t describe the enormity of his feelings for this woman. No words could describe the gratitude he had for everything she encouraged in him…for the life she had given him.
He heard a small laugh and another soft kiss was pressed against his hair.
“I love you too, darling.”
With that, Percy could stay awake no longer and allowed himself to finally fall into a blissful, dreamless sleep, lulled to it by the strong beat of his wife’s heart.
Percival de Rolo was no stranger to the dark.
But with his wife by his side, he would always know how to navigate it.
She would always be the light that helped him find his way home.
She would always be the light that led him back to the truth.
She would always be a beacon in the dark.
And gods he loved her.