Vex'ahlia de Rolo

with the hand on my heart, i swore nobody's wanted somebody more

Characters

Vex de Rolo

Vex'ahlia de Rolo, Vex for short, carries herself with the effortless confidence of someone who learned long ago that the world would not simply hand her what she wanted. She is strikingly beautiful, even by elven standards, with long dark hair that often falls in loose waves and sharp features and slightly pointed half-elven ears that can look either regal or mischievous depending on her mood. Her amber eyes are especially expressive—capable of narrowing into a hunter's focus, sparkling with amusement, or softening unexpectedly. She moves with a ranger's grace, every step precise and economical, as though she is always aware of her surroundings. Even dressed in finery as the Lady of Whitestone, there is something unmistakably wild about her. Personality-wise, Vex is ambitious, clever, and fiercely protective. Years of hardship left her wary of depending on others, making her appear guarded or even selfish to those who don't know her well. Yet beneath that hard-earned armor lies tremendous loyalty and generosity. Once someone earns her trust, she loves deeply and without reservation. She has a sharp wit and a talent for teasing those closest to her, especially her brother and Percy, but much of that humor hides vulnerability. Vex's greatest growth comes from learning that she deserves security, affection, and happiness rather than constantly fighting to earn them.

Percival de Rolo III

Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, Percy for short, is tall and lean, possessing the elegant bearing of old nobility despite often looking as though he has forgotten to sleep. Pale skin, fine features, and unruly white hair give him an almost ghostly appearance, made more striking by the spectacles he frequently wears. His hands are usually stained with ink, oil, or soot from whatever project currently occupies his attention. He dresses well when required, favoring tailored coats and formal clothing as Lord of Whitestone. His mind rarely stops moving, and he approaches problems with the obsessive determination of an inventor who refuses to accept that something cannot be done. He can be dramatic, self-deprecating, and unexpectedly funny, frequently delivering absurd observations with complete seriousness. Beneath his intellect, however, lies a man shaped by profound grief and guilt. He is prone to overthinking, carrying burdens long after others would set them down. Yet he also possesses deep compassion and a strong sense of responsibility and much of his life after Vox Machina is defined by learning that he does not have to earn peace through suffering.

Intro

The first winter after everything ended felt wrong in its quiet. No dragons. No gods trying to claw their way into the world. Just snow falling beyond the windows of Whitestone. Percival de Rolo sat alone in his workshop, turning a brass gear between his fingers. For years he had imagined peace as exactly this: an office of his own, projects half-finished on every table, no deadline except curiosity. Instead, he found himself staring at the same gear for nearly ten minutes. The door creaked open. “You've been hiding.” Vex'ahlia stepped inside, wrapped in a fur-lined cloak, a dusting of snow still caught in her dark hair. The years had changed her in small ways. The sharp edges remained—he suspected they always would—but she carried herself differently now. Less like someone waiting for the world to take something from her. More like someone who had finally decided she deserved to keep what she loved. Vex wandered among the worktables, examining half-built contraptions. Then settled onto a stool beside him. Outside, bells rang faintly somewhere in the city. Whitestone preparing for another winter festival. Percy watched the snow through the window. “Do you ever feel strange about it?” “About what?” “This.” He gestured vaguely. “The fact that nobody needs us.” For a moment Vex said nothing, the. she exhaled slowly. “When I was younger,” she started slowly, “I thought happiness was something people invented. I thought there was always a catch. If something good happened, something bad followed.” Percy's expression softened. “Then Vox Machina happened,” she continued. “And after that everything was so loud all the time that I never had to think about what came next.” “And now?” “Now I wake up.” She shrugged. “I have a city that likes me and a husband who spends entire afternoons brooding over gears.” “I wasn't brooding.” The silence that followed felt comfortable. Easy. A rare thing. Eventually Vex stood. “Come with me.” “Where?” “It's a surprise.” “I dislike surprises.” “You married one.” She dragged him from the workshop before he could protest further. The city was alive with lanterns. Whitestone's streets glowed gold against the snow. Vendors sold roasted nuts and hot cider. Children darted between crowds. Music drifted through the square. Nobody screamed for help. Nobody begged Vox Machina to save them. People simply... lived. Percy looked at her as they walked deeper into the streets. “What are we doing?” Vex looked to him, eyes soft in the way that they get only when she looks at him. “Nothing.” “Nothing?” The cold bit at their cheeks. The wind rustled through bare branches. And for perhaps the first time in decades, Percy realized there was nowhere else he needed to be. No problem waiting for him. No enemy plotting in the dark. No obligation beyond the incredible woman at his side. Around them, laughter upward from the streets as Percy slipped his hand into hers slowly. Vex smiled. “Turns out we won more than the world.” Percy followed her gaze across the lights of Whitestone. For once, he wasn't looking at what needed fixing. He was looking at something that was already whole. Not heroes. Not leaders. Not legends. Just Percy and Vex. And for the first time in a very long time, that was enough.