Chapter Text
Percy hears them before he sees them.
"He told me it was two dwarvish woman. One with a beard and one without." It's Pike's voice, coming from the direction of the Tipsy Quorum's garden. "I remember the beard. Scanlan definitely said one of them had a beard."
"I'm sure there was a tiefling," Keyleth pipes up, already too-loud and slurring around the edges. "Scanlan kept waggling his eyebrows every time he mentioned their tail. So gross."
Percy rolls his eyes. The tall tales of Scanlan Shorthalt's love life have a somewhat infuriating endurance as a perennial topic of conversation, even when the gnome himself is absent. Everyone has a legacy of a some sort, he supposes.
When Percy makes his way to the tavern's garden with a cup of Shauna's cellar-chilled mead in hand, they're still at it.
"Could there have been two dwarves and a tiefling?" Tary suggests dubiously. "Didn't you say this fellow was a gnome? This all seems unmanageably ambitious for a first time." He wrinkles his nose. "There can't possibly be enough surface area on a gnome to accommodate all that at once."
In retrospect I may have been a bit, ah... over ambitious.
Percy's back feels warm. Warmer than it should, for how low the sun is.
"Hello, darling." Vex smiles brightly as she slides over and makes space on the bench next to her. "Did you manage to get Diplomacy put back together?"
"It's still sitting in pieces on my work table," Percy admits. "I'm here to drink away my frustration. I'll start fresh in the morning."
"Scanlan told me his dick lightning always sparks a bit when he, you know," Grog offers conspiratorially. "He said it makes the ladies all tingly. Do you think he zapped 'em the first time?"
"Charming," Percy mutters, repressing the urge to roll his eyes again as he starts on his mead.
"You know this Shorthalt fellow as well, right Percy?" asks Tary.
"Regrettably."
"What did he tell you about his first time, Freddie?" Vax asks, leaning forward over his ale. "We're trying to see what the common details are, unravel the kernel of truth under all Scanlan's bullshit."
Percy sighs. "What makes you think there is one?"
"Go on, humour us," Vex cajoles, nudging him with her shoulder. "He doled out stories about losing his virginity like they were alms for the poor. You must have heard one."
"Oh probably. Fortunately whatever space Scanlan's prurient propaganda took up in my brain has been long since overwritten by things that are actually important."
Vex huffs and pouts at his parry, disappointed at not being able to draw Percy into their speculation. Then she turns her attention back to the rest of the table thoughtfully: "How old do you think he was?"
Aurum wants to know how old you are.
The sound of Percy's finger tapping against his cup arrive in his ears like the sound of soft footsteps.
Pike makes a face. "I don't wanna know that. I don't want to think about that."
Right. This is the topic, then. Lovely.
"It was probably at a brothel though, right?" says Vax. "If there's even an iota of truth to Scanlan's bullshit then there's no way it wasn't at a brothel. You have to be a certain minimum age before they take your coin."
"They let me have my first go at a brothel in Westruun when I was fifteen," offers Grog. He grins dreamily. "She had the best knockers I've ever seen. These big, squishy pillows. Perfect size for getting lost in."
Tary grimaces and shivers. "Ugh, don't remind me. They were so sweaty and spongy. I thought I was going to suffocate."
"You've been going to brothels since you were fifteen?" Keyleth says, staring at Grog wide-eyed. "Fifteen is young, Grog!"
Grog shrugs. "Is it?"
"I was fifteen my first time," says Vax.
Percy didn't think it was possible for Keyleth to blush any darker, but there she goes.
"What?!? R-really?"
"Yeah."
"Psht, you were not," Vex accuses. "You're as full of shit as Scanlan is."
"Remember that cold winter? That soft-spoken kid who let us hide out in his family's hayloft?"
Vex's mouth drops open in surprise. "With Henry? You didn't."
Vax shrugs. "He was sweet on me. I was sweet on him. You were out hunting rabbits all day. Plenty of time for a few rolls in all that hay."
Percy can't help being amused by how mortified Vex looks at this reframing of reality.
"Fifteen!" squeaks Keyleth.
"She's not much better," Vax accuses Vex gleefully. "You were sixteen, it was that elvish kid who worked evenings at the general store in Haymere."
"Sixteen!" Keyleth's squeal is only slightly lower pitch.
Vex purses her lips, irritated at being found out.
"Let me go into town, Vax, you're shit at haggling. I'll get a better deal, Vax, it'll make the coin go farther," Vax imitates, then grins. "I'll bet you got a better deal."
"Shut up," retorts Vex. Her tone is just a little unexpectedly brusque for banter, and when Percy looks over at her something tells him it's time to redirect focus.
"Go on then, Keyleth," Percy cuts in. "If fifteen and sixteen are so scandalous, let's put yours on the table. It's only fair."
Keyleth pulls up stock-straight in her seat and sputters, hands wringing around her tankard. Percy can tell what the answer is by the nervous side-eye she gives Vax.
"Gross," Vex comments matter-of-fact, and Percy is pleased to hear the tone in her voice is easier again. "And to be clear, it's not what age you were when you lost your virginity, it's the idea of my brother having sex, with anyone, ever."
"What about you, Pickle?" Vax's redirection away from Keyleth's radiating embarrassment is nearly as deft as Percy's was. "How old were you?"
"I'm with the late bloomers over there," Pike says easily, gesturing across the table at Tary and Keyleth. "I was twenty-four. Wilhand let a travelling acolyte of the Everlight stay with us for a few weeks while he was doing research at the Cobalt Reserve. Tobin. He noticed I had a sweet tooth and started bringing me a different piece of fruit back from the market every day."
"Aww, that's so adorable," coos Keyleth. "See what a great story that is? That's a great story!"
"I brought Larry strawberries," offers Tary. "He liked them best when they were fresh. I watched the servants pick them myself to make sure they were fresh."
"That's three of us quick-starts, and three stragglers," notes Vax. "Come on Freddie, don't leave us guessing. Break the tie."
How old are you?
It was inevitable it would come round to him eventually, Percy supposes.
I'd like you to answer a question, and I'd like you to answer it honestly. Are you a virgin?
Percy takes a long, unhurried drink of mead under the inquiring eyes of the rest of Vox Machina. He uses the time to consider what, exactly, he feels inclined to say.
"Alas, I must leave the table at a stalemate. I was nineteen."
He glances over at Vex, trying to gauge her reaction as casually as possible. She doesn't look shocked, at least. Or if she is, she's hiding it well. Percy isn't entirely sure what she expected his answer to be.
"You gotta give us more than that," Pike prods. "We told you ours."
What is it worth to you, to know for sure?
"I think not," Percy demurs dryly. His eyes glance up where the sun is setting behind the mountains, turning the alabaster white of their peaks golden. Pick a word. Something you won't forget. "I have no desire to join Scanlan's ranks as a subject for this particular brand of discussion."
"Come on, Percy!" encourages Grog. "It's not nothing to be ashamed of. Who got the first dip of your wick, eh?"
"Give us a crumb," urges Vax. "Were they older? Younger?"
As they pepper him with questions and study his reaction closely for tells, Percy keeps his face carefully stoic and continues silently drinking his mead. They tire quickly once it's clear no more information will be forthcoming, and soon return to wildly speculating about the true nature of Scanlan's origin story.
Percy notes Vex'ahlia doesn't take an active part in the game of trying to pry more details from him, though she watches as closely as any of them. And he also notes her quiet scrutiny lingers long after the rest of them have given up and forgotten their curiosity; Percy catches her looking at him the rest of the evening, preoccupied and thoughtful.
So he's not at all surprised when she broaches the subject anew later that evening when they're alone, sharing one last nightcap before bed in front of the fire.
"You were very tight-lipped earlier, about your first time." Vex's tone is exploratory, a balance of curiosity and caution. "I can't decide if you were just being you, or if that means it was... an unpleasant experience?"
Tell me what it feels like. Use some of those pretty words of yours.
"Unpleasant is not the word I'd use," Percy says into his brandy dryly. When he glances over at Vex he sees more concern on her face than is warranted. "It was... complicated."
"You say that about everything, darling," Vex says. "It's rather starting to lose its meaning."
Percy huffs out half a chuckle. "You didn't seem terribly interested in discussing your own sordid past either, dear," he notes, then frowns. "I could ask you the same."
Vex sighs, a self-aware sound that is trying to be less embarrassed than it is. "Olarion was the first time anyone pursued me. I was young and he was attractive and I was— I was flattered. It was fine at the time, but afterward..." Her face sours a bit. "Let's just say he was less interested in me than he was in having another notch on his bedpost."
Despite himself, despite intuiting what effect a rejection like that must have had on a young Vex'ahlia after the way she was treated in Syngorn, Percy is relieved to know Vex's first encounter was a consenting one, even if the pretence of it was a bit false. "I'm sorry to hear that. You deserve a better first than a thoughtless philanderer."
She smiles at the acknowledgement as she drinks her brandy. "Is yours something like that, then? Did someone tempt you into their bed with honeyed words?" Vex arches a teasing, gently provoking eyebrow. "Or perhaps you tempted someone else?"
"You mean was I the thoughtless philanderer."
"We're all a bit shitty at that age," Vex allows. "A little bit self-centred, a little bit reckless. A little bit too horny for our own good."
I'm hoping we can come to a different arrangement. Something less conventional.
Percy's laugh is more revealing than he means it to be. "I will definitely cop to being self-centred and reckless. I suppose I was a bit like your shop boy in some ways. Though I was far more upfront about the precise nature of my ambitions."
"Seriously, darling, the sheer number of words you use to say almost nothing is absolutely infuriating," Vex grumbles. "Either tell me, or tell me you won't tell me plainly and I'll let it be. These obfuscating little crumbs are maddening."
Percy sighs, half-apologetic. He looks at Vex carefully, trying to convince himself that letting this conversation continue is anything other than a terrible idea. "Dear, honestly now. How much do you really want to know about people who came before you?"
Vex's eyes light up, catching another crumb. "People, you say? So that's more than one, then."
He can't help but notice she looks... surprised? Impressed? It's difficult to tell what Vex is thinking around the edges of the game she's playing trying to prise more details out of him. "Did you think I was a virgin?"
"Absolutely not," Vex answers immediately. Her eyes glint salaciously. "Not with how well you knew your way around that first night."
"Thank you, I think."
"Out with it, darling. How many have there been, then?"
"That's also... complicated."
"Percy," Vex says, exasperated. "How can counting be complicated?"
He relents. Maybe because he knows it's unfair to string her along like this. Maybe because he's morbidly curious to see how Vex will react to learning just how deep and all-consuming his desire for vengeance really was. And maybe there is some small part of him that wants to prise the memory open and examine it anew; Percy knows things now he didn't know then, and he's not sure how the knowing will change the colour of what he remembers.
"There were two of them. They were a couple."
"A couple?" Vex blinks and for a moment her face is amusingly blank. Percy calmly drinks his brandy as she processes through the implication. "Percy. Percy. Are you telling me you lost your virginity in a threesome?"
"You see why it's not really a story for mixed company," Percy supplies with an arch of his eyebrow. "I'm honestly genuinely surprised you believe me."
Vex's mouth hangs open, making it easier to hear the flabbergasted little sounds coughing up her throat. "How?"
Percy glances over at the open bottle of brandy on the table. "Ah. Well. That is a story that's going to need at least one more brandy," he declares, and finishes the last of what's in his cup in one, then reaches for the bottle.
Once both he and Vex'ahlia have refilled glasses, Percy looks out the window, considering where to start. The moon shines bright on the pale alabaster stone that gives the mountains their namesake. "When I escaped Whitestone, I left with nothing but the ruined clothes on my back. The captain of a fishing boat that happened to be anchored in the bay took pity on me and took me on as a cabin boy in exchange for warm clothes, a hammock, and two meals a day. The work was miserable, and the stench of gutting fish was even worse. "After a year I couldn't take the smell and the salt anymore. I came ashore at the fish market at Stilben and just never went back."
Vex wrinkles her nose. "I've spent some time in Stilben. I don't recall the smell being much better than a fishing boat."
"You're not wrong," Percy agrees. "I picked up stable work at a coaching inn, mostly mucking stalls and doing odd jobs. I've always been good with fixing things, and at a coaching inn there's always something that needs repair: bits of tack, broken strapping, that sort of thing. About a month in my stitching work was noticed by their saddler, a man with a shop in a village north of Stilben who was looking for an apprentice."
"Not that your work history isn't fascinating in its own right, Percy," says Vex. "But this seems like a very long and unnecessary preamble to a story about losing your virginity."
"The point is I was poor," Percy supplies. "I made enough working at the saddlery to afford a boarding house in Muckfront Row, but not much else."
He can see by the blank look on Vex'ahlia's face she doesn't understand why that matters. So Percy pulls out Animus and holds it up between them. "Steel is not cheap, Vex. Nor is black powder." He stares at the gun, looking at the shape of one he didn't build and seeing the one he did, seeing all the ways Animus looks like the List. "I dreamed it, and I was driven to make it real. Obsessively driven. But to do that I needed materials. A forge. I needed to learn smithing."
Vex frowns at the gun, then tips her head to frown at him on the other side of it. "I don't understand."
"I told you it was complicated." Percy sighs again, then sets Animus down on the table next to the bottle of brandy. He takes another sip from his glass to shore up his nerve, then continues. "Across the street from the saddlery was a blacksmith. An elven woman by the name of Silvandra Marath. Silva."
He stares into the fire, and for a moment he sees a forge instead. The clock on the mantle chimes, and it's easy for his mind to turn the sound of it into the methodical rhythm of Silva's hammering.
"The List was forged on her anvil, with her tools, using her steel, by a nineteen year old boy with barely a handful of silver to his name. Which begs the question: how was it paid for?"