The fading sun painted the streets in hues of orange and deep crimson, the shadows lengthening as Vax walked, his footsteps muted against the worn cobblestones. His thoughts were heavy, weighed down by the memories of the last few days—nights spent wrapped in warmth he hadn't realized he'd been missing. The sword strapped to his back, a gift from Gilmore, pressed against his spine, a tangible reminder of the connection they had forged in those quiet, intimate moments. A gift, yes. But perhaps also... a tether.
As he neared the familiar tavern door, the hum of voices inside reached his ears, the clink of tankards and the murmur of laughter. He paused just outside, his hand resting lightly on the weathered wood. For a brief second, he allowed himself to breathe in the moment, to let the comfort of returning to his companions steady him. The warmth of camaraderie waited on the other side, but it would also bring questions—questions he wasn't sure he was ready to answer.
With a deep breath, he pushed the door open. The hinges groaned, the sound melding with the low crackle of the fire inside. Instantly, the heat of the room washed over him, carrying the scents of roasted meat, ale, and the faint tang of smoke. The noise inside—the laughter, the clatter of mugs—dropped for a heartbeat as eyes turned toward him.
"About time you showed up!" Grog's voice boomed through the space, drawing out the lull like a thunderclap. His grin was wide, almost feral, and his massive hand lifted to wave Vax over. "Thought maybe you'd gone soft, run off with your boyfriend and forgotten about us!"
Vax couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He closed the door behind him, feeling the familiar weight of being back among his own settle over his shoulders. The banter, the teasing—it was their way of showing care, of grounding themselves in the aftermath of battle and bloodshed. And he welcomed it.
The firelight flickered over the faces of his friends—his family, really—casting long shadows across the rough wooden walls. Percy sat at the far end of the table, his sharp eyes already darting toward the sword slung over Vax's back, the glint of its runes catching the warm glow of the hearth. His fingers, ever restless, twitched toward his spectacles as if ready to analyze and deconstruct whatever mystery Vax had brought back with him.
Vex, seated beside Keyleth, didn't need to speak to convey her curiosity. Her gaze swept over her twin, lingering for a moment too long on the new weapon he carried, her brow arching ever so slightly. She knew him too well, and the unspoken questions flickered in her eyes, but she remained silent—for now.
As Vax approached the table, his fingers flexed slightly, his hand brushing against the hilt of the sword. The weight of it was unfamiliar, yet comforting, like the warmth of Gilmore's touch still lingering in his mind. He slid it off his back with fluid precision, setting it down on the table with a quiet thud that seemed to echo in the suddenly attentive room.
"A new addition?" Vex's voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, her curiosity sharpened by the glint of the runes etched into the blade. Her fingers drummed lightly on the surface of the table, her posture deceptively relaxed.
Vax shrugged, but the motion felt heavier than he intended, as if the weight of the last few days had settled into his bones. "A gift," he said simply, though the words tasted more complicated than they should have. His voice was quiet, carefully controlled, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper—something Vex would undoubtedly pick up on.
"A gift?" Keyleth leaned forward, her bright eyes wide with interest, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "From Gilmore, I assume?" Her voice was light, teasing, but her gaze held a warmth that softened the edge of the question.
Vax nodded, his hand still resting on the hilt of the sword, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns on the blade without really thinking about it. The memory of Gilmore's touch, of his warmth, flickered in his mind like a candle flame, bright and brief.
"A fine piece of work," Percy remarked, his voice low and thoughtful as he adjusted his glasses, leaning in for a closer look. His fingers hovered just above the runes, as if he could feel the magic pulsing through the metal without touching it. "Not your usual blacksmith fare. There's some real artistry here."
Vax met Percy's gaze, his smirk half-hearted, though a hint of pride flickered in his eyes. "Gilmore's always had a flair for the dramatic."
The room buzzed with curiosity, the conversation dipping and swirling around him, but Vax found his mind drifting back—back to the quiet moments with Gilmore, to the way his hands had lingered just a little too long on his skin, the way his smile had softened when he thought Vax wasn't looking.
"Come on, Vax," Keyleth chimed in again, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "There's got to be a story here. You don't just walk in with something like that without a little adventure along the way."
Before Vax could respond, Scanlan appeared beside him, as if conjured from thin air, his usual mischievous grin plastered across his face. "Story, you say? Our resident rogue? No doubt it involves danger, mystery, and a steamy rendezvous or two." He winked, his voice dripping with playful insinuation.
Vax shook his head, chuckling under his breath, though he didn't deny the truth hidden beneath Scanlan's teasing. His thoughts flickered to those stolen moments, the warmth of Gilmore's skin against his own, the way the world had seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them in a cocoon of shared breaths and quiet promises.
But there was more to the gift than just romance. The weight of the sword—the power it contained—felt almost like a burden, a responsibility he hadn't fully understood when Gilmore had pressed it into his hands. And yet, here he was, back among his companions, carrying it like a secret waiting to be revealed.
He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the door to the tavern creaked open, a cold gust of wind sweeping in with a sudden force that extinguished the few remaining candles flickering in the corners of the room. The atmosphere shifted in an instant, the warmth of the hearth giving way to a chill that settled in Vax's bones.
Everyone's attention snapped to the doorway, and Vax felt his instincts kick in, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword without a second thought. His muscles tensed, his eyes narrowing as a figure cloaked in shadow stepped into the room, their face hidden by the dim light and the hood that obscured their features.
The air seemed to thicken, the laughter and conversation from moments before evaporating into a tense silence. Vax exchanged a glance with Vex, who was already on her feet, her bow resting casually against her leg but her fingers twitching toward it.
The figure moved forward, their steps slow and deliberate, each one echoing in the now-quiet tavern. There was something unsettlingly familiar about the way they moved, the way they carried themselves, as if they belonged here but also didn't.
Percy's voice broke the silence, calm and measured, but with an edge of caution. "You're a little late for dinner," he said, his fingers resting near the hilt of his gun, ready but not drawn.
The figure paused just inside the doorway, their hood still drawn low over their face. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, they reached up and pushed the hood back, revealing a face that sent a ripple of recognition through Vax's chest. The sharp features, the pale skin, and the cold, calculating eyes—it was someone he knew well, though not from any pleasant encounters.
"Drake?" Vax muttered, his hand tightening instinctively around the hilt of his sword. He wasn't sure if it was disbelief or tension that laced his voice, but the name tasted bitter on his tongue.
The figure—Drake—smirked, a cruel twist of his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes. His gaze swept over the room, taking in each member of Vox Machina with the same detached indifference that Vax remembered all too well. "I see you're still running with your merry little band of misfits," he said, his voice smooth and unhurried, like a cat toying with a mouse.
Vex stepped forward, her bow now firmly in hand, though she hadn't nocked an arrow—yet. Her eyes were cold, calculating, just like her brother's. "What do you want, Drake?" she asked, her voice steady but carrying the weight of the unspoken threat beneath.
Drake's eyes flicked toward her, and the smirk on his face deepened. "Straight to business, I see. No pleasantries, no 'how've you been?'"
"No," Vax cut in, his voice low and dangerous. "We don't have time for games. Why are you here?"
For a moment, Drake said nothing. His eyes, sharp as daggers, settled on Vax, lingering just a little too long, as if searching for something—weakness, perhaps. But then, with a casual shrug, he stepped further into the room, his movements almost lazy. "I've got a proposition," he said, his tone light, as if discussing the weather.
"Not interested," Grog grunted from behind Vax, his massive frame looming over the group. His hand rested on the hilt of his axe, his knuckles white with the barely restrained urge to act.
Drake's eyes flicked toward Grog for a brief second, but his smile never faltered. "I'm not surprised. Your lot never did like to listen before swinging."
Percy leaned back in his chair, his fingers still resting near his gun but his posture deceptively relaxed. "We're listening now," he said coolly. "So speak before we lose interest."
Drake's smirk wavered for just a moment, but then he regained his composure. "There's a job," he said simply, his eyes shifting between the group. "One that requires a certain... finesse. And I happen to know you lot have a reputation for getting things done when it counts."
Vax's grip on his sword tightened. He didn't trust Drake—he never had. The man was a snake, always looking for an angle, always ready to twist a situation to his advantage. "Why us?" he asked, his voice flat. "There are plenty of people out there who could handle whatever it is you're offering. Why come to us?"
Drake's smirk returned, but this time it was colder, more calculated. "Because I know you, Vax. I know how you operate, and I know you'll do whatever it takes to protect the people you care about." His eyes glinted with something dark, something that made Vax's skin crawl. "And because if you don't take this job, I'll make sure those people find themselves in the crossfire."
Vax felt his blood turn to ice, his mind racing with the implications of Drake's words. His first instinct was to reach for his sword, to wipe that smirk off Drake's face with one clean stroke, but he forced himself to stay still, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. He glanced at Vex, her face a mirror of his own—controlled, but simmering just beneath the surface.
"And if we agree?" Percy asked, his voice calm, but there was an edge to it that hadn't been there before.
Drake's smirk widened, but his eyes remained cold, calculating. "If you agree, then we all get what we want. You do the job, I get my payment, and your precious Vox Machina stays safe and sound." His gaze flicked to Vax once more, a challenge glinting in his eyes. "I'd say it's a fair trade, wouldn't you?"
Silence settled over the room like a thick fog, the tension palpable as everyone weighed Drake's words. Vax could feel the anger bubbling up inside him, a tight knot in his chest that threatened to unravel at any moment. But he knew that lashing out now would solve nothing. They had to play this smart.
"What's the job?" Vex asked finally, her voice sharp as a blade. Her eyes never left Drake, and the air around her seemed to hum with the tension of a bowstring drawn just short of release.
Drake's smirk turned into something more dangerous, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "There's a vault. Guarded. Traps everywhere. And inside... well, let's just say there's something of great value to me. You get it, and I make sure no harm comes to those you love."
"And if we refuse?" Vax asked, his voice low, barely more than a growl.
Drake's eyes locked with his, and for a moment, the room seemed to still. "Then I'll be seeing you again," he said softly, his voice carrying a quiet, deadly promise. "But next time, it won't be a friendly visit."
The words hung in the air like the echo of a blade drawn too late. Vax could feel the weight of the decision pressing down on him, the way the room seemed to close in, the firelight casting long shadows across the walls. Every instinct screamed at him to refuse, to cut Drake down where he stood and end this now. But he knew—he knew—that there was more at stake than just pride or vengeance.
He exchanged a glance with Vex, her eyes hard and unreadable, but he could see the same conflict in her that churned inside him. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned back to Drake.
"We'll think about it," he said, his voice tight, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
Drake's smirk widened, the victory clear in his eyes. "Good," he said smoothly. "I'll be in touch."
With a flick of his cloak, Drake turned and strode out of the tavern, leaving behind a silence thick with unresolved tension. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound ringing through the room like the toll of a bell.
For a moment, no one spoke. The air was heavy, thick with the unspoken threat Drake had left behind, and Vax could feel the weight of his words pressing down on him like a stone. Finally, it was Percy who broke the silence, his voice cool and measured.
"This is bad."
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"I see," Gilmore said softly, his voice laced with quiet fury that wasn't directed at Vax. "And you're here because...?"
Vax looked away, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the right words. He had never been good at asking for help, even when he needed it most. But with Gilmore—especiallywith Gilmore—it felt even harder. The man had always been so open, so willing to give, and Vax had always been the one who took, who needed, but rarely asked.
"I need supplies," Vax said, though the words felt hollow. "Potions, maybe some enchanted gear. I—" He paused, his eyes flicking up to meet Gilmore's. "I don't want to drag you into this."
