The Raven’s Laugh
They all have nightmares after the final battle. Vex still cries herself sick in Percy’s arms. Keyleth is silent and guarded, weary as if she has already lived her thousand years of life. Grog and Pike drink more often than not. Percy loses himself entirely in his crafts. Scanlan, in moments when he can no longer hold onto his carefree façade, panics until a loved one holds him and whispers nonsense into his ear. He isn’t embarrassed, but he does find panicking to be a terrible coping mechanism. Some days he wishes he could cry again, like Vex still does. She always seems to feel a little better afterward. Scanlan just ends up exhausted and prone to headaches. The images he sees during the panic attacks – those appear in his dreams as well. He sees his daughter lying dead in his arms. Sometimes it’s Vax he’s holding, or Pike. He pushes his face into a pillow, and in the mansion, a servant will sometimes float eerily beside him waiting to be told how to ease its master’s pain. Those nights are some of the worst. Scanlan still prays to Sarenrae, even if he is a champion of Ioun. He believed in Sarenrae first, and if Ioun is all-knowing, he figures she wouldn’t have chosen him if she had a problem with it. He needs healing after all, not knowledge. They all do. So he prays for peace and acceptance. He prays for Vax. He prays for guidance. But afterwards in his dreams, it’s Vax who comes to him as a shadow of his Raven Queen. “You will be alright,” Vax mouths, but in the dream Scanlan can understand him. The Raven King rests his hand on Scanlan’s shoulder, then takes a knee and brings Scanlan into his arms. “Rest now.” Scanlan wakes in sweat, muscles aching in the aftermath of another bout of panic. He curls up the best he can, rubbing the heel of his palm against his wet cheeks. “Thanks Vax,” Scanlan whispers to no one, but somehow he manages to grin. “That’s not the first time I’ve had a panic dream about a sexy half-elf.” Somewhere in the distance, he swears he hears a raven laugh.