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You, of course.

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After her bold words to Saundor, they all come to her, one by one, all seeking answers to questions she had rather left alone.

First came Vax who asked, “Sister, sister, who has stolen your heart?”

 You, of course, she answers with a smile. They have always been two parts of a whole, though not always equal halves. He rolls his eyes and squishes her face, begrudgingly saying he loves her, too.

Then came Scanlan who asked, “Broom rider, broom rider, who makes your heart soar?”

You, of course, she says with a grin. His songs and voice and inspiration have saved her and her brother more times than she can count, and she can never thank him enough for that. Scanlan scoffs and says, “Fine, don’t tell me.”

Grog wanders up one day, “Hunter, hunter, who has made your heart prey?”

You, of course, she laughs at the sudden fluster in his movements. She has been afraid so many times, but he has kept her safe when she wanted to run. Grog mumbles something she can’t understand, but he pats her shoulder awkwardly enough to warrant a hug.

Trinket begins to wonder, “Mother, mother, whose heart should I guard?”

Yours, of course, she pets him as she says it, and he licks her face. He had held her heart from the moment she rescued him, and had long kept her company when she was elsewise alone. Trinket is satisfied, and curls around her to sleep.

Eventually Pike hears of it and asks, “Dearest, dearest, whose heart lights your way?”

Yours, of course, Vex hands her more bandages. Pike, above all, was the kind soul of Vox Machina, and she was not the only one who felt Pike’s absence keenly. When they were feeling lost, Pike could always be counted on to have a clear and compassionate head.

Keyleth brings it up while gardening, “Ranger, ranger, who helps your heart grow strong?”

You do, of course, Vex says as she digs. Keyleth blushes and struggles to find the words to accept, but she is smiling, too. Keyleth has morals and fights for them, in a way that Vex admires. She’d realized early on that she herself had a price, but Keyleth couldn’t be bought, and there is a charm in things that can’t be purchased.

Percy almost doesn’t ask, “Archer, archer, who steadies your aim?”

You, of course, she offers no explanation. He thinks for a moment, and says, “Oh.” She cuts off whatever speech he was preparing with a wink and a kiss, and leaves him standing all flustered and red.

She catches her own reflection one day, “Vex’ahlia, Vex’ahlia, who holds your heart?”

You, of course, because you have never learned to give anything away wholesale, but happily hack off and distribute the pieces. No one can see how cracked the full thing is if you only show them fractions. But there was more truth than that: what she has given, she has received back in exponents.

Who is so loved, by so many, that they would defend her in so many different ways?

You, of course.