#DAV fanfiction

[stormwifewrites]

💌 A Brief Correspondence

A Brief Correspondence (2430 words) on AO3

Summary: … speaking of my environs, I’m off for a stroll with one of my fellows here; a former denizen of Treviso, north of the Free Marches. She has promised to give me a tour of the flora local to her birthplace, and swears to show me a “trick” to coaxing the Ansburg moaning willow into producing noises of its own, much like the osseous osier native to our own rocky clime! “Emmrich,” Rook whispers in his ear. -- Emmrich writes home to his friend and colleague, and Vorgoth reads between the lines.

Just some silly epistolary fluff and light smut and a doodle in honor of Vorgoth and Emmrook 🤷🏻‍♀️

Rating: Mature Relationships: Emmrich x female mage Rook Characters: Emmrich Volkarin, Rook (Dragon Age), Vorgoth (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Epistolary, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Smut, Plot With Smut, Smut snippets, Implied Sexual Content, Letter snippets, Emmrich has a pen pal, Vorgoth is squinting between the lines hard, this one’s for me and the Vorgoth stans, okay fine I’ll desecrate the desk too why not, no beta we die like Vorgoth a thousand years ago probably Series: Part 4 of The Bell Tolls the Tempest

[chaeza]

Gladiolus

Gladiolus – from Latin word gladius, a sword. A perennial flower in the iris family. Given at funerals to honor the strength and integrity of the deceased.

Major Character Death, Spoilers, Rook goes by Rook and uses they/them pronouns, elf rook, grief, loss, mourning, alcohol consumption, disassociation, anxiety.

The chatter among the Veilguard, excluding Rook, faded as everyone went from the library to the kitchen. Rook sat in their chair, arms rested on either side, picking at the wood with their fingernails. The large doors that led to the fade shut behind their last departing companion with a reverberating thud. Footsteps – light and smooth – quietly approached them.

Emmrich patted the younger Watcher’s shoulder, urging them to join the rest of their friends. When they didn’t budge, he tried again. He gave them a gentle shake, which still didn’t work. Emmrich stood beside them, bending to one knee and leaning forward with the support of his staff so he could see their face.

“Rook?” Emmrich asked. “Rook, darling.” His voice was more stern, but still gentle. Placing a hand on theirs, he followed their gaze to the side of the bookcase where Lucanis stood minutes ago. He patted their hand, turning back to see them nodding gently, brows knitted together, focused. “Rook, are you alright?” He wasn’t sure they could even hear him. Emmrich was aware of Solas using blood magic to commune with Rook, but he didn’t exactly know what the Dread Wolf was doing to them outside of the times Rook willingly spoke to Solas during their meditations. The professor knew the fade well, but the intentions of a trickster god, and his capabilities, were not something he was well-versed in. He made a mental note to commune with the spirits later as he held Rook’s cold and clammy hand. He resumed matching Rook’s gaze, following their line of sight past the murals on the stairs, lingering just before the hallway to the infirmary.

Rook sighed, shaking their head to clear their mind, turning in their chair towards Emmrich, who was met with the same focused expression. Then, Rook’s face shifted quickly, as if Emmrich wasn’t allowed to see any of their less inspiring expressions. The older watcher’s lips were in a stern line, quickly wavering with a small curve in the corner of his mouth when Rook finally acknowledged him.

“Oh! Hello, love.” Rook said, squeezing Emmrich’s hand and becoming painfully aware that their own hands were icy cold. “Is everything alright?” They hoped they didn’t seem unwell. They only had a headache, and a slight pain in their chest, which they really couldn’t pinpoint the cause of in this moment. They offered a crooked smile, a reassuring squeeze of Emmrich’s fingers, the rings slightly digging into their hand.

Emmrich’s face was stern, analytical. He was looking at them like a problem he had to solve. This much they concluded. The intensity of his scrutinizing eyes made Rook more and more uncomfortable. They turned their head to hide the embarrassed blush that spread across their cheeks. Their pointed ears always gave it away though. Rook raised their eyebrows as they felt the grip of Emmrich’s hand fade. They turned to watch him stand upright, both hands on the staff, still looking down at them.

“You tell me.” He said, offering nothing more. A pause. Before the silence became any more awkward, Rook let out a sharp laugh, much to Emmrich’s dismay. Rook rubbed their hands on their pants and pushed themselves up. They rotated their wrists, a relieving cracking sound in their left one made them wonder if the noise was also the sound of Emmrich’s patience. Although he was ever the patient man, they really didn’t want to go down this line of questioning.

They were fine. The pain that swelled in the hollowness of their chest as they took in a shaky breath told a different tale. The hollowness grew from the first moment they confronted Solas in the fade. Every conversation with Varric after only filled it slightly, but the aching persisted after, and with renewed vigor. Rook had contemplated this each time, before ultimately deciding to distract themselves. There was plenty of distraction to go around these days.

“Come with me, Emmrich.” Rook said, sliding their hand into his and nodding towards the stairs. “We can discuss this in private.” They offered a small smile, purely performative, a peace offering. Emmrich returned with a much warmer, genuine smile. He hoped it broke through whatever mask they had put up. He hoped his eyes held a warmth that let them know they were safe to tell him anything. So, they walked hand-in hand to the meditation chamber, Emmrich stealing a glance to the infirmary door which hadn’t opened in days.

Upon entering the meditation chamber – Rook’s room – Rook deflated against the door, blowing out all the air left in their lungs. They sniffed, quickly going to the wardrobe and grabbing two glasses and some alcohol they found recently during the team’s travels.

“Would you like a drink?” Rook offered Emmrich a glass half filled with brown liquor. He politely declined with a raised hand and small shake of his head, careful not to disrupt the well coiffed formation. They shrugged, and downed the glass with one gulp. They hissed as they put the glasses and liquor back in the wardrobe, stifling a cough.

“I wasn’t aware you imbibed.” Emmrich said, though his tone made them aware he was curious. When did they start drinking? Why? Should they be?

Rook put their hands on their hips, responding with a breathy laugh. “It’s recent,” they said, “sometime after we got here. I just -” A sigh. They knew it was reckless. They knew better. “Everything is so much, and Varric…” A sharp pain, again. “Varric was-” A pause, as they rapidly searched for the right words. Their brain shuffled between two words as Emmrich inhaled sharply. He knew. Rook knew. They were stuck between the words “just” and “always.” Between describing what Varric had told them just nowin the library below, and what they remembered him always telling them during their months long hunt for Solas. “-just now telling me I need to trust you all…” The truth, then.

Emmrich nodded, hands laid on one another in front of him. He sighed, understanding, and reassuring. For a moment, Rook thought he was going to say “Ah, yes. I had a nice conversation with him the other day. It is truly remarkable the recovery he’s made in the weeks here!” He would be interested in seeing how the wound made by the lyrium dagger healed in the fade. He would be with Bellara and they would excitedly discuss their theories until Varric shooed them out of the infirmary, grumbling about mages and their weird shit. Instead, Emmrich, stepped forward and placed a hand on their shoulder.

“Rook,” was all Emmrich could say before the tears started flowing. Rook sobbed into his chest, loud and broken. The hollowness threatened to consume them. Emmrich embraced them, hugging tighter as their breath came too fast from choking on sobs. All Rook could hear was the throbbing of their own heartbeat in their ears, and the faint steady beat of Emmrich’s. They squeezed him tighter, knowing all too well this would not fix the hollowness inside them. Their breath slowed, and Emmrich stroked their hair and rubbed between their aching shoulder blades. They both knew this was a pivotal moment in mourning. The truth and acceptance of loss. Grief that hollowed out a hole the same size and shape of the departed in the hearts of the living. It could never be filled exactly, but it could heal, and honoring the dead was a balm. One that hurt like alcohol on a wound, but necessary.

Emmrich kissed the top of their head. It was a promise- one that told them they could stay like this as long as Rook needed. Their sobs turned into soft whimpers and sniffles before quickly rising to wails again. Emmrich wasn’t so different when his parents died, he thought about himself. A small pang in his chest as well, even after all these years. He closed his eyes and laid his cheek on their head, holding them close as he watched the fish lazily swim about the aquarium.

END.

Note: I lost my father June 2, 2024. I realized as I was writing this piece that it has been 6 months since he passed. I miss him greatly. So, naturally, I projected my grief onto Rook by having Varric be a father figure. Thank you for reading! posted on ao3 as well.

[girlwithadragonheart]

To the people who have been waiting for their requests from me I am so sorry ;-;

I’m working on them this weekend!

Love you guys 🫶

[ellie-writes-games]

Spite Wants To Set A Flame

Lucanis (and by extension, Spite) have been helping Bellara with her romance novel. Flowery language and smut metaphors lead Spite to some surprising conclusions.

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗ prev Part 8 of Burn After Reading banter series next ╚══════════════════════════════════════════╝ Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request? Part of an on-going series of fan-writings. See the full Masterlist here.

As someone on the autism spectrum, I remember struggling with interpreting metaphor as a young person A LOT. As soon as it was introduced in Veilguard that Bellara was writing some smutty fanfiction, the first thoughts I had were "Oh, the neurospicy gang is gonna struggle." (Mainly Taash and Spite.)

This is fanfiction written by me, @ellie-writes-games. These are NOT actual screenshots from the game. Peace, love, and mad props to the DA writers.

[mothdogs]

Making myself sick thinking about how in the Luncais romance scene, if you choose the alarmed “I didn’t think I’d see you again either” dialogue choice, Rook expresses doubt that they ever actually left the Fade and wonders if they’re still imprisoned there, dreaming this moment up. Lucanis reassures them twice that they’re in the real world, with him, and then grounds them with a kiss and a promise.

And you know who else spent a significant portion of the game still mentally trapped in a prison, deeply traumatized and in pain, with parts of himself unsure if he ever truly escaped the Ossuary?

I really wonder if there was originally meant to be some version of the “You’re really here / I swear” conversation coming from Rook during or right after the events of Inner Demons because goddamn if that isn’t the most delicious narrative parallel

[glitteringdust]

Rookanis request: Something where they actually talk about Spite and set boundaries or whatever for their relationship? I *really* wish the game had mentioned that at some point (also I’m just interested in seeing how folks handle it in their stories).

All Spite wants is Rook’s touch.

Ever since she’d started thanking the demon directly for his help, he’d been head over heels at every interaction.

She sees us. She talked to me! Let me talk to her.

It was hard enough for Lucanis to separate his own wants from Spite’s, when they aligned this close. Rook was always giving praise honestly where it was due yet Spite had such a craving for it, it was hard to contain. On top of that, the demon began to crave the usual high fives, the handshakes—any brief moment they were close Spite almost buzzed along the crow's nerves with interest.

Lucanis however…found the thought of her touch much more complicated than that.

The very thought of her touch stoked a desire within, one he could not indulge in while there was a job to do. Entanglements such as this were detrimental to an assassin. Even more so with an overeager demon tugging at the chains.

Then they'd almost kissed.

Exchanged heated glances, after that. Thanks to Spite, he knew the exact number of footsteps it took for Rook to get to his room from the eluvian. He knew what those footsteps sounded like, light against the stone floor. A distinct rhythm, not unlike a heart beat at rest.

It doesn't surprise him, when she knocks twice and enters the room. The last ten steps have her standing before his seated spot on the bed.

It does surprise him, when she runs a finger under his chin, pulling his gaze to hers.

“Stop me, if this is not what you want.”

As she moves forward, he moves back until she is straddling him, his back inches from the wall. Her weight is welcome against him, anticipation tingling along his skin as her breath ghosts over his face.

Rook was so close. So close.

She was going to kiss him, a fact he was only just becoming aware of when her lips meet his.

Mierda.

Lucanis kisses her in a calculated way, slow and specific and bleeding a kind of desire he’d never afford himself usually. He wanted to get each one right, savoring this moment as long as he could. He rests one hand along the small of her back, and cradles her head with the other as he tastes her lips again and again. He can't help the pleased sound that escapes as she runs her fingers along his temples, and then through his hair.

Everything is abuzz, every nerve and inch of him consumed by her. He can barely feel the shift in the air, the scent of blackberry and ozone dancing along his tongue. The fingers in his hair grip him tighter, Rook's breath quickening as his lips travel from her mouth down her jaw, along her neck, teeth grazing her throat and the junction between shoulder and neck…

“Lucanis.”

She's pushing him away, albeit so, so gently. He grunts out what he hopes is acknowledgement, untangling the haze over his mind. Brown eyes meet her blue, and as he regains a sense of reality he releases the grip his one hand had on her hair.

They both catch their breath.

“That was not only you, kissing me just now.”

He goes still. Rook makes no move to leave his lap, arms still draped around his neck and gaze nothing but soft.

“Spite has always been intrigued by you, but he knows what I feel, too. It's… hard to explain.”

“Does it bother you, what Spite thinks of me?”

He doesn't answer for a moment.

“Sometimes, it's hard to know where he ends and I begin. Especially when we agree on something.”

Rook tastes good. Feels good.

“Sharing a body must only make that worse.”

“It amplifies it. Makes what I feel more real than anything.” He looks away briefly, “What he and I feel for you… cannot be separated anymore. Are you okay with that?”

She doesn’t even hesitate, “I am. Are you?”

Most of his life had been decided for him by Caterina. Lucanis had very little say in most of the things he’d faced, and he’d faced betrayal and possession by a demon. If it hadn’t been for Rook’s understanding and kindness, where would he even be?

For the first time in his life, this choice was up to him.

"I want you, Khalia, with all that I am."

He'd ask the demon what he thought, but the only decisions Spite wanted to make were new places to kiss Rook. The buttons of her shirt had almost succumbed to Spite's clumsy fingers, but demons lacked dexterity.

Next time, we tear it open.

“Spite, can you not? Mierda.”

Rook laughs, “What's he saying?”

“Thinking of new places to kiss you. He's mad you have so many buttons.”

A cheeky grin, one that sets his insides fluttering, “Well, I can't say I don't like where that's going.”

She leans in, capturing his mouth in hers again. Nimble fingers slowly work their way along those buttons.

He could do this all day.

[inquisimer]

happy friday! i was looking at the feeling safe prompts and saw "[ interrupt ] sender stops a confrontation between receiver and someone else, stepping between them and coming to receiver's defense." maybe this would be nice for teia to step in when viago is being a bit too harsh on arlow?

oh ho ho this was a GOOD one, thank you!! here's some Viago Reactivity™️to Arlow and Lucanis' relationship >:]

Arlow de Riva & Viago | 831 words | @dadrunkwriting - da4 spoilers

-

“Come with me.” Viago’s gloved hand took Arlow by the elbow and pulled her away from the refreshments. He cast a disdainful look at the wine. “You don’t want to drink that, anyway. Illario has stingy taste when it’s not for himself.”

Arlow rolled her eyes. “Sure, Viago. No problem, Viago. There’s nothing else I was doing at the moment and I definitely have time to chat, Viago.”

“You’ll make time,” he growled, dragging her into a room off the opera house’s main theater. “You’re certainly making time for worse decisions.”

Arlow wrenched her elbow out of Viago’s grip, eyes flashing. “What in the void is that supposed to mean?”

“You know damn well what it means.” The tails of Viago’s cape snapped angrily as he spun around and pinned her in place with a glare sharper than any dagger. “Working a contract with Lucanis is one thing, but what are you playing at? He’s not even the First Talon’s grandson any longer—the actual First Talon? Have you lost all sense?”

“That’s what you’re upset about?” Arlow scoffed, folding her arms protectively across her chest. As much as she loved this dress, it was not the armor she preferred to wear when Viago’s temper flared. “It was a dance. And a kiss.”

“It was a little more than a kiss. And it was in front of the entire House of Crows,” Viago hissed. “Every Talon, every would-be Talon, every rank-and-file assassin is out there taking notes. And you just handed them information that they will use!”

“To do what? What could they possibly do to our house? If anything, this exposes House Dellamorte, not us.”

She had considered the implications, after all. Despite what Viago seemed to think. A Crow never forgot their place in the hierarchy—the very nature of the guild ensured that. Arlow knew quite well that she had been far below Lucanis’ station even before tonight. Now he was First Talon; he couldn’t even see her from where he sat at the top of the ladder. Metaphorically.

But—the dance had been his idea. She had made sure he thought it through.

Still, Viago’s nostrils flared. “Of course it exposes House Dellamorte. They were already weakened, even before Lucanis disappeared and Illario’s stunt. Now, Illario is deposed and Lucanis is possessed. And Caterina is aging—their position is precarious.” His fingers tightened against his hip. “They will need a shield, when the other houses come for them.”

Arlow reared back. “Lucanis wouldn’t do that. Not—not the way you’re suggesting. He would talk to me first.”

“Would he?” Viago raised a brow. “His family, his blood—they are everything to him, no? Do you really think your dalliance means more to him than their legacy?”

“That’s enough, Viago.” Teia’s voice cracked like a whip from the doorway. She laid a supportive hand on Arlow’s shoulder. “This is neither the time nor the place for this conversation.”

“Nor is it the place for your soft heart,” Viago huffed. “I will not have my house hung out for the taking because Arlow cannot keep it in her pants.”

Arlow’s rage flared hot and white. The rage that often got her into deeper trouble with Viago, but she didn’t care. “Oh that’s rich. I suppose I should have waited until you and Teia were back on, that way you’d have a chance of understanding—“

Teia’s nails dug painfully into Arlow’s bare shoulder. “That is not helping,” she muttered.

Viago had gone very, very still—and like his snakes, Arlow knew that was the moment before the greatest danger. Before the strike.

“You overstep,” he hissed, stalking forward with precise, pointed steps. Arlow’s throat bobbed with a nervous swallow, but she glared up at him, chin tilting back the closer he came. He took her jaw roughly between his fingers anyway. “Your contract may have you brushing elbows with people of import, but you will not forget your place in my house.”

Teia’s other hand fell on Viago’s wrist. “Time and place, Vi. Let her go.”

He released Arlow and the skin where his fingers had pressed into her jaw thudded in time with her racing pulse. “Get out of here,” he said, not looking at her any longer. “Go back to the Fade—if you want to keep making mistakes, make them somewhere no one else can see.”

“Vi—“

“It’s fine, Teia.” Arlow took a shaky breath, but her voice, at least, was as cold and level as she wanted it to be. “It’s fine. I’m—I’ll talk to you later.”

Teia’s hand left her shoulder, artfully smudging the lines of purple and black that Arlow’s held-back tears had started to ruin. “There,” she murmured. “Go. I will talk to him.”

For what good it would do. Arlow managed a small smile, painted on in strokes of disbelief and resignation. She pressed a grateful kiss to Teia’s cheek, steeled herself to face the party again, and left.

[deputyrook]

Based on how he’s written in The Wigmaker Job, Illario should have been Reyes-Vidal levels of handsome-charming-rogue-bad-boy.

Like he’s supposed to be suave and manipulative and a little vain. He’s funny, he makes Lucanis laugh. You don’t see any of that in game. Think about how much more effective the betrayal would be, if Illario was genuinely really likeable and a fun character (like any other likeable faction NPC) and didn’t immediately come off as evil, bitter, short-tempered and suspicious.

It’s just… really disappointing how his character was written in Veilguard, especially since, hearing other characters talk about him in Veilguard, they’re still describing the Illario we got in Tevinter Nights. It’s truly insane levels of tell-don’t-show going on.

[fiadoesart]

"Rooks Obsession"

PART 1 / PART 2 / maybe I'll do a part 3

I sadly have to split this in two part as it exceeds the limit.

This is a self serving Rook X Solas work. I am no comic artist nor a writer but I've always loved the epilogue slides at the end of Trespasser so I wanted to give it a go.

I might do some more slides that cover the more major events in the game leading to the end.

[thievinghippo]

New Fic: a great chord sings!

Title: a great chord sings! Fandom: Dragon Age: The Veilguard Pairing: Lich Emmrich/Rook Rating: Explicit Summary: After the rites, Emmrich and Rook explore intimacy.

#

“Dearest? I would like to broach a delicate topic.”

Rook tightens her grip on the balcony railing of the laboratory, curious to know what Emmrich considers delicate. Perhaps something to do with his lichdom? He’s been a lich for less than two weeks now and she can’t even begin to imagine everything he’s going through.

When she feels his hand on her waist, Rook turns so they look at each other. Even though he no longer has flesh or muscle, she would recognize his face anywhere. And while his eyes are a soft green glow instead of the warm brown she remembers, they are still his.

“I’m listening. We can talk about anything, you know that.” She takes a breath and tries to ignore the nervousness gathering in the pit of her stomach. “What would you like to discuss?”

“Sex.”

Read the rest on Ao3!

[headachecat]

My favourite parts from Rookanis Epilogue (WIP in no particular order)

Enjoy!

--

‘Spite. I’ve missed you,’ she murmured with affection. Spite smirked, as he held her there, his hands steady, possessive. Lucanis felt a rush of hunger, as he allowed the demon to guide him. He leaned in, brushing his lips against her neck, ‘Rook. He’s glad. You are back. I am too.’ He kissed her neck, savouring the way her pulse thrummed beneath his lips. His eyes darkened with approval, as Rook’s hand pulled on his hair harder. Spite led his hands wonder down the side of her thigh, lifting her leg and placing it on their hip. Rook chuckled, letting herself lay helplessly in his embrace, playing into his little game. His grip tightened around her, pulling her even closer for a moment, before releasing Lucanis’ body entirely. He stepped away from the scene, his gaze lingering on Rook, assessing her with certain admiration. ’She’s fun. I like her’ Spite hissed, fading away into Lucanis’ mind. ‘Make her stay. With us.’

--

Harding paused, watching him quietly, her eyes softening as she tied the bag closed with a practiced motion. ‘From Rook?’ she asked, her voice gentle, a knowing glance crossing her face.

He nodded, his fingers tracing the creases of the letter, as though making sure it was still intact. He slid it into the inside pocket on his chest, close to his heart. Harding smiled at him reassuringly, before turning her attention to the window through which they had entered. ‘I’m certain she’s all right,’ she said, ‘Unless they ran into the bears in the Hinterlands. Maker, those just never give up.’

--

It was a charcoal sketch, clearly drawn up in a rush, although with great skill. He made out Rook’s silhouette as she stood in front of a stone Wolf statue. She was smiling widely, beaming with laughter, as her arms resting confidently on her hips in her usual manner. Lucanis noticed her hair grew longer. Perhaps more frizzy in the moist Fereldan weather. Right next to her stood a taller woman, her hair short and black, a scar piercing her cheek. Her hands were rested comfortably behind her back. Her expression betrayed a slight amusement at the situation she has found herself in. He glanced at the description written hastily towards the bottom of the picture.

We found Solas! How could anyone take TEN YEARS to do so? 

R --

Rook traced the line of his arm with deliberate care, her touch gliding over his wrist, her fingers curling around his own. She lifted it toward her face, cradling his palm in hers. Her cheek pressed into his hand, warm and familiar, pulling his focus back to her face. ‘I’m here, vhenan,’ endearment rolled off her tongue with an intimacy that made his chest tighten. She reached towards his face, her fingertips brushing against his skin. The sensation sent a spark racing along his nerves, the kind that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. ‘Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.’

Lucanis smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her fingers as they traced the line of his jaw. ‘What are you doing–‘ his words cut off abruptly, his gaze falling to the side of her face. It froze there, locked on her ear. He reached out instinctively, or maybe in shock, to touch it. Her beautiful, long ear was cut off. The extended tip was gone, jagged and uneven, the edges ruggedly scarred. Though the wound was healed, it hadn’t been treated with proper care. He traced the faint ridges of the initial scarring with his fingertips, feeling the calloused texture of the skin that had mended poorly. His stomach churned at the sight, a hot knot of anger beginning to form in his chest. His jaw tightened, as he locked eyes with her once more. ‘Who did this?’

-- Cassandra touched his shoulder reluctantly, as if she wasn’t used to performing such gestures. They stopped for a brief second, alone in the darkness. ‘I’ve once known a man who evaded his love for ten years because of duty,’ she said slowly, her eyes making sure he paid attention her words, ‘And once they reunited, it was clear that it was a time wasted. So they tell me. I admire your acceptance and dedication to the path thrust upon you. But make sure it doesn’t stop you from finding your own way to what your heart wants.’ --

'Just don’t leave.’ Lucanis tiled his head, the pain in her voice tearing a hole in his chest, ‘Never.’

The gleam of her usual happiness crept back into her eyes, and he smiled, bringing her into another kiss. She pulled him close, as he gasped breathlessly at the unexpected rush of heat running up his neck. Lucanis wrapped his arms around her. He guided her carefully to rest on the wooden deck. She tensed underneath him. He groaned, feeling his wings extend and cradle both of them in a protective embrace. They got lost in the moment, their breaths mixing, their hearts racing, and their hands yearning to touch. To explore. To remember. --

It took a moment for their chuckles to die down. And then, the silence stretched between them as they perceived one another. Rook’s face was flushed with excitement. Lucanis, looked at her tenderly, trying to keep his eyes from watering. He observed her face with emotion, his gaze flickering down to her mouth. He really shouldn’t, not until they were far away. Not until they were in safety. She pulled back her hair, exposing the side of her neck ever so slightly. Maker’s breath. Rook opened her mouth, as if to speak, but Lucanis didn’t wait for the words to sound out. His breath mingled with hers, slow and steady, before he leaned in swiftly, capturing her lips in a kiss. 

It wasn’t gentle. There was nothing cautious about it – just pure, unfiltered need. The months apart had built up an ache neither could ignore, and now, with her so close, he couldn’t keep the hunger under control. His hands found her waist, pulling them together as if he couldn’t bear the space between them any longer. Rook responded instantly, her hands wrapping around his neck, tugging him closer. She, too, had been waiting for this moment.

Lucanis’ heart thudded in his chest, louder than the faint rustling of the leaves around them, louder than the distant hum of the party.  He could feel Rook’s body pressed against his, the soft curve of her shoulders, the steady rhythm of her movement matching his own. She pulled back briefly just enough to catch her breath, her lips still hovering near his, her chest rising and falling with effort. She searched his eyes with visible joy, the crinkle of her nose noticable in the faint light. ‘I promise to be a better assassin from now on,’ she whispered. Lucanis placed a short kiss in the corner of her mouth. ‘What did I do to deserve you?’

--

I hope it will be a crown jewel of the anthology you can find here https://archiveofourown.org/works/60395146/chapters/154153939

Let me know what your thoughts!

[damallarky]

Truce

There was an influx of Papae!Solas content and I wanted to share a WIP I was working on that I'm not sure what I'm going to do with or where it's going to go in the grand scheme of my Inquisitor and Rook's story.

For context:

Neria is my Lavellan and Solas's twelve-year-old daughter. She is at the Lighthouse because of reasons.

Ren is my Rook. He is my Lavellan's oldest brother.

Solas is busted from the Fade by Rook and Co. Because that is going to happen Bioware.

Neria does not appreciate the strange man who is suddenly in her and her mother's lives.

To Neria, he is the Interloper and must be Stopped.

Stuff happens, and Neria has a change of heart and is willing to give the guy a chance.

However, first, she needs to set some ground rules.

Enasali (who is briefly mentioned) is the Ill-Advised Pre-Veilguard Solavellan Hookup Baby

AKA why it was Varric trying to talk Solas down and not Lavellan.

AKA why Varric has gray hair. Sorry dude.

Neria is too much like her father. I love her.

Neria found him in the library, speaking in low tones to Emmerich and Uncle Ren as they poured over some massive tome. Unnoticed by the three men, Neria used the opportunity to study the bald elf, whom Mamae claimed to be her father. 

He had quite a bit more color since her uncle pulled him out of the Fade. He no longer looked so pale and sickly, and the dark circles under his eyes had started to fade. He still looked tired, to be sure, but it was less somehow. He also stood straighter, taller, as if he had been carrying something heavy on his back and was finally able to relieve his burden. 

There were other things Neria noticed about him as well. Features that were familiar to her. Features that she knew didn’t come from her mother but never truly seemed to realize that they came from someone else. Like how his ears were shaped similarly to her own or how they both had a cleft chin, though hers was noticeably less prominent. 

And then there were the eyes. 

Neria knew that she had her father’s eyes; her mother had told her as much growing up. But it never truly registered with her, until she met the man they called Solas and saw her own grayish purple eyes stare down at her. 

The same grayish purple eyes that were currently watching her intently. 

Apparently, she had been noticed. Great.

“Neria, did you need something? Is everything alright?”, her uncle asked. 

Neria fought the growing urge to run away, and instead crossed her arms and tried to give her best “serious” face, like her Aunt Cassandra wore when she meant business. 

Neria wanted to show that she meant business, too. 

“I wish to speak with Solas,” she said, in her best Aunt-Cassandra-Serious-Business-Voice. Figuring that might have been a little too demanding, she added, “When he has a minute to talk. If that’s ok?”

“Of course,” Solas said, perhaps a little too quickly. Emmerich and Uncle Ren shared a look. Emmerich shrugged.

“Yeah, sure, we could use a bit of a break,” her uncle agreed. He and Emmerich grabbed the book and left the library, her uncle giving her shoulder a small squeeze as he walked by. 

And just like that, Neria found herself alone with her father for the first time in her life.

“You wished to speak with me, Neria?” He asked, gently.

Neria cleared her throat.

“Yes. I wish to parley,” she declared. 

She wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting Solas’s reaction to be. She had figured he would laugh at her and tell her to stop being childish. Or maybe even get angry at her for being so demanding of an adult. What she wasn’t expecting, was for Solas to nod with actual, genuine seriousness. He clasped his hands behind his back, like one of those statues in Orlais of human generals.

“Very well,” he said, before gesturing to one of the many plush chairs seated around the table in the center of the library. “Please, take a seat.”

“Solas, it has come to my attention that I might have been a little bit mean to you.” Then, because she didn’t want to him to think she was going soft, she added, “Just a little bit, though!” 

Solas nodded, solemnly, his face carefully neutral. Neria continued.

“As such,” she said, “I wish to declare a truce.”

Solas’s neutral mask slipped, and Neria noticed the corners of the man’s mouth tick upwards ever so slightly. With his hands folded on the table, he leaned forward so that he was eye level with Neria.

“Ma nuvenin. What are the terms of this potential truce?”

“First; I will not call you ‘Papae’ or ‘Father’.”

“Of course,” Solas agreed, “I would not ask that of you if it made you uncomfortable.”

Neria blinked. This was easier than she thought!

“Um, ok. Good,” she said. “Second term; you will call me Neria and only Neria. No stupid nicknames, like da’vhenan. Ok?”

For a fraction of a second, something flashed in Solas’s eyes. Something that looked a bit like hurt. Or maybe regret? However, it came and went so quickly that Neria wasn’t sure if she actually saw it at all.

He nodded.

“Third; if I want to be left alone, I want you to leave me alone. Ok?”

Once again, Solas nodded. 

“I would not wish to encroach upon your space.”

Neria mirrored her father’s pose, clasping her hands together and laying them on the table in front of her. She didn’t quite strike the same imposing figure as Solas, but, for being twelve, she thought it was close enough. 

“Good,” she declared. “Now, in return, I will permit you to continue to court my Mamae and help her take care of Enasali. But if, and only if, you continue to make Mamae happy.”

Solas’s neutral mask slipped once more and it was obvious he was actively trying not to grin. Neria narrowed her eyes at him, not appreciating the lack of seriousness on his part. Solas coughed and his face went carefully blank once more. 

“Ir abelas,” he said, his voice serious despite the twinkle still in his eyes. “Neria, I promise that I will do everything in my power to make your mother as happy as I possibly can for as long as she will allow me to do so.” 

Now was the part that she didn’t necessarily want to agree on, but she knew it was only fair. It was the whole reason why she was speaking to her father in the first place.

“And finally,” she said, reluctance clear in her voice, “I will do my best to… to give you a chance.”

[jb-nonsense]

The Matter of Sleep

Summary: After Spite tries to go through the eluvian with Lucanis's body, Ogden has a suggestion, if Lucanis agrees to it. Characters: Lucanis Dellamorte, Ogden Thorne (Rook), Spite Ship: Rookanis Word Count: 1,138 AO3 Tags: Comfort, Early Flirtations, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, they're both stupid and I love them a lot

[girlwithadragonheart]

A Court of Crows and Rooks

Rook x Lucanis

Requested by @cirillabelle

Summary: What happens when the First Talon of the Crows requests you by name for a job? All eyes are on you and the Demon of Vyrantium as you take to the floor of a Trevisian Masquerade.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Assassination, creepy man

A/N: This was so fun to write! I hope you enjoy <3

DATV Masterlist

The note arrived with the scent of lavender and the heavy, unmistakable wax seal of the First Talon. You didn’t touch it at first. It sat there on the table, pristine and foreboding, as if opening it might unleash something you can’t take back. The address was what unsettled you most. Not “Veilguard Operative.” Not “Agent.” Just your name.

Rook De Riva.

It was signed in the slightly shaky, swooped script that you knew was Caterina’s handwriting.

You had sent for Teia as soon as it had arrived, needing the moral support before you could even open it.

“Congratulations,” Teia says, leaning over your shoulder with that sharp grin of hers. “The First Talon doesn’t call for just anyone. You got her attention.”

You scoff, pushing the note toward her. “If it’s so special, you read it. This is clearly a job for a Talon, not… me.”

“Don’t be a coward,” she teases, snatching it up before you can protest. Her eyes flick across the elegant Antivan script. “Well, well. Looks like you’re going to a masquerade.”

Your stomach twists. “A what?”

“A masquerade. You know, dancing, intrigue, a den of vipers dressed in silk and lace.” Teia folds the letter neatly and presses it back into your hands. “And you’ll need to dress the part.”

You glance down at your worn leathers, the daggers strapped securely to your thighs. “This is the part.”

“Not this time,” Teia says, already calling for an attendant. “You’re going to look stunning. “Deadly, but stunning.”

--------------------------

The mirror feels like an enemy, but you can’t tear your eyes away.

The gown Teia had commissioned fit like a second skin, the dark blue silk pooling around your feet like shadows. When it caught the light, the fabric sparkled like stars at midnight, just enough to look expensive without being gaudy. The dress was skin tight with a deep V cut to accentuate your chest and curves. There was a high slit, nearly up to your hip on one side. The hem was embroidered with silver vines, adding a touch of elegance you’ve never thought to claim.

The mask, silver filigree laced with Sapphires, hid enough of your face to make you feel anonymous, though it left plenty of room for scrutiny.

You don’t recognize yourself, staring in the mirror. Your lips have been colored with a seductive burgundy, making them look fuller than you thought possible.

“That’s the point,” Teia says, grinning as she adjusts the mask on your face. “They’ll never see you coming.”

When you step into the main room where the others wait, silence falls. Teia’s grin widens as she steps back to admire her work. Viago gives an approving nod, already slipping into his own role for the mission.

Lucanis is the last to react.

He stands near the door, and for a long moment, he just looks at you, his expression unreadable.

“You are not going alone,” he says finally, breaking the silence.

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“I’m going with you.” His voice is steady, leaving no room for argument. “For your protection.”

“I don’t need--”

“Yes. You do.” He steps closer, towering, but not intimidating. There’s something resolute in his tone, something that makes you pause. “I won’t let you walk into that room full of snakes alone.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that.

-----------------------

The ballroom is overwhelming the moment you step inside.

Golden chandeliers hang high above, casting a warm glow over the sea of silk and satin. The air is thick with perfume and intrigue, every masked figure playing a part in a grand, dangerous game.

You glance up, seeing Lucanis crouched in the rafters in his leathers. He gives you a subtle nod, and you tear your eyes away, trying not to draw attention as you head inside. Head high, don’t let them smell your fear.

A dance begins soon after your arrival, the music shifting to a lively rhythm. Teia and Viago have already melted into the crowd, leaving you feeling exposed.

Your eyes scan the room slowly, your hands folded delicately in front of your midsection as you gaze at the onlookers. Many sets of eyes are on you; you can feel the weight of them as you walk. Men and women rake their eyes over your form, some practically drooling.

A heavy-set magister with a leering smile---appears before you. His gaze lingers a little too long on your figure as he extends a hand.

“My dear, may I have this dance?”

Your stomach twists, but you force a smile, placing your hand in his. “Of course.”

The dance is a careful game. You keep your movements precise, your steps measured, all while his hand slides lower than it should and his grip tightens.

“So,” he says, his tone dripping with false charm, “you must be new to this sort of thing.”

“I get by,” you reply coolly, resisting the urge to yank his hand away.

He chuckles, leaning in closer. “Perhaps we could---”

Before he can finish, a shadow looms behind you.

Lucanis, now dressed in formal attire with a sleek black mask, steps in smoothly, his hand covering his heart as he bows slightly. “My apologies, I couldn’t help but notice your beauty among these dogs. May I have this dance, my Lady?”

The magister hesitates, his gaze flicking to Lucanis before he forces a tight smile. “Of course.”

You let out a quiet breath as Lucanis guides you away, his hand steady against your back. “I had it handled,” you mutter, though your heart is still racing.

You take a moment to study the crow---his dark Antivan suit tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders and thin waist. His mask is simpler than yours, a sleek black piece that lets his brown eyes show through. Lucanis glances down at you, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. “You shouldn't have to.”

The music slows, and the couples around you draw closer together. Lucanis doesn’t let go, his hand still firm at your waist. His other hand takes yours, his touch warmer than you expect.

“You’re blending in better than I thought,” he murmurs, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You smirk faintly. “Part of the job, right?” Your gaze holds his, but your smirk falters. “Lucanis, you look…” Your voice trails off.

“Clean!” Spite hisses through his teeth.

You can’t help the slight laugh that bubbles from your chest, tight with anxiousness. “Nice,” you say. “Handsome.”

His lips twitch in the ghost of a smile, but his eyes remain sharp, scanning the room even as you move together in time with the music. His focus is unshakable, though his grip on you doesn’t waver.

“You’re staring,” you tease lightly, trying to break the tension.

“I’m watching,” he corrects, his tone steady but quieter now.

You move as one, each step drawing you closer to the center of the room. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you keep your face neutral, aware of the eyes watching you. As the song draws to a close, Lucanis dips you low. The motion is fluid, practiced, but as he holds you there, his grip tightens just slightly.

You’re close enough to feel his breath against your lips, his chocolate eyes locked on yours. For a moment, the rest of the room falls away.

Then he pulls you upright, the spell broken as quickly as it was cast. “Focus,” he says gruffly, releasing your hand.

You exhale slowly, forcing yourself to steady your breathing. “I am focused.”

Lucanis doesn’t reply, but the faintest flicker of a smile crosses his face before he steps back, the mission pulling him away once more.

It isn’t over yet, but your breath catches as you watch Lucanis slip into the crowd. For a man so popular, he disappears like smoke, weaving through the throng of silk and secrets with a grace you hadn’t quite been able to appreciate until now.

Your heart still pounds, the echo of his lips leaving your skin warm and your mind foggy. Shaking it off, you glance around, searching for Teia or Viago. They’re somewhere in this sea of masks, playing their parts as flawlessly as always. You envy their ease.

Lucanis’s words echo in your mind. Focus.

Easier said than done.

By the time the next dance begins, you’ve managed to slip into a rhythm. The first few exchanges were tense---too tense---but now you move with calculated grace, careful to keep your face neutral and your voice light. The target is watching you again, his lecherous gaze sweeping over you as you pass by.

You force yourself to smile, to keep your movements slow and deliberate. If he thinks you’re easy prey, all the better. A pretty, oblivious smile and doe eyes was all it took to entrap a man like him.

“Careful,” a familiar voice murmurs in your ear, and you nearly jump.

Lucanis is at your side again, his broad frame cutting an imposing figure even in formal attire. He doesn’t look at you, his eyes scanning the crowd, but his presence is a relief you hadn’t realized you needed.

“I thought you were blending in,” you say quietly, keeping your voice steady as you turn slightly toward him.

His lips twitch in the barest hint of amusement. “You’re drawing too much attention.”

You arch a brow. “Isn’t that the point?”

His eyes rove over you, following the dips and curves of your skin and exposed flesh. “Not all of it is friendly.”

You glance past him, noticing a pair of masked figures watching you from across the room. Their posture is relaxed, but there’s something about the way their heads tilt toward each other, their whispers concealed behind their masks, that sets you on edge.

Lucanis follows your gaze, his expression hardening. “Stay close.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, his hand brushing yours as he steps closer. The touch is light, barely there, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

When the music shifts again, Lucanis offers his hand. His posture is formal, the gesture deliberate, as if daring you to challenge him.

You hesitate for only a moment before placing your hand in his. His grip is firm but careful, his touch steady as he leads you onto the floor.

The eyes of the room are on you, everyone else dancing branching out to give you space. You can feel it, but Lucanis’s focus never wavers. He’s calm, confident, and entirely unbothered by the attention.

The music kicks up, and he spins you, pulling your back to his chest, one hand splayed over your stomach, the other guiding you by the hand. The steps are simple at first, the kind you’ve practiced a dozen times in training. But Lucanis moves with an elegance that makes it feel effortless, guiding you with a confidence that’s hard to ignore.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you murmur, your voice just loud enough for him to hear.

“I’m full of surprises,” he replies, his voice smooth and low, his beard tickling your ear as he speaks right into it.

A second later, you’re spinning away from him, his grip on your hand warm and firm as it pulls you back, clutching you close. His touch is like fire, burning through your skin straight to your soul. You let out a breath, trying to keep up with his steps.

“You’re good at this,” you admit reluctantly, your hand covering his on your stomach.

He doesn’t reply right away, but you can feel his eyes studying you intently. “You’re better than you think.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and for a moment, you falter. His grip tightens, steadying you before you can fumble.

“Focus,” he says softly, the word almost teasing now.

You roll your eyes, but a quiet laugh escapes you. “I am focused.”

-------------------------------

The target watches you from the edge of the room, his expression unreadable behind his mask. You’re acutely aware of his gaze, of the way he lingers a little too long, as if trying to decide whether to approach again.

Lucanis notices too. His hand shifts slightly, his fingers brushing against the small of your back in a subtle but protective gesture. He leans down to your ear, murmuring so only you can hear. “Get him to the balcony. This ends soon.”

You nodded subtly, and Lucanis disappeared into the crowd again. Immediately, you missed his warmth. The absence of Lucanis felt like stepping into shadow after basking in sunlight. Without him at your side, the weight of the room seemed to press in on you. You let out a steadying breath, forcing yourself to relax into the role you needed to play.

The target was still watching, his gaze lingering on you like a spider waiting for its web to tremble. You met his stare with a coy tilt of your head, your lips curving into a faint, inviting smile. Slowly, you began to weave through the crowd, your steps deliberate, drawing him in like a moth to flame.

He took the bait. His hulking form detached from the edge of the ballroom, his movements smooth but predatory. The mask obscured his features, but his posture screamed arrogance. He thought he’d won already.

You led him toward the open doors leading to the balcony, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you stepped outside. The space was quieter, the music and chatter from inside muffled. Stars sparkled overhead, their light glinting off the silver trim of your gown.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” he began, his voice thick and dripping with false charm, “you’ve captured the attention of the entire room tonight.”

You turned to face him, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “And yours, it seems.”

“Of course.” He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing the soft glow of the lanterns. “A beauty like you doesn’t go unnoticed. Though I must admit, I’ve been curious about who you truly are beneath that mask.”

His hand reached for it, but you stepped back with a playful laugh, keeping the distance just enough to leave him wanting. “Now, where would the fun be if I gave away all my secrets?”

He chuckled, but there was an edge to it, a hunger. “Perhaps I can persuade you.”

The air shifted, the predatory undertone in his voice setting your teeth on edge. You glanced toward the shadows near the balcony’s edge where you knew Lucanis would be watching. The target was close now, too close. His hand grazed your arm, and your pulse quickened---not with fear, but with the need to act.

“You’re quite bold,” you said, your voice light but firm as you stepped back again, toward the railing. “And here I thought Tevinter men were supposed to be more subtle with their charms.”

The target smirked, following you like a hound to prey. “We are, but I’ve always found boldness more… rewarding.”

His hands grabbed your hips, sliding lower as he pulled you into him. You hummed, your hands splaying out over the railing behind you. The cool stone was solid beneath your palm, grounding you. 

“And what is to be your reward tonight?” You asked coyly. 

He smirked. “Oh, my dear. The reward is you.” He leaned in, flashing his teeth in a predatory smile. Your hand slipped to the dagger hidden on your thigh. As he went for your neck with his lips, you went for his with the blade. Your touch was light with your free hand, tilting your head as though to allow him access. Before he could taste your flesh, your dagger sunk into his skin. 

Blood splattered across your cheeks, matching the darkness of your painted lips. The magister tried to cry out, but gurgled as blood filled his throat. You stepped out from under him, watching his body tumble over the side of the balcony.

“Ta ta, darling. So sorry, I must’ve slipped. A shame you couldn’t catch me.” You smirked, hearing a dull thud from the ground below.

A hand started to slip around your waist, and you turned, pinning them to the wall with a dagger to their throat. Lucanis’s lips upturned. You pulled the blade away, sheathing it back under your dress.

“That was exquisite, Rook,” Lucanis said. “For all of Viago’s complaining, he was right about one thing.” His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you close to mutter in your ear. “You make a wonderful Crow.” He pulled back to look at you.

“Lucanis, you’re staring again,” you flushed from head to toe under his gaze.

“Perhaps I’m simply watching. It’s hard not to with such a beautiful woman before me,” his lips turned up, chocolate eyes appraising you.

“Who knew the Demon of Vyrantium was a flirt,” you teased.

“Ah, no, you seem to have mistaken me for Illario.”

“Just shut up and kiss me.” Your hand fists in the collar of his formal sirt, pulling him toward you.

Your lips meet, and Lucanis pulls you close, one hand on the small of your back, the other gripping your hip. You hear the music swell inside, fireworks going up into the air and exploding, bathing the gardens below in warm light. Lucanis leans over you, bending you backward, your hands gripping his shoulders as he holds you up.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Let me know if you want to be on the Lucanis tag list!

Have a good day/night!

[ellie-writes-games]

Lucanis Lunchboxes: Inedible Minestrone

What if Lucanis packed Rook lunchboxes with little notes in them throughout the main story?

On the map, a "!" icon appears in the hallway just outside Rook's room in the Lighthouse. A temporary chest here holds a one-of-a-kind Valuable and a letter from Lucanis that is added to the Codex. Triggers after the Act 1 pantry scene, Lucanis romance only.

[SPOILERS] Read the letter from Lucanis below the line:

Spite's first attempt at cooking. He hasn't gotten the hang of it quite yet, but he's trying! What would you want Spite to try to cook for you? (He's open to suggestions.) I'm planning on writing more of these with the longer-term goal of modding these notes into DA:TV.

Maybe one day he'll even make something edible. We're all rooting for him.

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

Part of an on-going series of fan-writings. See the full Masterlist here.

This is fanfiction written by me, @ellie-writes-games. These are NOT actual screenshots from the game. Peace, love, and mad props to the DA writers.