#Room x Taash

[multi-fandom-hoebag]

Reflection (Taash x F! Rook)

Summary: Taash struggles with how to tell Rook exactly what she means to them. (Please tell me if I accidentally misgendered somewhere. All the “she” should only refer to Rook)

“Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?” ― Charles Bukowski,

Taash had never been good at expressing their emotions. They had always been a firm believer that intense emotional attachments of any sort were a burden and a weakness. In short, they were nothing more than a distraction from other more important things.

But that was before they had met Rook, the one person in the world who had shown that Taash was capable of feeling much more than anger and indifference. She had awakened a part of Taash that had remained dormant for most of their life, and while the feeling was certainly scary, Taash was learning to embrace it rather than try to run from it.

Yet as much as they cared for Rook, they still could not get over their own inadequacies when it came to expressing that affection. They knew that Rook was “the one” for them, as disgustingly cliche as that line was. They knew that they were meant to be together, and Taash would fight any God foolish enough try to keep them apart.

They were willing to die for their relationship, but for the life of them they couldn’t bring themself to actually say that. They found it utterly ridiculous that they were more afraid of words than their own death.

They stared at their reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying desperately to understand why it was so difficult for them to vocalize exactly what Rook meant to them. They considered themselves to be a highly capable person, but they still could not tell the girl of their dreams that she was the love of their life.

They ran their hand angrily over their face, resisting the urge to scream in frustration. The hour was late and Rook was sleeping soundly in the next room, blissfully unaware of Taash’s own internal struggle.

Taash chewed their lip thoughtfully as they weighed their options. They knew Rook would not appreciate being woken up at such a terrible hour, but on the other hand Rook had told Taash that they should try to be more open with her once in a while. It had not been to pressure them, only to let Taash know that they were not alone in the world anymore.

Taash knew they could go back to bed and put it off until the morning, but they also knew that there was a strong possibility that if they let it go then they would lose their nerve and let the matter drop entirely.

The decision was made before Taash fully realized it. They took a steadying breath and stepped into the bedroom, crossing the small room to the sleeping form of Rook curled up in the blankets. It was a good thing that Taash rarely got cold at night as Rook had proven to be quit the blanket hog.

Taash hesitated for only a moment before gently reaching out, placing their hand gingerly on Rook’s shoulder.

“Hey,” they said softly, gently shaking her awake. “Wake up, I need to talk to you.”

Rook’s eyes opened slightly, glaring at Taash with a mixture of confusion and more than a little annoyance.

“Unh?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“What? No!” Taash said, slightly horrified.

“Then can it wait?!”

“No, I need to say this now.”

Rook huffed, but rolled onto her back, fixing her attention on Taash expectantly.

Taash took a deep breath, trying to find the words that would adequately express everything they felt for Rook.

“I know I’m not the most affectionate person, and I know I don’t tell you that I care about you as often as I should. But I don’t want you to think that I don’t care, or whatever, because I do; I care a lot. It’s just I was never...I don’t know how to..”

Their voice trailed off as they struggled to find the words their heart so desperately wanted to say, but they didn’t seem to exist.

Sensing their frustration, Rook sat up, gently pressing her fingers to Taash’s lips in an effort to silence them.

“Taash, what’s my favorite color?”

They gently removed Rook’s fingers so she could answer the unexpected question. “Purple, but that’s not-”

“When I’m sad, what flower do you bring me to cheer me up?”

“Crystal Grace. Can you-”

“And when I’m sick?” Rook continued, unwilling to let Taash voice their concerns.

“Dawn lotus, ” Taash responded, still unable to comprehend where this conversation was going.

“What’s the one thing in the world that can make me cry?”

“Sunsets,” Taash responded without hesitation.

“And when I’m having a bad day, and feel like I’m carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, what do you do to calm me down?”

“Stroke your hair.”

“And?”

Taash sighed, feeling their cheeks flush slightly. “And sing your favorite song to you,” they mumbled.

Rook’s eyes sparkled as a triumphant smile spread across her face. “See? Only someone who loves me would be able to answer all of those questions. You may not be the most vocal person when it comes to affection, but you show me in other ways every single day.”

Taash smiled sheepishly, pressing a gentle kiss to Rook’s forehead. “How do you always know the right things to say?”

“It’s a gift. Now, if you really do love me then there’s one other thing you can do for me.”

“What?”

“Let me go back to sleep!”

[buckynats]

I asked @greseadraws to draw Harding ranting about the bookclub pick while Fel listens affectionately. Why go to bookclub when you can just have your girlfriend summarize the story in angry bursts of emotion instead?

Less chance of catching a stray arrow to the heart that way too

[the-warmest-machine]

These flowers are in the Fade, around the Lighthouse. The fact they chose flowers, manifested from the lovers’ whims, is just magical. Beautiful. A perfect reflection. And do you see how each flower represents the character? Each carries hues from the character’s color palette and is shaped symbolically to represent their faction or affiliation.

Rook’s flower grows like the wolf’s fang.

Emmerich’s flower is maroon and green (that glows!!). The petals create a silhouette of the Mourn Watch insignia.

Lucanis’ flower carries that sultry purple. The petals are reminiscent of daggers (or feathers).

Taash’s flower is her skin color with a harsh purple accent. The petals are more like tendrils, akin to an octopus’s legs. Just Lord of Fortune things.

Harding’s flower is warm and full. It’s also one of the most natural looking flowers.

Davrin’s flower reflects the Grey Warden colors. The petals are shaped like shields.

Neve’s flower directly mirrors her outfit’s schematic, bolstering a strong white and teal. The petals form a diamond, representing the Tevinter mage.

Bellara’s flower carries the Veiljumpers’ orange. The petals form triangles used to symbolize the Veiljumpers as well.

Romanced Companions: Flower Collection

So here's the updated collection so far

Emmrich

Lucanis

Taash (courtesy of @jollycapybara)

Harding (courtesy of @celestialalignment)

Davrin (courtesy of @iamthelordofcheese)

If anyone has screencaps of Bellara's or Neve's, feel free to add :)

[starlsen]

A Scar's Caress

Fem!Rook x Emmrich Volkarin ✶ Lots of fluff followed by smutty goodness ✶ NSFW ✶ 6.1k words

Read on AO3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It had been quite some time since the whole team had been able to gather at the dining table to enjoy a good meal together. Tonight, Lucanis had insisted that everyone make themselves available, because it had been far too long since any of them had taken a real break – especially Rook. She’d be the last one to admit she needed to take it slow, but was never one to turn down a plate of Lucanis’ signature paella, particularly when washed down with a glass of Antivan Red.

“That was amazing, Lucanis.” Harding sighed as she sat back in her chair, hands on her stomach. “I’m stuffed.”

“I told you to save room for dessert,” Lucanis said indignantly, hands on his hips. “I baked a pie.”

“Oh,” Her cheeks flushed. “Right. I knew that.” Lucanis raised a brow and she smiled sheepishly. “I’m not that stuffed.”

Rook’s mouth turned up with amusement as she cleared away the last of the plates and grabbed another bottle of wine, setting about topping up everyone’s drinks. Conversation had flowed easily throughout dinner as she and her companions exchanged stories, cracked jokes and enjoyed just… being. She felt lighter than she had in a while, finally able to set everything aside and pretend for just a couple of hours that nothing outside of these walls existed. That the weight of the world didn’t rest on the shoulders of everyone in this room.

“Thank you, darling.” Emmrich said as she poured more wine into his goblet, offering her a dazzling smile as she did so. She returned the gesture, affectionately brushing her knuckle under his chin before turning her attention to Taash and Davrin who, by all accounts, were now engaging in a heated debate about scars.

“That's nothing,” Taash snorted. “It's kinda precious, actually.”

“Precious?” Davrin repeated incredulously. “You think a scar I got from taking down a hurlock is precious?” Taash shrugged.

“Sure. Why not?” Davrin baulked at dragon hunter, before turning to Rook for support as she topped up his wine.

“Are you hearing this?”

Rook snorted. “Yes.” Davrin waited, brows raised.

“And?” He pressed when Rook didn't elaborate, and she pressed her lips together in an effort to suppress her amusement, shrugging casually.

“I'm with Taash on this one.” Taash smirked, folding their arms across their chest, and sat back in their seat.

“Told ya.” They said, and Davrin sighed heavily.

“Why are we talking about Davrin’s adorable scar, anyway?” Rook asked, setting the bottle down and returning to her seat beside Emmrich. The Grey Warden rolled his eyes.

“It’s the story that counts.” Taash said, turning back to Davrin. “Yes, it’s very cool that you took down a hurlock with a bunch of cracked ribs, or whatever. But the scar itself is…” They paused.

“Kind of pretty?” Rook offered, much to Davrin’s chagrin, and Taash snorted.

“Alright,” He said flatly, turning pointedly towards Rook. “I think it's time we ask our fearless leader.” Her friends snickered at the nickname they'd started throwing around within the last couple of weeks, to which Rook rolled her eyes as she brought her goblet to her lips. “I bet you’ve got some adorable stories of your own.” She arched her brow as she sipped her wine, and considered him for a moment.

“I think we should hear from Emmrich next,” She said, offering the man at her side a sweet smile, to which he chuckled and sat back in his chair.

“Oh, I don’t know,” He clasped his hands together in that way that made Rook’s heart soar. “I’m quite sure my scars don’t come with stories to rival the excitement of any of yours.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Professor.” Bellara said earnestly, her eyes shining. “All the things you’ve done in your career? I bet you have some amazing stories to share.”

“Well,” He mused. “There was an unfortunate mishap when I was a much younger, considerably less experienced necromancer.” He sighed, a note of nostalgia in his eyes. “You see, as members of the Mourn Watch, it is commonplace to raise skeletons in order to carry out work within the Grand Necropolis. And, being hungry for ambition and driven by my determination to prove my worth,” He balled his fists in front of himself to emphasise his words. “I attempted to raise a skeleton before I was ready.” Rook’s brows rose in surprise, though her lips curled into a smile.

“So what happened?” She asked, and he turned his gaze to her, smiling bashfully.

“Its coordination was frightfully misaligned.” He said, and Rook’s eyes widened as Emmrich placed a finger on his left pectoral, dragging a diagonal line across to his sternum. “Thankfully, I was able to get out of the way,” He paused and chuckled. “Well, mostly.”

“That’s a great story!” Bellara exclaimed. “I told you!”

“That’s so messed up.” Taash grumbled.

“Not bad.” Neve said, and Emmrich held his hands up.

“That’s it from me, I’m afraid.” Rook watched as he sat back in his chair and lifted his goblet to his lips, taking a sip of wine. His eyes met her own and her heart fluttered, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“That was pretty good,” Davrin said, pulling Rook’s attention away from Emmrich. “So I’m willing to bet, as a fellow necromancer, you have something good, too.” She shrugged nonchalantly, sitting back in her chair.

“I don’t know, almost getting axed by a skeleton sounds pretty hard to beat.” Emmrich tutted from her side and she flashed him a grin.

“Come on, Rook.” Lucanis said from across the table.

“Alright, alright,” She said, all eyes on her, and sighed. It wasn’t that she didn’t want them to know about her scars, necessarily; she supposed, more than anything, her hesitancy came from never having actually told another living soul about them. She’d never told anyone how she got them. Never let anyone see them.

“You don’t have to share, if you don’t want to.” Harding said, and Rook blinked, looking over to find her friend smiling, and tried not to think about the scar on her forehead – or how and why she got it, all those months ago.

“It’s okay,” Rook said and cleared her throat, sitting up a little straighter. “Much like my esteemed colleague here,” She gestured to Emmrich. “I also attempted magic far above my station when I was way too young and way too hot-headed to realise how stupid it was.” Emmrich scoffed, and their friends laughed. “No offence.” She added, touching his arm, to which he rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless.

“Alright.” Taash paused. “So… a spell went wrong, or what?”

“Something like that.”

“Where is it?” Davrin asked. “The scar, I mean.”

“Right here,” Rook said, pointing to her sternum. “All the way down to around… here.” She gestured down to below her knee. The table fell quiet, then, and she could feel Emmrich’s eyes burning into her. Taash let out a low whistle.

“Mierda,” Lucanis said quietly, and Rook shifted in her seat.

“Damn,” Davrin laughed, turning to Taash. “Now I see why you think mine are adorable.” Rook grinned as the others joined in his mirth.

“I stand by what I said.” Taash drawled, and laughter filled the dining table once more. “Who’s next?”

She was thankful for the diversion away from herself and knocked back the rest of her wine, all too aware of the man at her side, that his eyes were still fixed on her. She set down her cup and turned her attention to him to find him watching her thoughtfully, his brow slightly furrowed.

“What?” She asked, and he lowered his voice.

“I had no idea.” He said, glancing down at her body before bringing his gaze back to her own. “Darling, what happened?” She smiled, leaning in until her lips brushed the shell of his ear.

“Come to my room later and I’ll tell you,” She purred. “Maybe I’ll even show you.” She sat back in her chair and his brows shot up, eyes slightly wide, before clearing his throat and reaching for his wine once more. She flashed him a wicked grin and he chuckled, relaxing somewhat and shaking his head.

The truth was that while she’d dodged having to explain the details of the incident to her companions, she’d realised relatively quickly after meeting him that Emmrich was likely to be the only person she could share it with. He understood her in a way that nobody else could, and often seemed to know her better than she knew herself. And now, many months later, he was so much more than just a fellow necromancer, companion or friend. What they shared was… simply put, utterly magical, and they’d formed a bond that she knew could survive anything.

Not only that, but it had become increasingly difficult to ignore the way he made her feel, to ignore the all consuming desire that overwhelmed her senses whenever he was near – which was, incidentally, almost every single day. The alluring, dazzling and devastatingly charming gentleman had assured her they’d take things slow, to allow their relationship to progress organically; the only problem was that she wanted to take things further. Much, much further, and was confident that Emmrich was just as ready as she was.

There had been a handful of occasions in recent weeks in which she’d almost gone through with it, but as soon as it came to taking off her clothes, she’d freeze. She’d spent so much of her life hiding her scars that it felt alien to do otherwise. It had been almost a week since the last time she’d allowed herself to get carried away in the heat of the moment, driven by lust to throw caution to the wind; she’d been in his quarters and had become painfully aroused just listening to him read a passage from a book. She’d climbed into his lap, her kisses bruising and feverish, and he’d held her close and kissed her back with equal fervour, his broad hands roaming her body. Yes, Emmrich was definitely just as ready as she was.

And her scars were the only thing holding her back.

She’d remained wholly distracted for the rest of the evening, unable to think about anything other than getting Emmrich behind closed doors. And so, by the time they’d all decided to call it a night, she was all too happy to loop her arm through his and lead him away from the dining hall. She listened as he gushed over Lucanis’ skills in the kitchen, his appreciation for a delightful meal, and how exhilarating it was to share a story from his youth. As they reached the threshold of Emmrich’s quarters, he paused and turned to face her, a softness in his eyes as he took her hands in his own.

“Rook,” He said gently, and she hummed. “You know there is absolutely no pressure for our relationship to move forward, don’t you?” He ran his thumbs across her knuckles. “None whatsoever.” Gods, her heart ached with the affection she felt for him. She offered him a small smile and stepped into him, leaning up on the tips of her toes to press her lips to his. The kiss lingered for a few moments before she sank onto the balls of her feet and took a few steps backwards, towards her own quarters, letting go of his hands as she did so.

“Are you coming?” Is all she said, and after a moment, the corner of his lips turned up as he gestured for her to lead the way and followed in her stead. She tried to shake her nerves as she led him to her room, reminding herself how badly she wants, needs, this. She headed for the small meditation table before the expansive fish tank that filled the far wall, watching the candle flames flicker as Emmrich closed the doors behind them.

She listened to the steady, even stride of his approaching footsteps, and hovered a hand over the candles, the heat from the flames licking her fingertips. He was at her side, then, and she took another moment to admire the way the candles shone a fiery glow over her palm, the fish tank casting an icy blue hue across the back of her hand.

“I've never shared myself with anyone, not entirely.” She said into the peaceful calm of her room. “I've never known anyone that made me want to, y'know?” She pulled her hand away from the flames, turning to face where Emmrich stood, shoulders squared and hands clasped in front of himself, and nodded.

He was absolutely beautiful. The light of the fish tank cast his side in glorious aqua blue, his eyes appearing more green than hazel, contrasting with the warm shadows on his other side, candles all around them; and while dazzling was usually her go-to word to describe Emmrich, right now, it felt as though there were no words that would do him justice. His beauty, his kindness, his everything.

“But then I met you.” She said, and his eyes were so kind and earnest and caused an ache deep in her heart. “And those nights in the memorial gardens, you shared so much of yourself with me. Made me realise we were more alike than I ever realised.” His eyes dropped to the floor for just a moment, almost bashfully, the smallest smile tugging on his lips when he brought his gaze back to her own.

“You introduced me to your parents,” She continued. “You have no idea what that meant to me, Emmrich.” His eyes softened, chest rising as he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his nose. “You make me want to share everything with you.” He closed the space between them.

“If you are ready,” He said, tucking her long, lavender hair behind her pointed ears. “Then it would be an honour, my darling.” He brushed his knuckles along her jaw, and her throat tightened, her heart beating a little faster again. She leaned into his touch, lifting a hand to his chest, to the scar she now knew lay underneath. She glanced down at herself, then raised her chin to meet his gaze once more.

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours?” She hoped the playful tone in her words would take the edge off the nerves pooling in her gut, and Emmrich let out a breathy chuckle. He said nothing, at first; just smiled down at her, his eyes warm and safe and kind, always so kind. She raised her eyebrows just slightly, and then his lips were on her forehead in a gentle kiss.

“Very well.” He took a short step back from her as he unclipped the gold chain across his waistcoat, and Rook watched his fingers intently as they worked their way down, one button after the other. Watched as they pulled the waistcoat over his shoulders and set it down neatly on the chaise lounge. Watched as they unfastened his belt, the sound of leather sliding along soft calluses as it unwound from his hips. Watched as they slipped into luxurious red, unravelling the silken sash around his midriff. His usual gold cuff and leather glove were absent from his ensemble today, and she marvelled at how beautiful his hands really were; soft and warm and purposeful, bedecked in the finest jewellery.

She could watch those hands at work for an eternity.

As he unclasped the dainty skull pinning his collar together, she tugged at the bottom of his shirt, untucking it from his trousers, and his lips turned up slightly. Heat rose in her cheeks as he began unfastening the buttons of his shirt, slowly exposing his neck, clavicle, and sternum. She worked from the bottom until their fingers met, knuckles brushing, and she inhaled deeply through her nose as he slipped the shirt over his shoulders, revealing his broad chest, the gold bangles on his forearm chiming as he removed his shirt completely and dropped it on top of his other clothes.

Emmrich had always cut a very fine figure; his tailored clothes made no secret of his slender frame, but Rook hadn’t expected his shoulders, his chest, to be quite so broad. She followed the lines of his frame as it dipped in at his waist, his soft and slightly toned abdomen, and finally observed the scar running from his left pectoral to his sternum.

She brought her hands to his chest, tracing the line of the scar with her fingertips, and goosebumps flooded his skin under her featherlight touch. She hesitated for just a moment when he tensed, before he visibly relaxed and let out a breath. She could feel the heat crawling from her cheeks to the tips of her pointed ears as she touched him, her pulse racing, while he remained wholly still, hands once again clasped in his usual composure.

He was beautiful.

“Emmrich,” His name was barely above a whisper, and she finally looked up to meet his gaze, finding him watching her, a vulnerability in his eyes and something akin to uncertainty. She returned her attention to his chest and leaned in to press a soft, chaste kiss to his scar.

“I know that I am not exactly,” He paused, and she looked up at him. “Well, you know.” She tilted her head to the side and he huffed, his cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink as he averted his gaze. “I'm no Davrin or Lucanis, let's say.”

Her brows came together, then, and she reached for him, taking his cheek in her hand and gently bringing his gaze back to her own.

“Emmrich,” She said, taking one of his hands and lifting it to her chest. “Do you feel that?” He glanced down to where she was firmly holding his palm over her racing heart, his lips parting ever so slightly, and hazel met violet once more. She smiled.

“That's what you do to me.” She said, and he chuckled bashfully. Her smile widened to a toothy grin, and added, “Among other things.” Emmrich laughed heartily, then, the pink in his cheeks turning a little darker, and she giggled, feeling the familiar ache begin to stir between her legs.

“You are beautiful.” She said as their mirth eased, and his throat bobbed as she took his other hand to her chest, guiding his fingers to the buttons on her shirt. “I want you to see me, too.” She tugged the bottom of her shirt from where it had been tucked lazily into the waistband of her pants, before letting her arms return to her side.

“Are you sure, darling?” He asked, and she nodded, taking a breath to steady her racing heart. He held her gaze for a moment longer before leaning down to brush his lips over her temple, and began unfastening the buttons. She closed her eyes and leaned into his kiss, the flush in her cheeks deepening, and gazed up into gorgeous hazel when he pulled back.

Though her racing heart wasn't because of her desires for the man before her alone, or the anticipation of what she knew was going to happen tonight – no, her heart was racing because she was finally letting someone in. Because she finally felt safe enough, finally had the desire to be truly intimate with someone, finally wanted to show someone the reminder of just how close she had come to dying; a fact that had utterly terrified her and shamed her as a member of the Mourn Watch.

But after Emmrich had confided in her about his own fears, she’d realised she’d found a true companion in him. And now, bearing themselves to one another, she knew she’d found her twin flame, her soul’s calling, and at long last was ready. Truly ready.

His fingers had reached the bottom of her shirt and he paused. She nodded, and he slowly pushed her shirt over her shoulders and she let it fall to the floor, and his eyes dropped to her naked torso. Her heart was pounding by now, and Emmrich's lips parted, his eyes darting across the expanse of her scars. Her breaths came a little shorter, a little faster, and she inhaled deeply through her nose and let it out slowly, willing her heart to slow down, willing for him to say something.

He lifted his hands, and she held her breath as he gently brushed her hair back over her shoulders, letting the long, lavender locks cascade down her back, and stepped back slightly.

“It was lightning magic,” She said, and Emmrich glanced at her before returning his gaze to her abdomen. “I mean-” She snorted nervously and gestured to them. “Obviously.” He reached for her, trailing his fingers over the lines branching across her body, disappearing underneath her pants.

The magic had entered her body just below her hip, the lightning forking up and down as it surged and left scorched skin in its wake. Jagged lines spread up and around her ribs, across her abdomen to her sternum and breasts; it branched down her thigh, coiling itself around her leg to her shin. The scars remained a deep, dusky pink, though they had healed many years ago.

“Rook,” He said quietly, his brow pinched together. She took a breath.

“They run almost the entire length of my body,” She said, and with trembling fingers, reached for the button on her pants. He placed his hands over her own, halting her, and swallowed hard when he knelt before her; he unfastened the button, pulled down the zip, and carefully tugged them down her thighs. She held onto his shoulders as she lifted one leg at a time so he could remove her pants completely, leaving her clad only in her undergarments.

He remained on his knees, his eyes roaming her body as he asked, “What happened?”

“The magic was beyond my abilities at the time,” She said. “I was tired of being told I wasn’t ready, that I couldn’t do it. I was so sure they were wrong, that I could prove them wrong, so…” She sighed. “I performed the spell in my quarters and I couldn’t contain it. I struck myself by accident.” She paused as her voice wavered. “And, uh,” She cleared her throat, blinking away the tears in her eyes. “It almost killed me.”

Emmrich's eyes shot up, then, and she could feel his gaze burning into her as she focused on the candles across the room, willing herself to calm, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“I was terrified.” She admitted. “And I couldn’t tell anyone because what good is a necromancer whose greatest fear is dying?” Emmrich sighed, and she looked down at him, his brows drawn and such sadness in his eyes. She brushed her knuckles along his cheek. “But then… I met you.”

“Darling,” He said gently, so agonisingly gently, as he leaned into her touch. “I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn't,” She said. “Nobody does. I've never…” She trailed off, and he tilted his head to the side.

“You've never told anyone?” He asked, and she shook her head.

“No,” She said, and his frown deepened slightly, before lowering his gaze once more to her scars. Then, he leaned in, and she inhaled sharply when he pressed a kiss to her abdomen.

“They are beautiful, Rook.” He said firmly, and placed another kiss on her hip. “You are beautiful.”

Her cheeks were blazing now, and she chuckled, threading her fingers through his hair.

“Oh, I don't know about that.” She said, and he looked up at her, his expression entirely too serious, and rose to his feet once more. She almost shrank back from the intensity of his gaze, and he took her face in his hands, cradling her jaw, his touch so tender she could have cried.

“I see you.” He said, and she swallowed hard as her throat tightened, tears threatening to fill her glistening eyes. “You are the most beautiful young woman I have ever laid my eyes upon,” He spoke so gently, so earnestly, and she sighed as she leaned into his touch.

“And,” He added, leaning in to brush his lips over hers. “There are none in this world more fortunate than I.”

She had never truly grasped what it could mean to be swept off her feet, but when his mouth met hers in a kiss so dizzying that it stole her breath and left her knees unsteady beneath her, she wondered if this was what it felt like. Her eyes slipped shut as she melted into him, chest-to-chest, their hearts beating wildly as one, hands cradling each other’s faces as though they couldn’t be close enough.

Lips fused in a slow, tender kiss, they moved back towards the chaise lounge. Rook reached blindly for the frame as Emmrich set a knee on the seat, sliding a hand down to her waist and around the small of her back as she found purchase at last and laid back, his body warm as he settled between her legs and leaned over her.

He trailed his lips along her jaw and down the length of her neck, his kisses gentle and unhurried and Gods, she was breathless as he reached her collarbone. The warmth of his breath left her skin tingling as his lips caressed her breast, then her sternum, and her heart all but soared out of her chest upon realising that he was slowly, and very deliberately, tracing the branches of her scars.

She couldn’t look away. Her chest rose and fell, watching as he took his time, eyes roaming across her skin, as though he was taking such care of where to place his lips next, worshipping her body with his mouth. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, sighing softly through parted lips as he kissed her stomach, then paused as he glanced down at her undergarments. His gaze met her own in silent question, his eyes softening when her answer came in the form of a single nod, and sat back on his knees as she lifted her hips to allow him to remove her underwear.

She blushed furiously when the corner of his mouth tugged into a deeply alluring smile, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her stomach, then her hip, before shifting further back on the seat and nuzzling the inside of her thigh with his nose, his lips barely brushing her skin, his eyes fixed on her own. By the Gods, the darkness in his lustful gaze sent a thrill running straight through her. He tucked his shoulders under her thighs, running his hands along her hips, and she gasped when he dipped between her legs and ran the flat of his tongue over her slit.

It was as though every nerve ending in her body was centred entirely within her sex, a feeling she could have only ever dreamed of; Emmrich worked his lips and tongue like a man starved, leaving her thighs trembling, chest tightening, toes curling. Every cell in her body was on fire, arousal pulsing through her, and she was breathless as she tipped her head back, her senses overwhelmed because his tongue, Gods, his tongue; warm and wet, gliding through her soaking folds, over and over, yes, yes-

“Emmrich,” She moaned, arching her back, and he slid a jewelled hand from her hip to her abdomen, his palm flat against her skin. She wasn’t going to last, not like this, the familiar feeling already beginning to swell deep within her core. She clutched his hand tightly, writhing against him, and cried out when he planted his mouth over her clit and began gently sucking, expertly rolling his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. He groaned into her sex, the sound vibrating through her as he gripped her fingers that were closed over his own. She ached for release, was ready to beg for it, when the pressure building between her legs erupted with a final sweep of his tongue and she gasped sharply, her mouth falling open, her entire body tensing and trembling as her orgasm sent lightning surging from her core.

He slowed his tongue to gentle rolls as she rode out her high, his eyes fixed on her writhing body, marvelling at the way she moved and how utterly breathtaking she truly was - especially like this. Her moans gave way to breathy whimpers as her grip on his hand slackened, and with a satisfied chuckle, he turned to press his lips to the inside of her thigh and shifted to lean his forearms either side of her hips. He watched her chest rise and fall as she caught her breath and, admittedly feeling a touch smug, couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his mouth at the sight of her flushed cheeks.

“Are you alright, darling?” He asked. It was all she could do to nod, because she was infinitely better than alright; she’d never been made to feel the way he made her feel, had never experienced pleasure quite like that before, and certainly never dreamed Emmrich could do that with his mouth. She hummed when she felt his lips on her hip, trailing kisses along the forked branches of her scars across her abdomen and breasts.

“Amazing,” She sighed, and he huffed a laugh before his lips found her neck once more as he settled between her legs. Feeling his hardness pressing against her, she let out a breath and guided his face back to hers, pulling him into an open-mouthed kiss. She moaned as she tasted herself on his tongue, running her hands down his chest and already feeling so dizzy with the way he was kissing her, his lips moving so easily, so expertly, with her own. Her fingers found the waistband of his trousers, and she pulled back from the kiss just slightly as she tugged at them.

“Take these off.” She whispered against his lips, and he nuzzled her nose with his own before nodding, brushing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth and making quick work of kicking off his boots and removing the last of his clothing. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach as their eyes met and he leaned over her once more, hooking an arm underneath her shoulder to slide his fingers along her neck, threading them in her hair, gripping her thigh around his waist with the other.

She cradled his jaw in her hands and stroked her thumbs across his cheeks, her heart racing and his eyes searched her own, seeking permission. She answered with a buck of her hips and he laughed breathlessly, the sound curling around her heart and spreading warmth through her chest. He turned into her hand to press a kiss to her palm, returning his gaze to hers for a moment before leaning his forehead against hers as he slowly pushed himself into her slick heat. She gasped, body tensing, her brows coming together as heat flooded to her cheeks because Gods, he felt amazing inside her.

His breath was hot on her lips as he waited, stroking her thigh with his thumb, hardly able to believe he was tangled up with her; Rook, the most courageous and dangerously breathtaking woman he’d ever known – and she wanted him. He pressed a sweet kiss to the tip of her nose, then her lips, and she relaxed, offering him a smile that could shatter the world as she nodded for him to keep going. Affection blossomed in his chest at the gesture, and he closed the space between them to press his lips to hers as he pulled his hips back and sank into her again, a low moan rumbling in the back of his throat.

And that sound drove her wild. She whimpered, parting her lips to kiss him again, and when his tongue swept in to caress her own, she moaned and wound her arms around his neck. He began rolling his hips into hers, his movements masterful, as though he'd spent an eternity making love to her. It felt so right. Their bodies fit together and moved perfectly, as one - and finally, for the first time in her life, Rook felt whole. Complete.

She broke the kiss to look into his eyes, her brow pinched and mouth open as she gasped with every delectable roll of his hips into hers. He'd never looked more beautiful than he did in that moment; pieces of his usually pristine hair hung over his forehead, his eyes dark with lust, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. A fire ignited within her, unfathomably powerful and burning exceptionally bright; she'd never felt this feeling before, but greeted it like a long lost piece of herself as she welcomed it - and Emmrich - into her heart.

“I love you,” She whispered, and something changed in his eyes, a recognition, an understanding, and he smiled; wide and bright and absolutely breathtaking.

He chuckled breathlessly and nuzzled her nose with his own as he said, “And I love you, my darling.”

She returned his smile, a joyous giggle escaping her lips, and gasped sharply when he thrust his hips into hers, harder now, and her eyes slipped shut as she tipped her head back and moaned. Emmrich buried his face in the crook of her neck, his moans low and deep, and she was sure it was the most beautiful and holy sound she'd ever heard. She wound her arms around his waist and up his back, her fingers digging into the skin below his shoulder blades, clinging desperately as a familiar feeling began coiling around her core, twisting and tightening and building and building, an intense pressure mounting, her entire body tensing and trembling.

“Emmrich,” She whimpered, and he removed his hand from where it had been buried in her hair to clutch the arm of the chaise lounge, gripping her thigh tightly with the other, practically growling into her neck as he drove his hips into her, harder, faster. She tightened around him, her mouth falling open and arched her back, the air forced from her lungs as her orgasm slammed into her with the staggering force of a hurricane. She gasped sharply into his shoulder, crying out and making a sound she was sure she'd never made before, and with that, Emmrich moaned loudly, his movements stuttering, thrusting hard and haphazardly as he came.

The pleasure was utterly blinding, her heart thundering and chest heaving, leaving her on the verge of feeling delirious. She pulled back to nudge his temple with her nose, words failing her, and he slowly lifted his face from her neck, eyes dazed and half-lidded. He glanced at her mouth before leaning down to kiss her, their breaths heavy as their lips parted and came together again, slowly and tenderly, as his hips slowed altogether.

She brought a hand from his back to cradle his cheek, and he pulled back just enough to find her gaze as she brushed her thumb over his top lip and smiled. He quickly returned the gesture, and she couldn’t help the giggle that followed, feeling utterly giddy for arguably the first time in her life. He chuckled, capturing her lips in a single, lingering kiss before pulling his hips back and all but collapsing on her chest.

She brushed his hair back as he closed his eyes, absentmindedly trailing his fingers up and down the length of her arm with a contented hum. She wasn’t sure how long they laid like that, tangled up in each other until their breaths became slow and even, their hearts beating as one; but after a short while, she looked down at him and smiled as she continued to smooth back his hair.

“The dishevelled look rather suits you, y'know.” She said after a few moments, and he snorted.

“Never.” He said with a sigh. “A gentleman is anything but.” Rook grinned.

“I had no idea gentlemen could fuck like that.” She quipped, and Emmrich barked a laugh, shifting to look up at her as he leaned his forearms either side of her hips.

“Darling, I can do much more than that.” He said, his voice dangerously low. She bit her lip, her smile bright and wicked.

“Oh?” He hummed. “Tell me more.” She said, and his tongue darted over his bottom lip before he raised a brow.

“I'd rather show you, my dear.” She laughed, patting his shoulder and closed her eyes, lying her head back.

“Give me a few minutes and I'll be good to go.” Her smile remained as he chuckled, and she felt his lips as he pressed a kiss to the scars between her breasts.

“I may need slightly longer to recover.” He mused. “But I will gladly do this again,” He kissed further down her abdomen. “And again,” Another kiss. “And again.” She hummed happily.

“Sounds good to me.”

[rooksspite]

The Invitation

Lucanis Dellamorte x f! De Riva! Rook

this is my first time actually posting something i’ve written for dragon age! i’ve loved the series for so long and decided to finally bite the bullet.

I wanted to write about Lucanis’ reaction to that crow armour you can get from the lords of fortune. let’s pretend that there aren’t other npc crows that wear it.

“C’mon! It’s blue, has feathers, and some flowy stuff. Doesn’t that check all the boxes for what you crows wear?”

Rook turns her head to look up at Taash with an unconvinced look, “we also prefer to have our vital organs covered Taash. You’re sure there isn’t a missing shirt?” she asks, turning back to the merchant of the Hall of Valour, who only raised his hands and shrugged.

“It’s rumoured to have been worn by a pretty well known crow before making its way into my collection.”

“Right.” Rook replies, unconvinced

“Perhaps the crow was so good at their job they felt they didn’t need to cover up. Isn’t a big part of the crow uniform making statement against enemies?” Neve pipes up, a hint of amusement in her tone.

Rook narrows her eyes at the woman before turning back to the armour before her. Neve wasn’t wrong about crow fashion, and the quality was really nice but it was just so… exposing.

“if I showed up in Treviso in this Viago would burst into laughter and then kick me out… again.” Rook mumbles.

Taash groans in impatience, they’d been standing here for the better part of twenty minutes as Rook looked at the merchant’s stuff, “come on Rook, we have a ring to fight in! just get it! Show off some skin for once.”

Rook blushes at that, everything she wore usually covered her up. Even her casual clothes she wore back at the lighthouse was the most she’s ever shown.

“Why don’t you try it on and see how it fairs in the ring? I’m sure Isabela would be more than happy to introduce you in your new outfit.” Neve offers

Room sighs, she didn’t know why but ever since she talked to Neve about her very limited knowledge on beauty and fashion and Neve and Taash have both been very insistent on her trying out new styles.

“Fine… We have plenty of gold anyways.”

She doesn’t notice the victorious smirks Neve and Taash share over her head.

———

“Lucanis.”

“Davrin.”

Silence rings through the library of the lighthouse as the two men greet each other. Both pretending to look at the various titles in the spines of books. Lucanis swirls the coffee in his cup and clears his throat before taking a sip.

Davin finally speaks, “So… You and Rook hey?”

Lucanis pulls his gaze away from the bookshelf, turning to Davrin with a raised eyebrow, “we have been over this no?”

Davrin shrugs leaning against another bookshelf, “just double checking, leave it up to both crows of the group to end up in a nest together.”

Lucanis chuckles, “we have not ‘nested’”

There’s a pause before Davrin continues, “You two haven’t really gone out alone have you? Outside of our work against the gods i mean.”

Lucanis blinks at the question and pauses to think, “well uh… no not really.”

“Why not?”

Lucanis sighs, it had been weeks since their near kiss before he cowered away, and while they continued to show clear attraction on both sides, it’s not as if there was an official label on their… relationship. Would it be too much to spend time alone? With no goal in mind?

“it’s complicated” He finally says stiffly.

Davrin chuckles, “I can see that,”

The familiar whoosh of the eluvian from below can be heard, “perfect timing,” Davrin hums.

The doors to the eluvian room creak open and the murmur of chatter can be heard as the three make their way up the stairs.

Neve surfaces first and a sly smile crosses her face when she makes eye contact with lucanis.

Well that can’t be good, he thinks to himself as he takes a sip of his coffee,

“Welcome back,” Davrin greets, “How was the ring?”

Neve shrugs, “Isabela’s out another 60 gold. We would’ve been back sooner if someone didn’t take their time shopping.”

Rook’s laughter can be heard as she climbs the staircase, “I didn’t take that long neve.” she says as she reaches the top of the staircase.

Lucanis chokes on his coffee.

“Sooo what do we think?” Taash says as they walk up behind Room. A large grin on their face. They put their hands on Rook’s shoulders and spin her around like a doll, ignoring her sounds of protest.

Davrin throws an amused look back at Lucanis, “What do we think Lucanis?” he turns his gaze back and crosses his arms, “I think you’re missing a shirt Rook.”

“According to the merchant I’m not.” Rook says with a sheepish chuckle. Suppressing the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

“Thing fits like a glove though, she fought in the arena with this armour on and left perfectly fine.” Neve says, nudging Rook with her elbow.

“Mierda, you fought in that?” Lucanis finally chokes out. Barely recovering from the initial shock of seeing the woman he was already extremely attracted to wearing… That.

“Like a badass.” Taash confirms, smirking at the sight of Lucanis’ face, “well Neve you had to show me that… thing right?”

Neve nods, the mischievous smile never leaving her face, “right of course. would you like to come with Davrin? For the thing?”

The elf smiles knowingly, “I’d love to.”

the three waste no time in leaving the library of the lighthouse, the door swinging shut behind them.

Rook chuckles nervously under Lucanis’ stare, rocking back and forth on her feet.

“It’s a bit much right? The merchant said a renowned crow once wore this armour but I think he just lost the shirt.”

Lucanis rakes his eyes up and down her body. Trying desperately not to focus on her chest.

But how could he when she was wearing a variety of necklaces that led his eyes even further down? For once he could see almost the entirety of the tattoo she had on her chest, who put that there? Who had the pleasure of seeing the full expanse of her soft skin before he could-

“Lucanis?”

Lucanis jumps as his train of thought is broken, he clears his throat as he tightens his grip on his coffee cup, “you look…”

“VERY NICE ROOK.”

There’s a pause as Spite’s voice rings through the library. Lucanis suddenly wishes that the device spinning above their heads would malfunction and he would be torn up by the fade.

Rook, in all her kindness laughs, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, “thank you Spite but I was asking Lucanis.”

Her eyes meet his again and he swallows. There’s a pause before he takes a deep breath, calming the shock in his mind.

“I think…” he started slowly, stalking his way up to Rook, “you look beautiful, though I would advise against leaving some of the most important parts of you… vulnerable.”

Rook doesn’t know if the dip in his voice is intentional but it makes her shiver nonetheless. Her eyes trained on the free hand that comes up to feel the plumage on her shoulders.

“T-that’s what I told Taash,”, she says with an awkward chuckle. Suddenly feeling very warm.

Rook breaks her gaze away from his hand and nearly gasps when she meets Lucanis’ eyes. Dark and intense, with a heat in them that was starting to become familiar to her.

Flustered, Rook breaks eye contact. laughing awkwardly as one of her hands comes up to fiddle with the chains in her neck. Lucanis tries to not make his stare so obvious.

“I-I should change, no need to be in armour here right?” Rook steps away awkwardly, not waiting for an answer. Nearly tripping as she quickly ascends the stairs towards her room.

It’s only when Lucanis hears the creak of a door opening and closing does he slouch and inhale shakily, his hand reaching towards a bookshelf to steady himself, “mierda.”

[multi-fandom-imagine]

A Lucanis x reader where the reader gets severally injured by one of the false gods, which leads to an angry and worried mess of a man half bent of revenge and worry for the reader on surviving the night { she does! }

A/n: best boy 🥹

Lucanis felt sick as he held you close, you've lost so much blood, everything happened so fast. You had taken a blow meant for Harding and while they might have been able to take one of the false god's down none of that mattered to him. Not when he had the prospect of losing you.

Taash had taken you from him long ago, the Quin and Harding along with Bellara tending to your wounds.

His hands were still covered in your blood, his clothes covered in your blood. Everything was screaming at him to go out and slaughter the other god, for harming you.

Spite screaming at him to do something, to stop being such a coward.

You were hurt! How could he allow you to get hurt?!

What if he lost you? What would he do? He finally found love, finally found someone that understood him!

This was his fault, he should have been faster, stronger and now you were fighting for your life because he was not good enough. Gritting his teeth he slammed his fist against the wall.

"You should change?" Neve's voice broke his messy thoughts. "I highly doubt they wish to see you covered in their blood."

"She's awake!" Lucanis jumped to his feet, heart pounding in his chest.

"Change then go see her." Neve gave him a nod then turned her body away as she left his room.

The world was spinning, your mind still clouded. You weren't quite sure what happened but you did know you nearly died as Harding did her best to stay strong in front of you.

Bellara healed you, the best she could anyways but it was good enough.

"Mi amor!" Lucanis breathed a sigh of relief as he rushed to your side. His hand grasping yours as he brought it his lips. His eyes were bloodshot, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled but he didn't care as long as you were okay. "I thought I lost you." His voice was weak as he held your hand.

Fighting back a wince, you forced a smile as you placed your free hand on his cheek. "Not even a god could keep me from you."

Brushing a stray tear from his cheek, Lucanis rested his head against yours. "I will protect you, nothing will keep you from me." He whispered.

[mattmurdocksscars]

Lost

Took this idea from @chumett and expanded on it. Basically the aftermath of Rook being pulled into the Fade prison for Lucanis and Spite.

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem!Rook

Word Count: 1460

Rook was gone. Ghilan'nain was dead. Solas had escaped. Rook was gone.

Lucanis tries not to panic but Spite has no such reservations.

‘Where. Is. Rook?!” The spirit screams in his head. Lucanis looks everywhere on the battlefield, as do the others. But Rook is nowhere to be found.

“Where is she? She can't just be gone?” Lucanis panics and that gives Spite the opening he needs to take over.

“Rook!!! Where. Is. Rook?!” Spite screams. The others flinch at the sound and when no one can offer him an answer, Spite screams and begins kicking Ghilan'nain's corpse.

“GIVE! ROOK! BACK!” Spite yells, each word punctuated by another kick. The body of course offers no answers. Emmerich tries approaching carefully.

“Spite, it will be okay. We will find Rook. One way or another.” He tells the spirit. But the spirit doesn't listen. He rages over Ghilan'nain's corpse and it takes Davrin and Taash to pull him away. In the process, Lucanis is able to wrestle back control from the demon. The change from rage to immense sorrow is instantaneous. Lucanis sobs and goes slack in Davrin and Taash's arms. They have to drag him away as the others follow. The way back is silent aside from Lucanis's stifled broken sobs. The loss of Harding, Neve, and Rook has broken the small group. Bellara cries silently and Emmerich stays close to her. Lucanis finally manages to stand on his own and Davrin and Taash give him space. He silently leads the group back through the Eluvian. Everyone goes their separate ways. Lucanis finds himself outside of her door. He opens it and lets himself in. Ignoring the oppressive feeling that being near the fish tank gives him, he lays down on the chaise. He can smell her scent and both him and Spite breathe it in. 

He goes back to their last conversation and is angry with himself for stopping Rook from saying whatever it was she wanted to say. He was pretty sure it was going to be a confession of her feelings. He doesn't know which would be worse: not knowing what she was going to say or knowing and then losing her. 

There, on her chaise, Lucanis lets himself fall apart completely.

In the weeks to follow, Lucanis finds himself losing hope. Emmerich and Bellara are doing everything they can to find Rook but nothing seems to be turning up. It seems bleak and Lucanis is almost ready to give up. Spite, on the other hand, has never given up asking for Rook. Lucanis has not known peace since Rook's disappearance. He slept even less than before, afraid Spite will lead them on a wild goose chase. He spends his time either wandering the Lighthouse or sitting in Rook's room. But he's not the only one suffering. The whole group feels the loss of their companions. But Lucanis can't find it in himself to check on them. He can't put himself into Rook's place. It feels wrong. He tells himself that when she returns, Rook will check in on everyone like she always does. This hope dwindles with each passing day that she remains missing. 

He's just about ready to give up when they find her. He's in the dining room when the news breaks. 

“I've found her!” Emmerich yells, Bellara hot on his heels. “Come! We have to hurry.”

Lucanis moves without even thinking, chasing after the two as they head towards the Eluvian, grabbing the others along the way. Emmerich leads them to a field that seems unassuming but even Lucanis can feel the magic in the air.

“The Fade. Is weak. Here. Rook?” Spite finally makes himself known.

“Hopefully.” Lucanis mutters back though he doesn't feel very hopeful.

“This way, it's thinner here!” Emmerich calls, bringing the others running.

“Better be right.” Taash says. Lucanis finally feels hope swell.

“Rook!” He calls.

“There! A light!” Emmerich points to a tear in the veil.

“We've got something, get ready!” Lucanis says and they all reach into the Fade. Lucanis flounders for a moment and then something, someone, is grabbing his hand. He puts both hands in and the others reach for him too.

“Heave!” Taash yells. And just like that, something gives and Rook comes flying out, knocking them all over. 

“Rook!” They all exclaim. Rook is sprawled across Lucanis's chest, her head just below his. Slowly, she picks her head up and her eyes lock with his and Lucanis almost bursts with relief.

“Rook…” He breathes out. His arms move of their own accord and wrap around her, crushing her body to his.

“Rook!” Spite yells. “Found. Our. Rook!!” Lucanis feels his cheeks heat at Spite's choice of words but he doesn't deny them. There's chuckles around him that reminds him that they are very much not alone. With a clearing of his throat, Lucanis lets go of Rook, intent on helping her up. Together, they stand, Rook's hand in his. But as soon as she's vertical, Rook sways and falls back into Lucanis, eyes rolling back into her head.

“Rook!” Lucanis catches her easily and panics when she doesn't respond. Did he get her back just to lose her again, he wonders. But she's still breathing so Lucanis tries not to panic too much.

“She's likely exhausted. Who knows what horrors she faced in that prison.” Emmerich says grimly. Lucanis shudders then carefully picks Rook up.

“Let's get her back to the Lighthouse.” Taash says. They leads the way, Lucanis walking somewhere in the middle. Bellara and Emmerich are chatting excitedly behind him while Davrin and Taash walk silently up front. The journey back to the Lighthouse is swift. Walking through the Eluvian, Lucanis tells the others that he will be taking Rook to her room. There are murmurs of agreement and Bellara offers to cook something simple to eat. Emmerich puts his hand on Lucanis's shoulder.

“Let us know if she needs anything.” He says, before letting Lucanis go. Lucanis nods then heads towards Rook’s room. Once there, he lays her gently on the chaise and grabs a blanket to throw over her. Then he settles down on the floor with his back pressed to the fish tank so he can watch her and the door. Spite practically purrs in his mind.

“Rook. Is. Safe.” Lucanis lets out a breath and nods. 

“Yes, Spite. Rook is safe.”

“We. Keep. Rook. Safe.” Spite says with such conviction, Lucanis is almost proud.

“Yes, we will.”

Lucanis is unsure how much time passes until Rook wakes up, but every second is torture. Every move or sigh she makes, Lucanis perks up. And every time, she stays unconscious. So when she finally does wake, Lucanis almost misses it. He sighs when she moves but then she groans and brings her hand up to her forehead. Lucanis immediately jumps up. Trying not to startle her, he calls for her softly. Her real name, not what everyone calls her. Doing the opposite of what he intended, she startles, causing her to sit up suddenly and look around wildly. Her eyes finally find his and she sags in relief.

“Lucanis? Am I… is this real?” Her voice cracks and Lucanis immediately crosses to her, cupping her face in his hands. 

“It's real, mi amor. You're here. You're safe.” She sobs and leans into him, her forehead on his chest. For a few minutes there is just the soft sounds of her crying and Lucanis's reassurances. When she gathers herself, she pulls back to look at him. 

“How long was I gone?”

“Weeks. It was torture being apart from you for so long. Especially not knowing if you were…” Lucanis trails off and looks away but Rook turns him back, forcing him to meet her eyes. It is her turn to reassure him.

“I'm here, Lucanis.” They press their foreheads together and just breathe for a few moments. Rook is the one to break the silence and she does so reluctantly. 

“We need to gather the others. I need to tell you what I've learned and you all need to tell me what's happened.”

“Can't we do that later?” Lucanis asks, though there is no real feeling behind the question. He knows the truth. If they weren't fighting gods, maybe they could take the time Rook needs to rest. But they are fighting gods and every second counts. Before Rook can remind him of this, Lucanis speaks first.

“Come. Bellara has made some food. We'll get you fed then gather the others.” Lucanis tells her. His tone brokers no argument and she smiles softly at him.

“Deal.”

Together, they leave the room and steel themselves for what is to come. But even they could not be prepared for what happens next.

[mothmangela]

Between Taash making Neve x Lucanis fanart and Bellara’s fanfic writing, nobody at the Lighthouse seems appropriately worried that those two are holed up in Bellara’s room inventing Thedas’s closest equivalent to Tumblr

[thatapostateboy]

sleep awake

Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte (and Spite) x Rook x Davrin - pre-relationship

Word Count: 3142

Synopsis: Lucanis falls asleep making breakfast, and Rook orders him to rest, under Davrin's watch - a confusion of feelings ensue

Note: this has no set place in the timeline, it's pure vibes only, all you need to know is that Rook (Eva) and Davrin have been hooking up since Weisshaupt, but she's also a lil in love with Lucanis

Crossposted: Here on AO3

Lucanis swore he only closed his eyes for a second. Enough to let out an exhausted exhale before continuing with the hearty porridge he had been making for breakfast, but he snapped back to consciousness with a call of his name, too late to stop himself before he hit the floor hard, the bowl he had been reaching for shattering on impact around him.

Rook was up from the table and at his side first, Taash and Harding, who had all been sat chatting around the breakfast table together, quickly behind her. Davrin glanced up as well where he was sat with one leg cocked up on the table, chipping away at some new carving, but did not rise from his seat.

“Are you alright?” Rook asked, reaching for him, hands guiding him to not lean on any of the broken crockery as he attempted to stand.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, relenting a little as Rook guided him to sit against one of the counters instead, wincing a little at the knock he’d taken to his shoulder, “Must have just slipped.”

Spite was watching from the periphery of his vision, had clearly been waiting to jump in control once his guard was down. But there was no teasing or temper, instead he was pacing back and forth, watching Rook fuss over him.

“He fell asleep,” Taash said from behind them all.

“I did not,” he protested.

“Uh, yeah you did,” they folded their arms across their chest, “You were stirring the porridge, you closed your eyes and then you went down like a sack of potatoes.”

“When did you last get some rest?” Rook’s eyes widened a little, as they always did when she worried about him.

“Always concerned about you,” Spite hummed, crouching down beside him to lean in closer to Rook’s face, “Smells like chocolate and salt and want.

“I…” he tried to ignore the purple visage, focusing on the elf in front of him, “You know I don’t sleep.”

“Well, you need to.”

He waved her off, grabbing the countertop and pulling himself back onto his feet, “I’m fine.”

Her hands went to her hips, head tilted to look up at him, “You literally just passed out making breakfast.”

“I’ll have some more coffee and I will be ready to go,” he said, “You’ve got business in Rivain, I’ll finish breakfast and we can get going.”

“No,” she said firmly, “You can’t keep pushing your body like this. You’re going to get yourself or someone around you hurt.”

“And if Spite takes over?” he asked.

“Then one of us will watch you, wake you if we have to. But you have to rest.”

“Rook, I-”

“No.”

“Eva-”

He watched her eyes soften as he used her real name, but she held firm, “No. I’m benching you. Stay here and sleep. Boss’ orders.”

“Boss Rook,” Spite cooed as Lucanis’ form straightened up a little.

She turned from him before he could protest again, asking Harding if she’d be okay to gear up and come to Rivain with her and Taash instead of Lucanis, as the assassin busied himself cleaning up the broken bowl and finishing off breakfast.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her take a seat on the edge of the table, hand rested on the Warden’s leg as they began to converse quietly.

“You say. Rude to stare,” Spite reminded him, and he turned his head away to finish his task.

Across the room, Eva traced the pattern on the stitching of Davrin’s trousers, the pair playfully avoiding each other’s eye contact as he pretended to be more engrossed in his carving.

“Would you do me a favour today?” she asked.

He glanced at her, a dark eyebrow cocked, “You want me to watch him? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’d do it myself, but I promised Taash we’d head out to the coast to fight some Antaam. And I trust you the most to look out for him,” she said, “And I know you bicker, but he trusts you too.”

“Really?”

“Hey, you two have buried the hatchet since Weisshaupt. And you’re both…” she trailed off a little, unsure how to word the fact that they were her two favourite people in the whole world without opening herself up to the vulnerability of that sentiment. She tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear instead, “Besides if you won’t do it for him, will you do it for me?”

He pondered for a moment, recognising the gleam in her eye before he sighed, “Fine, but you owe me.”

She smiled, “I’m sure I can find a way to repay you,”

“You’re a tease, you know that?”

“I do,” she leaned forward and brushed a kiss against his mouth, “But you enjoy it.”

They all enjoyed a quiet breakfast together, nothing more said about the incident in the kitchen this morning, though Eva noted that Lucanis was particularly quiet, pointedly eating his porridge and not replying to Spite as he was known to do. Compliments were passed around about the breakfast, as usual, Manfred insisting on cleaning up, with Emmrich to watch him to ensure that nothing was broken in his ward’s eagerness.

Harding, Taash and Eva readied themselves to head out through the Eluvian, Bellara and Neve joining them to take a jaunt into the Crossroads, Emmrich taking some time with Manfred and Assan both in an attempt to run them ragged. Eva had spoken a few more quiet words to Davrin before leaving, stopping in front of Lucanis who was nursing a cup of coffee in the library to take his hand in hers and insist once again that he get some rest, turning to address the air and tell Spite to behave.

Before he could register the warmth in his chest and the fact that Spite was near bouncing up and down because Eva had spoken to him directly, she was gone, down the stairs and headed to the Eluvian.

“C’mon.”

He glanced up to see Davrin stood over him with folded arms.

“What?” the assassin asked.

“Rook said you gotta sleep. She told me to watch you so the demon doesn’t escape,” he nodded to the door, “So c’mon.”

Lucanis dragged himself to his feet, the pair of them sharing a begrudging expression, knowing that this was neither of their first choice, but neither of them were going to defy what Eva had asked for.

They walked out into the courtyard side by side, Lucanis faltering in his step as he saw Davrin divert to his quarters.

“Where are you going?” he frowned.

“What? Did you think I was just going to post up like a guard and watch you sleep?” Davrin asked.

Lucanis followed him up the steps, brushing past him as the Warden held the door open to allow him entry, “I figured you’d bar the door and sit outside it.”

“Figured we might as well try and make this comfortable,” Davrin shrugged a little, “And if Spite gets jumpy, I know my room better than yours.”

“Smart.”

Lucanis had not spent much time in Davrin’s room, the pair of them generally avoiding each other when the Warden had joined their party, and even once they had formed their somewhat truce, he found no reason to just hang out in search of conversation. If he wanted company, there would always be someone in the dining area or library, and if Davrin happened to be there, then so be it. Besides, it was the worst kept secret in their group that if Rook and Davrin were having some private time, they would be holed up in Davrin’s quarters, so it would be better for everyone not to enter the Warden’s chambers without knocking first and having a damn good reason to be disturbing them.

Davrin gestured towards the bed that was tucked in the corner, “Have at it.”

Lucanis awkwardly toed off his boots, but was stopped from crawling into the bed by a scoff from Davrin, “What?”

“That’s what you’re going to sleep in?” the elf cocked his head a little, “Do all you Crows sleep fully clothed or is this just a you thing?”

Spite appeared at Davrin’s shoulder, sniffing curiously, “Warden wants. To see what’s under.”

“Unlike you, I do not sleep naked,” Lucanis bit back, earning a smirk from Davrin that sent a spark of warmth right to his gut.

Davrin held his hands up, “Just want you to be comfortable. Don’t want your fancy silk vest getting creased.”

Lucanis sighed, swiftly unbuttoning the vest and set it aside before climbing effortlessly into the bed, feeling uneasy at the amount of tension that left his body simply by laying down on a comfortable mattress.

Davrin clambered in next to him, boots also off, shirt still on though those low collars of his could barely be counted as such. His much larger body blocked off the easy exit from the bed, trapping Lucanis, and Spite, against the wall. Lucanis watched the Warden take out a book from his bedside table, flick open to a marked page and begin reading.

“Y’know, most people close their eyes when they’re going to sleep,” Davrin said in a low voice, eyes not moving from the page.

“Are you reading a romance novel?” Lucanis frowned.

“Maybe,” Davrin spared him a glance, “Problem with that?”

“Not at all,” the assassin admitted.

“Thought I’d want something with more monsters and thrill?”

“Perhaps.”

“Rook said it was good,” he said, “And I trust her judgement.”

“She does have good taste,” Lucanis agreed, feeling a warmth in his cheeks as Davrin’s eyes met his, quickly rolling onto his side, face somewhat buried in the pillow.

“Get some sleep. I’ll wake you if Spite causes any trouble.”

Lucanis closed his eyes, feeling the pull of sleep dragging him into unconsciousness, his last waking thought was that the pillow smelled like Rook.

Spite sat in wait, watching over Lucanis as he drifted off, knowing that he could take control now. But with the Warden so close, he would not get very far. So, he crouched on the edge of the bed, watching the elf curiously as he read.

He had hated Davrin at first. He threatened Lucanis, threatened him, and worst of all, when he came to the Lighthouse, Rook changed. Rook had only ever looked at Lucanis, and them, with that smile and those eyes, and then the Warden had arrived, and she gave him that smile too, looked at him the way she looked at them. And after Weisshaupt, the smells had changed. She still smelled of chocolate and salt, but there was always a hint of something else.

Gingerwort and wood shavings.

He had been viciously jealous at first, encouraging Lucanis to get the Warden out of the way, not wanting to have to share Rook’s attention. But as his temper had cooled, he had seen that Rook cared for the Warden, could not bare to see them fight, so they would keep the Warden around; to make her happy. If he and Lucanis ever agreed on one thing, it was that they would never do anything to intentionally hurt Rook, even if Lucanis would never admit his feelings for her out loud.

And somewhere over the weeks, even Lucanis had relented, finding somewhat of a kinship with the Warden. Not a friendship, not like the nights when he would laugh with the book club or share a drink with Rook, but an understanding was there that Spite could not quite get his head around.

So he watched, and he waited, taking in the line of the Warden’s nose, the ripple of his muscles, the curve of his bottom lip. For their animosity, Lucanis looked, and when Lucanis looked, so did Spite. Spite had only wanted Rook, and the Warden was nothing like Rook, save for their pointed ears. The Warden was not small, able to fit into their arms, if only Lucanis would let them hold her, did not smell like chocolate or buy them knives. But the jealously he had once felt had relented into a fire in his chest whenever he saw the Warden hold Rook, saw how she kissed him, and touched him. If Rook enjoyed how the Warden held her, would he? Would Lucanis?

It felt like hours he sat for, as the Warden read his book, head tilted in curiosity at every smile, every soft chuckle, even the slightest hint of warmth and shift in his scent at whatever words he read on the page.

Finally, he finished his book, hands now resting on his stomach, glancing around as though wondering what to do now, but not wanting to move too far from Lucanis. Spite watched as the Warden shimmied down into the bed, getting comfortable on his side, and soon enough, fall asleep himself. He observed a little while longer, curiosity eating at him as the Warden succumbed to a deeper sleep, Lucanis not even disturbed by the shifting body beside him, a wry grin crossing his face as the pair instinctively moved closer together, the Warden’s arm reaching out to wrap around Lucanis.

It was some time later that Davrin awoke sharply. He felt something move under his hand, and he subconsciously wrapped his arm tighter around it, at first thinking it Eva shifting in her sleep before he remembered his charge, and tightened his hold even more, curling his arm around Lucanis to hold him in place.

“Spite,” he said in a low, warning tone, “Don’t.”

“Warden no fun,” Spite grumbled, “Light sleeper.”

He cracked his eyes open to see Spite wiggling in his grasp, turning so that they were lying face to face, the purple light in the assassin’s eyes a little unnerving so close, but he didn’t relent his hold.

“Lucanis needs to sleep,” he told him, “If he stays awake much longer it might kill him, which will definitely be no fun for you.”

He grumbled again, “Don’t want him dead. Just want. To see.”

“All you’re seeing today is me, I’m afraid,” Davrin said, “You gotta let him rest.”

Spite quieted down for a little while, the pair simply taking in the other’s features as they lay so close.

“Pretty Warden.”

Davrin’s eyebrows rose, “What?”

“Warden is pretty,” Spite told him, “Lucanis thinks so.”

“Does he now?”

“Won’t say, won’t ever say. Thinks Rook is pretty too. Pretty together. Beautiful. Won’t let me tell. Never lets me tell.”

Davrin gave a soft chuckle, “Well this definitely isn’t the conversation I thought I’d be having with you… don’t tell Lucanis, but he’s not so bad himself.”

“Won’t tell,” he said, and it felt like a promise from his tone, “Pretty Warden. Smell like…” he sniffed harshly, “Gingerwort and wood shavings and… chocolate.”

“Chocolate?”

Spite nodded, “Smell like Rook. Chocolate and salt.”

“Do you smell Rook often?”

He shook his head to himself at the smile that played on Spite’s mouth, but they both glanced up at the sound of the door opening and he felt Spite vibrate in his arms as he recognised the presence.

“Y’know,” Eva said, rounding the corner to stand at the foot of the bed, “When I asked you to keep an eye on him, this isn’t what I meant.”

Davrin flushed a little, taking stock of the fact that he was laying with Lucanis’ sleeping form tucked comfortably, “Was the easiest way to keep Spite in check.”

“Uh huh…” she nodded, “You got room for one more?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, as long as you don’t mind me interrupting?”

“Not at all,” he said.

She clambered into the bed, tucking herself in on the other side of Lucanis, feeling him turn to nuzzle in closer to her warmth.

“Chocolate and salt,” Spite hummed, “Rook.”

She gave him a smile, “Hey Spite.”

“Pretty Warden said Lucanis need sleep.”

Rook laughed softly, “The pretty Warden’s right.”

“No fun.”

“Is this not fun?” she teased, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertip. She felt the shiver of Lucanis’ skin under her touch, and the heat of Davrin’s gaze over his shoulder as he watched her interact with the demon.

“Lucanis won’t let me. Says it’s too dangerous.”

“You let me handle him,” she said, “Why don’t you lay here with me and Davrin for a little longer? And when our Crow’s had some sleep, I’ll talk to Luca about rewarding you somehow.”

Spite preened under the attention, “You. Spite’s favourite.”

He settled fully at her insistence, but kept watch as both Davrin and Rook found rest of their own, falling asleep with their hands rested on his waist.

Lucanis’ eyes opened to find himself face to face with Davrin, warmer and more comfortable than he had been in far longer than he could comprehend, almost sluggish with how much sleep he had managed to get.

“Mierda.”

“For full transparency,” Davrin mumbled his own eyes barely open, “Everyone remained fully clothed.”

A shame, Spite hissed in his ears.

Lucanis frowned sleepily, “Spite didn’t try to leave?”

“Oh, he did,” Davrin told him, “We convinced him to let you sleep.”

“We?”

Chocolate and salt!

He glanced over to see Rook curled up behind him, face buried against his shoulder blades right where Spite’s wings would unfurl, her own arms wrapped around him, to keep him close.

“Mierda,” he whispered again.

She began to shift at the sound of voices, the warmth of her breath against his skin as she let out a soft yawn, stretching, the softness of her body pressing against him.

“Luca? You okay?”

Her brown eyes were wide, that concerned look back once again. His mouth flapped, trying to wrap his head around the entire situation, how he had ended up from being forced into a nap under guard to waking up in the arms of one person he desired desperately and another that he had begun to change his feelings on, resigning himself to never having either of them; least of all because they had each other first. And somehow most confusing of all was that the demon that possessed him, that kept him from sleep, that would take control and be a danger to others, had let him rest; not because he was threatened, but because he was held.

She offered him a soft smile as she noted the flush in his cheeks, “Don’t think I’ve seen our Crow blush quite like that before.”

Our Crow, Spite crooned in his ears, Ours. Theirs. Our Warden. Our Rook. Wood shavings and chocolate.

Lucanis sat up quickly, breaking the embrace and clambering gracelessly out of the bed, Spite cursing him as he leapt up, grabbing his boots and waistcoat, “I should go. I need to clear my head.” They both called after him, but he kept walking.

[aldisobey]

Fuel to Fire

AO3 Link - Fuel to Fire

A gift on this eve! Finally got it to a point where I don't mind sharing. Emmlich content, come get some Emmlich and Rook angst. It's got comfort and warmth and I've been with it too long just take it before I start hating it again. Tagging @emmg you asked for it! (oh yeah and the title is just the song I listened to the most, it's how I'm naming things because eugh naming things how). Technically part two in a series, check out Nascent Blight if you need more.

Word Count: ~3k

Relationship: Rook Thorne x Emmlich, M/M

Full story below because why not

Emmrich paced the room, green flickers of his skull mixing light with the soothing glow of the water’s reflection on the ground. Rook sprawled out on the divan, head back on the armrest, eyes closed, and rubbed at his temples. Peeked a moment at the towering necromancer gleaming soft in the muted room.

“Rook.” Emmrich’s stern tone made him squeeze his eyes shut. The lich ceased pacing and stood near the small table at the center. Hands folded behind him he faced the waters. “That was reckless.”

The Warden was still coated in lingering blight from the Wetlands. He’d meant to clean up and go celebrate the Eruption’s destruction on return to the Lighthouse, but it was all he could do to drag himself here. He could still feel the echo of it. Too close, too much.

He gripped his head, pressed hard as he dared to drive away the thrumming recollection of whispers. Thank whatever luck graced him it hadn’t…his hands dropped. One to the ground, the other his chest. Their pressures had provided no relief. It would fade, always had, should have stopped when they burned the thing, but something of it’s nature let that damnable echo persist. That or a head injury, he’d taken some hits.

He sighed. Slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to glance at Emmrich’s back facing him.

“Had to be done.” Equally stern in a quiet way, exhaustion clear.

“You might have left the matter to Davrin.” A resounding voice. The folded hands clenched, then released, flicked to the side as Emmrich turned round to fix Rook with his hollow stare, “Or Evka and Antoine, or any number of other Wardens in Lavendell.”

“Emmrich,” Rook responded more softly, slowly, but kept firm, “I had my reasons.”

“And?” The skull tilted, frustration snipping, “Were those reasons worth it?” Emmrich gestured towards Rook, everything said in that tone and movement. Today had not been easy for the rogue. Taash had to half carry him back.

“Yes.” Grumbling, he swung his legs off the divan, sat up properly to face Emmrich’s accusations. “They were.” He straightened his back and squared off his shoulders, suppressed the pulse built on his forehead with a heavy blink. “Look. I brought Taash because they can burn whatever comes their way. And I brought you because you’re undead.”

Emmrich twitched, almost imperceptibly, at that. Rook might’ve missed it had his attention on the lich been less than absolute, but the movement sent his stomach falling. He bit at his tongue and rushed on.

“We got the job done alright? Lavendell can thrive. Everyone safe.” He rushed the words. Kept them short. Folded his arms. He might’ve looked petulant, but the wear of the day was too loud. Holes in the sleeves, tears on the sides, slash on the leg, all red stained, all healed flesh below, but memories of wounds. Everywhere.

“Darling. What about you?” Emmrich’s voice shook, seeing more than the evident physical. Undead eyes exposed a roiling of lingering red pain whispers, swirling confusion, exhaustion like a leaded blanket.

“Hmm? I’m already blighted, it was no concern.” Rook shrugged, doing his best to appear at ease. Brush off the worry, confirm the wellness of the situation. They were here, they were whole, they…

“Enough.” A snarl of exasperation, Emmrich stepped closer, seeming ever taller as he approached, “Davrin would have joined us had it been no concern. You brought Taash.” There was finality in the words, a stillness as the simmering anger evened and burned with purpose, “I was there, Rook. Your Warden friends were quite clear on the danger that Eruption posed to you.”

Rook grimaced, rubbed his hands, felt over callus, cut, and bruise. It hurt. He added pressure, focused the pain there.

Emmrich was right of course. The lingering pounding in his head was testament to that. What if the Eruption had sparked something? It felt safer for Taash to be there with their fire. Why put more than one Warden at risk? How many was it if not him? If not Davrin? Thoughts roiling he shrank below that green gaze burrowing into him feet away. Rook realized then he’d gone slack jawed, unable to think of an acceptable excuse. But no. He had made the right call.

He snapped his mouth shut.

“Fine!” Rook growled and stood using the armrest with a stifled groan. Patience worn thin after all the drumming in his skull he put his hands to his hips when he reached his full height and glared up at Emmrich.

He didn’t shout, but matched the steaming frustration, “I knew it was dangerous for me. Alright? But I had to do it.” The words came out through grit teeth, biting back the desire to escalate.

Emmrich drew back. Not a step, but into himself. “Dearest...”

“No, don't dearest me.” It came out like a hiss, and Rook leaned the smallest degree forward, “The Grey Wardens need every last person after all this.” His hands flailed out, gesturing vaguely to the world at large, “After Weisshaupt…” A breath found him. The fury caught on his tongue. This shouldn’t be so hard.

He cleared his throat, kept strong, “My jobs done once we’ve killed those gods.” His hands returned to his temples for a moment to steady himself, applied pressure to calm the beat. The blood flushing to his face couldn’t be helping.

Rook gave his head a shake and looked askance, maker how did a skull appear sad, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Unable to face Emmrich in that hunched posture before him. Bent, mourning, pathetic…no, Rook swallowed. Not that. The necromancer didn’t stand alone. The lean was enclosing him, protective. He dared a glance forward.

The lich stood draping the Warden in shadow like some gilded ribbed vaulting. And Rook, an insignificant supplicant come, with soft flesh aching, stinking of blight. Before a cathedral.

“Davrin’s got a book in the works!” He sputtered before he forgot all of the pieces reinforcing his decision. “Antoine makes such things?” Because it had been the right decision, “Can you imagine things if left to Evka’s hands?” They would all flourish after he did his part.

“You think I’d risk a single one of them?” Voice a hushed whisper of desperation. He couldn’t bear it.

No. The gods died next. No one else.

Tomorrow. His mind kept at a furious pace. A last check on Lavendell. Then Treviso, the Crows had word. He could feel cold sweat on his neck, they might have a location. Almost there. Not much longer now, almost safe, and all at once his legs went weak. Rook sank, barely controlled, back down to the divan. He settled with elbows on his knees, hands holding his head, and stared down at the floor. Could feel welling in his eyes, blinked it away.

“Rook,” Emmrich’s voice was slow, the gentle echo of a creek; water over stones as it traveled through him, “I’m sorry.”

Sincerity. Rook could feel it. Feel his nerves still at the serene appeal, “You carry the weight of every decision. Don’t you?” Not a question, a declaration, and in hearing it, so firmly spoken, Rook quaked.

“You were exemplary today.” Finally. A shuddering breath, a tiny lift, that voice of praise, a warming balm.

“My love,” The words sank deep past the skin, something in the tone kneading them firmly within the chest, past bone and into heart where a soul might sit, “let me help you.” Rook sniffed, didn’t trust his voice, dipped a nod once. Emmrich extended his hand, gestured towards Rook’s head.

Movements small, close, Rook leaned in, but then gave start, bit his lip, froze, “..wait.” He still needed to scour, make sure every speck of blight was gone, that could take awhile for hair.

“That’s of no concern.” Emmrich smirked.

Rook looked up as that comforting palm settled soft on his head. Peered past the linen, memories flashing of that arched brow, those lidded eyes, and met a crowned skull, flickering flame. He’d heard it in the tone.

His eyes went wide, tight pain gripped his chest. That was the cost wasn’t it? But then, he felt his heart beat. There was that…the desire...ever since…

'Rook’s Necromancer. An excellent subject to test how long one could go back and forth between life and death.'

Rook blinked at the perfect, beautiful, loving undead skull staring back at him, the whisper of hope escaping from dreams and solidifying here and now.

“You’re safe.” Rook choked out the words.

Then collapsed. Gone so limp he would have fallen from couch to floor had Emmrich not anticipated the movement and dropped to his knees to catch him in his arms.

They dropped together a moment, Emmrich’s arms a cushioning guide. And once stable, once still, he lifted, held the trembling man close, and carefully settled down on the divan with him. The Warden, for his part, was all snot and tears, clinging to the lich’s robes. His arms wrapped tight around the ribcage as he pressed close as he could.

"Emmrich, it can't…” His voice and body shook, words closing off in the shudder of relief.

Emmrich cradled Rook as tight as he dared, a soft hush drifting from him as he brought calm in his firm embrace. There was no measured breathing to guide the man hiccupping into his cloak, so Emmrich purposefully rubbed Rook’s back in the rhythm of a breath, and with a few extra movements green sprites darted from his fingers. All at once sound was still and calm around Rook’s hearing, and then began the sigh of trees, wind through leaves, in measured cadence to help level the rogue’s racing heart.

Rook almost felt a cool breeze on his skin same as he heard it, and the glow of water and flame mixed like light through the leaves to his eyes. He sighed, then lifted his head, buried it beneath the lich’s chin, felt his final quivers fade as a hum traveled in waves through the bones embracing him, back and forth, kissing skin where it touched, a fleeting doting touch. The beginnings of a smile and easy breath came to him at last.

Emmrich’s voice sounded quiet around…in…where his head lay. The traveling hum returned deep and pleasant, warming the skin where it passed. “My love. To think…you worried over me, to such...” Disbelief mixed with adoration, Emmrich’s voice eased its way into Rook’s waiting ears, pure love. The lost words saying more than any uttered.

Rook was steady now, melting instead of shivering, he clung to that genuine smile dawning on his lips, he could have this at least. They couldn’t take this. Rook tilted his head up to whisper to the air where Emmrich’s throat might’ve been.

“I love you.”

He put his head back down as he felt both of Emmrich’s hands move up to massage his scalp. The room was incandescent with green, the necromancer’s palms the epicenter of the glow. Focused. He plied at the Warden’s head. His movements were rhythmic, the magic alive with a pulse and rippling at his direction.

Rook could feel the echos become sated, the answering ebb of the necrotic channeling a path of release, carrying the riptide tight and rebounding in his skull back out to sea. Ease and push, gentle waves of magic and fingers worked the movements with Fade and physical, gently towing that ache out from the Warden’s skull.

Rook yawned, almost a thrum while in Emmrich's care, “Of course I was worried.” And he stretched in small movements, “You immortal fool.” His voice was low, pining, enraptured by the fool he entrusted with his care. Emmrich didn’t reply, his voice occupied in the ending incantations. Otherwise they kept in silence, the soft green glow encasing Rook’s scalp continuing to pulse, dancing with the shimmering from the tank.

“Darling,” when Emmrich's voice finally graced Rook again it sent warmth flashing through him, “I’m safe.” A rolling delight, the aches and pains losing hold, Rook groaned, toes curled as every muscle seemed to tighten, and hold. Then release.

The magic dimmed. Rook breathed heavy, then slow, then measured, calm. Almost asleep.

Emmrich sighed, his voice an echo that resounded through the room. He took a long laborious moment to take off his crown, and with utmost care placed it on the table behind them. Then, barefaced as possible, spoke gentle, the deep echo private now, tumbling only to the Warden’s ears, “But, Sir Thorne.” He looked down at Rook, tilted the man’s face to look up from where it lay on his sternum, kept his tracing fingers there, touch yearning. “You are most unsafe.”

Rook felt his eyes go hot at the words, if only because Emmrich’s couldn’t, and he could hear the despondent tears held in the lich’s tone. He tried to look away, but that meant leaving that soft touch on his chin, he pressed down into the palm instead.

“I’m sorry.” he twisted his head deeper into the hand, whispered the mumbled words into Emmrich’s thumb. The thumb traced Rook’s lips a moment, but seemed distant, moving further away.

“Those are words, Rook.” Emmrich’s hand withdrew, Rook looked up, sensing the gravity in the next words had been stressed by absent touch. “Please. If only out of love for me. Take more thought and action towards your safety?”

Rook gave the barest of nods, mind rebelling against the gross hope of self preservation. He nestled back down and away from the skull’s sight. Emmrich’s voice grumbled in old exasperation, his hands moving to cradle the Warden’s skull and massage along his neck. “If you remain so determined to put your life at risk I’ll have no choice but to drag you to the deepest tombs of the Necropolis. Seal you there until you develop a modicum of sense.”

“That a promise?” Rook’s voice surprised them both, and had Emmrich been able to feel heat his hands might have burned from where they held Rook. So quick and fierce was the flush on the man, so immediate the reply, it came without thought, driven by something deeper.

He could feel the lich’s fingers dig hard into his skin. Maker he really did want...The skull was staring up and away from him now. But Rook could hear the words resound in his own chest, “Don’t tempt me.” A low rolling warning, like thunder from a storm still away. But Rook could sense the ache, felt his heart quicken at what some choice words might lead to, felt the barest tremor in the hands holding him, but then they were gone. The storm gave way to trickling laughter at the thought.

Emmrich moved to extricate himself from the divan, took extra care to settle Rook comfortably in place. Hummed away the lighthearted mirth as he stood free and took off his cloak, gently draped it over the fading Warden, “Seriously, dearest, you mustn't jest.”

Rook held tight to the lich’s cloak and burrowed into it, buried his face deep in the lapel as he muttered half asleep already, “Don’t tease, you started it”.

He yawned. Felt warm, eased his mind to think of falling quiet, but the shiver of dreams crept up at him. The Fade always awaited, didn't it. Rook bit at his cheek, blinked an eye open to peek out from beneath the cloak. Emmrich was still there, though his back was turned to him now, he had taken to quiet pacing again, fish in the tank following as he glittered in the pale light.

“Emmrich.” Rook whispered.

“Hmm?” Emmrich paused midstep, fish paused midswim.

Rook stifled a chuckle, overcome at that moment with overwhelming adoration. He could ask this, a beaming smile hidden beneath the cloak, eye twinkling from beneath the fabric he muttered, “You once comforted me by saying the lich lords were, ‘Unlikely to visit your slumber’.”

Rook mused, calling back to that first time, that first terror. Emmrich had been so excited to share, so animated when explaining, the first time Rook heard the word ‘Lich’. Ice had taken Rook’s veins then. Fresh terror, new fear, but what emotion did he know better? And what a blessing it could be? His blood ran cold. Something deep in his gut warned him, but he ignored it. Looked long at the lich before him, fish following Emmrich’s concerned sway, and let the prickling sensation thaw, there could be warmth here, “Is that…something…you could do?” He finally asked.

“Oh.” The lich seemed to stand taller, an edge of excitement to his tone. “I hadn’t the time to consider it.” He started towards Rook, came to kneel at his side, put a hand on the cloak where the man’s shoulder lay, head tilting in question, “Would that interest you?”

Rook poked more of his head out so that his lips could be read, voice a hush, “Maybe…if you can, just uh check in?” He swallowed, “That song, it's in dreams…it’s worse…” Emmrich’s hushing tones cut off Rook. One hand going so far as to pull the cloak back up to cover the Warden's mouth and tuck him in.

“My love, speak no further. Sleep. Nothing will dare trouble your dreams.”

“Thank you…you know you can troub…”

“Another time darling. Please. Rest.”

Eyes closed Rook could hear the smirk again, felt a heaviness settle in his limbs, swore he was already dreaming when he heard the warmth in the immortal’s voice holding him, was that a lullaby? And sleep took him.

[merry-kuroo]

Rook's Birthday - A Lucanis x Rook Birthday Fic

Hello everyone :)

Today is my birthday and I decided to gift myself a Rookanis fic :)

Characters will probably be OOC and if any of the Dragon Age lore is wrong...I apologize. I just got into Dragon Age in June so I still get information mixed up.

Okay I hope you all enjoy <3

Thank you @thebookworm0001 and @tkwritesdumbassassins for the support

Warnings? Uhhh may be some grammatical errors or weird sentences since I didn't get to spend time editing this like I wanted. Maybe some spoilers?? No Spite...sorry y'all :( He'll be included in my future Rookanis fics.

Words: 3,576

Lucanis Dellamorte had experience wrapping presents. Vials that released poison once the box was opened, making the target suffer a slow and painful death was a assassination method for the Antivan Crows. It wasn't his favorite or preferred method, but it got the job done in certain situations. During one job, he watched Illario wrap a box to look like a present, but it was empty except for an ominous note warning of the target's impending death –a flare for the dramatic that was Illario’s idea. The wrapping looked like shit, so Lucanis tore the wrapping paper off and redid it. 

This present was different. 

Lucanis couldn't make a decision about the wrapping paper color, the size of the bow, and whether he should add curling ribbon. The other members of the Veilguard–Harding, Neve, Bellara, Emmerich, and Taash–were in the library wrapping their birthday gifts for Rook. He occasionally heard some laughter from the room. Lucanis decided to wrap Rook’s presents in his room.   

Lucanis opened up the slate gray jewelry box and stared at the large, silver hoop earrings lying within. When he and Rook went shopping at a night market in Rivain a couple of weeks prior to her birthday, she had stopped at a jewelry stand and marveled at the earring's simplistic yet elegant hoop design. They were shaped like ovals.  Lucanis was sure she would buy them–she touched her empty ear lobes as the vendor tried to goad her into buying them. Being a member of the Lord of Fortunes, Rook had a penchant for jewelry and anything that looked shiny and valuable. She always wore earrings, bracelets, necklaces, and anklets. 

She considered the earrings for another moment or two then declined and hurried away from the vendor. On the way back to the eluvian that would take them back to the Crossroads, then the Lighthouse, she hardly spoke. Lucanis knew she was upset, but he didn't think they were close enough for him to ask her why she was upset. 

When they were back in the Lighthouse, she admitted to him that the earrings were the same kind her mother wore and that had brought up a homesickness for her village, her family, and friends she grew up with. Later on that evening, when Rook was distracted by teaching  Manfred a complicated card, Lucanis used the eluvian to go back to Rivain and buy the earrings from the night market vendor. 

“I’m glad you’re buying something for your wife. Sometimes it's nice for a husband to buy his wife something pretty,” The vendor said as he placed the earrings in a box. “Do you want me to wrap this for you?”

“She isn’t my wife,” Lucanis said, much harsher than he intended. The vendor swallowed and gave Lucanis the box before he attended to the next customer. 

That’s right. Rook–Ava– was his companion. She led the Veilguard and he owed her a debt for breaking him out of the Ossuary. She was also helping him find Zara Renata. She was a good person and a good leader–something that Lucanis was happy to see her keep balanced despite all the hardships they’ve faced for the last few months. It was exactly for that reason why his eyes lingered on her a little longer when she was done speaking, and why a burst of joy sparked in him when she praised his cooking and demanded seconds. It felt like a balancing act. He felt like he’d known Rook all his life and yet he didn’t know anything about her. 

It was Bellara who announced that Rook’s birthday was coming up and that they should do something for her. Hence why he was obsessing over wrapping paper and ribbons and bows of all things. Maker, spare him…

At least Rook wasn’t here. Davrin had volunteered to distract her and take her away from the Lighthouse so everyone could wrap their gifts. After Lucanis was done wrapping the gifts, he’d have to start making a cake, but he’d only do that after Rook went to bed. If she came back from her excursion with Davrin and caught him baking a cake, she would insist on staying in the kitchen as “the chef’s taste tester”. 

Lucanis finally settled on purple wrapping paper and a green bow and ribbon. Rook had mentioned to him once that purple and green were her favorite colors, which is something he didn’t expect because she always wore blues, reds, and yellows–the typical colors of the Lords of Fortune. 

Night fell and Davrin and Rook came back. She announced that she was going to bed early and bid everyone goodnight. Everyone else had finished wrapping their presents before she came back and placed the presents in their rooms. Lucanis began baking a vanilla cake with a cinnamon sugar filling and icing. He used the icing pipe to draw a Rook on the cake. Once it was done, he put it in an ice box. Lucanis’s eyes found themselves looking at Rook’s present again. A pair of earrings didn’t feel like enough. What the vendor at the market said bothered him. Something pretty…the earrings were simple, but pretty. Rook loved jewelry, she made that very clear with the way she wore different necklaces and bracelets everyday and the studs and dangling earrings that started in her earlobe and traveled up her ear. 

Wait. Didn’t she like…

 Lucanis went to his trunk and pulled out a silver dagger. One day when he was cleaning his daggers, Rook had wandered into the pantry for a snack and she saw him. She didn’t say anything as she sat on the floor with him and watched him meticulously clean each dagger. Rook touched one that had a dark blue gemstone embedded in the center of the hilt. She ran her fingers over the gem, smiled, and said, “This is beautiful.” 

Rook never used daggers in combat, but  she was proficient in using a sword and shield. Maybe giving her a dagger so she could have another weapon on hand wasn’t a bad idea. Lucanis placed the dagger back in the sheath and placed a bow on it. He grabbed the earrings and dagger and headed towards Rook’s room. 

Once he arrived, he lingered at her door. It was past midnight meaning he could wish her a happy birthday now. The plan was for everyone to give their gifts to her tomorrow morning. He didn’t want to give his gifts in front of other people. Lucanis rarely felt embarrassed, but Rook brought these feelings to the surface. He sighed and placed the presents in front of her door. She’d see them first thing in the morning. He didn’t place a namecard with his signature on the presents, but he hoped that she would know it was from him.

Lucanis turned away and headed back to his room, hoping to get a few hours of sleep before Rook’s birthday celebration began. 

—------

Ava was still awake in her room. She twirled a pen around her fingers and stared at the strip of paper she had torn off her journal. 

When she was a child, her parents would have her write down her birthday wish on a piece of paper then she'd place it under her pillow. Her mother said her wish would come true if she slept on it. It was a silly thing she did as a child and she hadn't done it in years. But this year had been a lot–the elven gods broke free of the Veil, she was leading a group of people from different factions to fight these beings, and her mother was sick. Her mother was sick but Ava couldn't afford to take care of her because of all the aforementioned reasons. 

Ava sighed. She was thankful for the Crossroads and the eluvian that took her to Rivain and teleported her close to where she grew up. Because she did check up on her family when time allowed, maybe she could be a bit selfish with her birthday wish tonight. 

Ava wrote her wish down on the slip of paper and placed it under her pillow. She was going to be thirty years old tomorrow. Her 29th year in this world had brought hardships, but it also blessed her with incredible companions. 

Her thirtieth year may be even more tumultuous but she was confident it'd be okay as long as she had the Veilguard with her. 

—-----

Taash volunteered to get Rook from her room when everyone arrived in the dining room with their presents. Everyone sat at the dining room table, leaving the spot at the head of the table available for Rook. Lucanis sat at the far end of the table. Neve took a seat across from Lucanis and Davrin sat to his right. Lucanis started bouncing his leg.

Neve looked under the table, then looked back up at Lucanis and smirked. Lucanis’s leg stopped moving. “Nervous?”

“No.”

She chuckled. “If you say so.”

Before Lucanis could ask her what she knew, a blindfolded Rook walked into the dining room. She was holding Taash’s hand and frowning. 

“Taash! Seriously, where are we going?” Rook whined. 

“Okay, take your blindfold off,” Taash said. 

Rook pulled it down and everyone said, “Happy birthday, Rook!”

She gasped, then began laughing. Her dark brown eyes shined with amusement. “Thank you everyone! You didn’t have to do this.”

“Well, I know how crazy things have gotten with fighting the elven gods and dealing with darkspawn, Venatori, Antaam…” Bellara counted the adversaries they faced in the last few months on her hand. “But it’s always good to take a breather and celebrate something, right? So we didn’t want to miss the opportunity.”

Rook wiped a couple of tears from her eyes. “Thank you all. I’m so lucky to have you all.”

“Okay, okay, enough with the sappy shit. Come open your presents,” Taash said as she led Rook to the head of the table. She was seated between Harding and Bellara. 

Lucanis noticed her bare earlobes, and he pushed the disappointment aside. Was it wrong to think she would have put them on first thing in the morning? He watched Rook take Harding’s present and shake the box lightly, trying to guess what was inside before she opened it. 

Neve cleared her throat. Lucanis felt a small box and a dagger sheath being pushed into his hand. “Give it to her in person. Don’t just leave it in front of her door. That’s not how you’ll get her to like you back,” Neve whispered. 

Davrin turned towards them and nodded his head in agreement. He whispered to Lucanis, “Assan had the presents in his mouth when I woke up this morning. Even he knows you need to give these to Ava in person.”

Ava. 

It wasn’t a secret that Rook and Davrin were close, but he didn’t expect him to call Rook by her real name. Lucanis thought about calling her Ava too, but she seemed comfortable being called Rook. But did she like it when some people called her by her real name? Lucanis's frown deepened. 

The sound of wrapping paper being shredded snapped Lucanis back to the present moment. This was about Rook and celebrating her thirtieth birthday, not him and his feelings. Rook smiled as she opened Harding’s present–a blue scarf to wear since the weather was becoming colder, bath salts, and lotion. Bellara handed her present to Rook next. Rook unwrapped it to reveal a fluffy pink blanket. Rook immediately wrapped it around her shoulders and sighed contently. 

Emmerich passed her his present. The present elicited an excited squeal from her. It was a gift basket filled with Rook’s favorite coffee and tea flavors from Rivain. She stood up and hugged Emmerich while thanking him profusely. Lucanis suddenly found the notch on the table very interesting. 

Taash gave her a bracelet, also from Rivain. It contained her birthstone in the middle and Rook immediately slipped it on to her left wrist. Neve gifted Rook the next installment of her favorite detective romance novel series. What made Rook emotional was that it was translated into Rivaini and not the trade tongue, which Rook had been reading most of her novels from recently.

“Thank you. I’ve missed reading books in Rivaini,” Rook said as she flipped through the pages. 

Davrin’s present was a wooden carving of Rook, who looked like a little girl, and she played with a dog. Rook had a dog in Rivain and she had mentioned multiple times that she missed him. Rook hugged Davrin, and a flash of irritation ran through Lucanis. He ignored the knowing look Neve gave him. One again, Lucanis found the notch on the table very interesting.

Then everyone was staring at him. Waiting for him to give Rook her presents. He had no doubt Davrin and Neve told Harding, Bellara, Emmerich, and Taash about him leaving Rook’s presents in front of the door. They all looked at him knowingly, and Rook looked at him…expectedly. Then a flash of hurt appeared on her face. His hesitation made her think he didn’t have a gift for her. He would give her the gifts, but now wasn’t the time. It didn’t feel right.

“I made you a cake,” Lucanis said, cutting through the awkward moment. He pushed Rook’s presents into Davrin’s lap with a little more force than he intended. He stood up and walked to the ice box to grab the cake. 

He brought it to the dining room and Rook’s eyes lit up. “Wow. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a cinnamon sugar cake. Thank you, Lucanis.”

The back of his neck grew warm. He didn’t respond as he placed the cake on the table. Emmerich and Neve brought the plates and cutlery from the kitchen. The first and largest slice of cake went to Rook. She placed a spoonful of cake into her mouth. 

A moan escaped from her lips and she closed her eyes. Lucanis almost dropped his plate. Maker, the sound that came out of her was…Lucanis swallowed and he said through a thick voice, “I guess you like it?”

“I love it,” Rook exclaimed. She took another bite and moaned again. “I’m going to eat this for lunch and dinner.”

“Hey, save some for us too–” Taash said as she cut a large slice as well.

“Taash, that’s like half of the cake!” Bellara protested. “Cut that in half.”

As the Veilguard tousled over the exact cake proportions, Lucanis’s eyes stayed on Rook. She ate slowly, savoring the cake. Her fingers were sticky from the cinnamon sugar. She put one of her fingers in her mouth, licking the sugar off. His heart skipped a beat and his stomach flipped. What was this? Excitement? Dread? 

This was ridiculous. Was he really this happy just from seeing Rook happy?

His thoughts were cut short by Davrin shoving the presents back into his lap. He nudged Lucanis and tilted his head towards Rook. Rook was currently in an animated conversation with Harding and Emmerich. 

The moment still didn’t feel right. He realized what he wanted. He wanted to make her smile and laugh–and for no one else to see a moment meant just for them. 

Lucanis gripped the presents under the table and tried to enjoy the rest of the party.

—-----

Rook’s birthday was almost over. 

Lucanis found himself outside of her door again holding her wrapped presents. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He heard the squeak of the bed and soft footsteps pad across the floor. Rook opened the door and Lucanis took in the sight of her in pajamas. She wore a pink top with thin straps and a matching pair of pajama shorts. A black silk robe was tied around her waist, but hung loosely off her shoulder. Her black hair was pulled into a bun. She always wore her hair down or in a ponytail. Her hair pinned up looked nice. 

“Good evening Lucanis,” She said. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“Oh, then do you need something?”

Lucanis pulled the presents from behind his back and handed them to Rook. “Happy birthday.” His voice sounded strange and thick like it did earlier. His nerves were growing worse as he anticipated Rook’s reaction.

Rook looked surprised–not happy like he’d imagined. Was he wrong to think the presents could make her happy? That he could make her happy? Lucanis was about to excuse himself when Rook held the door open wider and beckoned him inside. Lucanis stepped into her room and felt himself being overcome by a multitude of senses. Lots of floral and vanilla scents. They were coming from the perfume jars on her dresser. 

Rook sat down on her bed and began opening the presents. The first thing she grabbed was the dagger. She slid it out of its sheath and turned the blade over, admiring it. She touched the blue gem in the hilt, just like she had weeks ago. “This is beautiful,” Rook said. “Is this the dagger you cleaned a few weeks ago?”

“Yes,” He answered. He was so nervous that he couldn’t string together a coherent sentence. Rook still wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t frowning either. What was going on in that head of hers?

She placed the dagger back in its sheath and grabbed the second present. She opened it up and held up the silver hoop earrings. “Lucanis,” She said, surprised. “This is–”

“You were looking at them the other day at the night market in Rivain. I went back and bought them. I thought you wanted them. I–”

“I did,” Rook answered, her voice thick with emotion. “I really did. But looking at them made me miss my mother so much.” She held the earrings up, her eyes shining. “That was silly of me. I love these earrings so I should wear them, right?” 

Rook undid the clasp of the earrings and slipped them into her earlobes. She touched the hoops and smiled at him. “How do I look, Lucanis?”

“Beautiful,” He said. A strong, clear thinking Lucanis wouldn’t have said that. However, this day had been strange for him and he wasn’t used to feeling all of these emotions at once. The nerves were making him act this way. 

A smile finally appeared on Rook’s face. She stood up and walked over to him, and enveloped him into a hug. He was taken aback. By the time he realized he should be hugging her back, she was already pulling away. A small noise of disapproval escaped from him.

“Lucanis, I’m going to ask you something and I want you to be truthful.” She took a deep breath. “You and me. We’re friends, right?”

“Yes, I consider you a friend,” Lucanis answered. His feelings for Rook were blossoming into something else, something he couldn’t control. But at this moment in Rook’s bedroom with no one else to see them…he could let himself admit that he had these feelings and as their mission to bring down the blighted gods continued, he knew these feelings would grow. His feelings for Rook may never disappear. 

Ava gave him a sly smile. “That’s good. I consider you a friend too.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “A good friend would show me how to use that fancy dagger over there. If you don’t, I’ll have to use it as a decoration and place it next to my perfumes.”

“What a waste,” Lucanis murmured, which made Rook laugh. 

“You know what else good friends do?” Rook laughed. “They give birthday presents to each other in person and not leave them in front of doors or hide them under the dining room table.”

“How did you know?” Lucanis sighed. 

“I’m very observant,” Rook said. “I thought about calling you out in front of everyone earlier today, but I didn’t want to embarrass you. I knew I’d get my presents eventually. I just needed to wait.”

“And…was it worth the wait?”

“It was.”

Lucanis wanted to stay–wrap Rook into his arms and listen to her talk. He could fall asleep to the sound of her voice. But he didn’t want to cross that boundary. Perhaps he never would. Right now, this moment between them in her bedroom was enough. Seeing her wear the earrings he bought her was enough. Spending time with her to teach her how to use a dagger was enough too. If he got too greedy, then they would both get hurt. 

“Goodnight, Rook,” Lucanis said as he headed towards the door. “I’ll show you how to use the  dagger tomorrow morning after breakfast.”

“Call me Ava.” She cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck. “We’re friends, aren’t we? You can call me Ava too when we’re alone–I mean when we’re just talking casually, ya know?”

“I’ll do that then. Goodnight, Ava,” Lucanis said. He stepped out of her room and closed the door behind him. 

What Lucanis didn’t see was Ava Laidir jumping up and down in a quiet cheer. She went to the mirror over her dresser and looked at the earrings Luanis gave her. 

Beautiful. 

Lucanis called her beautiful.  Perhaps her love wouldn’t stay one sided for long after all. It looks like the birthday wish she wrote down last night–Grow closer to Lucanis Dellamorte– came true after all.

[deny-the-issue]

Oblivious and in Love

Summary: Rook's relationship with Emmrich blooms among the thorns. !Spoiler warning! This oneshot takes you through the events of DATV, and while I do not go into great detail, there are still many spoilers.

Thank you so much to @juniper-sunny for beta reading <3

AO3 link

Link to divider

I have a multi-chapter Emmrich x Reader taking over my brain, so be on the lookout for more Emmrich fanfics from me! Also art. Lots of art.

[MDNI] [Emmrich x fem!Rook] [Emmrich x you] [Mourn Watch Rook] [Fluff] [angst] [smut] [hurt/comfort] [no gender pronouns] [Neurodivergent coded reader] [fingering] [vaginal sex] [3.8k words]

Your pining for Emmrich started as a pleasant distraction from calamity. Who wouldn’t want to daydream about a dapper necromancer sweeping you off your feet with his charismatic charms in between battling ancient elven gods?

But that’s all you thought it was. A daydream. Why would an esteemed scholar of the Mourn Watch pay a young upstart any mind? He treated you with kindness and grace, just like with every other living thing he encountered. 

You admire that most about him, you think. His reverence for life. It goes far beyond anything the Mourn Watch teaches. He invokes the spirits of the dead with the grace of a seasoned conductor, the magic of the fade as his orchestra, all at the whims of his deft hands. 

The etheric dance of his fingers entrances you, and you’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about them in other ways.

Tonight, you cannot get them out of your mind. It doesn’t help that you had a strange interaction with him earlier that you still haven’t processed. 

Walking back to your room, you run into Taash. Quite literally a full-body collision with the immovable force that is Taash.

“Shit, what’s wrong with you?” Taash grumbles.

“S-sorry!” you stammer out an apology but stumble on the excuse.

“Out with it.” Taash crosses their arms and frowns.

Sighing heavily, you concede. Maybe Taash could give you an outside perspective. You trust her to not sugarcoat things. And, after all, they were there. 

“Ya’know, earlier? When you scratched my back?”

“Yeah?” 

“Did I do something wrong? Emmrich was acting…”

“I thought he was going to explode.” Taash smirks. 

“Wait–what? Why?”

“You can’t moan like that in front of the old man. He’s so down bad for you it just might kill him!”

“Hey, it felt good and I couldn’t reach it!” You’re so busy defending yourself you almost missed the point. “...Down bad?”

“Yeah. He wants to kiss you and stuff.” 

You frown in disbelief. For a man with such a way with words, he hasn’t uttered a single passing phrase that could be counted as flirtation. 

Taash’s face settles into a smoldering frown and you start to back away, afraid. “He looks at you with doe-eyes constantly! He gifted you some of your favorite chocolate from the Necropolis! You don’t need my sense of smell to know his intentions.” Taash prods you with a finger to make her point. “You’re both hot for each other! Do something about it.”

Shocked and still processing, Taash is already walking away when the first laugh bubbles its way out. From the aggressively friendly talk to the revelation of Emmrich’s returned feelings, you can only sit idly by as a passenger of your surging emotions. 

Rushing back to your room to close the door, you let out a dampened squeal as you dance around the room before plopping down onto your bed. 

Looking back on it, Emmrich was blushing when he finally found the words to excuse himself. It’s like his brain stopped working for a moment–just like when you complimented him after he discerned the location of the rogue necromancer. 

Life just got a lot brighter, and it’s not just because the outer wall of your room is a big aquarium. 

It wasn’t long after the back-scratching incident that you two shared your first irrefutably romantic moment. You talked over the intricacies of the fade, his envy of your adventures, and then, finally, embracing the elephant in the room. 

You leave his room with a smile so wide it hurts, and no amount of cock-blocking from Manfred could ruin it. 

You love Manfred, but his timing is just awful. 

Things moved so fast after that. The world is in ever more peril, and all you look forward to are your moments alone with Emmrich. Walking through the gardens with him is paradise amidst the chaos. You catch the surge of happiness from yearning returned in his loving gaze. 

How long has he waited for love? How many times has he thought he found it only to be crushed? How many times has he plucked a bloom of Shoud’s kiss to inhale its fragrance alone, wishing for everlasting companionship? 

Emmrich sweeps you off your feet with dulcet tones and lustrous magic. You lose yourself in the moment–in him. He holds your face so sweetly, leaning in to press his soft, warm lips against yours. 

You dream about his touch alone that night, fingers slipping below your underwear. He could have taken you right there on that statue–you wanted him to. Still fighting the urge to go wake him from needed sleep to ride him to bliss, you pretend your hand is his as you pleasure yourself. 

It isn’t enough. Not nearly enough. But it brings you some relief and a lot of clarity. You’ve always moved too fast in your relationships before, and Emmrich is significantly older. The desire was there, you saw it in his eyes and his movements. How his hands slid across your body…

But there’s something holding him back. 

Lichdom lays heavily on his mind, you know, but it’s more than that. Taking it slow will be good for you. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself to try and get some sleep.

It’s unhealthy how much you think of him. Every waking moment outside of battle is spent daydreaming about your potential life together. It keeps a spring in your step amongst the world’s rubble.

How can you not fall head over heels for him when he pulls out all the stops, likely abusing his senior-staff privileges to give you a dinner date you’ll never forget? 

But again, the intimacies that follow are tame. Slow, delicate, teasing kisses and gentle roaming hands. You’re shaking by the time you lock your bedroom door behind you, shedding clothes like a cat sheds fur in summer. Needy fingers rush to circle your slick, throbbing clit. One, two, three times before you cry out his name and collapse onto the bed. Sighing wistfully, you let the undulating muscle spasms carry you off to sleep, knowing the relief is only momentary. 

Just like that, all your romantic interludes come to an end. Now too busy babysitting Hezenkoss’ skull to have any meaningful conversation with you. To top it off, you overheard a conversation between Emmrich and Harding that sowed doubt in your mind.

Does he blame you for choosing Manfred over Lichdom? Or is this residual guilt of having made the most important choice for your loved one?

He has been mopey, Harding’s right about that. Does he truly have a problem with your age? Why hasn’t he talked to you about it? Emmrich isn’t the only one to take Harding’s advice of keeping both eyes open. Where one relationship would have twigs and branches, you’ve seem to hit a brick wall. 

The other couples of the Lighthouse add salt to the wound, and you’re left bereft and all shades of jealous. It’s a good thing, ultimately, you didn’t fuck Emmrich. If you’re moody now, you don’t want to imagine the monster you would have become if you shared your body with him. 

This is different from any love you’ve known. It doesn’t feel healthy–this attachment. Is it because of the end of the world, or do you have to re-evaluate your life choices? Are you being oversensitive, or are his reservations preventing you from going further? 

Plagued with thoughts, you focus on everyone else’s needs but your own. Dwelling on it never helped anyone, and you have to keep your head in the game, right? 

In the hours before heading to the Island to kill two gods, you find yourself pacing outside of Emmrich’s door. This may be your last time you get to feel his lips on yours, if he still wants you.

Yet no such intimacy occurred–only the glacier tipping to show its dark underbelly, and you’re crushed by the waves. With each step away from him, your composure deteriorates. It’s all you can do to rush to your room and shut the door with your back, sliding down its frame as the strength leaves your limbs. 

Dammit. You knew he had a problem with the age difference–why didn’t he just come to you about it? If he cannot trust you with his fears and insecurities, what hope is there for the two of you?

Tears stream down your flushed cheeks, breathing fast and heavy. You’ve only known him a few weeks, how can this feel like your heart is shattering? 

You just wanted a quiet moment with him. One more moment. Is that too much to ask? Before you go off, uncertain if anyone will return? 

Nails dig into your palms as your fists shake with anger. Why did he do this? When you have the weight of the world on your shoulders? And how can you go off to battle like this? 

Unclenching your firsts and hiding your face in them, the darkness is welcoming, and you cry until your eyes are dry, red, and puffy. 

The outburst drained most of your anguish, allowing your rational mind to slowly reawaken on the cold stone floor. 

You did know this was a problem–this argument was not unforeseen. There was certainly a better time for it, but with his fear of death, you cannot fault him. There is a way through this for the two of you; you just hope you live long enough to see it come to fruition. 

The thought of taking someone else into battle crosses your mind. Would you be too distracted to lead with Emmrich by your side? Or even more distracted without him as you worry endlessly about his safety?

You know the answer, even if you don’t like it at the moment. Picking yourself up off the ground, you slowly compose yourself to face the team. 

Somehow, you all manage to reach the island’s shore unnoticed. When it comes time to pick who goes with you, Emmrich cannot meet your gaze. 

When his name spills from your lips, he looks to you with such a soft, grateful expression. 

There is hope for you, afterall. Survival seems that much more palpable with him solidly at your back. 

The first fight puts your worries to ease–you’re even more in sync than unusual. Attuned to each other's movements in a way you haven’t been before. It felt natural.

Emmrich starts to apologize, but you’ve already forgiven him. You see the tenacity of his will to make it through this with you, past words said in times of stress don’t change that. Neither the time or the place for a formal apology, you tell him you’ll talk at home, hiding the tremor in your voice.

You’re right to be scared. Falling to your knees in the Fade prison, angry, confused, and broken, you scream into the abyss. Facing your regrets has never been so hard, and even when you see the way out, you’re unsure you processed any of it. 

When you’re pulled from the prison you fall into Emmrich’s embrace. Lifting your face with a hand under your chin, his tired, worried eyes search you for signs of injury. You would have stayed like that forever if it were up to you. Emmrich glances behind and you follow his gaze. Locking eyes first with Taash, then Lucanis, the weight of the world comes crashing down as they look to you for answers.

Taash’s gaze was the hardest to meet. They lost everything, all with you driving at the helm. Lucanis too, as far as you know. You can’t even ask yourself if there was another way, because it doesn’t matter. You made the hard decisions, and now you have to live with it. 

The group catches you up on the dire situation when you arrive back at the lighthouse. As soon as everyone parts ways, you start to unravel, mind and body. Emmrich reaches through the fog, and asks you to entrust the team with the preparations while you get some rest. 

Asking is the wrong word. Commanding is more appropriate, and you’re left alone in the Library before long. If it were any other time you would blush at such an interaction, but the blood won’t rise to your exhausted face. Your vision blurs and after a barrage of blinking, you sigh, defeated. Sleep is one of the few things that aren’t trying to kill you at the moment, so you concede.

A nap should fix me. 

Walking into your room, your feet stop just before the bed. Body wavering slightly with each breath, shoulders slumped forward, you stare at the rich green fabric.

Not with any purpose–your mind is so shut down you cannot even process why you’re not laying down. 

Rest. You need to rest.

Fingers pulling at your hair, you let out a frustrated growl. How can you lead when you can’t think clearly? And to think clearly you need to sleep? And to sleep you need to lay down on this fucking couch you call a bed?

Turning to look at the fish swimming, the aquamarine light sears your sleepy eyes. 

Oh.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, willing your brain to think. Your mind wanders to the only other unoccupied bed in the lighthouse. As much as you loathe sleeping in the bed once owned by the person that just betrayed and imprisoned you, your desperation for sleep outweighs your simmering hatred. 

You close and cover your eyes to walk through the portals, stumbling to the top of the lighthouse blind to roll into a bed not surrounded by a giant aquarium. Taking off your clothes, the breath of fresh air across your skin is a welcome relief. The only one that would venture up here is Emmrich, and you don’t mind him seeing you in your underwear.

There are more comfortable beds in the world, certainly, but none felt so good as this one. Turning to face the wall, you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s not the dark of night, but it’ll do. 

The events of the past who-knows-how-long have taken their toll on you, and you spiral into unconsciousness so fast your body jerks violently only to start the process over again. 

It’s a battle against Solas, against Elgar’nan; of course it’s a battle to sleep as well. 

As much as you grumble about it, your mind relaxes soon enough, carrying you off to a deep and dreamless sleep. 

A voice pierces the veil of unconsciousness, and then a shifting of weight on the mattress. Half awake, you feel the warmth of someone sitting beside you. 

“Emmrich?” you ask blindly, too tired to open your eyes. 

“I’m here, my darling.” He touches your arm reassuringly. 

“Stay with me?”

“It would be my pleasure.” He climbs into bed behind you, kissing your shoulder before wrapping his arms around you. 

Your body relaxes in his embrace, and you sigh peacefully as something stirs in your core. His body against yours—the contact begins to drive your sleep-addled mind crazy. Mind awakening more with each breath, a devilish idea forms. The thought-action barrier is thinned when you’re like this, and you’ve waited far too long already. 

You roll your hips back into him, and the soft gasp from Emmrich is all the encouragement you need to keep going. Entwining your fingers with his, you press his hand to your breast as a breathy moan escaping your bitten lips.

“Dearest…” he breathes into your ear, hand gently kneading your bosom. “You need to rest.”

His cock twitches against your backside as you run your hand down his side, pulling him harder against you as you cant your hips. Emmrich delves his face into the crook of your neck, his hips matching your pace. Releasing his grip, his outer hand slides down your body, caressing your curves as his other resumes his hold on your breast. The closer he gets to the smoldering heat between your legs, the more you have to stop yourself from begging. Your body has no such reservations. Lifting your leg, you hook it behind his, inviting him to touch you without a word.

A broken, trembling whimper echoes off the stone when his fingers find their mark over your underwear.

“P-please. Touch me…” The rest of your restraint falls through the grate at the center of the room, raining down on any unfortunate in the Library below.

“Anything for you, my love.” Emmrich kisses your neck as his fingers trace the hem of your panties.

Squirming, you hide your face in your pillow as you giggle. 

Emmrich joins you with a breathy laugh. “Does that tickle?”

You squeal as he continues, bringing your knees together defensively. Devilish man–this was part of his plan. With a proud grin, he yanks your underwear down, taking advantage of your surprise. 

Emmrich lifts your thigh, hooking it over him again. The ambient air hitting your cunt is downright salacious, and the thought of being overheard only adds to your excitement. Want buzzes behind your eyes, your thoughts entangled with the featherlight, teasing touch against your lips. 

With a hand just as skilled as you imagined, he dips a finger into your folds, and hums. “All of this, for me?”

He strokes you, fingers slipping inside, gliding his palm against your hard clit.

“Y-yes!” you gasp, barely able to form the words when each agonizingly slow movement of Emmrich’s hand inches you closer to the edge. “I’m hnn–yours, Emmrich–ah!”

Emmrich trails kisses down your jaw, whispering gentle affirmations with your every twitch and noise. Attuned to you in every way, he plays on the chords of your pleasure with such passionate, practiced patience. 

Toes curling, legs shaking with each pass over your throbbing clit, you fight the building crescendo with every ounce of your will.

“Emmrich, please,” you pant, rolling your hips with the rhythm of his hand. “I need you inside me…”

Your pussy aches from the loss of his hand, and you squeeze your thighs together to dull the want as he kneels on the bed. Normally deft hands fumble over his many buttons, and you can’t help but giggle. 

“I’m so sorry, my dear.”

“Don’t be,” you smile, sitting up so you can aid him.

You set to unbuttoning his vest while he gets a jump start on his shirt, sneaking a kiss just to see him smile. His many layers discarded, he slowly pulls down his trousers, eyes locked on you.

Slack-jawed, you can’t hide your excitement when his cock bounces free. Perfect length, girth, everything, with a bead of precum glistening at the tip. 

“Beautiful man, beautiful cock.” You crash into him, not able to hold back any longer.

Kissing with such passion, you barely feel yourself falling backward until your head hits the pillow. You wrap your legs around him, canting your hips at the feeling of his cock grinding across your soaked cunt.

Moaning unabashedly, you drink in his sounds of bliss. “Emmrich…”

His cock twitches, lining up to your entrance, and he finally pushes in, allowing you to adjust to his size before fucking you slow and steady. You hold him tight, fingers digging in at the divine pleasure. Throwing your head back, your desperate little noises are a harmony to his, perfectly in tune to the obscene, slick overtones of your coupling. 

You tilt your hips upward on the next thrust and he reaches new heights inside, sending a rush of tingling currents from your navel to your toes. 

“I’m c-cumming–” you cut yourself off, crying out as Emmrich fucks into you hard and deep.

Drool dribbles from the corner of your mouth as your body contracts, pussy clamping down on his cock as he pounds the bundle of nerves deep inside of you. Emmrich cries out your name, caught in the tsunami of your pleasure.

You cradle his face in the crook of your neck as you climax together, barely feeling the tell-tale pulse at the base of his cock over the twitching and spasming of your core.

The time wisps by in his tight embrace, but neither of you can bear to break this moment. This peaceful, perfect moment where nothing else exists.

Hair messy, breath hot against your skin as he pants, you hold each other too tight. Fingers digging into flesh, arms tense. Your hands begin to shake as emotions chased away come rushing back with a vengeance. Something warm and wet trickles down your neck. You dismiss it as sweat until your body shakes from the first of Emmrich’s gentle sobs. 

You kiss his forehead, hands rubbing his back soothingly, all too eager to comfort him than to face the storm raging inside. Your vision blurs anyway as tears stream down your face, unable to keep anything back anymore.

“I thought I lost you.” Emmrich confesses, crying harder now. “I put all my effort into creating that damn replica because I couldn’t bear it–” 

“I’m sorry.” You feel guilt snake its way through your guts.

Emmrich pulls away just enough to wipe away your tears, his enchanting eyes filled with such devotion. “It’s ok, dearest. We’re together now, and I’m not letting anything come between us again.”

As much as your soul soars at his declaration, your mental state continues to silently devolve. Too close to hide it, Emmrich is quick to catch on. 

“Please talk to me, dearest. I’m here for you.” He holds your face gently, thumb caressing your cheek.

Lips quivering, a sob rips through your body.

“Oh, my love. You’ve been holding onto so much, let it out.” 

He turns onto his side and you follow, leaning your forehead against his. 

With eyes closed, you take a deep breath, and break down. “Harding is… Harding’s dead. Varric is gone. Neve is dead or blighted. Everything is falling apart. I was never supposed to lead!” you choke down another sob, disgusted with your weakness. “Is this the undead rebellion all over again? I was so sure I was doing the right thing only to be reprimanded and cast out afterward. What if I’m doing this wrong?” 

“Listen to me, Rook,” his calm voice soothes you as much as his embrace. “You’ve made impossible decisions that would humble the best of us. Never once did you doubt us. The losses we’ve endured are meant to break you–the god’s will is cruel.

“When you disappeared, the mere thought of finding you kept this ragged band of heroes together. You took all of our woes unto yourself, asking nothing in return. Truly, you are indomitable–of body and spirit. If anyone can lead us to victory, it’s you.”

His relentless faith in you is both endearing and worrisome. You yearn to be the person reflected in his gorgeous brown eyes, and decide right then and there that you’re going to make it through this. Both of you, alive. Nothing else will do.

“I love you with all my heart, Emmrich.” 

“Oh, dearest. I love you, too.”

Tag list: @gamerheartthrob, @vincetadark, @lunanovagames, @mollymauksboi, @pwney, @roxnpens

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 6: Dead Crow Do Not Eat

“Take me with you. I need to work, Rook.” He caught her by the arm. “We have a contract. Use me.” “Trust me, you wouldn’t want to know what happens to people when I use them.” She moved closer, trailing a finger up his arm. He stepped backwards, releasing his hold on her with a groan. “Teia is a bad influence on you. You were never this much of a flirt before. I can’t even have a conversation with you.” “I’ve barely seen Teia in the last year.” Rook placed her hands on her hips. “Did Viago send you to nag at me in his place?” “No. You’re just…not the Fiammetta I remember.” He said and glanced to the side. Rook arched an eyebrow. “You used my name.” “You asked me to.” Her gaze lingered before shifting to the schools of fish in the meditation chamber’s window. “Neve and I are going to Dock Town to meet with the Threads. You can join us.” Her arms fell to her sides. “We leave in ten.”  She leaned in to murmur in his ear as she walked by. “And don’t pretend the change isn’t working in your favor.”

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: Rook has a busy week, a run-in with an old hookup, and a really, really bad dream.

Word Count: 4.1k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! warnings: blood, graphic depictions of bodily mutilation/murder, dead animals. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Neve’s demeanor softened as the days went on. Unsure if it was duty or guilt driving her, Rook dedicated much of her time to helping out in Dock Town, which incidentally provided a good excuse to avoid Lucanis. Even better, when a letter from Viago arrived requesting assistance in Treviso on several matters, she sent the Demon of Vyrantium in her stead. He could live up to her cousin’s standards. 

Soon, Rook found herself in high demand. Davrin’s invitation for her to train in the Arlathan Forest with him and Assan turned into a much needed reprieve. Later, she accompanied Harding and Taash into the Deep Roads to seek out a better understanding of Lace’s newfound power. Unfortunately, they ended up fighting an animated assembly of rocks and getting vague riddles from an ancient stone.

Wardens Evka and Antoine summoned Rook to inform her of new blight-related developments in the Hossberg Wetlands, but the First Warden cut her visit short. Upon returning to the Lighthouse, Emmrich requested she and Bellara’s company investigating the curiously named “Hand of Glory”, only to find an old colleague abusing the living and the dead. Dejected, he spent the next several days in his chambers, but Rook was able to cheer him up by accompanying him and Manfred on a graveyard stroll. It seemed to, for lack of a better term, lift his spirits. 

Exhausted from her endeavors, Rook returned to the meditation chamber, propping her staff against the wall and depositing her bag next to the wardrobe.

“Don’t tell me you’ve spent so much time away from the Crows that you’ve forgotten to check a room when you enter it, Rook.”

Startled, she looked down to find Lucanis sprawled across the chaise, his arm propped behind his head. He shifted into a sitting position, leaning forward.

“Viago would have a fit if he knew you were taking necromancy lessons.” 

“We lit candles and laid flowers on graves, Lucanis.” She rummaged through her pack, setting aside a few parcels. Gifts for Davrin and Neve. 

“Did you tire of the pantry? Certainly the Lighthouse could conjure you a new dwelling place outside of my chambers.”

He rose to his feet, following her as she wandered around the room. 

“I was checking for those choke points you mentioned.” 

Rook’s hand hovered over Varric’s shaving mirror just as she spotted Lucanis’ reflection. He stood behind her, leaning against a bookcase, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

Fuck. He was getting good at this. Whatever this was.  

“Are we done? I have to be somewhere soon.”

“Take me with you. I need to work, Rook.” He caught her by the arm. “We have a contract. Use me.”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to know what happens to people when I use them.” She moved closer, trailing a finger up his arm.

He stepped backwards, releasing his hold on her with a groan. “Teia is a bad influence on you. You were never this much of a flirt before. I can’t even have a conversation with you.”

“I’ve barely seen Teia in the last year.” Rook placed her hands on her hips. “Did Viago send you to nag at me in his place?”

“No. You’re just…not the Fiammetta I remember.” He said and glanced to the side.

Rook arched an eyebrow. “You used my name.”

“You asked me to.”

Her gaze lingered before shifting to the schools of fish in the meditation chamber’s window.

“Neve and I are going to Dock Town to meet with the Threads. You can join us.” Her arms fell to her sides. “We leave in ten.” 

She leaned in to murmur in his ear as she walked by.

“And don’t pretend the change isn’t working in your favor.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Lucanis had always said death was his calling. He just didn’t know Rook would be the cause. 

She was playing with him. He knew she was. What he couldn’t figure out was whether it was a game, a defense mechanism, or a way to get him to lower his guard.

He’d never been intimidated by strong women. After all, the Crows wouldn’t function without them.

“Well-positioned seeds, planted subtly and nurtured over time, grow stronger roots,” Caterina had always said. Few men among their ranks, except Viago, had the patience for that level of foresight or strategy.

But romancing strong women…that was a different story. Rather than serious relationships, Lucanis had fumbled through a few short-term romances and casual encounters in his early twenties. He wasn’t like Illario, who could have a different woman in his bed each night. Better to give up on intimacy altogether. Feelings were risky and falling in love got people killed. Being alone was easier when he could find pleasure in little things - coffee, cooking…killing. If he didn’t keep anyone close, it was one less person to worry about, one less distraction from his work. 

He settled down beside Rook in their booth at the Cobbled Swan, wincing as he drank coffee that might as well have been brewed in piss. 

“So…the Threads and the Shadow Dragons working together.” She said, “how do we feel about that?”

“It’s what’s best for Dock Town.” Neve replied, “I saved their leader, Damas, last week. They have just as much motivation to take out the Venatori as we do - and they owe me one.” 

Rook tensed beside him and Lucanis looked up, following her gaze towards a tall, fair-haired man, likely in his mid-30s, walking in. Well dressed, he walked with an air that made it clear he considered himself important. Accompanying him was a younger, shorter man with enough resemblance to Illario that Lucanis stiffened in surprise.

“Shit.” Rook whispered, her eyes glued to them as they approached.

“Trouble?” Neve asked. 

“Well…”

“Dock Town’s protectors, at your service,” the tall one confidently eased himself into his seat across from them. “What can the Threads do for…” He paused, brow furrowing as he gave Rook a once over. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“SMELLS LIKE SMOKEPOWDER AND AROUSAL-”

Arms crossed over his chest, Lucanis grimaced and turned his head to the side, trying to keep Spite in check. 

“Makal Damas? You said you were a Shadow Dragon.” Rook said, “Not the leader of the Threads.”

“And you said you were an Antivan Crow. I thought we were having a little fun lying.”

“She is a Crow.” Neve said dryly.

“ You’re the Rook everyone’s making such a fuss about?” Damas asked, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. 

“Anyone care to explain what’s going on?” Neve asked. 

“Rook and I have a little history, that’s all.” He took a swig from his stein. “Well, at least we can skip half the introductions. This is Elek Tavor, my second in command.”

Elek looked up from tracing the rim of his drink and nodded. 

“And you’re the infamous mage-killer?” Damas asked Lucanis. 

“Something like that.” he leaned over Rook to trade his coffee for a bottle of wine at the end of the table. 

“I’ve got names of missing people, including those hardly anyone noticed yet,” Elek interjected, eager to change the topic. “All yours. No catch.”

“No catch? Now that’s friendship.” Neve said. 

“Consider it a personal favor, if you want,” Damas purred. 

“The Venatori are getting too confident.” Elek continued, “We’ll increase our odds of getting them out of our streets if we work together.”

“You seem tough enough on your own,” Lucanis said. “Why do you need us?”

“I get my knuckles bloody from time to time. But if you haven’t noticed, there’s a lot going on. Those blood mages walked into this bar and abducted me .” Damas stuck his finger into his chest. “I’d like to correct that. The Threads are better neighbors than the Venatori, don’t you think?” 

“They are,” Neve chimed in. “Let’s speak candidly, then. Aelia’s a pain for both of us. I want her dead.” 

“Okay. Then we both hunt for Aelia.” Damas said. “You find her, you kill her. We find her? We’ll do the same. Dock Town is ours .” He leaned forward in his seat, lowering his voice. “But I’m open to sharing, Rook. Bear that in mind.” 

“So generous. I’ll remember that when I put all this on your tab.” 

“I knew I liked you.” Damas rose from his chair. “We’ll keep you posted.” He said to Neve and left for the door with Elek. 

Neve’s head snapped towards Rook once they were out of sight. “When did you sleep with the head of the Threads? ” 

“Give me a break. It was like a year ago and if I had any idea who he was - or how bad it would be -“

“ YOU COULD SHOW HER SOMETHING BETTER, LUCANIS.” 

Lucanis choked on his wine, quickly clearing his throat to cover it up, and stood abruptly from the table. 

“I’m going back to the Lighthouse. Next time you bring me along, make sure there’s something for me to kill.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

As she ascended the steps to her chamber, all Rook wanted was a nap. When Davrin came running after her, she knew it wasn’t happening.

“Rook,” Davrin panted, bending over to catch his breath, “the First Warden is summoning everyone back to Weisshaupt. Word of darkspawn hordes on the move, and an archdemon with them.”

“Fuck,” her hand instinctively reaching up to rub her tired eyes. “How much time do we have?”

“A day, a week? We’re going in blind, though. We need to know what we’re up against.”

The possibility of sleep now seemed distant and trivial, as guilt gnawed at her conscience. Was she so selfish that she could think about sleeping at a time like this?

“I’ll talk to Solas. Make sure the others are ready to move.”

No longer eager to return to her quarters, she begrudgingly shoved the doors open. Conversations with the Dread Wolf were rarely enjoyable. 

With a lazy flick of her wrist, ignited a row of candles on the ancient altar in front of the window and knelt before them. Eyes closed, she drew focus, her consciousness wandering from her body, searching the Fade for Solas’ prison. 

“How fares your battle?”

She opened her eyes with a start. The sight before her was bleak and colorless, a barren expanse stretching into infinity.

“The gods are moving against Weisshaupt and the Grey Wardens. I have little time. There are rumors of an archdemon involved. I need to know how to deal with them.”

Solas clasped his hands behind his back and paced, as if searching the ground beneath his feet for answers. “How are the Grey Wardens? Do they understand the danger they’re in yet?”

“Some. The First Warden is completely in denial, though. That…complicates things.” 

Solas halted, his gaze piercing through her, his demeanor growing more serious. “To defeat Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, you must unite the Wardens under your banner. How will you bring them to your side?”

“Seems I need to get around the First. Easy. Make him lose credibility. Classic political destabilization.”

“Spoken like an Antivan Crow.” Solas’ voice carried a hint of ambiguity that made it difficult for Rook to decipher whether he was praising or criticizing her.

“There never were Tevinter gods. The archdemons, as you call them, are weapons of the Evanuris. To harm them, you must first defeat their life force - the dragon thralls. And even with their dragons dead, they’ll be difficult to defeat.”

As Rook absorbed Solas’ revelations, her heart raced, its pounding echoing in her ears. “So what do I do?”

“Use my dagger. The one you recovered. It can pierce their enchantments and strike them down.”

“Got it,” Rook said, turning on her heel, eager to leave.

“You’re going in too fast! Take a moment. Remember what is at risk!”

She whirled around.

“I know exactly what is at risk!” she pointed at her chest. “That dragon could have leveled my city! Killed my family!”

“Yes. Good. Hold on to that. Remember the loss you have already survived. You will endure more, but your motivation to prevent it at any cost will keep you on the right path.” 

Rook scoffed. “You’re sick.”

“And you’re tired. Perhaps you need some rest. A moment to remember…”

As Solas faded away, the meditation room came back into view. Rook let out a long sigh and laid her head on the seat of the chaise. What the fuck was the Dread Wolf even talking about? Always lessons in everything. He was just as bad as Varric, as her father…

Exhaustion overwhelmed her, making her eyelids heavy and her limbs weak, a weariness that seeped into her very bones. A planned moment of focused breathing, meant to center herself, stretched into minutes, then…

Nothing.

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Fiamma woke to a noise coming from the den and jolted upright in bed. She and her father’s small apartment carried sound through every wall, and she was certain if she’d noticed it, he was already investigating. 

When little flames are scared, they should be neither seen nor heard. 

With caution, she slipped her hand between her mattress and the bed frame, retrieving the encircled blade she’d gotten for her 17th birthday from Viago just days ago. She crept towards the door, carefully opening it a crack, and peered through the darkness, her eyes straining to see.

“I’ll give you a chance to leave my home, without consequence, but you must go now .” Her father growled from the kitchen. Fiamma peered around the corner, discovering him with his blade drawn, defensively poised and ready for a fight. She knew if she weren’t here, he’d have already engaged. 

He was buying her time. 

The intruder was facing away from her, and in the dim light filtering from the windows, she could see the glint of her father’s eyes as they met hers.

“You’re a Crow, no? Did someone put a contract on me? Surely my nephew, Viago, doesn’t think I’m a threat to him becoming Talon…”

Still buying time, but also providing thinly veiled directions. Fiamma read between the lines. 

Get out. Get help. Get Viago. 

She nodded in the dark and retreated to her room. The instant she shut her door behind her, she heard pots and pans flying, kitchen cabinets being thrown open, blows exchanged. Her movements were controlled and calm as she slipped a cloak over her nightgown and pulled on her boots. Unlatching her window, she crawled on top of her dresser and outside to the roof.  

This wasn’t their first break-in, or assassination attempt. Her father would be fine. She was simply leaving to give him peace of mind and fetch a cleanup crew. 

She navigated the rooftops to Viago’s, a short, five-minute walk, and jumped several feet over a gap in houses, aiming for his balcony. Missing just by inches, she caught herself on the railing, clinging to the rungs. She hoisted herself up, feeling the strain in her muscles as she flopped down onto the balcony stomach-first.

As she got up and brushed herself off, she caught sight of her cousin approaching, knife in hand, lowering it when he spotted her. With him was Illario Dellamorte, who he’d adopted as some sort of mentee. The boys always seemed to stick together. It was fine. She had Teia and her father. She’d kick their asses someday. 

Viago had taken contracts as soon as Caterina had allowed him to, and it wasn’t long before he’d amassed a small fortune for himself. He was a talented assassin. Incredible with poisons, not too bad with a blade either. Aunt Viama had married a few years back and settled down just outside of Treviso, so he’d purchased this apartment for himself as a reward for his efforts, deciding it was time for him to branch out on his own. 

“I’ve told you Fiamma.” Viago said through the glass, unlocking several deadbolts. “Use the front door.”

“The streets might not be safe. Someone broke into our house.” She said, as if reciting something she’d memorized. Everything felt slow, disjointed.

“What?” Illario blurted. 

“It was a Crow. My father’s holding him off in the kitchen. He’ll probably have handled it by the time we get back, but there could be others…”

“Right. Let’s go,” Viago said, leaping over his balcony railing to the neighboring roof with ease. Fiamma followed, successfully making the jump this time, with Illario trailing close behind. 

“Taking a contract on the Flame of Treviso. Fools.” He mumbled. “I’d like to know what idiot would even put one out.” 

“If it’s really a contract, it’s not sanctioned by Caterina or any of the Talons, to my knowledge.” Viago said, “Your father isn’t interested in Talon, so it can’t be anyone fearing competition..”

As they reached the apartment, Fiamma nudged her window pane and slid her curtains aside. Before she could step through, Viago held his hand out, entering first. Illario ducked in after him, holding out his hand to Fiamma. His arms were warm, a reassuring sense of security as he guided her down from atop the dresser.

The house was silent, still dark. A knot wound itself tightly in Fiamma’s stomach. 

Something was wrong. 

Viago motioned for them to stay back, slowly opening her bedroom door and creeping into the hall. The floorboards creaked slightly beneath his weight, likely intentionally on his part, as he tried to draw out the intruder. Illario’s arm snaked tightly around Fiamma’s waist, his shortsword drawn as they followed, shattered glass and splintered wood crunching beneath their boots.

The kitchen was a disaster, but noticeably empty. It wasn’t until Fiamma turned around to face the den that she stepped in something wet. Her breathing became shallow as she waved her hand to ignite a candle, but her nerves made her magic unstable, lighting every source of light in the apartment. 

The three of them squinted, eyes adjusting to the overwhelming brightness, before Fiamma’s legs gave way beneath her. Illario clung tightly to her as she fell to the floor with a single, devastated sob, burying her face in his shoulder. 

Dante De Riva’s lifeless body was slumped against the fireplace, a dead crow stuffed where his head should have been. His body was drenched in blood, the wedding band still on his left hand gleaming in the light through streaks of crimson. 

This wasn’t a clean job, wasn’t just a contract. It was a butchering. 

Viago crouched beside the body, elbows on his knees, and lowered his head. 

“Get her out of here, Illario.” He said, his tone void of emotion as he looked around for clues. This was future Talon, Viago. Not a grieving nephew. “Send Caterina and Lucanis back. Take major streets, stay out of the shadows.”  

Illario nodded, his grip on Fiamma tightening as he lifted her off the floor. Her chest heaved, throat constricting as her gaze fell upon her father’s desecrated corpse again, and he hoisted her into his arms, carrying her out the front door. 

“Walk Fiammetta. You have to.” 

She shook her head sadly as he set her down outside, tears streaming down her face.

“I promise you, there will be time to grieve later, but now we have to go .” He cupped her face in his hands. “If you think you’re safe out here, weeping in the street, you’re wrong. ” 

She sniffed and nodded, and he ran his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away her tears. 

“No one will hurt you. Not while I’m here.”

He took her by the hand and led her through the streets to Caterina’s villa, stopping to glance around corners, fingertips never leaving the hilt of his sword. 

The doors of Villa Dellamorte crashed open, making the windows tremble in their frames. Illario let them rattle shut behind him as he guided Fiamma to the couch in the sitting room.

“Mierda, Illario, did you really have to do that?”

His cousin Lucanis appeared in the doorway and paused, his forehead wrinkling as he drew nearer.

“ De Riva? What’s going on?”

Illario looked over his shoulder, exchanging silent words with his cousin. Lucanis looked down at Fiamma, her hands woven through her hair, as she hung her head low, staring at the flames rising in the hearth across from her.

“No…”

“Parents always die, right?” Fiamma asked, raising her head to stare intently at Lucanis. His face twisted in a grimace of guilt and agony, his lips parting slightly. 

“And someone always pays.” Illario reassured her through clenched teeth. 

“Who is slamming doors in my house!” Caterina shouted as she rounded the corner, her cane knocking against the wood. Her gaze fell upon Fiamma for several seconds, and she glanced between her grandsons in horror. 

“Dante?” she breathed. They both nodded solemnly in confirmation.  

“How can this be?” Caterina demanded. “Where is Viago?” 

“With the body.” Illario said quietly. 

Caterina frowned. “Lucanis, go. Stop by the Cantori’s on the way and send Arandrateia here.” She said, “I will meet you at the De Riva’s.” 

He departed swiftly, without question.

The First Talon’s obedient little dog.

“Illario, get Fiammetta a change of clothes from the spare room. Mierda…” 

Fiamma looked down at herself, finding the lower half of her nightgown drenched in her father’s blood. Following a trail of crimson footsteps, she realized she’d tracked blood across Caterina’s white marble floors.

“These moments define Crows, Fiammetta.” Caterina said. “I have buried my own parents, my children, all but two of my grandchildren. None of them died natural deaths. It does not get easier, but you endure. Or you let it get you killed, too.” 

She leaned forward on her cane. The handle featured an intricately carved crow’s head, and Fiamma’s stomach roiled. 

“Honor your father in death by not forfeiting your life. Grieve, and then let that fury guide you to survive.” 

Caterina rose, placing a hand on Fiamma’s shoulder. “This deed will not go unpunished. The Dellamortes and the De Rivas are strong houses. Us Crows honor our own.” She said, her cane scraping across the floor as she departed. 

Bullshit, Fiamma thought to herself, the Crows will slit one another’s throats for a shred of power.

When Illario returned, Fiamma couldn’t find the energy to change into the clean clothes he brought her. She sank to the floor, kneeling on the bearskin rug in front of the fire, wrapping her cloak tightly around her.

Illario set the neatly folded stack of clothes on the couch and joined her. Fiamma turned to her side and rested her head on his lap, staring into the hearth. His fingers hovered for a moment, surprised, before he stroked her hair.

“I will avenge your father’s death, Fiammetta. I swear on my life.”

She didn’t respond. Numbed, she transitioned into a state somewhere between dreaming and disassociation. She didn’t hear the door in the foyer creak open, or the shuffling of feet behind them. Only felt Teia reaching for her hands, squeezing them tightly in her own, caused her to stir from her oblivion.

“Fi…”

Face crumpled in dismay, Teia laid down beside her, and the three clung to one another until sunrise, when Viago and Lucanis returned home, looking nearly as haunted as Fiamma felt.

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“Rook? Hey! Rook.”

Davrin banged on her chamber door with his fist again, and her eyes snapped open. Disoriented, she braced herself on the chaise and pushed herself up.

“Coming!”

She blinked rapidly, trying to dismiss the memories and emotions threatening to resurface, and grabbed her things.

“About damn time.” He grumbled as she joined him in the hall.

“How long was I out?” Rook asked, hurrying down the stairs after him.

“I don’t know, but things at Weisshaupt are getting worse. It’s time to go. Hopefully, your Dread Wolf friend had some insight.” 

“He’s not my friend. We don’t get tea in his little prison and exchange pleasantries.”

“What do you exchange, then?”

“Information. Verbal jabs, mostly.”

When they arrived in the hall, everyone else was waiting for her command. 

“There’s an Eluvian in storage in the vault. It was a gift from the Dalish.” Davrin said.

“Ours should go right to it…probably.” Bellara added. 

Rook caught sight of the Crow head buttons sewn into Lucanis’ vest and hesitated, overcome with a desire to pluck each one loose and cast them into the nothingness of the Fade. He took notice of her lingering gaze and furrowed his brow, tilting his head. With a deep breath, she steeled herself and shifted her attention.

“So we sneak into Weisshaupt, nice and quiet, then find Antoine and Evka.”

“Was…there a plan after that?” Neve asked.

“I’m not giving a speech.” Rook muttered, “Let’s go kill a fucking god.”

A/N: Okay well now that you've met Fi's dad...sorry! Lots of building this chapter, next one moves a bit more quickly. Next stop: Weisshaupt, Spite, and brooding. Thanks for the support! It really keeps my head on and me motivated. I appreciate you all soooo much. x

[ghostwith]

Updated

Paring: Emmrich x Kalinn

Rating: Explicit

-

Steam hung heavy in the air as Kalinn skunk deeper into the tub, hot water soaking into the tense ache in her muscles. The room was dark save for the light leaking in from the other side of the door. The silence and stillness was a comfort from the crumbling chaos outside, it felt as if for a moment the world was still.

She let out a deep sigh however as the sound of foot steps cut through the facade, silently praying the owner wasn't looking for her, she slid further down into the water letting it fully wet her hair.

The moment she pulled her head from the water the door swung open and Emmrich marched in, flicking his wrist to summon vielfire to light the room.

"Rook, we must discuss this." He announced, waving a letter in the air and unceremoniously perching himself on the edge of the tub.

"Emmrich, can it-"

"Unfortunately it requires notes from both of us, according to Myrna, some of the newer Mourn Watchers had an issue not recognizing a long standing member of the Guides and," Kalinn sighed as Emmrich continued, shifting slightly to cover herself as much as she could.

"Emmrich."

"One of them unfortunately is being added into those residing in the Necropolis, while the other is-”

"Emmrich Volkarin."

At that Emmrich paused. "Yes?”

"Emmrich, I'm naked and in the tub.”

Emmrich fully turned to look at Kalinn for the first time. Eyes flickering from her face down her body, lingering on her bare breasts in the water, before taking a shaky breath.

"You are." He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes back to the letter. "But I'm not here for that, right now.”

Kalinn shivered slightly. "Right now?"

Emmrich glanced back, locking eyes with Kalinn. "Right now, no. But I'd be remiss if I did not say the idea of joining you trills me.”

Kalinn sat stock still, floundering under his gaze for what felt like minutes before she found her voice again. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Emmrich parroted before continuing to relay the letter aloud. “The other recruit is currently being treated for-”

She couldn't absorb a single thing he was saying, his admission had made her thoughts spiral to an image of him undressing and slipping into the tub, hands sliding against her, his lips pressed to her collar. It made her wonder what his hands would feel like on her skin, what taste would linger if they kissed?

Suddenly possessed by the idea Kalinn shifted to stand, taking in a deep shuddering breath.

“Emmrich.”

He turned to respond immediately this time, only to find her standing before him, the harsh green light of the vielfire making the water on her skin shimmer as he watched it slide past the swell of her breast and down the curves of her body.

“Kalinn.”

“I think I would be the one remiss,” Kalinn began, gingerly reaching to cup his cheek. “If I didn't stop you from reading and indulge us both.”

Emmrich closed his eyes for a moment, leaning heavily into her damp palm and pressing a long tender kiss to it. “Do you have any idea how divine you look right now?”

“You're giving me an idea.” she sighed, sounding almost breathless.

It was Emmrich's turn now to find himself still in thought. This wasn't just Kalinn, it was Rook. His Rook. Not Lucanis’, Darvin’s, or Taash’s, his. Whose eyes looked at him half lidded and filled with unabashed wanting, and he wasn't a man who could deny that for long.

He pressed another kiss to her palm, eyes never leaving hers as he continued to trail kisses down her forearm. His free hand ghosting up her torso as he stood, mapping out the curves of her waist, tracing lines just under the weight of her chest.

Kalinn shivered in delight, grasping the back of his neck tugging him closer. “You Emmrich, are unfair.”

“Is it unfair to appreciate a work of art?” He chuckled resting his forehead against hers before testing the waters and gently palming her breast.

“Yes.” Kalinn gasped, “Yes it is, when you won't hang it on your wall.”

“We can arrange that then.”

Despite the haze in her mind, Kalinn watched Emmrich's expression soften as he drew her up into a deep kiss.

Needy, desperate, and filled with longing.

Is the only way to describe the heated open mouth kiss they were tangled in. Kalinn's hands knotted in his hair as she felt Emmrich’s hands drift down the curve of her ass before he gripped her tightly and hoisted her in the air, guiding her legs to wrap around him as she gasped into his mouth.

“Emmrich, what are you doing?” she murmured between constantly chasing the taste of him with her lips.

“Hanging you on the wall.” He rumbled trailing the kiss down her throat as she whined at the sudden contact of cool stone on her back.

“I'd have you here, I could have you right here.” Emmrich sighed, firmly pinning her between him and the wall.

Kalinn moaned, desire pooling in her. “You could,” she paused cupping his face, making him look at her. “I’d let you.”

He opened his mouth to speak as a loud series of knocks pulled them from their stupor.

“Kalinn, it's been long enough. Some of us would also like to wash the demon blood off our skin.” Came Lucanis’ rather frustrated tone.

Emmrich and Kalinn sighed in unison.

“I could kill him. I could kill him and you could bring him back later.” Kalinn murmured, burying her face in Emmrich's shoulder.

“Perhaps, but perhaps the bath wasn't the place for me to put you on display.” Emmrich whispered, carefully setting her back down as she flustered. Before Kalinn could retort, Emmrich grinned and called out back to Lucanis. “Forgive me, she’ll be done in just a moment.”

“Emmrich!” Kalinn squealed, eyes wide as he leaned down, silencing her with a quick kiss.

“I thought it would be better if they knew you're already mine. Now let's get you dressed.”

[papagrazza]

Syrup | NSFW LucaNeveRook oneshot

I did it, I wrote the Rook x Lucanis x Neve oneshot I’ve been thinking about. It’s nothing fancy and sorry if it’s cringe, I originally wrote something a little more tame but that was boring and going to be too long so here you lil horny brains go.

NSFW/18+ warning, this isn’t super explicit but I wouldn’t exactly read it to my mother. Enjoy

Also Rook owns a bed for the context of this fic, though it only get mentioned at the end. Can someone please buy them all proper beds?

Word count: 3697

“I’ve never seen such a colour on you before.” Neve smiles sweetly, a knuckle grazing over Rook’s cheekbone, brushing stray hair away. Her knees nuzzle comfortably up against the side of their leg, the chaise cushions sinking them into one another under their combined weight. Rook smiles behind their chalice, peeking over the rim at the pair of dark, calculating eyes that swirl with unspoken temptation. Whatever shade of pink Rook is, half of it was on Neve’s cheeks too, her lips wine stained and drawn between teeth. Her hand creeps down to their collarbone to idly fix the hem of their shirt and then rests innocently upon their shoulder. Rook had leant in a little closer without realising it.

“Does it suit me?” They ask with all the nonchalance they can muster from the bottom of their cup, sipping and swallowing and then setting it down on the nearby coffee table. Neve’s hand leaves their shoulder to rest an elbow on the back of the lounge, fingers combing through her dark hair, she hums in thought.

“It does, though I wonder how far it reaches?” She says it like Rook can’t hear her, looking away to let her eyes wander across the rest of the group. Quietly she enjoys the way Rook adjusts themself, clears their throat and rolls out their shoulders from the corner of her eye. Luring them in and then letting the line fall slack, over and over, she’d mastered the art of making Rook dizzy with this back and forth teasing all afternoon. And Rook, like a lust drunk fool, would bite the bait every time.

They sit in a cushioned nook of the dining hall, a well grazed tray of bites to eat of Harding’s design sits at the centre, half a dozen bottles of Rivaini wine strewn about, cups ever flowing, banter in abundance. Music swells up into the high ceilings and tumbles down, Emmrich’s magic suspends a couple instruments he’d pinched from the music room that had opened itself to them the day before, in the air above the dining table. An old Nevarran folk song bounds off the walls. Assan snoozes in Harding’s lap, snoring deeply in tandem with Taash who has passed out in a heap of cushions on the floor. Davrin regails stories from his early monster hunting days and Bellara, utterly fascinated, burns through questions like a certain crime scene investigator she so admires. Manfred dances elaborately with an old broom on the other side of the hall.

Rook tries desperately not to linger too long on Neve’s words, but they’d been flirting senselessly for days and it was still too early in the night to go spilling good wine in a fluster. Besides, Rook wasn’t the only one enjoying it. Lucanis had been watching the whole time, stealing glances over his own coffee mug, his contribution to group conversation coming short whenever Neve placed a cherry on Rook’s tongue, or dragged her sharp blue nails up their thigh. Originally he’d been sitting in the armchair beside Rook chatting pleasantly about their adventures, sharing stories, the closeness sweet and charming and entirely unambiguous. When Neve came and claimed the seat beside Rook the back of her legs had brushed over Lucanis’s knees and his words fell into his mouth. When she lay a hand upon Rook's thigh, who had started to shift to allow her more room, Lucanis finished his wine in a few practised gulps, set his cup aside and stood to ‘attend to the kitchen.’

“You and Lucanis are rather close, he seems quite taken by you.” Neve says quietly when he’s out of earshot, Rook offers a sheepish smile to no one in particular and rests back, one leg over the other. They take a quick breath and drink in the smell of salt and cinnamon that lingers on her hair.

“That so?” Rook ponders calmly, their eyes casting towards the kitchen where a dark silhouette leans over the counter, stirring a steaming cup of what can be assumed is coffee. His shoulders drawn and set stiffly. He seems to be muttering to himself and they could have imagined it but for a second Rook thinks they catch a pink glow emitting from him around his head.

“He’s enjoyable company. Easy to be around.”

“Or perhaps incredibly… frustrating?” Neve suggests.

Rook raises a brow at her, a smirk trying to pull at their lips. A sudden swirl of confidence warms their stomach, more than likely the effects of wine strong enough to knock out even their Qunari companion, more likelier Rook was full of Neve’s teasing and wanted to dish some back to her instead. See how much of her own work the stoic, icy detective could handle before she came undone. They turn to Neve, peering down their nose at her, enjoying the way her eyes narrow curiously and how her lips come apart like she’s eager for something. “Then again, I could say the very same of you.”

“Could you?” She purrs back and loops hair behind her ear. “Though you’ve hardly scratched the surface of how enjoyable and frustrating my company can be.”

“Then I ought to scratch a little deeper.” Rook’s leaning in again, her breath fans across their cheeks, thick as cherry syrup. Her eyes are latched on their mouth, the cushions sink even lower and Rook’s hand tentatively grazes over her hip.

“Perhaps you ought to.” She murmurs, the music fades out, the voices of the others blend into white noise, Rook can’t make out anything a foot from their peripherals, and they can’t tear their eyes away from her for the life of them. For a moment it doesn’t matter who sees them, Neve’s shirt sinks so low, enough that from this angle Rook can see the smooth skin of her stomach, the curve of her breasts, her blush seeping down her neck like it had been poured over her. Rook wants to touch her, wants to know how far she’ll let them. When they reach out to try a shadow moves into place beside them, shielding their line of sight from the others. Rook’s hand withdraws back into their lap in a flash, a thwarted sigh and a tender laugh from Neve give way to a gruff cough that steals their attention off one another. Neve leans back comfortably in her seat like she wasn’t as committed to the moment as Rook, and they’re promptly reminded of their little game. Perhaps Rook had read too finely between the lines after all? And Neve really was just stirring them on for the fun of it? She’s been doing it since Rook at let slip of a particular fantasy they’d had one evening in the dim of the library while the pair had enjoyed each others silence over their respective novels. Rook had read something scandalous and Neve had looked at them in a different light since, or at this rate they could have just been imagining it this whole time. They try not to be too disappointed by any of it.

A familiar hand grasps a bottle, another expertly cradles three smaller glass goblets. Lucanis looks down over them with a whole new air about him, like he’d dunked his head in cold water and recollected himself.

“Pardon my interruption, as enlightening as three glasses of Qunari wine have been, I think it’s an appropriate time in the night to crack open something a little more… passionate in its profile.” He says to them, brandishing the bottle for Rook to look at. A thick bodied, plum coloured bottle, carefully corked and waxed shut, stamped with the sigil of a crow. Rook nods, the wine Taash had supplied went down well enough, but it had the structure of a cup of hot rocks, and the lingering burn threatened to toss away one inhibition after the other with every mouthful. And Rook was about ten mouthfuls tossed. “I had this Antivan port stashed for a quiet moment but it’s much better shared, and I thought you two would particularly enjoy it.”

“Generous of you. You sold me at passionate.” Neve tells him and pats the seat he’d once been occupying, encouraging him to get close. For a moment Lucanis hesitates, something flickering in his eyes and Rook can’t tell if it’s candlelight, a glint of spiteful pink or simply something a little more ulterior. He pauses and it's like he’s chewing on his next words, his earlier suavity seeming to have already started to melt away again. Rook nudges the side of his leg with their knee, his eyes flick to theirs like he’d been electrified at the touch. Rook smiles.

“You sold me at a quiet moment.”

•

“Do you cut your own hair, Lucanis?” Rook asks, watching Neve smooth back the soft black hair, choppy and uneven in places, down the side of his head. Lucanis hums in thought, his eyes shut and head leant back, chest rising and falling steadily, a hefty redness has made its home across his cheeks and his little glass goblet, empty for the second time, he holds atop his thigh. He sits on the floor and rests back against the lounge in Rook’s room. They’d pushed it in a little closer to the far back wall so they have their own little private nook, not that anyone was likely going to come looking for them at this hour. Neve, sitting upon the lounge above him carefully refills his glass from the plum coloured bottle, swiping a small spill dribbling down the side with her thumb and sucks it clean. Rook takes a sharp breath and repositions themselves to sit cross legged with their back against the wall below the aquarium. Tender blue light bathes them, the shimmering off the rippling water has been the only movement for a while. All the booze they’ve consumed has lulled them into a dreamy, languid state. Rook eyes the bottle, they’ve made a significant dent in it, candlelight through the back of the cloudy glass reveals it to be half-empty. Its missing contents now fill them with a slurry of giggles, caressing warmth they can’t seem to not share with one another, and the quiet longing to be closer still.

“I do, though it’s been a while since I did some upkeep on it.” Lucanis tells them, reaching up to roll a tuft of his beard between his fingers. Rook's eyes are sticky on his hands, his defined knuckles, signs of past scuff still mark his skin, a vein runs up his arm, clearer whenever he flexes. His fingernails are short and well groomed and enough buttons of his shirt have come undone to reveal the hair across his firm chest. When Rook’s eyes travel back up to his face they find him already watching them closely, the hint of a knowing smile plays at his lips. “I hope the scruffy look isn’t too displeasing.”

“You and ‘displeasing’ are not a pair of words that go together in my vocabulary.” Rook tells them with a low voice, allowing their eyes to hang there on his when they normally would have averted for feeling bashful. “I quite like the rugged look, it’s… stirring.”

“Stirring?” He replies softly, his foot affectionately brushing across Rook’s leg. “You’re too kind.”

“Lucanis,” Neve cuts in, shooting Rook a look that somehow suggests that she’s plotting against their better interest, or for it. Lucanis turns his attention to her. “May I ask something a little… intimate?”

A beat passes as Lucanis either ponders this or steels himself for whatever’s to come, he sits up a little straighter, so does Rook and he smirks, resting an arm up on the lounge. Rook can’t help but feel like they’re the only one who can’t command the atmosphere the way they do, Neve is a master at playing the scene, and Lucanis, who is probably trained to respond to her advances in a similar likeness, has done rather well to hold his own. But Rook? They were hardly holding themself together, the copious amount of wine in their brain was doing them no wonders. After all, they’d been copping Neves charms all afternoon, now they were alone and Lucanis was here, Lucanis who had been dousing them in desire with every look he sent their way. Aside from that this was the exact situation they’d been dreaming up for weeks.

Perhaps they were still dreaming, this was the Fade after all. Or maybe they’d already succumbed to the liquor and passed out and Solas, fed up with all of Rook’s desperately pathetic pining, was messing with his head.

Whatever it was, all they could do was what they were told.

“Is that not what you’ve been setting up this whole evening for?” He quipped and over a smile she rolls her eyes. “But of course, we’re among friends, no?” He looks to Rook who can do nothing else but nod. Neve steals a short glance their way, then she throws her legs over the side of the lounge, her golden cobra peg rings out a lingering sound as it meets the cobbled floor. She says nothing as she saunters over to Rook and offers her hands for them to take and stand. Lucanis observes silently and swirls the wine around his goblet, letting the sweetness spread across his tongue. Rook, helpless to her whims, goes where they’re put, their back pressed up against the cool aquarium glass, her knee slots comfortably between theirs and their breath is hooked out of their throat on that lure she’s been dangling in front of them all night again. She kisses their throat, just twice, but it’s enough to stoke the fires.

“Neve…” Rook manages through hot air, wanting to ask for more, wanting permission to give in. She looks over her shoulder to Lucanis who has perched himself in the spot she’d once been sitting, leant forward elbow to knee and is staring with an intentful expression. One practically begging to be invited.

“When you look at Rook, writhing and red, what are you thinking?” Neve asks him, she leans in so that her chest presses flat against Rooks, her bare skin could burn through Rook’s shirt and char them raw and they’d thank her for it. Gods, one touch from her and they were utterly useless, so much for being their steadfast, unshakeable leader. They could face a thousand blighted Darkspawn with their bare hands but when Neve touches them with such tenderness and Lucanis’s stare refuses to falter, Rook gives in to them immediately.

“Well, I enjoy it. I’ve never seen them like that.” Lucanis’s hands cradle his cup below his nose, shielding his mouth and whatever expression fights to show. His gaze is heavy as lead and Rook has to look away for fear of coming apart.

“And when I touch them like this?” Her hand slithers up the side of Rook’s thigh, her nails hooking in over the hem of their pants and tugging down an inch or two to show him the smooth skin of their abdomen. Rook seethes through grit teeth but holds their hands at their sides, latched for dear life on the rivets around the glass for something to keep them grounded.

“I… like it.”

“You don’t want to rip my hands away?”

“I don’t…” Lucanis starts and stops, there seems to be a thousand racing thoughts behind his eyes. Then his face scrunches as though a deep pain overcomes him and he groans. When the discomfort subsides a different expression has found him, a devious pink glow falls on his lashes. “He wants to touch. Touch both! RIP CLOTHES!”

“Spite?” Rook gets out, Neve moves back a bit when the demon’s voice croaks through, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. Lucanis shakes his head like he’s wrestling for control and he succeeds, but not before Spite can get out quickly: “wants Rook. Wants Neve. So bad! Shut up! Go away.”

“How interesting.” Neve says to herself. a pleased smugness weaves through her tone, she turns back to Rook. “There, now you know. So what should we do?”

“What? You’re… asking me?” Rook mutters out when Neve steps away and they have to push their strength back into their weak legs to keep themself upright. Neve’s movements are slow but precise, she circles around the back of Lucanis, who after fighting for control over his own body is breathing a little heavier, among other reasons. “Of course, you’re the star of this show. You may be easy to toy with, Rook, but I wouldn’t play you for no reason.”

“Is this what you want?” Rook asks to one and both in the same, Neve nods without any hesitation. Lucanis seems to need a few more seconds to think about it. “And don’t just say yes because Spite threw you under the bus.”

“Although if you didn’t and I misread all the clues you’ve been giving us, I’d have to seriously review my skill of deduction.” Neve jokes. “But they’re right, you’re under no obligation to stay just because I lured you here.”

“Everything is always measured with you isn’t it, Neve Gallus?” Lucanis says with a tired drawl, running his hand down over his face like tomorrow's hangover was already becoming him. Rook still stands where they’d ended up earlier, dishevelled and afraid and painfully turned on. “But yes, I won’t lie, it's been on my mind.”

“We haven’t even gotten to the fun part and you’re already uttering my full name?” Neve says and puts her hands on her hips. “I’m pleased you’re on board, Rook hasn’t stopped fantasising about this since your little coffee date.”

“That long? And I only caught on now?” Lucanis’s brows rise high in awe. “Mierda.”

“Not everyone can be as quick to the chase as some of us.” She throws him a sweet smile and Lucanis opens his mouth to retaliate when Rook cuts him short.

“Guys,” they shift their weight to one leg, letting their head fall back against the glass, exposing their chest where their shirt will allow as well as the rash-like blush that spills from their cheeks, to their ears, down their neck and along their collar bone. Lucanis and Neve fall silent. “All night you’ve done nothing but drive me mad, so if one or both of you don’t do something about this I’ll go and jump from the top of the lighthouse.”

“Sorry. I’ve made you suffer, haven’t I?” Neve’s laugh is lulling and she reaches out a hand for Rook to take and tug on roughly. She falls into their embrace with a surprise yelp and it quickly thaws into a barely restrained moan when Rook’s lips find her neck and kiss at her skin feverishly. Rook’s hands clamber down and claw across her lower back, untucking her shirt from her belt and sneaking up to finally feel her warmth. She’s cooler to the touch than Rook had anticipated, but with these hot coals she’s been prodding at the last few hours it brings a much needed reprieve to the heat in their belly. Rook raises a hand up to gently cup her jaw and bring her even closer but before they can steal the chance to plant their lips on hers she draws herself back. Then with one quick, expert maneuver she’s placed herself in Rook’s spot. “As much as I enjoy having you to myself, I did intend to share.”

“Lucanis.” Rook huffs feeling a warm presence suddenly looming like a thick shadow behind them, the smell of coffee and the syrupy scents from the port fill what little space is left between them all. Rook looks down and feels the hands they’d been gaping at earlier slide around the sides of their waist. His fingers digging and searing wherever they touch. Lucanis’s chest is full flush against Rook’s back, his cheek grazes over theirs as he leans in to dot kisses along the curve of their shoulder and Neve breathes out contentedly while she watches.

Her hands travel down Rook’s arms to hold their hands in hers, then she brings them slowly to her chest and allows them to cup the soft skin there. Rook sighs heavily and finally Neve pulls them in with a hand on the back of their neck, her fingers tangling into their hair. She kisses them long and deeply, her lips slick and soft and her hot air fills their mouth. The port stains her tongue and her taste intoxicates Rook like nothing else they’ve consumed tonight. They sink into her, their hands crawl across her bracing skin and in turn Lucanis’s grasp at their hips hard.

A soft growl escapes him when he presses himself into Rook’s ass and though they can’t see his face properly Rook assumes he might be fending off Spite again. “Lucanis?” They call breathlessly and look over their shoulder. Neve busies herself with unbuttoning her blouse and undoing the clasp of Rook’s pants.

“Sorry, he’s fighting me for you. Give me a second.” Lucanis grunts as Spite visibly flashes across his face. Rook throws a glance at Neve.

“They’re fighting over you Rook, I don’t know about you but that’s incredibly hot.” She says with a shrug and her top falls to the floor. “I’m not worried. The more the merrier.”

“I never knew you were so…” Rook trails off, their eyes uncontrollably trailing down over her bare breasts. Her skin is smooth and unblemished save for a few minor scars, Rook’s fingers run over her lower stomach and Neve smiles, then grabs their shoulders and turns them around so that they face Lucanis.

“Inclined to a more adventurous sexual nature? Or utterly irresistible?” Neve finishes, her nails clawing into the soft skin of Rook’s hips and pulling them back into her, slotting together like their bodies were designed for one another. “How long have we been practically getting off on one another's scent alone? Besides, you’re the one that put this bright idea in my head.”

“Rook.” Lucanis says drawing their attention back onto him. Rook lips come apart to tell him it’s okay if he wants to stop but before any of the words can find their tongue he does. When he kisses them it’s with half as much reservation and twice as much need as Neve, and he cups their neck with one hand and their upper thigh with the other and squashes the space between them. His foot perches itself on one of the steps beneath the aquarium and his thigh digs softly into Rook's groin, pulling a pleasurable moan up from their chest. At the same time Neve’s hand has sunk below the waistline of their open pants and sweeps across the heat with careful, practised strokes. Rook has to rely on the two of them to keep them upright, as the strength in their legs starts to falter.

“You guys don’t understand-” Another moan. “How bad I’ve needed this. Needed you.”

“Are you listening, Lucanis?” Neve asks over Rook’s shoulder, her hand ventures lower, wet and warm and the talon only grunts into Rook’s mouth in response. Rook’s hands paw at the mound in his pants. “We’ve really spoilt our precious leader, we’ll never sleep peacefully again.”

Lucanis musters up a brittle laugh, one that crumbles into a series of breathless moans when Rook finally manages to get past the elaborate buckle of his belt and dive down beyond his own waistline. Every noise that comes out of him is sweet and invigorating, and Rook has to latch onto him to drink up and savour his every moan. “Or maybe, at last, we will.”

“Then we best move this to the bed.”

End

[wardencallings]

Since it seems generally agreed upon that romantic banter is lacking in Veilguard, I came up with some Rook x Harding (+ other companions) banter. It's tailored to my Rook's personality, but I think a lot of it is general enough!

After "date" with Harding to test out her powers/initial visit to Kal-Sharok + unhardened Neve:

Neve: So, Harding, you and Rook have been traveling together for some time now, right?

Harding: Yep! Varric picked Rook up about a year ago and asked him to help us find Solas.

Neve: Were you two as friendly as you are now?

Harding: *giggles* Um. No.

Neve: Nothing like the end of the world to bring two people closer. I guess that's one thing to thank Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain for.

Rook (sarcastically): I'll be sure to thank them after I thank Solas.

--

Lucanis: Harding, I went to your room last night to bring you that slice of cake you asked for, but you weren't there.

Harding: Oh, I wasn't?

Lucanis: No.

Harding: Did you knock?

Lucanis: Yes.

*pause*

Lucanis: You were with Rook, weren't you?

Harding: Can you bring the cake tonight instead?

Lucanis: Of course.

Rook: A slice for me too, please.

After first kiss/lyrium poisoning:

Harding: Rook! I've been thinking about our...problem.

Rook: Come up with any solutions?

Harding: I think I have an idea! It'll require some flexibility but if we --

Davrin: Not in front of Assan!

Harding (sheepishly): Sorry, Davrin. We'll talk later, Rook.

After making relationship official:

Taash: So, Rook, Solas lives in your head.

Rook: I'm not really sure the specifics, but yeah, I guess.

Taash: So he can see what you see.

Rook: Uh, I'm not sure. Maybe some of it?

Taash: Do you think he watches when you and Harding --

Harding: Taash!

Taash: What? That really hasn't crossed your minds?

Harding & Rook: No!

Taash: Whoops.

Rook: Maybe we stick to just gardening tonight?

Harding: Agreed.

--

Bellara: So I think I'm close to finishing my novel!

Harding: That's exciting! Will you let me read it?

Bellara: Of course! You helped me flesh out the romance a lot when we talked about you and Rook.

Rook: Is that right?

Bellara: Yeah! I could feel the romance behind Harding's every word about you. I actually lifted some phrases directly from her. I'll give credit to Harding in the acknowledgments, of course!

Rook: What sort of phrases?

Harding: No spoilers, Rook!

Rook: Aw, I can't get a sneak peek?

Bellara: When this is all over, I'll send you an advanced copy. Oh! And maybe you can blurb it for me?

Rook: Of course, Bel.