#and then just. lucanis being lucanis. yes. thank you.

[deadlysoupy]

DATV banter if my Rook (Urchin) was a companion 1/?

~~

Neve: You’re jittery in Dock Town. What’s got you worried?

Rook: Isn’t everyone jittery in Dock Town? I’m surprised no one stole your leg while you were walking.

Neve: You’re dodging my question.

Rook: If I said it was the smell, would you accept that?

Neve: Hm. All right, good enough.

Rook: Oh, no. I told you too much, didn’t I? You’re already theorising.

Neve: (laughs) Perhaps.

~~

Neve: Rook, I beg of you, please stop poking fun at our enemies. One insult can cost you your life, some day.

Rook: Hey, they already hate us. What’s the point in holding back?

Neve: The point is that you infuriate them even more. You’re drawing attention to yourself.

Rook: I think that’s the idea.

Neve: Just… (sighs) Be careful, okay? Step on the wrong people’s toes…

Rook: Don’t worry. If I do step on their toes, they’ll know not to mess with someone who has this many friends.

Neve: I’m amazed and scared of your confidence.

~~

Lucanis: You would have been a good assassin, Rook.

Rook: Eh, too much work. And the blood is so difficult to wash off.

Lucanis: That’s why we wear leather.

Rook: The leather is nice. You look incredible in it.

Lucanis: I… appreciate the compliment. But is style really the only thing stopping you from being an assassin? You’re already an honorary Crow.

Rook: It’s good money, that’s for sure. But… I don’t like killing. Not by choice. I kill for survival, not greed.

Lucanis: I don’t kill for money, either.

Rook: I know.

Lucanis: But I understand. If you need work, or a place to sleep…

Rook: I know who to ask.

~~

Rook: Lucanis, I’ve noticed you hold your daggers more upwards. Is that comfortable?

Lucanis: The tilt makes it easier for me to slice. Why?

Rook: It’s not how I do it. Maybe you could show me? I always plunge the dagger in too deep. Ends up a mess.

Lucanis: Sure. What brought this on?

Rook: I don’t know… the Crows are so elegant at killing. It’s mesmerising.

Lucanis: I’ll make sure to tell the other Crows that Rook likes them. But yes, we certainly are taught style fairly early on. How is it with the Lords?

Rook: It’s… different. Okay, fine, I don’t really know.

Lucanis: How come?

Rook: Isabela taught me, no one else bothered to… or could get close to me. I guess I’ve simply developed her techniques.

Lucanis: All right. We can train together and exchange skills. Might be good practice.

~~

Taash: So. You and Isabela.

Rook: Uh-oh.

Taash: What?

Rook: Who told you? How did you find out?

Taash: Woah, slow down. I don’t know anything. But I do want to know now. Are you doing it?

Rook: What! Taash!

Taash: Ugh, what! Isn’t that what you were afraid of?

Rook: (sighs) No. I’m… Isabela practically raised me, Taash. Get your head out of the gutter.

Taash: O-oh. Sorry. Why didn’t you tell me in the first place, then? I thought we trusted each other. You met my mom. Holy shit, I met your mom!

Rook: (laughs) Well, I didn’t tell you because we’re not really official or anything. You know how she is. No touchy-feely stuff.

Taash: Yeah. I get it.

~~

Taash: Why do you wear Tevinter clothes? I thought you were a Lord.

Rook: Tevinter has style. Good colours, comfortable. Lets me appear like a normal citizen.

Taash: But you’re not Tevinter. Why hide where you really come from?

Rook: Taash, it’s Tevinter. I’m an elf. You really find nothing wrong with me wearing flashy Rivain clothes in gloomy, dark Dock Town? Without anyone bothering me?

Taash: (grunts) I guess that’s true. You ever tried, though? What if they’re cool?

Rook: I don’t want to risk it. Not hearing “knife-ear” every minute and just pretending I belong to someone is better.

Taash: Oh. That’s vashedan. I’m sorry they treat your people like that.

Rook: It gets worse, but thanks.

~~

Rook: Bel, did you adjust the rope yesterday?

Bellara: Oh, no, sorry. I didn’t have the time. The Nadas Dirthallen was acting up again. Sorry.

Rook: Hey, it’s okay! Take your time.

Bellara: We can do it together after we get back! What do you need the targets for, anyway?

Rook: I want to try throwing knives. No one’s ever taught me, and I saw a few Crows practising. If I could toss the bomb and then follow up with a knife throw, it would be much more effective than a timed bomb!

Bellara: Oh. Wait, hold on! That’s dangerous! What about collateral damage or friendly fire?

Rook: Eh. I’ll work those out on the fly. Don’t have much time to practice, anyway. But I’ll warn you if it helps?

Bellara: Uh… okay. I’ll tell the others to watch out for “sky bombs”.

Rook: O-o-oh, good name!

~~

Bellara: Rook, how are your burns? Do you need more healing salves? Should I bring some to your room?

Rook: (laughs) Bel, you’re fine. I’m fine! I’ve dealt with worse when I was just starting out. Messing with all this magic is new, but we’ll get there.

Bellara: I still feel bad. I asked you for help.

Rook: And I agreed! So no hard feelings. It’s not like you wanted for the core to explode. Unless…

Bellara: Rook! Of course I didn’t!

Rook: I was just messing with you. But there you go, then.

~~

Rook: Hey. What has an eye, but can’t see?

Davrin: Oh, please don’t.

Rook: Come o-on.

Davrin: Ugh. Fine. What?

Rook: A fsh!

Davrin: (sighs) I hate you, you know that? I already feel new wrinkles forming on my face!

Assan: (laughing squawk)

Rook: Aw, thanks, Assan! At least someone appreciates me around here.

Davrin: I can’t tell who’s worse: you or Assan.

Davrin: Hey, Rook…

Rook: If it’s about your bed, it was Assan!

Davrin: I… what?

Rook: (laughs) Sorry, what were you gonna say?

Davrin: No. Please, do go on. What was that about my bed?

Rook: I’ll never tell.

Davrin: Fine. Then I’ll look the other way when Assan tries to play with your jewelry next time.

Rook: He’s been doing that?

Davrin: Among other things. Talk.

Rook: (sighs) I’ve been… napping on your bed when you’re gone.

Davrin: You what?

Rook: It’s really soft! And dark. It’s like I’m in a cave. Reminds me of the ruins.

Davrin: Hm. Well. If you ask, I might let you switch with me sometimes. I have always wondered what sleeping in your room is like.

Rook: I’ll let you see for yourself. And… thanks, Davrin.

Davrin: Just don’t go around mentioning this to anyone, got it?

Rook: My lips are sealed.

[vaguely-concerned]

very funny for rye 'the moment I make one (1) mistake I will be dropped like a hot potato by anything I care about and it'll be completely my own fault' ingellvar to have two of his very closest people in adult life be varric tethras and lucanis dellamorte. two people whose most uniting 🤝 quality is 'I have never willingly let go of a single thing in my whole entire life even when that would have made everything so much easier. and I certainly don't mean to start now'. get cherished beyond reason or sanity or even the veil of death idiot one day it's going to sink in I'm sure

[writerfromshikahr]

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A Frustrating Service - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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"Can we sit?" Rook gestured to the large couch in the centre of her room, which doubled as her bed. She quickly rearranged the blankets, tidying them to make room for the two of them.

Lucanis nodded, following her to the couch. He perched at one end, his posture rigid, while she settled at the other.

The silence between them stretched thin until Rook finally spoke, her voice hesitant. "I’m not sure how to bring this up....."

“It’s about what happened in the pantry the other day, isn’t it?” he interrupted her, but his tone was calm but unreadable.

Rook glanced at him, her shoulders relaxing slightly in relief that he had brought it up first. "Yes," she admitted softly, holding his gaze.

Lucanis sighed, the sound heavy with something she couldn’t quite place. "It shouldn’t have happened," he said flatly. "I shouldn’t have let it happen."

Her heart sank. She felt the weight of his words like a blow. Here she was, believing they’d shared a connection—something meaningful—and once again, she had gotten it all wrong. "Oh," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She forced herself to look away, adding more firmly, "Well, that clears things up. I guess you can leave."

Lucanis shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tightening as if trying to hold something back. "No, Rook, that’s not what I—ugh, fuck," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. His frustration was palpable.

"No, it’s fine. All good." She waved a hand dismissively, though her voice wavered. "Honestly, I’m okay with this. It makes things easier, I think." Her eyes dropped to the floor, trying to mask the sting of rejection.

"Rook," he said, his voice low and full of warmth—the same tone that had always calmed her in the past. Right now, though, she wanted to slap it out of him.

"Lucanis," she met his gaze with sharp defiance. "I’m a grown woman. I can handle rejection."

"Can you let me speak?" he asked, his voice steady but tinged with irritation.

She nodded silently, her lips pressing into a thin line as she waited.

"What I meant to say… what I need to explain," Lucanis began, his hand gesturing between them as if trying to grasp the right words, "there’s something here, but right now, I can’t. I want to explore whatever this is..." He exhaled sharply, his shoulders tense. "My head’s a mess, Rook. My life, Spite, the last year of being imprisoned—it’s all a fucking disaster...I'm a disaster." He glanced away briefly, gathering his thoughts. "Whatever this is, it deserves care. It needs more than I can give right now. I don’t want to start something important when there’s so much unfinished."

Rook turned toward the window, her gaze following the fish darting and swirling beyond the glass. Her fingers tightened around the blanket before she spoke. "You’re asking for time," she said quietly, though there was no edge to her tone.

"If you’ll give it to me," he replied.

She hesitated, then let out a soft breath. A small, tentative smile curved her lips. "I think I can do that."

Relief washed over his face, softening his sharp features as he offered her a faint smile. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with gratitude.

"I thought I had imagined it," she admitted. "I thought I got it all wrong."

"You didn’t," Lucanis replied firmly, his tone steady and reassuring. He paused, running a hand through his hair, his gaze thoughtful. "I'm not good at this kind of thing. I usually leave matters of the heart to Illario. I've never had a relationship; I don’t do those." His voice softened as his dark eyes met hers again. "But this—it matters. It’s important. I want to do it right. You deserve nothing less."

Rook’s smile grew, just enough to show she believed him. "For what it’s worth," she said after a beat, glancing at him with a glimmer of her usual humour, "it was the best almost-kiss I’ve had in a long time."

Lucanis huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head as a rare, fleeting smile crossed his face. "A frustrating service I'm skilled at providing."

The quiet returned between them, stretching but not uncomfortable. Lucanis leaned back slightly, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before flicking back to hers.

"I should go," he said softly, though there was no edge to the words—just the same careful restraint he always carried.

Rook nodded, though something in her chest tightened. "Right. You’ve got daggers to sharpen, people to dispatch."

"Always." His voice was light, but his eyes lingered on her for a second longer than usual. He stood, making his way to the door.

As his hand reached the doorknob, he paused.

"Rook," he said, his voice low but sure, "you didn’t get this wrong. I don’t want you to think that."

Her breath caught, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure what to say.

Lucanis offered the barest hint of a smile. "If I ever walk away, it won’t be because I don’t want to be here."

And with that, he left, the door closing quietly behind him.

She sat on the couch, her hands twisting the edge of the blanket as she replayed his words in her head. The ache in her chest remained, but it wasn’t sharp anymore. Instead, it felt softer—like the quiet promise he’d left behind.

[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.”

[inquisimer]

Hi, happy Friday and thank you for the welcome! Arlow de Riva/Lucanis with “I’m sorry, I’m just—I’m just really tired.” - Anonymous-Inquisitor

ty for the prompt!! Mostly fluff with some hurt/comfort (?) and subtle pining for flavor :3 for @dadrunkwriting - mild da4 spoilers, just Arlow and Lucanis being somft workaholics.

-

“Rook?”

Arlow started, blotting the parchment with the bead of ink that had been waiting too long for her to keep writing. Cursing under her breath, she set the unfinished letter aside and laid down her quill.

“Yes?” she asked, without looking up, or even really registering who had called her name. “What’s happening?”

“Arlow.” The same voice, but quieter, firmer. Finally, her brain caught up to her ears and she sighed, pinching at the bridge of her nose.

“Lucanis. What do you need? Must be serious, to get you out of the pantry.”

“If it were truly serious, I wouldn’t have waited as long as I did for you to respond to your name.” Lucanis perched on the edge of her desk and folded his arms. His brow knit together, concerned. “You need to rest.”

“Hypocrite.”

“My reasons are a little more tangible than yours.”

“Are they?” Arlow challenged. “Tell that to D’Meta’s crossing. Or—“

She broke off, glancing over to where Varric was sleeping. The steady rise and fall of his chest did nothing to ease the guilty ache in her heart.

“You cannot help anyone if you are exhausted beyond reason,” Lucanis said gently. “And what would Viago say, if he saw you so unaware of your surroundings?”

“Viago would clock me upside the head and knock me out to teach me a lesson.”

“Is that a request?”

“You can certainly try.” Her words were snippy, but they lacked their usual bite. She didn’t remember the last time she’d properly slept. Before the Crows kicked her out of Antiva, probably. With a sigh, she picked up her quill and took a fresh sheet of parchment.

“Arlow—“

“Someone has to answer Strife and Irelin,” she snapped. “Unless you have someone else that’s interested in the job, let me handle it.”

Her quill was halfway into the inkpot when Lucanis laid his hand over hers, trapping it there. She clenched her fist, irritated.

“Take a break,” he said firmly, in the voice of the First Talon’s grandson, the one that was used to deference. It made Arlow want to buck on instinct. But there was a weariness in her bones, an exhaustion in her soul that wanted to agree.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I blink, and the world falls apart, Lucanis. I look away, and every crisis redoubles.”

She closed her eyes and steadied herself with a breath. He was close enough that she smelled coffee and cinnamon, and the odd tangle of herbs that were always drying over his cot. “This is my contract,” she said. “Could you rest until it was completed?”

He pulled the quill up between her fingers and set it aside, cupping her now empty hand in his and gently massaging the cramps she hadn’t even felt forming. “Of course not. But I would at least break for coffee.”

“Is that an offer?”

“It always was,” he said softly. His fingers stilled against hers and it took all of Arlow’s willpower to keep her hand from twitching, lacing their fingers together. She wanted that comfort. But it wasn’t something she could take so easily anymore.

“Are you brewing from your supply, or ours?” she asked, teasing. Lucanis raised a brow.

“Would you even know the difference?”

“I would,” Arlow said, affronted. “Or do you think Viago didn’t drill us in palate sensitivity?”

“There is a difference in tasting for poisons and knowing a quality brew.”

“The two have a surprising amount of overlap. Just because I’m not a snob—“

“The word you’re looking for is connoisseur.”

“Sure it is.” Arlow rolled her eyes. She capped the inkpot and stood, regretting the chill that took her hand when it slipped from Lucanis’ grasp. “Well, if you’re taking me from work, it better be from your stash.”

“It will be,” Lucanis assured her, holding the infirmary door open. “Someone has to save you and Neve from yourselves.”

“I might be at the point of saving. Neve, on the other hand—“

Lucanis laughed, a low, quiet chuckle that warmed Arlow better than any cup of coffee he promised. He slipped past her to lead the way to the kitchen, the silky samite of his vest brushing against her knuckles. She clenched her fist to keep from chasing after it.

“Let’s get something in you before you’re beyond hope, then,” he murmured, eyes twinkling. The corner of Arlow’s mouth quirked. As long as he looked at her like that, she thought, she wouldn’t be beyond anything. But she didn’t say that.

She gestured across the courtyard with her chin. “Lead the way.”

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories For a Demon, Night 2: Swan Lake (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

The next night, Lucanis finds himself arranging a few plates on the dining table ahead of Rook’s planned arrival. He arranges, then rearranges, doubts what he made, or if it was weird thing to do in general. But he remembers his conversation with Neve from earlier in the day, and that seems to hold his nerves steady for the time being.

He had walked into her office-room with a question. And Neve, unsurprisingly, knew exactly what that question was before he even got to her front door. She was a damn good detective, he had to give her that.

“Planning something special for Rook?” she asked coyly.

“You know her better than I do” He admitted, scratching the side of his beard. “She’s … helping me. I want to do something nice for her”

“Is that all?” Neve quirked a brow and leaned back in her chair. An errant wisp floated by her hair, which she quickly swatted away gently.

Lucanis frowned. “Yes. That is all. Just tell me what I should make for her”

Neve crossed her arms, “Information rarely comes free in Minrathous”

“We’re not in Minrathous” he pointed out.

“You can take the girl out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the girl” she said wistfully, closing her eyes and grinning.

Lucanis groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Fine, what do you want”

“Fried fish for dinner tomorrow night”

“I was going to make Paella tomorrow night”

“Well, now you’re making fried fish” Neve quipped.

“Mierda, alright. But I’m also making vegetables” He pointed at her, “You people need to get better eating habits”

Neve grinned and steepled her fingers together, then leaned forward on her desk. “Make the churros again. You might not have noticed her sneaking an extra one or… five, during dinner, but I certainly did. She wouldn’t stop talking about them the day after you made them”

“Churros” He repeated thoughtfully, as he rubbed his beard. He could do that. He should still have some ingredients left over from the first time he made them last week.

Rook likes sweet things. Smells like sweet things. Spite echoed in his head. He ignored that.

“Thank you, Neve” He gave her a curt nod before he turned to leave. “There will be fresh coffee in the dining hall in a few minutes if you’ve a mind for a real cup of it.” He called over his shoulder.

Lucanis left to her chuckling behind him and closed the door to her office. He had spent the rest of the day gathering supplies, and later in the evening when he was certain the team was asleep, he began preparing. The routine of baking and cooking was as calming as sharpening his longsword on a whetstone. Slow, methodical, rhythmic. But unlike sharpening his swords and knives, the end product was something that could bring joy, rather than misery and death. He tries to hang on to that.

When he finishes the churros, he decides that’s not enough. He makes a chocolate sauce to go with the churros. But maybe she prefers caramel? He should have asked Neve. So, he makes a caramel sauce as well. Then, he wants to see if she’ll like cioccolata calda and starts preparing that. It’s fairly late in the evening when he finishes the croissants he wasn’t planning on baking.

No sign of Rook yet.

He’s not sure when he started pacing with his second cup of coffee in hand.

She had accompanied Bellara to Arlathan – something about Veil Jumpers going missing deep in the forest. He shouldn’t worry. He’s seen Rook fight, she’s more than capable. But she does have a certain recklessness to her way of fighting. No - he doesn’t need to worry. He isn’t worrying.

He continues pacing. Then, he’s once again finding flaws with his arrangement of the desserts on the table. Would she find this strange? Too much? Off-putting, and not in a charming way but an unsettling way? Was there even a way to be charmingly off-putting?

He's pacing again.

“Am I interrupting something?”

He stops in his tracks.

Her voice has caught him off guard two nights in a row. That is a problem.

“Rook” He says stupidly.

“Hi” She waves meekly, and limps into the dining hall with a groan. She’s dragging her left foot on the ground. “Sorry I’m late – ran into trouble in Arlathan.”

He takes a few tentative steps closer. He wants to extend his hand, but some unknown force keeps it to his side, his entire body wound tighter than Harding’s bowstring.

If his body won’t move, his mouth will have to pay the balance.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

Rook winces and draws closer to the large wooden table.

“Rage demon” she answers, pulling out a chair by the fireplace “And I’m happy to report it lived up to its name! It wasn’t very happy to see us”

He pulls out a chair beside her. She turns to him and laughs bitterly, “Have you ever been burned and stabbed on a job? Because I found out what that feels like today, and it’s kind of awful. Thankfully Bellara was able to patch me up”

Lucanis looks down at her left leg. Whatever injury she sustained is covered by her pants, but he can surmise from the way she’s shifting nearly all her weight onto the other leg it must have been bad.

“You leave your left flank wide open when you fight” he says, absent-mindedly. And immediately wishes he hadn’t.

“What?”

Mierda.

“You have a habit of leaving your left flank open.” He says quickly, then looks into the fire. Anywhere but her confused face. “Something I’ve noticed on the field.”

He feels her staring. He’s said something he shouldn’t have said. He doesn’t know how to right it other than by offering her food as a distraction. Lucanis turns to his handiwork and reaches for the bowl of churros, all but thrusting it in front of her.

“Churro?” He asks hopefully.

If Rook is taken aback by the odd exchange, she has the manners not to say anything. She blinks twice and looks down at the dessert.

“You made this for me?” She tilts her head.

Lucanis rubs the back of his neck.

“I … yes” He sets the bowl back on the table after she gingerly takes one in her hand. He wonders if they’re as soft to touch as they appear. “I thought dessert might pair well with your stories”

Rook chuckles, and leans in closer “It’s a good thought”

Smells like Blood and Ashes and Brimstone, Spite’s anger reverberates through his chest. She’s supposed to smell like sweet things.

For once he’s grateful for the demon’s interjection as it keeps him from staring at her while she eats the churro. And licks the cinnamon sugar from her lips. He shouldn’t be paying attention to this.

“Mmm” she sighs, an expression of serene delight passing over her features. His chest tightens.

Rook grins, oblivious to the effect she has on him, “These are dangerous you know- you can’t keep making them for me or it’ll be all I’ll eat”

Lucanis sighs and pushes the chocolate and caramel sauces towards her. “You and Neve are peas in a pod evidently.”

Rook squeals in delight and wastes no time dipping the dessert into the chocolate sauce.

She prefers chocolate.

“So” He starts, awkwardly shifting in his seat, “What tale will you tell tonight?”

He pretends not to notice her wiping a smear of chocolate sauce from the corner of her lip with her finger.

“Oh, right” She reaches into her side pocket and pulls out the small journal. Rook flips through its pages, humming thoughtfully. She lands on a page near the end of the journal before stopping.

“This might be a good one.” Rook snaps the journal shut and places on the table beside her. “Have you ever heard the tale of Swan Lake?”

Even if he had, he would say no. If she wants to tell him a story, he won’t sway her.

“The original story is from Nevarra, but it was adapted into an Orlesian ballet some time ago” Rook continues, not giving him a chance to answer before barreling ahead with her explanation. “Apparently it was one of Emperor Judicael’s favourites. He liked it so much he had the ballet house play it nearly every night, and producers of the other ballet’s threatened to quit en masse. It was so bad, the play was actually banned in Orlais for about fifty years because of that whole debacle. Caused quite the scandal”

“Must be a good ballet” He remarks, before getting up from his seat. “Wait here for a moment, Rook”

Rook nods and reaches for another churro, “Sure”.

Lucanis returns with two steaming cups and passes one to Rook. She takes it gratefully and lifts the warm beverage to her nose. “Mmm! What is this? Smell’s divine”

“Cioccolata Calda. An Antivan specialty”

“Is it coffee?”

“Try it”

Rook does as she’s told and takes a curious sip. Her eyes widen and her lips split into a large smile. “That is amazing. I think I have a new favourite drink”

“They make it better at Café Pietra, but this will do for tonight” Lucanis sits back down and takes a sip of his own cup. It’s a little too sweet for him, but the look on her face assures him it was a good call. “If we find ourselves in Treviso again, we can –“

“I like the way you make things” Rook says quietly, gripping her cup a bit tighter. She’s looking down at her cup, and it’s probably for the better. He is certain the tips of his ears are a furious shade of red.

“Thank you” He whispers, after a few moments of quiet pass between the two. “That’s… very kind of you to say”

“You’re welcome” She replies, crossing her legs in her seat like she did yesterday. She looks like she wants to say something else, but a quick shake of her head and a clap of her hands brings her focus back to the reason she came here.

“Okay, umm, let’s see here” Rook’s gentle features twist in concentration.

Her hands begin glowing with that familiar blue light, and as she raises her arms and gives a flourish with her left hand.

A castle once again fills the empty space between their chairs. This one has a central dome surrounded by four gilded towers with pointed roofs – different in style and architecture from the one yesterday, but no less impressive.

“Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a handsome and gentle prince by the name of Siegfried”

The castle ripples out of existence, and in its place, is the form of a young man with short, cropped hair, a broad chest, and a large bow on his back.

“Prince Siegfried was one of the most accomplished hunters in the kingdom. It was said he could hit any mark, no matter the distance. His aim would always be true. Some versions of the story mention his crossbow being enchanted, others chalk it up to pure skill. Either way, he’s a good shot” Rook grins and makes the figure of the Prince aim an arrow right at Lucanis’ chest with a crook of her finger.

Lucanis raises an eyebrow and holds his hands up in mock defense, “Tell the Prince he should stick to animals – I might be above his paygrade”

Rook bursts out into laughter and as her concentration breaks for a moment, the image of the Prince flickers in and out of existence.

“Sorry, carry on.” Lucanis smiles as she rights herself in her seat and places her hands back into position.

“Yes – where was I?” Rook flicks her wrist, and the Prince is back in view. This time, he’s joined by another figure. A tall woman, dressed in a long, flowing dress with an ornate crown on her head, comes to stand next to him.

“His mother, the Dowager Queen, comes to inform him of an upcoming ball that will be held at the royal palace. ‘At this ball, my son, you will choose a royal bride. For I am late in my years and wish to see grandchildren in these palace halls before I depart’” As before, the Queen’s mouth moves in rhythm with Rook’s words – like magical ventriloquism.

Rook waves her hand and the Queen disappears. The form of the prince cradles his head in his hands.

“The Prince is despondent at this news. He wanted to marry for love, not political power. Surely, he has a right to his own heart, at least?” The Prince sinks to his knees and stays like that for a few moments.

Another flourish from Rook, and a new figure appears. Shorter, portlier than the Prince, but with kinder features.

“His friend Benno sees how upset he is, and wonders how he can help cheer up the Prince”

Both figures disappear as Rook pauses to take a sip of her hot chocolate. He tries to ignore Spite’s impatient rippling at the edges of his consciousness.

Siegfried and Benno return soon thereafter.

“Benno looks out the window, and happens to see a flock of swans flying outside”

Rook waves the swans into existence, and they flit around Siegfried and Benno in circles before disappearing. The figure of Benno tugs on the prince’s shoulder sleeve.

“‘Your highness, a hunt!’ he exclaims, pointing out the window” The figure of the prince straightens, his interest piqued by the animals.

“Benno gathers a few other men from the castle, and along with the prince, they all ride out to the forest to hunt the swans”

The scene changes to Benno, Siegfried, and three other men riding horseback through a dense forest canopy. He will always be in awe of the imagery she’s able to bring to life with her magic. Never in a hundred years would he have thought of using magic in this way. Then again, Rook is anything but a typical mage, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

“At some point, Prince Siegfried becomes separated from the group”

One by one, Benno and the other men disappear, until only the prince remains, trotting horseback through the air on the spot.

“He comes to the lakeside clearing and finds the flock of swans.” The swans reappear, now floating on the edge of an invisible lake. The figure of the Prince draws his crossbow and pulls an arrow from the quiver. As he nocks the arrow, one of the swans transforms into a beautiful young woman. She has a long plait of hair spilling over her left shoulder. She’s wearing what Lucanis assumes, from its puffy construction, a ballet dress. The skirts are feathered, and feathers even fall from the dress, winking out of existence moments later.

He leans in closer to observe the finer details.

“You have quite the imagination, Rook” Lucanis smiles at her.

She returns it in kind and brushes a stray curl behind her ear. She looks shy, almost, and like she’s avoiding looking at him. “Some say over-active”

“I think it’s just right” He pulls back and takes a sip of his own hot chocolate.

“Thanks…” She whispers, drawing her legs closer together. When she sees her figures flickering again, Rook’s brows bunch together and the blue light in her hands grows brighter.

“The … ah … the Prince was so transfixed by her beauty and grace, he had to know more about her”

The figure of the prince begins moving closer to the woman, but the woman begins to back away.

“But she was frightened, for she did not know this man, and feared the crossbow in his hands”

“‘Wait!’ The prince calls just before she leaves his sight” The prince holds out his hand and tosses his crossbow to the ground. Well, the air. “‘Please stay, I’ve not a mind to hurt you. Won’t you tell me who you are?’”

The young woman stops and rests her hand on her chest.

“‘My name is Odette, and I cannot leave this place’”

“Why?” Lucanis is leaning forward, practically on the edge of his seat.

Rook leans in closer. Too close. Close enough to reach out and touch. Her large, doe-like green eyes, framed under long and wispy eyelashes, feel like they’re burning themselves into his soul.

Chocolate and cinnamon. Spite shrieks gleefully, and he wants to draw back. His heart throbs loudly in his ears, almost drowning out the demon. Almost.

“The prince had the same question” She winks and returns to her previous spot before he has the chance to pull away first.

“Odette explains she’s been placed under a curse by a powerful, but wicked mage. His name was Von Rothbart, and he was obsessed with Odette.”  

The prince disappears and is replaced by a taller man with hair tied behind his back and sharp, hawk-like features. He was dressed in a finely tailored doublet, with a side-cape hanging by a large broach affixed to the right shoulder. A faint red light shines from the broach.

“He kidnapped her from her home and used her blood to bind her soul to the gem in his broach. ‘Marry me’, he asks her every night. Every night she refuses. Every morning thereafter, she turns into a swan. And every night, she is called back to Swan Lake and turns back into a human. Such had been her fate for the last five years. It’s a powerful spell, born of ancient magic – but not an invulnerable one.”

Rook arced her hand over Odette, who’s form morphed from human to swan to human again with every back-and-forth motion of her palm.

He doesn’t have the words, none that will meaningfully add to the conversation at least, to describe how he feels about the way she uses her magic. Amazing, incredible, inventive all seem inadequate.

“There was one way to break Rothbart’s spell. A man would need to profess his love for her and remain faithful to that vow forevermore”

The figure of the prince kneels down on one knee, evidently ready to profess that love immediately.

Lucanis is resting his elbow on his knee, and his chin rests in his hand. His cup of hot chocolate rests forgotten by his side, as do the churros and croissants. He is certain she doesn’t realize how captivating she – her stories, are.

But they are interrupted by Rothbart, suddenly appearing beside Odette. He grabs her roughly by the arm and holds her beside him.

The prince stands with righteous anger. He has an arrow pointed at the figure of Rothbart.

“‘I shall slay this wicked mage, and free you from his grasp’” Siegfried declared”.

As the prince was about to loose the arrow, Lucanis is surprised to see Odette step in front of Rothbart, her arms spread wide in defense. The prince lowers his bow hesitantly.

A low growl escapes his throat, his eyes flash an angry violet “Why would she do that?” Lucanis’ voice is drowned by the deep and unnatural timbres of the demon, echoing together in a discordant symphony.

“Spite” Rook says calmly, like one would address a misbehaving child. “May I have Lucanis back so we can finish the story? You’ll find out why in a moment”

Lucanis’ face contorts with frustration. His violet eyes burn bright with anger, “Want. To know”

“You will, soon. Now bring Lucanis back”

Lucanis – well, Spite, growls again. When the demon refuses to relent, Rook hesitantly touches his forearm and frowns. “Please?”

The violet in his eyes dims, and Lucanis shakes his head. It was rare for Spite to surge to the forefront so quickly.

He couldn’t understand why the princess would protect someone who hurt her.

Lucanis takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly.

“Are you alright?” Rook asks quietly. The figures are long gone now, dissipated by the distraction that was Spite.

He realizes she’s still touching his forearm. Warm, and calming. Gentle. They both look down and she quickly pulls away. He feels the withdrawal of her warmth like gust of cold settling on his skin.

“Yes, I’m fine – don’t worry” He gestures to her, “Please, continue with your story”

Rook still looks hesitant, like she doesn’t quite believe him. He wouldn’t either, he supposed. He needs her to continue the story. Needs to distract himself from the feeling of her soft fingers lingering on his skin, like a brand.

She relents and her hands glow blue again.

The three figures of Siegfried, Odette, and Rothbart return.

“Odette explains that her life is tied to Von Rothbart. If he dies, then the spell imprisoning her can never be broken”

The figure of Rothbart retreats into a deeper part of the forest she’s conjured.

Odette and Siegfried share an embrace.

“’Come to the royal ball in three days’ time. There, I will profess my love to you in front of the entire court’ Says the Prince, resolved to defy his mother and marry her instead of a princess.”

The figure of Odette nods and disappears soon after.

“What they don’t know is that Rothbart heard the entire exchange, and he had a plan to make sure Odette could never escape him” Rook frowned.

The prince disappears next, and they are back with Rothbart and another young woman. This one slender and petite, with the same sharp features as the man next to her.

“Rothbart had a plan. He would use magic to disguise himself” Rook waved a hand and Rothbart morphed into the dress and appearance of an unassuming peasant. “And his daughter, Odile” She waved her hand again, and the young woman became an identical copy of Odette – but her dress, was glowing with an ominous black light.

“There’s no way that’ll work” Lucanis throws his arms up and leans back in his chair. “He has to know that Rothbart won’t just let her waltz into the ball”

Rook merely shrugs, “You’ll have to wait and see”

Lucanis crosses his arms over his chest and frowns. “Continue”

Rook laughs, “Alright, alright”

Odile and Rothbart disappear. They are replaced by a grand ballroom floor, with guests dressed in all sorts of finery decorating the dance floor like little spinning jewels.

At the top of a grand staircase sees Benno, Siegfried, and the Queen gathered together.

“Siegfried anxiously awaits the arrival of Odette” Rook explains, before waving her hand and bringing to life the disguised figures of Rothbart and Odile-as-Odette.

“Overcome with joy when he sees her, he immediately asks her to dance”

The two come together, and the rest of the ballroom disappears. They twirl about the ballroom in an elegant pas-de-deux.

“At the end of the dance, Odile asks him one simple question”

The pair part, and the prince drops to one knee in front of her.

“’Do you love me, and only me?’”

Lucanis watches intently as the figure of the prince bows his head in front of the pretender.

Sadness washes over Rook’s face. “The Prince, none the wiser, proclaims his love to the entire court ‘Of course I love you’ – but it wasn’t enough. Rothbart, masquerading as the girl’s father, asks him to make a binding vow in front of the Queen. Siegfried, thinking nothing of it, does so immediately”

Rook waves her hand and the figures of Rothbart and Odile return to their original forms. Suddenly, the real Odette, in her pure white dress, is inside the ballroom. She crumples to the floor as she witnesses the Prince profess his love for Odile.

“Odette, heartbroken, flees the ball and returns to the lakeside clearing. The prince follows after her, distraught at what he’s done.”

The two figures stand in front of each other on the lake.

“Odette eventually forgives him, realizing that he was under Rothbart’s spell just as much as she was. But the damage was done. His actions consigned her to live as a swan forevermore”

Lucanis frowned, unable to see a path to a happy ending. But Rook was full of surprises, maybe her stories were as well.

“Odette and the Prince resolved to leave this world together, rather than be bound by Rothbart’s magic”

The figures of Siegfried and Odette walk towards the lake, hand in hand. They slowly sink together under the willowy depths.

Well, he wasn’t expecting that.

A moment later, they both disappear under the water.

The figure of Rothbart returns into view. The red light of the broach on his shoulder flickers in and out, before dying out completely. Rothbart collapses to the ground and remains still.

“It’s true that Odette’s life was bound to Rothbart’s – but the magic worked both ways. Rothbart’s life was also tied to hers. And when she left this world of her own will, he left it against his”

A moment later, Rothbart disappears and in his place are two ghostly swans, flying in circles together.

“The spirits of Siegfried and Odette are reunited in the Fade, until they decide to pass on together”

With a final flick of her wrist, the birds disappear, and there is nothing but empty space between him and Rook again.

“The End”

Lucanis exhaled.

“Not the most cheerful ending” He remarks, taking another sip of hot chocolate.

“What was it you said about that one brew at Café Pietra? Bitter and sweet - like a kiss goodbye?” Rook nods and absent-mindedly chews on another churro. “That’s how I think about this ending. Not every story has an overtly happy one”

He’s dumbfounded she even remembers that throwaway comment.

“I still don’t understand how the prince doesn’t question Odette appearing at the ball. With a father she hasn’t seen in five years, supposedly” He wants to change the subject. Away from kisses, goodbye or otherwise.

Rook shrugs, “That’s a question for the author- though he’s likely about four hundred year’s dead.” A light twinkles in her eyes, “Maybe we can find him here, in the Fade, and ask his spirit!”

Lucanis laughs, “Now there’s an idea”

“I’m full of them. Some better than others” Rook grins sheepishly. She begins massaging the side of her left leg.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, following her gaze down.

“Nothing – it’s just starting to ache a bit” Rook winces. “That demon got me good”

“Let me see” Lucanis drops to his knee in front of her. “If that’s alright”

Rook removes her hand and drops her gaze to look at him.

“Oh – it’s fine, Lucanis, really. I’ll bug Bellara about it in the morn- “

“It’s better if you bug me about it now. It might get worse over the course of the night”

He gestures to her pant leg, “May I?” He asks again.

Rook bites her lip, before relenting. “Sure… go ahead” she answers softly and lifts her leg so he can support it in his right hand.

He clicks his tongue when he sees the damage under her dressing. The lateral portion of her lower leg is covered with an irritated and inflamed superficial burn. Three parallel gash marks, likely closed thanks to Bellara’s healing magic, create tracts of bright crimson skin. She hisses when he gently presses on the skin of her leg.

“I have something for this. Wait here” He carefully lowers her leg and returns a moment later with a small jar from the pantry.

“Embrium and Elfroot paste, good for burns and skin irritation. It’ll also prevent infection. Apply it twice a day” He sets the jar on the table beside her. “Let me know if that gets worse”

Rook grins, “I didn’t know I was getting a doctor and an assassin in my contract”

Lucanis chuckles, “Any Crow worth their salt knows how to close a wound just as well as they can open one. Consider it on the house”

“Is the all the cooking on the house too?” Rook slowly stands up, and they’re only a few inches away from each other now.

Lucanis nervously rubs the back of his neck, “I think it has to be, with the way you people eat”

“Hey! I’m not that bad” She places her hands on her hips and frowns. “I eat vegetables … sometimes”

“I’ve seen you pick out the eggplant in every dish”

“Okay, I don’t like one vegetable”

She shakes her head and gathers a few churros and croissants onto a plate. Rook sticks a croissant in her mouth, and speaks around it, “Just for that, I’m eating nothing but these for the next two days”

“You’re going to miss Paella night” He deadpans.

Rook swallows and places another croissant defiantly on her plate.

“Three nights”

Lucanis sighs. At least she seems to like the food.

Rook’s laughter fills the dining hall. “On that note – I should get some sleep. I hope Spite doesn’t give you too much trouble for the rest of the night”

“He won’t” Lucanis doesn’t know that but says it to give her some reassurance. “Good night, Rook”

“Madeleina”

“What?”

“My name … it’s Madeleina. You can call me that if you want” She smiles widely. “Rook is fine too, though”

“Madeleina” He repeated softly. He smiled, and for the first time all night, he feels like he can keep her gaze. Their eyes meet, and it feels like an entirely new conversation is happening between them. “It suits you”

Rook toys with an errant curl and smiles. “Thank you”

“I – umm… I should get going. Goodnight, Lucanis” she adds quickly.

She quickly rights herself and for good measure, steals one more churro from the bowl. Madeleina then turns and begins hobbling out of the dining hall, leaving Lucanis and Spite to mull the feeling of her new name over in his mind.

He would have to thank Neve for her advice.

[chibigingi]

Just a silly idea...

Right, so, when Lucanis sleeps, Spite tries to take over. I've always wondered how Emmrich, Fade Expert and quite understanding towards the needs of spirits and demons, is the one that catches him sleepwalking. The proper thing to do for Lucanis' sake would be to wake him up, but... Emmrich can't help but feel a little sorry for Spite.

After all, he's as much an unwilling victim in this strange circumstance as Lucanis, and being trapped with no meaningful way of letting out his pent up energy and frustrations has to be torture.

So, instead, he invites Spite to accompany him and Manfred, a fellow spirit, to run some errands to the Necropolis, so long as he promises to be on his best behavior (or as good of behavior as a Spite demon can be). He knows there'd be some danger involved, but he's confident enough in his own abilities as well as the wards around the Grand Necropolis to negate any damage Spite might be capable of doing, and also, trusts that Spite will not do anything that would put Lucanis or Manfred/Curiosity at risk (after all, it's clear Spite has some kind of affection for his fellow spirit, seeing how distraught he becomes should the player choose not to revive him). It's a risky endeavor, but he has hope that things will go well.

And they do. Sure they get a few curious and concerned looks from others, but it seems to do well for Spite to be able to just walk around and interact with the world around him, especially among kindred spirits. Emmrich gives him some freedom, more than he gives Manfred, but he's never too far, just in case he needs to reign Spite back in or wake Lucanis up. He suspects Lucanis won't be happy when he does wake up, but he's certain he can handle the fallout in a calm and professional manner. He can't separate the two, but if he can help them, in some manner, to come to a better, more harmonized coexistence, that'd be enough for him.

Eventually, Lucanis will wake up and he'll be quite upset over the whole ordeal, and justifiably so. He fears what could happen if Spite gains control, to himself and especially to others around him, and he already feels weary about Emmrich's offers to help as he thinks Emmrich only sees him as a science experiment and not as an individual with very real concerns about being possessed by a demon.

Back at the Lighthouse, they have a little argument.

Lucanis: "Why didn't you just wake me up? Don't you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

Emmrich: "I'm perfectly capable of handling one malign spirit, thank you very much. Besides, it's no wonder he's been giving you so much trouble lately. He's bored. He needs enrichment."

Lucanis: "Enrichment? Like... like a dog that needs to be walked every now and then? Are you telling me you walked him, US, like we're a Mabari hound?!"

Emmrich: (finally realizing the implications and is now a little flustered) "Well, when you put it like that... yes. I suppose so. I'm sorry, Lucanis, for not abiding by your wishes. And I'm sorry, Spite, for implying that you're nothing more than an animal."

Lucanis (Spite): Not. DOG. Wolf.

[creative-frequency]

Yay! I'm glad to hear that Rook's wyvern has struck a chord with you (and others? oh, my! I'm actually so flustered and flattered right now, thank you for telling me 🥹)! Also, what do you think the of the wyvern being named 'Knight' or 'Queen' (you know, because Rook is called 'Rook')?

Anyway! How do you think that first meeting between the wyvern and Lucanis went (at least from Luncanis's perspective)? Like was he about to arrive at the Lighthouse for the first time before Rook is all, 'Oh! Hey, Lucanis, one last thing before we arrive. You don't have any wyvern poison on you, right? My wyvern companion will want to give you a quick sniff and she might mistake you for a rival if that's the first thing she smells on you.' Would Lucanis even believe it until he sees it?

This man better be ready for the good things that are about to happen to him 💚

Rook's Wyvern: First Meeting with Lucanis

The wyvern should definitely be named something royal like Queen, Marquis, or Baron.

Let’s go with Baroness for this one! She would have blue stripes across her scales.

Lucanis would be so dumbstruck at Rook’s unexpected inquiry that he would have to process the information in pieces: “What? Why would I have wyvern poison on me? And, what do you mean by ‘my wyvern companion’? Wait. You have a wyvern? Here?”

Rook is not sure if the assassin is terrified or not.

Cue three different variations of the question: “You have an actual wyvern? How?”

When he gets the confusion cleared, palpable enthusiasm quickly follows. Rook is baffled, while Lucanis is vibrating with excitement but desperately tries to rein it down.

After Lucanis is introduced to the other Veilguard members and settled down (and Spite has calmed down), Rook would suggest that they go meet the Baroness now – if Lucanis can afford the time, of course.

“Yes. Lead the way.” The man would not hesitate. If this turns out to be an elaborate joke or a misunderstanding, all his hopes and dreams will be crushed.

It’s better to be proactive rather than wait for Baroness to realise there is a new person in her territory aka the Lighthouse.

Lucanis would try to play it cool because they only just met with Rook and he wants to make a professional impression, but damn it’s hard not to geek out.

He would coolly (not really) mention that he has been really interested in wyverns ever since he was a boy.

Rook would be so relieved to hear this because normally they have to persuade people into this meeting process that is meant for their own safety.

Lucanis waits a good distance away at first.

Rook has their way of calling the Baroness and when she arrives, Lucanis is completely amazed as he stares at the real live wyvern. For a small moment, everything is worth it.

Lucanis would be floored by the way Rook handles the astonishing creature. Even Spite would be impressed at the presence and bond those two command.

Rook talks to the wyvern like one talks to an intelligent creature and introduces Lucanis with a heavy emphasis on “He is part of our team.”

Rook motions Lucanis to stay still. Baroness takes a sniff of the air, then carefully paces closer to sniff his clothes before backing away and leaving.

Lucanis is still staring.

“Curious. She likes you.”

He wants to hear everything about Baroness and what Rook knows about wyverns. Rook will promise Baroness will surely allow him to pet her if he would like to.

This is the best thing that has happened to Lucanis in his whole life.

[fleshwerks]

Thank you for your rant posts on DAV. They’ve been cathartic to read as they echo so many of my own issues with the game and how it treats its own lore and insults its fanbase. I feel stupid for caring about the oppression of mages and elves given how they sanitized and wrote out these cornerstones of the Thedas setting and it sucks! Im glad I’m not alone.

I had very little hope for this game given its mess of a dev cycle and how the company has bled talent, I thought it would be a very messy narrative as a result. And it is! But it’s worse, because it’s not just messy, it commits the greatest cardinal sin of writing: it’s boring.

I think you nailed it. I'm at the same point as you, especially as someone who's huge into DA lore and the intrauniverse sociopolitics, as well as the expected (foolishly) aspect of your deeds mattering, either positively or negatively.

I have a whole ass Inquisitor who can now stop feeling bad in his steppe-sky burial about his indecisiveness during his tenure as an Inquisitor: BECAUSE NONE OF IT MATTERED ANYWAY. 'Oh, you delayed some suffering for like, what, 7 years? 7 years is nothing when you're doomed anyway. I can already hear the argument "but what you do even in short term matters, too."

Yes, in real life. But I don't do RPGs for real life. I play RPGs to be able to fantasise about doing a bit more than I can do in real life.

On top of it just about everybody being so blasé about what's going on. This is the worst blight ever, two actual gods are loose, but here we are at the dinner table, arguing about Taash' mom being a strict, traditional jerkass and Bellara joining the list of people who hate themselves for having ADHD, and holding her hand through it. Boring.

Veilguard commits another sin: everybody blames themselves for everything, but it either gets fixed for them, or they're feeling sorry and do the thing they feel so sorry about anyway.

My kingdom for a character who can go 'it is what it is, I'm not perfect, but I'm not sorry for existing and having an impact on this world, especially if the impact is caused by something I couldn't really control; all that matters is what we do next.' Which would open up the world at wide: tackling things that make your personal issues microbial in comparison. These people don't have the luxury of crying into their chicken soup. Not to say these things can't be addressed, but in Dragon Age, characters are supposed to support the overarching plot and the worldbuilding. Instead, the world puts itself on hold until you've solved Lucanis' granny issues or whatever.

If you've ever watched campaign 3 of Critical Role, that series has the same issue. The cast is made up of people who by and large have no real connection to the world or the overarching plot, and a large part of the viewerbase has come down onto the same idea: if the characters don't really care and only keep reacting, and reacting with quippiness and laughs and occasional 'oh no, that's bad, right? Anyway,'... why should we care?

Why should I care? Because everything I cared about as a player has been deleted, and the cast of Veilguard is mostly just dicking around until the plot reminds them that hey: we have the worst apocalypse going on since Solas deleted Elvhenan. Can we like... react more to it? We can do the therapy sessions later when people have stopped dying.

Disclaimer: I fully acknowledge that I'm going off on a tangent and I'm most likely projecting and reading into it too much/not reading into it enough. But that's the problem. Most players will play it once. You can't rely on subsequent playthroughs to make someone care.

Worst part is, companions aren't even boring. They're just miscast for this particular plot, exacerbated by what BW did to all the established lore. The tonality of the game itself and its place in DA canon is just wack.

I'm likely being incredibly unfair, but there's something to investigate here, because if you've failed to bring players into the lore and invest themselves in such numbers, it isn't just Mari here talking shit, it's a wider problem. Lest we forget, your fiction, your work stops being 'only yours' the moment you publish it and allow people play with your toys. The author is king, but the author is only the king of their own version of their story. The moment it's read and played by many, it's not just your story anymore, it's everybody's, who's engaging with it.

God dammit my English literature and language degree is catching up with me, I've turned into That Guy. Uck.

[housederiva]

I'm so tired and sleepy but the 4th chapter of my retelling of Lucanis' recruitment mission is out and the link to it is here thank you guys from 1.2kish hits on it so far I'm going to bed

The first chapter is under the cut I promised the staircase thing makes sense in the second chapter

The walk down to the canals was predominantly filled with Illario gesticulating wildly about his frustrations of not knowing his cousin was alive. Rook never had the pleasure of being in this particular Dellamorte’s company. Quickly, she realized that it was a good thing they had such differences in their rank, as that was the chief reason they were never in the same room.

Rook cut in when he paused long enough to draw in breath, “When we left the Diamond, you said we were going to a boat?”

“Yes,” He tossed his hand in the air, almost smacking it into a boy carrying a crateful of apples towards the late-night market, “Do you think the Venatori would keep a normal prison? Or that one could hold the Demon of Vyrantium?” Illario was quite loud for an assassin who spent the last year as the successor to the First Talon. He noted his volume when Rook purposely let her eyes follow the people they left behind while they walked. Poor Harding was practically having to run to keep up with the stride he was taking.

Rook looked to him as they turned a corner into a side street, “Why do we need the boat Illario? Is it on an island or-”

“The Ossuary lies beneath the sea,” The lull in his volume didn’t last long as he cut her off, “A fact I learned mere minutes ago!”

“Under the…??” Harding groaned, huffing out behind the two Crows, “Ohh this going to be juuust great.” Rook turned back as she spoke, about to remind Harding that she didn’t need to come with her but her friend pointed a finger up, shaking her head while she caught her breath, “I’m not letting you do anything else dangerous by yourself, don’t even think about it Rook.”

Illario was just about to launch into another tirade of complaints but Rook I directed her attention back to him with the gist of what he had been yelling about for the last ten minutes, “You’re not happy Caterina kept this from you.”

“Lucanis is family.” He shot back, “What would you do if it was a Viago in his place?”

“I would burn Antiva to the ground to get to him.” She didn’t hesitate her answer, the thought alone was almost too much to handle.

“So maybe,” Illario gestured wildly once more, “She thought I’d act to rash if it meant saving him and now…” He quieted then, hands closing into fists, His mask of anger giving way to the sorrow underneath, “Who can say if he’s even still alive?”

“We will in about an hour or so.” It was a pathetic gesture of comfort, but it was all that could come to mind.

The three of them rounded the last corner, reaching an offshoot of one of the main canals. Tied to a small wooden dock was a gondolier, a Crow dressed in traditional deep purples sat at one end of it, casually flipping through a book, His long slender legs were sprawled over the side of the boat lazily. Marcio, the only other mage of House de Riva currently alive besides herself.

Illario scowled down at him, “We’ve arrived.”

“Ahh, there you are.” Marcio snapped his book shut before tossing it down into the bed of the boat. “I was beginning to think I had gone to the wrong dock.” He stood in one motion then, hopping from the boat before landing on the platform beside them. “Marcio de Riva,” With a flare of his hand, he bowed in front of Harding.

“Harding,” She nodded after a look to Rook for reassurance, “Rook’s friend.”

He took Rooks hands into his own after standing back to his full height, squeezing them tightly with a warm smile, “Any friend of our Little Rook, is a friend of mine.” That warmth all but dissipated when he looked to Illario, “Remind Viago that his worrying will not get us back any faster.”

Rook looked to Illario, confused, “You’ve made all this talk about Lucanis being kept hidden from you, and you’re not coming with us to get him?”

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he answered, “It’s possible we’ve been watched and if all of us vanished from the docks… well, you play the alluring hero.”

“We’re not heroes, Illario.”

Before she could analyse his reaction any further, Illario covered the hurt she though was there, like she had poked at a memory he thought better left forgotten, “I know Treviso more than a Crow who’s been banished for a year.” He jabbed, “If we have a tail, I have a better chance of distracting their interests.”

“Alright Lady Harding!” Marcio cut in before any bickering could commence between the two of them, “Allow me the pleasure of helping you onboard this tiny-eeny little boat the Dellamorte’s are telling me to take into the big, imposing, unpredictable sea, hmm?”

“This is safe right?” Harding did as she was requested as unease rippled through her entire body. Once the boat was done rocking back and forth, she looked up to Rook like a mabari left in the cold. When none of the Crows answered she repeated herself, “Right?”

“Ha, Rook is exceptionally hard to kill. Trust me, I should know.” Another smile was afforded her way as Marcio held out a hand.

In the pale moonlight, she caught a glimpse of a thin silver chain he wore around his wrist. Two strands dangled from it with a clasp only present on one end, signaling it had once been a necklace. One of hers. It had broken when a group of de Riva had gone out dancing a week or so before the blunder with the Antaam that sent her away. Rook asked him to hold on to it for her in a spur of the moment decision that had been completely forgotten until now.

Marcio noted where her eyes trailed to of course, and he gave her a toothy grin that crinkled the corner of his eyes as he helped her on board, “It’s good to have you home my sister.”

“How far down the canals are we rowing?” Harding asked as Illario pushed the boat away from the dock with his boot. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but my arms aren’t as long as the two of yours.”

“Ah, my dear Harding,” Marcio situated himself in his seat, similar to how a bird would riffle its feathers before settling into place. Then he stuck his hand in the water behind them with a proud, boarding on mischievous smile, “Marcio de Riva does not row.” A swirl of force magic left him, crafting a small whirlwind of water that propelled the rowboat forwards. Illario stayed silent for his place at the dock, only moving back into the darkness once they began to round the corner ahead.

Rook rolled her eyes at Marcio, “Show off.”

“Not for long,” He smiled, taking in the compliment, “We’ll be heading out in this direction about half an hour to a supposedly haunted cove and then we’re locating a glyph that Catherina said ‘glows with the gall of Venatori pride’- whatever that means.”

“It’s probably purple, it’s always purple.” Rook put her hand in the, water feeling the way that current wove through her fingers as they left the safety of the canal.

“Do you think we’re going to find him alive?” Harding sat across from Marcio at the front of the boat, looking back towards the port as they slithered out of it.

“Honestly? Truthfully?” Marcio answered the question directed towards Rook, “He’s dead. And if he hasn’t gone into the loving embrace of Andraste’s breasts, he’ll be a shadow of the Crow he once was.”

“Mari.” Rook shot him a glance.

“Oh what? Don’t tell me this beautiful dwarf’s company has softened you?” He gestured back towards the city with his hand not within the water. “Lucanis would be facing a Crow’s torture at the hands of blood mages. You and I both know that no one – regardless of station, could survive that for an unrelenting year.”

“We have to try.”

“Ah,” He sighed, “There’s that determination of yours that’s proven me wrong time and time again.”

The next half hour consisted of Marcio trying to fit in a comprehensive list of every embarrassing thing Rook had ever done when they were fledglings - much to Harding’s amusement.

Finally, the destination made itself known by the sight of a lilac-colored geometrical glyph shimmering a foot or so below the water’s surface.

“So…” Harding trailed off, “How are we getting down there again?”

Neither of the Crows answered her. Both were too busy leaning so far over the edge of the boat that had almost tipped over, trying to examine the magic that kept the wards in place.

“Oh,” They gasped, sharing a look of awe, “It’s a staircase.”

[possessiveandobsessive]

A Cat for Her Crow

Pairing: Lucanis x fem!Rook

Synopsis: Lucanis Dellamorte has a soft spot for two things: cats and a certain red-headed elven mage that goes by Rook

We've reached the end! This is the final part of this story! I hope you all enjoy!

Part 7: The Rook, Her Crow, and His Demon

When Lucanis's gaze next met hers again, his eyes were Spite's. She grinned at him, "Hi Spite. Lucanis said you wanted to talk to me too?" Spite curled Lucanis's mouth into a twisted, devilish grin that belonged to Spite alone.

"Rook is ours now? Rook will stay with us? That's what she said. Yes? That's what Lucanis said." Spite sounded relieved, but within that relief, there was a fearful questioning. He wanted to believe her. Lucanis needed Rook, and Spite liked Rook too. She was his favorite. She didn't treat him like a dog, or like he was evil. Rook treated Spite as another individual and Spite had never experienced that with another human. He couldn't love Rook the same way Lucanis did, but he loved her the way a Spite demon could. He'd kill anyone who hurt her. So yes, he realized that he, a demon tethered to a human soul, was afraid of losing this woman too.

Rook smiled warmly at his eager questions. Right now, he reminded her more of a puppy than a Spite Demon. She was no fool though. Rook heard the hint of fear, of anxiety in his tone. Spite was afraid of losing her too. The thought made her sad, but she understood it. She had been afraid too, so afraid she almost didn't say what she felt. Rook needed Spite to understand she wasn't going anywhere, and that her loyalty lay with them.

"Yes Spite. My place is at both your sides. I'm not going anywhere." She shot him another grin and winked, "I'm not scared of the big, bad Spite Demon." Rook then became serious again, "I couldn't hurt Lucanis. Not if my life depended on it. Betraying him, losing him, is the worst fate I can imagine." Spite's already glowing purple eyes lit up even more in response. Lucanis's/Spite's expression morphed into a much gentler one. When he smiled, it was warm. This wasn't the smile of a calculating demon, this smile conveyed love.

"Rook saved us. Saved him. He needs you. Needs your strength. Spite likes Rook too. Rook is powerful and her soul burns brightly. Kills well. And smells good. Rook sees Spite, not just a demon. Not just Lucanis. Spite will protect Rook always. Nothing will harm her. Rook is Lucanis's heart."

It was the most she had ever heard Spite speak at one time, and it floored her. Spite was so much more than a demon now. He and Lucanis were connected by more than just the standard possession/blood magic that was common for mages turned abominations. The two of them shared a soul now. Their souls that existed independently before, now were twisted and wrapped around each other so tightly, it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. Spite was influenced by Lucanis's humanity, and Lucanis by Spite's overwhelming and raw emotion. Neither of them could truly control the other. Together they experienced life and its challenges. Together they protected one another and the things they loved. They existed as one being now, something new. Rook couldn't deny that fact, just as much as she couldn't deny that she loved Lucanis. They were all in this together, in a way no one else could, or needed to understand.

Rook put her hand on one of Lucanis/Spite's cheek and Spite made a low sound from his throat in response and leaned into her touch. He looked completely at ease.

"Feels nice." Spite said closing his eyes. "Thank you Rook."

A moment later when those eyes re-opened, they were Lucanis's beautiful brown ones again. So much emotion swirled behind them, and Rook swore if she looked closely enough, she could see tiny flecks of purple flashing within them.

Upon seeing that it was once again Lucanis she was holding, she put her other hand on the other side of his face and pulled him in to kiss her. Finally. They both sighed and prepared to deepen the kiss when an indignant "mew!" came from Lucanis's single bed behind the pair. They separated and Lucanis turned to look at the irritated looking kitten sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked judgemental and very unimpressed with what she saw. The black tuft of hair mewed again and stretched before sitting back down and staring at them. Her tiny tail flicked in annoyance at being forgotten.

Lucanis chuckled in disbelief. "She is an odd kitten that's for sure. Look at how irritated she looks." His smile said he wasn't bothered in the slightest. 

"You're going to have to hold on little one, I have to clean up the mess you made of poor Rook's skin first. Then we can get more acquainted, and I'll find you some food." 

Rook laughed at how seriously he spoke to her, like she was another person. He really was special. She had gotten lucky at last. "Luck turns kid, you just have to be patient and keep going until it does." More of Varric's wisdom came into her mind. He was never wrong it seemed.

Soon her hands, wrists, and the spot on her neck were cleaned and bandaged. It had been so long since someone had tended to her so reverently. Rook felt like she was home. She hadn't had one of those since she was a child living with her clan and her grandmother. It made her chest ache in the best and worst ways, but she knew her grandmother would approve of her new haven. "Mar vhenan juver ma vhenas, ma' esha'lin" Your heart will take you home, my child.

Lucanis finally turned back to the kitten with his hands on his hips and then bent down to pick her up. At this point, Rook was not shocked to see that the kitten didn't put up even a little bit of a fight, but instead settled into Lucanis's hold right away. She was purring in seconds. What did surprise Rook, was Lucanis bringing the kitten towards her and grinning.

Rook took an involuntary step back, that kitten was fast and not afraid to use its weapons on her. Lucanis laughed lightly and assured Rook, "I'm not going to let her get you mi corazón, but she's going to have to understand that you are always going to be at my side. She needs to learn to be nice to the one holding my heart." The last part was spoken while giving the tiny black fluff ball a sidelong glance. 

Lucanis took the last step to close the distance between them. Now the kitten was a foot away from her, still pressed into Lucanis's chest. A single violet eye opened and narrowed at her, but before the kitten could do anything hateful, Lucanis began speaking to her lowly in his native tongue. While he did this, he slowly moved Rook's hand to rest on her the soft black fur. Keeping his own on top of hers, Lucanis and Rook petted the kitten in unison. Rook tried not to look wary, but she was pretty sure she was failing based on Lucanis's encouraging look. Soon enough though, that suspicious little eye closed again and the tension seeped out of her little body. The kitten began to purr contentedly, seemingly having accepted Rook's touch. Rook looked at her and then to Lucanis in wonder. 

"That was amazing!" She whisper yelled, "She hated me so much and then you got her to let me pet her! She's purring Lucanis!" Rook beamed triumphantly and continued to gently stroke the baby in Lucanis's arms lovingly.

Lucanis smiled warmly. "I just had to explain to her who you were and that you brought her to me. She knows now that you're my equal, my partner. The Little Talon will not hurt you again."

"Little Talon?" Rook asked, eyebrows going up.

Lucanis's smile became a grin, and he then said, "Well her name is Talon, she is just also little right now. How could she be anything but Talon with how you showed up here? She's already taken on someone who's planning to kill gods." He chuckled before adding, "She's got the fiery spirit of one destined to be a Talon, and she belongs to a Crow. So she is a Talon. Our Talon." Lucanis looked incredibly proud of himself for the name, so much so Rook had to force herself to swallow the laugh that built up in her throat. He deserved this moment.

Rook smiled gently at the kitten one last time before pulling Lucanis into another kiss, this one chaste, but carrying a promise. They stood together for a moment; forehead to forehead, eyes closed, with a kitten pressed between their chests. Rook and Lucanis both knew what was still to come. They both knew that the danger was high, and that, for the moment, this bliss was temporary. The fight to come would mean death for many, and they'd have to fight hard to protect the people they loved. So they cherished their moment of peace. All 3 of them.

Later that night when Rook returned to her room, she was startled to see it now contained a bed big enough for two adults (and a kitten). She just smiled. Lucanis was going to throw a fit when she told him he couldn't stay in the pantry anymore, but after tonight, she didn't think he'd really mind sharing her space. 

* * *

Lucanis had never felt so well rested in his life. The past few nights he had slept completely through the night. A full 7-8 hours per night! No Spite takeovers, no sleep walking, just sleeping next to his love and with his new baby curled up top on his chest. It was astounding and so relieving to be able to sleep. When he was preparing to head out with Rook and Davrin that particular morning, he decided to ask Spite about it. 

"Spite" Lucanis called. In the mirror he was staring into as he strapped on his blades, he watched his own eyes go purple.

"Yes?"

It was still incredibly disconcerting to see his own mouth move in the mirror without being the one to speak the word. "How come you haven't been trying to get up and go somewhere the past few nights? Do not get me wrong, I'm grateful and I need the sleep. But you used to always try to get out and run around while I slept, even after we came to our new agreement. You were so eager to get out, explore, and no doubt cause panic, why is now different?" 

Spite stared back at him in the reflection for a moment before surprising Lucanis with his response, "Can't wake The Talon. Or Rook. But We can't move to get up without waking The Baby Talon. Baby Talon needs rest." He paused, "And Spite likes being with Rook. She is comfortable. Don't want to go anywhere without her, and Rook sleeps. So Spite stays here. Makes us feel... home."

Lucanis stared at the mirror in blank shock. Spite wasn't getting up to cause mischief because... he didn't want to wake the kitten on Lucanis's chest? And because Rook felt like home? Actually, he couldn't fault him there. Lucanis wouldn't want to disturb his kitten either, and Rook WAS their home. 

Shaking his head ruefully, Lucanis just said, "Thank you Spite. You're exactly right."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Epilogue: Mar Vhenan Juver Ma Vhenas

It was finally over. All stories have an ending, and this one was no different. The blighted Gods were dead. The impossible had been achieved through the combined strength, effort, and lives of the many people who had taken up Rook's cause. The Crows, The Veil Jumpers, The Mourn Watch, The Lords of Fortune, The Grey Wardens, and the Veilguard had all stood together in the face of a power that without all of them, they couldn't have hoped to match. Together though, they brought down a god, his army, and his Archdemon, saving the world as they knew it. And Rook, together with the Inquisitor and Mythal had gotten through to the Dread Wolf. Convincing him to put it right, the three women got Solas to tie himself to the Veil. He would keep the Veil between worlds, what he once viewed as one of his greatest regrets, in place and protecting the people of Thedas for the rest of time. Fen'Harel acted for the better of the new world and her people, not for the one lost to the ages and struggles of thousands of years passed. The Dread Wolf came through in the end, as the Inquisitor and Varric both knew he could.

As for Rook, she was just grateful the dark times were over. She'd lost so much. Varric, Harding, and so many she once knew died fighting for this cause. "Whatever it takes", they'd all agreed. For some, it truly took everything. The losses were agonizing at first, especially in the days immediately following the final battle. Rook had to send many letters notifying Harding's family and loved ones as well as Varric's friends that they had made the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of Thedas. There were tear stains on the pages, evidence of how much the words pained Rook to write down. It made it all too real. But it was real. Rook knew now better than ever, that holding onto regret and hiding from the truth only trapped a person in grief and pain. She had too much to live for to do that to herself.

Lucanis and Spite had been there when the battle finally ended and Solas finally made ammends. She was immediately pulled into a crushing hug when the dust settled and the quiet calm fell over the scene of death and destruction.

Lucanis had said her name over and over again as he held her, his voice full of relief and reverence. "We did it Rook." he said, finally pulling away enough to look her in the eyes. "You did it mi amor. You saved the world." Lucanis had never been so grateful in his life. He thanked every god, spirit, demon, and power above he could think of. They had made it. She had made it. He could feel Spite's relief and pride in his chest. Our Rook killed a god. Saved the day. Saved everyone. Spite thought to Lucanis before pausing and adding in a grumble, Wish she'd killed the Dread Wolf though....

Lucanis understood Spite's resentment of Solas. The Wolf had betrayed, trapped, and hurt Rook. At the same time, didn't everyone deserve a chance at redemption? Rook had given them one, after all. An assassin and a demon.

Rook pulled him from his reverie when she spoke, "It's... it's over. It's over, and we're alive. We're both alive, and Elgar'nan is dead." Her voice was full of wonder as she said these words slowly, as if she was trying them out.

Lucanis pressed his forehead to hers and put his hand on the back of Rook's neck, holding her gently but firmly in place. "We made it Rook. Or should I say, God Killer." Rook let out a surprised laugh at his statement.

"I guess you're right, we're both God Killers now."

* * *

When they arrived back to the Lighthouse, Rook was exhausted. It ran so deep, she felt it in her bones and blood. Now was not the time for just rest though. The remaining members of her team and herself had just survived the impossible. Everyone was prepared to celebrate, but each in their own ways. There was too much grief in the air for a party, for drunk songs and memories. So they broke off to bask in the fact they were all alive in the well-deserved quiet peace of their Lighthouse.

Rook and Lucanis headed for Rook's room to change out of their bloody armor and get clean. Once this was done, they both laid on her bed together. Talon was asleep on their discarded clothing in the corner, (she was too good for the bed Lucanis had gotten her apparently as it lay unused on the nightstand beside the bed.)

Lucanis was laying on his back with one arm behind his head and the other wrapped around Rook, who had her head on Lucanis's shoulder with an arm slung across his chest. At first they just laid there in silence. The easy way in which they held each other felt like a miracle by itself. After several minutes had gone by, Rook propped herself up on the arm not currently across Lucanis's chest.

"I love you Lucanis. You know that right?" Rook spoke quietly, looking him directly in his eyes. "Now that this is all over, I'm not sure what's next. What I know for certain, is that where you go, I go. I will follow you to the ends of the earth and fade Lucanis. That's my promise."

Lucanis swore he had never loved anyone as much as he loved the woman in his arms. "We can decide together what happens next. The Crows have named me First Talon, but if that isn't the future you want, then we can choose another path. I won't go into a future that you don't want mi vida. You and Little Talon, you're my family."

Rook smiled at him and leaned down, silencing him with a passionate kiss. She pulled away for a moment, just long enough to say the words she had wanted to say for weeks. "We have all the time in the world, love. So let's take tonight for ourselves." She looked up at his face through her lashes, "Show me how much you love me. Make me yours, and tell me with more than words that this is forever."

Pupils completely blown out and eyes holding nothing but love and want, Lucanis groaned and brought her head back down to capture her mouth. He flipped them so that he was now on top of her, before leaning down to whisper in her ear, "It's a good thing we have the rest of our lives, because showing you just how much I love you is going to take awhile."

When she looked at him as he pulled away from her ear, she could see his eyes were an enchanting mix of warm brown and striking purple. "You're mine Rook. Now and forever" "Ours forever".

It was a promise kept, until their hearts stopped beating. Until the sun exploded and the world became dust. They belonged to each other, and there was no power in existence that could change that.

The End

I hope everyone enjoyed this little story! I definitely enjoyed writing it! Thank you to anyone who read the whole thing!

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

Part 4 here

Part 5 here

Part 6 here

[vigilskeep]

omg thank you for the support... feeling emboldened to return and be gay in your inbox but i was just thinking about how neve might actually feel a bit put off by a more uncaring/cold assassin rook. she has that conversation with harding in the ign gameplay where she says that authorities being corrupt is how she is employed essentially, but given her character descriptions, i feel like she very much does care a lot and corruption is something she Really Wants To Fix, Actually. but authorities being corrupt is actually great for business for an assassin. i mean lucanis was literally introduced to us as "the magekiller" and one thing we know about him is he specifically targets corrupt magisters. like taking down corrupt officials is definitely great for neve, but i feel very interested in the toxic yuri potential of her butting heads with someone who doesn't care about saving the world beyond putting down an obvious threat because their background relies very much on the world being broken. if this makes sense? femme fatale rook also adds an extra level of distrust which is fun! but there's also so much yuri development potential here... learning to care through neve or rook always secretly caring and neve bringing that out in them. cynic4cynic and all that. this doesn't have to be about a romantic relationship either, it's interesting to me even for a platonic neve/rook relationship!

and this also could be a potential point of contention for neve and lucanis, depending on his own world views. this group being referred to as a found family makes the idea of them not getting along (at first at least) pretty interesting to me LMAO anyway yeah if lucanis shares this kind of view then it really is as you said: (crow rook voice) no lucanis you're not insane. and neither am i.

SORRY FOR THIS. but also thank you for supporting the lesbianism.

YES...

the thing that i certainly believe about neve is what’s been emphasised over and over in marketing: she’s a cynic, but a cynic with a heart of gold. she may be our hard-boiled detective who’s seen the worst of people and the worst of her city, but that’s never made her love her city any less or fight for it any less. she’s intensely idealistic in her ambitions and her commitment to the job, putting her own comfort aside to doggedly pursue any mystery she’s taken on.

i think that conflicts delightfully with an assassin who is more self-preserving in what they are willing to take on and has no such high ideals or sense of community, but has it in common with neve that they’ve come face to face in the same way with the worst of people. they could make each other better—neve could definitely stand to take better care of herself and perhaps even take more direct action, and this type of crow rook could probably do with a moral or two beyond World Destruction Is Bad—or worse! i really like your read on crow rook being dependent on the world being broken, and corruption being good for business. i also think the kind of worldview that the crows teach is that nothing ever really can change. it doesn’t matter what you do or who you kill, because someone just as corrupt will always take their place. there are no moral obligations because there is no fixing the world even if you did try. i’d be so curious to see neve’s impact on that... whether she could get them to believe in something, or their jaded outlook would rub off on her

neve definitely has trust issues and high walls up for whatever reason (i still believe in venatori ex-husband theory) so i love the idea here of really playing into that and making a rook she actually shouldn’t trust. i love that for you. yeah why put this all on her. why make anything easy

i’m definitely interested in lucanis and neve’s dynamic. they have a lot of similar worldviews when it comes to, say, the venatori, but i wonder if neve necessarily approves of lucanis’, uh... impulsive and destructive approach, to dealing with that kind of problem. or if lucanis’ sympathies necessarily mean he takes the shadow dragons’ chances of achieving anything seriously. super excited to see them interact

[vaguely-concerned]

the things it adds to both of the characters involved that lucanis used to have a thing for viago could not have been more tailor made to be for me. literally the ideal thing to come out of this game for me personally and specifically and spiritually. I mean I'm teia x viago trash until the day I die and nothing will ever change this (and with the best will in the world and even the power of lucanis' big beautiful soulful eyes, that would never have worked out even if viago DID somehow understand he was being propositioned. which I'm not convinced he did. the mutual 'so. snakes are pretty cool huh. and. knives. also' awkward energy without someone of teia's charisma and people skills involved to mitigate it... it would have been dire), but on so many levels I find it so incredibly charming for what it says about them both that the (one-sided) attraction was there once.

what's more, it means the man about whom this legendary paragraph was written:

Viago was not a typical Antivan. He liked facts—checklists, numbers, precise measurements. Heart palpitations, clammy hands, tight pants—Viago did not like these things. In fact, he would go so far as to say he hated them. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood.

has got some of the hottest coolest deadliest people in thedas down so catastrophically bad it's got them acting unwise. teia had to wait a UST-drenched decade for him to be ready to take his fucking gloves off for her. and she did!! the tetchiest most neurotic least approachable little vetinari knockoff of a man you ever saw has game for days and days and lives rent free in heads for years. in eight little talons viago consistently feels so inadequate up against dante and it's like. man I'm shaking you by the lapels you have what he'll never have. the ability to bewitch body and soul with your terrible personality and long thin legs. do not waste the gift you've been given go get her she's waiting!!!

(lucanis is really good at reading people, so I wonder if maybe he saw through all of that to some of the steadiness and incredible capacity for warmth and tenderness in specific interpersonal relationships you see viago have with teia when he finally opens up enough, and maybe that was part of it. either way it's so perfect that both he and teia have regarded viago with this affectionate intrigued amusement. lucanis still seems pretty fond of him in a 'viago continues to be exactly himself no matter what else happens or goes wrong. comforting universal constant' sort of way, he brings him up quite a lot in party banter.)

you've seen lucanis' game in this day and age, arguably or at least hopefully older and wiser -- can you imagine how catastrophically bad it must have been back when he presumably handed viago, most paranoid man in thedas all years running, a knife like this expressed everything it needed to. people give him so much shit for the cake moment being his big romantic lock-in, but considering where we started that is GROWTH and I for one am so proud of him fhsdkjaf.

also I wonder at what point vis-a-vis that whole Situation teia and viago met for the first time, leading us to ask... just how much was it a matter of lucanis simply being ignored out of a lack of interest on viago's part (tbf, not entirely unlikely). how much was it lucanis truly not managing to make himself understood. (all but certainly. literally how would one understand that. I think it says some sweet things about rook and lucanis' dynamic that they -- somehow -- DO pick up what he's putting down in a similar scenario presumably b/c they know him pretty well by then haha.) how much was it viago interpreting the romantic move as a death threat from one of the most dangerous people alive and freaking out. (1000% and indubitably.) and how much was it andarateia steal-your-girl cantori turning up and thus setting off whatever spectacular, volatile, awesome-in-the-original-sense chemical reaction between the substances of her and viago's souls that goes on to this day and makes everything else kind of a side note at best. a gentle mix of several of these things, perhaps. ...god I love all these characters so much

[writerfromshikahr]

A quiet, gentle moment between Rook and Lucanis. Pre-relationship. getting to know each other.

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Romantic Wyverns - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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Rook found Lucanis sitting outside the kitchen, his back against the stone wall, a book open in his hands as the Fade stretched endlessly before him.

"I’ve been looking for you," she said with a smile as she approached. "I need to see your blacksmith. The hilt on my dagger has gone all wobbly." She held up the weapon, giving it a demonstrative wiggle.

Lucanis’s lips quirked into a small smile, his amusement subtle but warm. "Gone all wobbly? Is that a technical term?"

"Well, yes," she replied, her tone mock-serious. "I believe that’s the official way to describe it."

"Leave it with me, Rook. I’ll pass it on to him next time we’re in Treviso."

"Thank you. I appreciate that." She turned to leave but stopped when his voice called after her.

"Want to sit with me for a while?"

Surprised, she glanced back at him. "Ah, sure. I thought you were hiding up here, reading, not wanting to be disturbed."

He smiled softly, setting the book down beside him. "I like your company. Besides, my book was getting a little dull. I’m not sure detective novels are for me."

Rook joined him on the rickety wooden platform, the silence between them comfortable as they stared out at the vast expanse of the Fade.

"You know," Lucanis said after a moment, his voice low and steady, "when I was in the Ossuary, I didn’t think anyone would come for me. I hoped, of course, but as the days dragged on, that hope faded. All I had was Spite, and even that felt like an uneasy alliance."

He glanced at her, his dark eyes thoughtful. "I never thanked you for what you did—for doing what Caterina asked of you. Though I know you had your reasons for wanting me to join you."

"Lucanis," Rook said earnestly, "if she’d asked me to help without any of this going on, I still would’ve done it."

He studied her for a long moment, something unspoken flickering in his gaze. "I believe that."

Another stretch of silence settled between them, grounding rather than awkward.

"The day I was captured… it changed me," he admitted. "I’m not sure I even know the man I am now. But it’s getting easier, even with Spite."

Rook sighed, her voice gentle. "You’re a good man, Lucanis. With a good heart. Don’t forget that."

He let out a wry chuckle, his smile faint but genuine. "I think you’re being too kind with your words. You don’t know how much trouble I can be."

"Trouble? You? Mr. Schedules and Routines Dellamorte?" she teased, her tone light.

Lucanis smiled again, his laugh soft but real. "Point taken."

She nudged the book sitting beside him. "So, if detective novels aren’t your thing, what kind of books do you like?"

He hesitated, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "I like romance… or anything to do with wyverns," he added, his tone brightening slightly.

"Hopefully not romance novels about wyverns," she smirked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Lucanis let out a rare, genuine laugh, the sound rich and unguarded. "Absolutely not."

"Romance, huh?" Rook tilted her head, pretending to think. "I wouldn’t have guessed that… but it suits you."

He raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Oh, it suits me now?"

"Sure," she said with a grin. "The dark and deadly assassin with the heart of a romantic? I like it."

Lucanis regarded her quietly, his gaze soft. "I’m glad to hear it."

The silence that followed was easy, unhurried. Eventually, Lucanis broke it again. "What do you like to read?"

Rook stared out into the Fade, her expression thoughtful. "I never really had a lot of time to read—though Viago encouraged it, of course. I like adventure books, but… a good romance is always nice to curl up with in front of a fire. Especially if it’s a little spicy."

She shot him a smile, and Lucanis felt his chest tighten, just a little.

"I see…" he replied evenly, though the slight twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

"Did I tell you I walked in on Bellara the other day? She was writing something pretty steamy. I’ve never seen someone shut a notebook so fast."

Lucanis blinked, caught off guard. "Bellara!?"

"Yes! I didn’t know if I should leave or pretend I didn’t hear… it was awkward," Rook said, shaking her head.

"As long as she doesn’t write about any of us, let her have her thing," Lucanis replied with a shrug. "We all need some distractions these days."

"If that’s the case, I need to find a distraction of my own," she chuckled.

Lucanis leaned in slightly, nudging her shoulder gently.

"Then we’ll have to find you one. But first, let’s go to Treviso to get your loose hilt fixed. Perhaps while we wait for it to be mended, we could take a stroll around the market?"

"Just you and me?" Rook asked, her voice softening. "That sounds lovely. I would like that."

She noticed the almost-relieved smile spreading across Lucanis’s face at her acceptance, and Maker, it was adorable. She couldn’t deny it; she found him fascinating, intriguing, and undeniably pleasing to the eye.

[himbopunk]

society if i posted anything at normal hours when people r awake. Anyways. Here's bellara trying to wingman lucanis into situations where rook takes their clothes off for completely innocent reasons and rook being a himbo about it ig

Typed out dialogue/text under cut in case my handwritings ass

Page 1

Bellara: Ah!

Bellara: Thanks, Rook

Bellara: ?

Rook: [She is not paying attention to what Rook's saying]

Lucanis: [*looking @ Rook wistfully*]

Rook: Bellara?

Bellara: ...ohh.

Rook: ?

--Later--

Bellara: I didn't expect to see this much of Treviso's...rooftops.

Bellara: Did you, Rook?

Rook: Well

Rook: I've actually been here a few times with my old pirate crew! Saw a /lot/ of the city then. Even got a tattoo!

Lucanis: Really?

Bellara: Really?!

Bellara: Which one?

Lucanis: (what is she up to...)

Page 2

Rook: I don't think I can show it off right now, haha...

Rook: It's on my thigh...

Lucanis: That is alright, Rook. We can--

Bellara: You can just show us at the lighthouse!

Lucanis: Qué?!

Lucanis: That...works too.

Spite: YES!

Bellara: Oh, hey, actually Rook...

Bellara: You have soooOo many tattoos, right?

Bellara: Maybe you should just do a full tattoo tour!

Bellara: Don't you agree, Lucanis?

Lucanis: (Mierda, she's worse than Teia.)

Rook: Oh, yeah sure I guess?

Rook: If you're sure you're okay with it--

Lucanis: Yes.

[inquisimer]

Loving the rook and viago dynamic, chefs kiss 🤌.

If your taking requests, I love the idea of rook slowly becoming more angry or snappy after the regret prison. Thought the "I've been taking care of myself for a long time and don't need your help" prompt would be perfect for an angry rook to their bro. viago

YESSSS I love them so much, Crow Dad makes me [screeches unintelligibly]. And yes, I always take prompts, thank you for this one!! It had me looking at Arlow & Viago's relationship through a different lens, which was great 💜

Arlow de Riva & Viago de Riva | 680 words | endgame spoilers, referenced major character death

-

Arlow’s fingers slipped against her armor’s leather straps again and she huffed, frustrated. It was a buckle, it shouldn’t be so damn hard—

“Need a hand?”

She stiffened, fist clenching around the strap instead. “No. I’ve got it.”

Viago stepped into the meditation chamber anyway, the door shutting with a deafening click behind him. The blackout curtains over the windows kept the room dark, save for a few clusters of candles that flickered over the sharp, familiar planes of his face. Arlow stared pointedly down, cursing under her breath when the strap slipped from her grasp again.

“Yes, clearly,” Viago said dryly. He leaned against the buffet at the back of her couch and folded his arms. “The offer stands, if at any point you’d like to be less stubborn about it.”

Arlow ignored him. She wasn’t going to tell him that dregs of Solas’ Fade prison lingered on her, a numbness in her fingers and toes, a persistent chill that no fire or blanket could ward off, an unmistakable sense of being watched and judged and found wanting. He didn’t get to kick her out of the nest and expect things to be the same once she’d found her wings; she’d gotten this far and she would get through this, too.

Her fingers slipped once more. “Cazza,” she muttered.

“Arlow—“

“No, Viago,” she snapped. “I just need to—“ She pinched the strap between her nails this time and pulled it through the buckle. It left a little half-moon indentation in the purple leather, but it was fastened and it would fade. Much like she assumed the bitter coating on her teeth when she looked at Viago would fade… eventually.

She knew he was proud of her. She knew that he cared, in that closed-off, brusque way of his. But her heart was only getting about two-thirds of the way to letting him back in, because Solas’ trap finally had her dwelling on the way this contract started.

If Viago were caught in a prison of his own regrets, would he see her, leaving with Varric? She’d told Lucanis that she knew he didn’t have a choice, with the other Talons out for blood. And she did believe that. But the job had finally scraped her too raw for that to be anything other than a cold comfort.

He could have saved her. And someone else might have tripped into Varric’s crosshairs—someone who might have saved him. And Davrin. And Bellara.

Guilt and regret crept up her throat. They curled around her neck and trailed after her like a smoky shadow she just couldn’t shake. So she clung to the anger instead and let it shield her from the breakdown they threatened.

“Did you need something?” she asked, pulling on her gloves and flexing her fingers. “I should go check on my team.”

“Look at me.” His stern, quiet voice brokered no argument; it never had. Reluctantly, Arlow put the wardrobe at her back and did as he ordered. Her eyes were steely and the hard line of her jaw invited no comfort—not that she expected he would have offered, anyway.

His own expression was as inscrutable as always, almost foreboding in the odd shadows cast by the half-melted candles. For a moment, Arlow had the sense of how everyone else must see the Fifth Talon—terse, unyielding, the quiet threat of an expert assassin without any of the care that she was accustomed to.

It almost chilled her enough to make her relent. Almost—but her hands were still numb, and her heart still hurt. She still needed the anger, or she was going to get someone else killed.

“No, I—“ Viago cleared his throat. “No. You should go.”

Before we say something we both regret, Arlow thought. She knew what it would be for her. As he glanced away—he never looked away first—she wondered what he was afraid of letting slip. And she wondered, as she gave him her back, if he, too, felt the painful echo of watching her walk away.

She left.