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

[t00tsmcgee]

Rook as a companion fic, scene excerpt: Spite learns how to paint

Scene written with my Rook Calais as the eight companion. Read more about him here!

Scene is a takeout of a larger Rookanis fic that I'm writing so this is a bit of an experiment. If this does well I'll post a few more scenes on here!

-

Cal was a few minutes into his painting exercise when the door of the pantry opened and a sleepy Lucanis came out. “Oh, hello. You’re back already.” he said, surprised. “Yeah.” Cal said, a little short. Lucanis frowned, cocked his head, but didn’t inquire further, walking over to the kitchen counter for coffee first. Of course. “Here, looks like you need it.” he said, coming over after finishing brewing coffee for both of them and putting the cup next to Cal. Cal couldn’t hold on to his anger in the face of such a kind gesture, smiling gratefully at Lucanis. “Thank you, Lucanis.” “You’re welcome.” Lucanis smiled and took a seat on the table next to Cal. “I thought painting was supposed to be relaxing.” he pointed vaguely at Cal’s tense frown. “Usually it is. Today I’m just trying to keep the demons at bay.” Cal sighed, deflating a little. “What?” Spite chimed in. “I’m not doing anything!” Cal chuckled. “Sorry, Spite, I didn’t mean you. I more meant my personal demons. Bad thoughts.” “What bad thoughts?” Lucanis asked. “Did you not have fun last night with Emmrich?” “Oh no, it was great. I had a lovely time.” Cal said. “Perhaps too lovely.” “Talk to me.” Lucanis said, openly looking at Cal.

“Everything was perfect, Lucanis. Exactly as it should be. But I ruined it with my feelings.” Cal sighed. “Emmrich was very clear on the arrangement. It was going to be one night only.” “Right. But.. you felt different.” Lucanis said. “I foolishly thought we had something special. He and I always talk so easily, make each other laugh, understand each other in a way no one else does.” Cal sighed. “And I guess I was dumb enough to think maybe he felt like that too. So when we got back this morning I asked him if he really was set on it being a one time thing. That I was open to it being more than that.” he took a sip of his coffee, letting the hot liquid settle his nerves a bit. “And he rejected you.” Lucanis concluded. There was a little contempt in his frown, but it quickly disappeared. “I’m sorry.” “Thank you. I suppose it’s my own stupid fault though.” Cal said. “I knew the terms.” “Don’t be so hard on yourself. What you said is true, you and Emmrich are usually like butter and toast. I can’t begin to guess why he would reject you, but I know that what you feel isn’t stupid.” Lucanis assured him with a gentle smile. “Sometimes things just aren’t meant to be.” “I guess. But the rejection hurt more than I like to admit. It made me feel.. small. Like I wasn’t enough. That’s why I’m here, painting the feelings out. That’s why I was frowning so hard.” Cal smiled sadly. “It’s hard to feel useless when you’re creating something.”

Lucanis looked a little lost on what to say, but Spite had a word of wisdom as usual. “Useless? No, never useless! Create in spite of what he said. Prove your worth. But you are already enough. Like pennies in a jar.” Cal laughed a little. “Thanks Spite.” “He has such a way with words.” Lucanis smiled when he saw Cal smile as well. “He’s right though. You’re never useless. Always enough. You bring joy with your presence, your smile.” “Thank you. Both of you.” Cal smiled warmly. “I really appreciate the support. I’ll be fine. Just need to get over myself for a bit.” “And painting helps?” Lucanis asked. “It does. It’s calming. I like the feeling of the brush on the canvas, thinking of what colours to use and mix, plan out a painting step by step.” Cal explained. “You can try, if you want?” “Yes, try!” Spite was clearly excited. “Sure, why not?” Lucanis said, indulging him. “I should warn you though, I don’t have an inch of artistic talent.” “It’s not about talent, or about what you make. Its about expression. As long as you’re conveying what you’re feeling, it doesn’t matter how ‘good’ it is. If its worth doing, then its worth doing badly, too.” Cal smiled, Lucanis surprised by that little bit of wisdom at the end. “I suppose you’re right.” he said. “Well, I suppose it can’t hurt to try.” “What do you want to paint, you think?” Cal asked. “You.” Lucanis said, honestly. “How I see you. Well, I mean, I’ll try.” “Oh, okay.” Cal said. “Then I’ll paint you, if that’s alright?” “Yours will be better.” Lucanis smirked. “But it’s the thought that counts right?” “It is.” Cal agreed. “Can Spite use objects in his latent shape?” “Yes, I can if you are near! I want to paint too!” Spite proclaimed with his usual smirk. “Hold on, I’ll get you set up.” Cal said, grabbing a canvas and putting it on the table for Spite to use. He put his older brushes there for him, the ones that wouldn’t suffer much for a bit of abuse, the hairs already starting to split. “There you go. Just dip your brush in water first before you grab paint.” he said, Spite eager to do so. It must have looked strange for anyone walking in, Cal and Lucanis painting, and a third canvas being assaulted by a floating brush. But Cal actually found a sense of peace in it, and the bad thoughts left him as he kept looking at Lucanis’ face for reference. The portrait was turning out quite nicely, and he couldn’t help but feel curious as to how Lucanis’ painting was going. Lucanis kept looking at him too, Cal smiling whenever their eyes met. There was something to it, he found, feeling the stirrings of something beneath the surface at Lucanis’ slow smile. Or was that just because he was still emotional from this morning? He probably couldn’t really trust his own feelings right now, but it was nice to take his mind off of this with someone he liked and trusted. Even Spite seemed to be having a good time, happily painting away. At first the strokes were big and aggressive but he seemed to hone in now, scribbling with a smaller brush. “What are you painting, Spite?” Cal said, seeing him so focused on his canvas. “Home.” Spite said, and the longing in his voice was clear. “Can I see?” Cal asked. “If you want, yes.” Spite said. He still seemed a little awkward but Cal was glad for the trust that was clearly returning after their earlier mishap. He came over to look at Spite’s painting, surprised to see how well he’d managed to represent the fade with colours and shapes, even if they were more abstract than how a humanoid would have done. “Spite, that’s beautiful.” Cal said, taking in the painting. Lucanis joined him, curious to see it as well. He seemed surprised, eyebrows rising. “I had no idea he could do this.” “I love the colours you used, very expressive.” Cal smiled when he saw Spite’s giddy grin. “I like painting!” Spite proclaimed with enthusiasm. “Giving shapes and colours to feelings and thoughts!” he wiggled excitedly. “I want to paint more!”

“Of course, here I have another canvas you can use.” Cal said, giving it to Spite, who was as happy as a child with a new toy. “I’ve never seen him like this.” Lucanis said, almost in awe as they returned to their own canvasses. “He’s so happy, so calm.” “We all need a hobby to express ourself.” Cal smiled. “Even spirits.”

“I wonder what he did before to express himself.” Lucanis said. “Can I see how you’re doing?” “Sure. It’s not finished by a long shot, though.” Cal said, standing aside to show Lucanis his painting. Lucanis took it in with a quiet look, smiling when he looked at Cal again after. “You’re very talented.” “Nah, I just practised a lot.” Cal said. “And you don’t even have a face yet.” “But I can already see it’s going to be me. The shapes, the stance, the essence is already there.” Lucanis said. “It’s going to be beautiful, I can tell.” “Thank you.” Cal smiled, flattered. “Can I see yours?” “No.” Lucanis said, quickly. “It’s.. nowhere near as good as yours. I am.. a little ashamed.” he admitted. Cal chuckled. “How many times have you painted in your life?” “The last time I painted was as a young boy.” Lucanis said. "It was with fingerpaint, and me and Illario started a war with it instead of painting our canvasses."

“Right, and I've painted every day, since I was four years old. So don’t put that pressure on yourself. Just have a good time.” Cal smiled. “Comparison is the thief of joy.” “You are just full of wisdom today.” Lucanis said, smiling.

Cal focused on his own painting for a bit, seeing Lucanis do the same, but he gradually seemed to smile wider, Cal curiously looking over. “What is it?” “It’s a mess. I don’t think I can salvage this.” Lucanis gave in. “It’s like a child made it.” “You’re too hard on yourself.” Cal said. “No, it’s fine. I’m just going to have to accept that I’m not an artist.” Lucanis sighed with acceptance. “I tried.” “Come on, just let me see.” Cal said, Lucanis stepping aside to let him look. Cal didn’t want to laugh, but he had a hard time keeping his grin contained when he saw what Lucanis had made. There was something of a face there, he had to give him that. The colours were unmixed, primary only, so his skin was red, his eyes blue and his hair yellow, a little orange where it touched his skin and making it look like spaghetti. He put his hand in front of his mouth to hide his smirk. “This..” he said, taking the canvas and presenting it to Lucanis formally, holding it in front of his chest. “Is modern art.” he saw Lucanis start to grin, finally breaking his own composure and laughing as well. Their joined laughter filled the kitchen, Cal having to wipe a little tear once they calmed down.

“It really is a disaster, isn’t it?” Lucanis sighed, chuckling and shaking his head. “No, no, it’s not a disaster.” Cal said, hiccuping. “I can see the shapes. That’s definitely a face. Everything is kind of in the right place, too.” “You’re being kind.” Lucanis said. “It’s ugly.” “It makes me smile.” Cal said. “And I love it for that.”

“You’re sweet.” Lucanis said, his eyes warm. “But I think painting is definitely your thing. Not mine.” he gave Cal the canvas he’d been working on. “Here, a gift. If it makes you happy, you should keep it.” “I will. I’ll look at it every day and remind myself that this is how you see me.” Cal smiled.

“Well, don’t do that.” Lucanis chuckled. “I didn’t even get your hair colour right. I don’t know why I didn’t just use white.” he subconsciously touched Cal’s hair, Cal looking at him with surprise at the familiarity. Lucanis seemed to realize his mistake after a moment or two, taking his hand back to himself. “Forgive me.” he mumbled. Cal smiled when he saw Lucanis fumble slightly.

“You’re okay.” he said. “Do you want to try again? The painting I mean.”

[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

[emmavakarian-theirin]

so let me start this by saying i in no way mean to steal the thunder from this post or anything, as stated this has been on my mind for a while and i wanted to articulate my own thoughts rather than hijack someones post, as well as get the wording right because there's so much about it i can't put into words

the way the notion of a promise between rook and lucanis changes over the course of the game and their relationship is so complex and endearing to me. from my playthrough (as a non-crow, if there's a difference):

rook promises they'll take down zara together with lucanis. he tells rook not to promise. technically that doesn't happen, and you could say that promise was broken. prior to tearstone island, rook promises they'll be here for lucanis, and again he tells them not to. but then rook's gone for weeks, presumed dead. again, a broken promise. but then rook comes back and wants him to promise that they're here and this is real, and he does. that promise doesn't break. then later, rook promises they're not going anywhere, a promise which had already been broken. but lucanis lets them promise, and rook wants that promise held against them. that promise also doesn't break.

there's so much to be said and discussed about it and i don't think it comes down to one reason, but just some possibilities:

in lucanis' mind, has his worst case scenario already happened? so now with rook back, does he let these promises happen? there was so much he didn't say or do because he was afraid to lose them, only to lose them anyway. so now he'll say and do anything while rook is with him and here. rook has become priority despite all he's known and been through.

is it more that, having been a part of the antivan crows since birth, he's been raised and trained not to trust or rely on many, if anyone. but as a crow, his life is little more than contracts and sworn oaths. would he promise to rook, but not have them promise in return? only when there's so much on the line and no promise of tomorrow, worse than usual in his line of work, does he let them promise just this once?

is it because maybe, just maybe, if rook can make it back to him again and again despite everything - the prison of regret, arlathan, weisshaupt, gods, even him - maybe there's hope? that they can find a way and be safe and together, even when so much of their lives involves death and deception?

or is it merely them finally just fully giving themselves to one another without fear or question of each other. to be completely vulnerable for a change. to have that with someone in their lives they can trust completely. to love and be loved.

i've spent the last 30 hours (my laptop begs for death) putting together a lucanis gifset and once i can finally think of the caption it is so over for me

[ar-ghilas-vir-banal]

You know what one of the Solas Banters in DAV should’ve been? Talking to the romanced companion about the romance.

Like there should’ve been a rough patch that you can navigate out of just before the big fight. Solas catches the smad looks the two of you have, if you’ve put them in your party.

-“Davrin, forgive my intrusion-“

“Mm.”

“I… am aware of your… bond with-“

“Don’t, Solas. This is between us, yes?”

“It is. But if I may… waste no time.”

“… this advice is from Wisdom, hm?”

“*Solas chuckles, clearly a little taken aback by being called that* Maybe. Avoid this one regret.”

“… you didn’t.”

Solas doesn’t reply.

———————

“What is it, Solas? You keep… looking at me.”

“I see what Rook sees in you, Bellara Lutare. Your mind. Your spirit. Both are very bright. I am, however, trying to determine what you see in him/her/them.”

“That’s- that’s none of your business.”

“You are right. It is not…”

Then quieter: “When I left Rook in the Fade, he/she/they whispered your name. Not for help… like a prayer. You are important to him/her/them.”

“I… he’s/she’s/they’re important to me. But I couldn’t-“

“Protect him/her/them… I understand. Do you think he/she/they love(s) you less for it?”

“… that’s… why are you saying this?”

“If I could, there is one person I would wish to see right now. Someone I do still believe I am a danger to. But I long to see her all the same. Avoid my folly.”

“… the Inquisitor.”

Solas doesn’t reply after that.

———————

“Professor… you seem troubled.”

“I… ah. Hm. Well. Yes. I suppose I am.”

“… I will not pry. But… I know the feeling of the face you wear. Whatever keeps you from what you want… ultimately it is unimportant. Especially if… if someone wishes to take it from you. Remember, being loved well should be answered in kind.”

After a long silence in which an understanding look is implied, Emmrich

“I will bear that in mind. Thank you, Solas. You are still a Spirit of Wisdom.”

“… scarcely.”

———————

“Spite, you have withheld something from your host.”

We don’t hear Spite speak, we only hear Lucanis. He sounds stunned and then relieved.

“… I… oh. You… you do? Solas. I… why?”

“I have… recently become a bit of a romantic.”

The implied conversation is that Spite not only doesn’t mean the romance Rook harm, but that he adores them also. Allowing Spite and Lucanis to be of one mind where they’re concerned.

I admittedly don’t know the others that well but yall get my point. Also that was kinda fun!

[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.”

[casino-lights]

so illario was in the final battle

and this was supposed to be a drabble, but I cannot be trusted to write Illario and Lidia succinctly. TW for a semi graphic description of wounds - I can't tell if it's not really that bad or if I just think the human body is neat so I'm marking that down anyway. no death or descriptions of the wounds being inflicted, though; this is fully set post-battle. the endgame spoilers are fairly mild though - just the location of the final fight.

if you saw my WIP Wednesday, this is what that snippet was from! I hope you enjoy it as much as these two enjoy arguing with each other. thank you for reading!

The dried blood matting half of Lidia’s bangs down against her split scalp didn’t bother her nearly as much as it bothered Teia. She fussed over her gently, blotting a damp rag against Lidia’s head and tutting like a disappointed mother.

“This is what happens,” she scolded between soft pats. “You always run ahead, and you always draw attention, and you always get yourself hurt.”

Absentmindedly, Lidia replied, “I usually work alone.”

“Yes, and this is why.”

“Mm.” The only sign she felt pain was a series of rapid blinks when Teia pressed against a particularly painful cut.

“If you would stop looking around, I’d be done faster.”

Lidia turned her head back toward Teia. “Is it still bleeding?”

“Not that I can see.”

She rose to her feet and brushed the dust of fallen Minrathous buildings off her thighs. “Then I’ll live.”

Teia gave up quickly. She was no one’s parent, no matter how much she cared. “Suit yourself. But Lidia?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve done immensely well. Not just here - since Lucanis’ return as well. House Dellamorte is lucky to have you.”

She smiled thinly. “We’re all just Crows today, Teia.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Speaking of Lucanis…”

Teia nodded her head in the direction of the raucous cheering and the gathered crowd surrounding a few figures climbing down from the rooftop where the final confrontation had taken place. They both saw the flash of a purple jacket at the same time, and a wave of relief washed over them as they shared a look.

“Vi is back a ways, checking the fallen for ours so we can arrange the funerals,” Teia continued softly. “Since you’re upright, could you see to them as well?”

“Of course. Tell Lucanis not to worry about us and just take care of himself if you get a chance to talk to him.”

Teia nodded, and Lidia turned away. She hugged her cape around herself like a blanket as she snaked her way through what was left of the Minrathous streets, hopping over and ducking under various bits of debris that cluttered the city. She caught a few of her fellow Crows out of the corners of her eyes as she passed - most bloodied, bruised, and limping, but alive - and they all shared reassuring smiles with her once they noticed her. We lived, said their grins. We won, and we lived.

She saw Viago leaning against a mostly-intact building, heaving a deep sigh, and she called out to him. He lifted his eyes to her as she approached, but his lips were pulled down into a scowl.

Quietly, Lidia asked, “Is it that bad?”

“We lost just over twenty,” he answered, voice low and solemn. “Not as many as I expected, but… less than ideal. Most were fledgelings, but there’s a small handful of master assassins.”

She felt a selfish desire to ask anyone I know? but stifled it. “Do you need anything? A hand with the bodies? A cart?”

“A cart,” he agreed with a nod. “Though I don’t know if we could get one to the eluvian with the state of Minrathous. We might have to carry them through on stretchers.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again. “Which means we’d need able-bodied volunteers, a relatively clear path back to the mirror, enough stretchers to make for less back-and-forth, a cart waiting in the Crossroads…”

“Maybe we can ask Lucanis if he knows a clearer route?” Lidia suggested softly.

He blinked, then sighed with relief. “You saw him?”

“Teia and I. He looks alright. Reasonably unharmed.”

He nodded again, more slowly this time. “It's nice to have some good news, at least.”

Lidia looked past Viago, into the building, and saw rows and rows of white linens draped over bodies. A cold, sick feeling gawed at her stomach as she counted them, and she wondered how many more would succumb to their injuries or simply hadn’t yet been found.

Another fear gripped her, too. She scanned the bodies again, making note of the taller ones. From the shoes she could see, none looked more distinctive than the regular steel-tipped Crow boots. Though some were burned beyond recognition. She felt guilty, searching for just one body among the two dozen lying before her, and guiltier still that she was looking for him at all. 

But she hadn’t seen him with the other Crows. He should have been with Teia, or Lucanis, or even here pestering Viago endlessly. She shouldn’t care. He didn’t deserve it. But she asked anyway.

“Viago–”

“I don’t know.”

“I didn’t even ask yet.”

“No, but you have that look on your face.” Viago sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know where Illario is. Teia saw him last.”

Lidia frowned. “She didn’t mention anything to me, and I was just with her.”

He pulled a hand down his face before pausing to smooth down his beard. “I did not see him among the dead, if that’s what you’re asking, but I have no idea where else he would be right now.”

“Well, he isn’t with Teia, and he isn’t with Lucanis, where he was supposed to be.” 

She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a pair of Crows carrying the mangled corpse of one of their fellows into the building. Viago sighed again and raked his fingers back through his hair. 

“Dammit. One of Teia’s fledgelings.”

Lidia looked back at him, horrified. “I thought you told them not to come!”

“We did,” he answered, voice pained and eyes closed. “But you of all people should know that doesn’t stop them from wanting to prove themselves.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, steeling himself to write another name on his list. After a moment of silence and a nod at the two Crows as they left the building, he sighed again and said, “Go home, Lidia. We’ve been sending the ones who can walk back to the Diamond for now to care for the ones who can’t.”

“Teia told me to help you.”

“And you can help me by going home,” Viago snapped. “And tell them to put a cart in the Crossroads. And station some people with it in case we need them to carry stretchers through the streets.”

She frowned, but gave a single nod of understanding before turning away. They were all Crows today. And she knew better than to question an order from a Talon.

She was welcomed by the warmth of Trevisan air once the cool, watery feeling of the eluvian faded. For just a moment, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, drinking in the flurry of scents that always filled the Cantori Diamond. The smells of spices, wine, and smoke wafted up from the casino floor, but the familiar chatter and laughter was replaced by eerie quiet, broken up only by the occasional groan or cry of pain.

Lidia’s eyes darted toward a flash of purple and she called out, stopping Chance in his tracks. He leaned back, peering at her curiously from around the corner, but smiled warmly as she approached. 

“Lidia! You made it back.” He touched her shoulder gently before bowing with a flourish. “Welcome home, my lady.”

She returned the expression as best she could despite her headache and festering worry. “Thank you. The Fifth Talon would like a cart prepared in the Crossroads outside the Minrathous eluvian along with some strong, uninjured Crows who can carry bodies back on stretchers if need be.” 

“It will be done. Any other requests?”

She glanced around, but saw no one else nearby. “I heard some of our wounded came through. Where are they now?”

“Using the card tables as extra beds,” he answered before frowning as he smoothed his moustache. “We’ve already lost three, and one more seems to be on his way out. The healers who stayed are all busy, and everyone else went to Minrathous. It’s… going to get better soon. I’m certain. Your arrival can only herald better tidings.”

Again, Lidia bit her tongue to keep herself from asking if the dead were known to her. Instead, she simply nodded to signal her understanding and left. 

As she descended the many flights of stairs separating the rafters from the casino floor, her brow furrowed as her concern compounded on itself. Every step felt heavier as she ran over the names and faces of her favorite Crows in her mind. Lucanis, Teia, Viago, and Chance were safe. Jacobus stayed behind in Treviso after Lidia begged him to - their argument consisted of shouting and frustrated tears, but ended with several forehead kisses and a warm, loving hug once he finally agreed to stay. But the others? Heir, Dolores, Cazi, Valerian? 

Illario?

She hated herself for worrying about him the most. He had not earned back that space in her head, and yet he’d stolen it again. He occupied her thoughts in various stages of injury, and images of him maimed or charred or exsanguinated flashed through her mind. With everything he put her through, everything he lied about, she knew she should be savoring the idea of him dead somewhere in Minrathous. But it haunted her, the thought of never seeing him again. It ached like a stone with sharp edges lodged in her chest.

I should’ve left Treviso entirely, she thought bitterly as she rounded the corner of the final stairwell.

The floor of the Diamond opened up before her, and she sighed at the state of it. About half of the card tables had wounded Crows perched on them - several with especially nasty-looking injuries - and a corner of the room was sectioned off with makeshift dividers. A few trails of blood - droplets, drag marks, or both - meandered off toward different tables. It would take days to get this place functional again. 

Overlapping voices from various healers and patients filled the room. Most were voices she recognized, and she felt a wave of relief as they registered one by one. And as one of them filtered in, her head turned immediately toward the sound.

“I know, quite heroic,” said Illario with a soft groan. “Maybe someday the heroism will outweigh the stupidity.”

Lidia spotted him on a table, shirtless and wrapped in bandages, with his hair swept over one shoulder and a healer tending to his right side. He moved sluggishly and only when told, but his posture was still straight and his voice was still clear. He looked… decent.

She chided herself again for being so worried. Of course Illario was fine. Of course he made it with only minor injuries. Why wouldn’t he? He always had demonic luck. Why worry about him, Illario the traitor, Illario the liar, Illario the cheater, heartbreaker, manipulator–

“Lidia?”

She looked back at him at the sound of his voice, realizing her fingernails were starting to dig into her palms. She grabbed a stray coin off an empty card table and turned it over a few times in her hand as she made her way toward Illario.

He smiled at her approach, winced as he turned too far, and gave a slightly smaller and surprisingly sheepish grin when she reached his side. “Stay right there,” he said, holding out his unbandaged arm. “That’s always been my good side.”

Lidia rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t possibly say hello, or ask me how I am, or ask after Lucanis, could you? Do you even care?”

“I–” He hissed sharply and cursed as the healer pried something off his skin with a sticky sound. He leaned forward at the same time Lidia did, blocking her view of whatever was removed from him, and flashed another forced half-smile. “Of course I care, but I trust your delightful bluntness. I’m certain you would have told me the second you saw me if he was dead. I’m also certain you would look like you’ve been crying.”

She scowled and crossed her arms, angrily spinning the coin between her thumb and forefinger. “You’re a bastard.”

“I’m not, strictly speaking, but I never did get to know my father as well as I would have liked, so I’ll give you–” He cut himself off with another wince as the healer removed another piece from him. Once more, Lidia leaned forward to look, and once more, Illario intercepted her, this time by reaching for her arm.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, pulling away from him.

He let his hand fall back to the table. “If there’s one thing I can say about you, it’s that you never gave me mixed signals. I always know exactly where I stand. I love this about you - have I mentioned that?”

“You have. A pity I can’t say the same about you.”

Before he could respond, his head surged backwards and he let out a pained cry as the healer unwound one of the bandages on his arm.

“Apologies,” the healer muttered, “but now that the debriding is done, I need to replace these compresses and apply the rest.”

“Sure,” Illario groaned through his teeth. “You’re the expert.”

Lidia took her opportunity and shifted her stance to see the extent of his injuries. She couldn’t stifle a small gasp, which seemed to hurt him more than anything else.

A splotchy pink burn blossomed across most of his right forearm and about half his bicep, and it continued across the corresponding side of his torso. For the briefest of seconds, he turned his head to look at her fully, eyes wide and pleading, as he inadvertently revealed the connecting burn across the right side of his jawline and down his neck. The moment passed, and he lowered his face and sighed quietly.

Raw, red, sticky-looking flesh was visible in a few places, and as the healer set a small bowl on the table to free his hands, Lidia finally saw its contents: a small pile of dead, mottled tissue. How long had Illario been here, having his skin peeled off piece by blistered piece? Most of the burns looked deep enough to go past the pain, but in some places they were angry and crimson, shining as if wet. 

The healer covered them one by one with bandages soaked in a healing solution as Illario tried to be still. “I told you that was my good side,” he muttered, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Lidia tucked the coin into her pocket and hoisted herself up onto the table beside him, legs kicking off the edge. “So… what happened?”

His eyes fell to the uninjured hand he had resting in his lap. “Magefire.” His voice sounded low, unenthusiastic - a far cry from the initial charm he laid on so thickly. “But this lovely gentleman here–” he motioned lightly toward the healer– “has assured me the wounds are not fatal. Just scarring. You’re crushed, I’m sure.”

Her headache throbbed dully, reminding her not to take his bait tonight. Instead, she said, “I’m just surprised you got hit at all. You’ve always been the luckiest bastard in Antiva.”

“Well, this time, I left Antiva.”

“Which you have done before, and you know what I meant anyway, idiot.”

He shrugged with his good arm, still refusing to meet her eyes. “Lucanis and I were cornered, and I stood in front of him. Foolish thing to do, I know. But I suppose I was trying to make up for something he would probably tell me not to worry about anyway. He was fine last time I saw him, if you’re concerned.”

“I’m not. Unless he tripped over something during his victory march, he’s alive and well…” She trailed off as she looked him over again. His right arm injured, mostly on the outside; his right side burnt while the left half of his body remained untouched; only the lower right corner of his jaw and cheek scorched… he shoved Lucanis behind him with his left arm and shielded his eyes with his right.

“Then I’m sure he’ll give me a stern talking-to for trying to protect him in the first place,” Illario said wearily, finally glancing up to her. “Who knows, maybe all I really achieved was making the First Talon look weak in front of the others.”

“Or making yourself look even more pathetic.”

“Which would just be impressive at this rate, no?” He breathed a soft, humorless laugh. “Illario Dellamorte, the Crow who lost all his dignity in record time. They’ll sing about my failures someday.”

As the healer left to attend to another patient, Lidia touched Illario’s leg, the weight of her hand pleasant and warm on his shin. “If nothing else, it was brave.”

He gave an indecisive tilt of his head. “It was also stupid.”

“More than one thing can be true.”

He gave a wan smile. “Lucanis probably would have been fine if he hadn’t been babysitting me in the first place.”

“Knowing him, he fought harder with you next to him.”

He studied her face, his eyes searching hers for a moment. “You’ve blood on you,” he said, nodding toward her hairline. “Your own?”

“I’m alright.”

“That’s not the answer to my question.”

She rolled her eyes. “It is mine, but I’m still alright.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Venatori.”

When she did not continue, he deadpanned, “The picture you’ve painted so far is vivid.”

“Don’t vex me, Illario.”

“Am I not allowed to ask for details? To be concerned for you?”

She glared at him. “Now you’re concerned about me?”

“One concussion makes another more likely,” he reminded her in that insufferably knowing tone of his. “And I would hate for my hard work in facilitating your recovery from that first one to go to waste.”

“Yes, but whose fault was my first concussion?”

Indignantly, he flattened his hand against his chest. “I accept no responsibility for the actions of previous targets.”

“But said previous target would have been asleep if it wasn’t for you playing hero.”

“Must we always revisit that night?”

“You brought it up!” Her head ached as she raised her voice, and she massaged her tender scalp gently as she closed her eyes.

His teasing smirk faded to a soft frown, but he replaced it with a subtle smile before joking, “And here I had hoped you would be kinder to me now that you’ve seen the extent of my injuries.”

“Not a chance. My skin is still crawling from being this close to you,” she answered while making no attempt to move farther away.

He arched a brow smugly. “Well, I suppose, as you said, more than one thing can be true.”

“I am… glad… you made it,” she managed reluctantly. “I was looking for you among our dead.”

“Hoping to see me with my skull split, were you?”

Her hand slid up and his uninjured one met her halfway. They locked gently at his side. “You would deserve it, but… no. I was hoping I wouldn’t see your boots.”

“Oh? And I would have thought you’d only know me by my gloves.”

I would know any part of you, her mind brought forth. She blanketed the thought and tucked it away to be scolded later.

“I suppose I’ll be escorted back to the villa and left there to recover,” Illario mused aloud when she didn’t answer his quip. “I wonder if it’ll be too much to ask for Caterina to let me stay in my own room again. And I’m sure Viago will be just as thrilled as you are that I survived.”

“He’s busy. I’ll take you.”

He sighed fondly - if a touch sadly - and stroked her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “Do you remember the last time you took my care upon yourself? I don’t suppose you’ll be making me pastina this time.”

Lucanis’ wake. She made a hot meal every day and shared it with Illario in silence as they sat in his bed and he stared into the fireplace. At the time, she had no way of knowing that his grief was doubled by guilt and only compounded by her kindness. She did not regret it, not even now, and that frustrated her more than anything else.

She hopped off the table and pulled lightly on his arm. “On your feet, Dellamorte. Come on.”

He swung his legs over the side of the table and winced. “Where are we going?”

“Home. I’m not letting you take up space in the Diamond when others may need it more.”

“I won’t argue with the promise of a more comfortable seat,” he responded with a grimace as he rose to his feet. Looking down at their hands, still entwined between them, he added, “Though we could stop for coffee on the way…”

“The owners of Café Pietra could be lying under rubble in Minrathous right now.”

“...So, no?”

“No.”

She pulled him out the Diamond’s front door and they started the long walk back to Villa Dellamorte. Out of habit, Illario walked at her side so she was safely between him and the buildings. She pretended not to notice, but heat rose in her cheeks all the same.

At a side street, she directed him to turn, and when he gave her that quizzical where are you taking me look, she explained, “We have to stop at the market.” 

“For what?”

“Pastina, idiot,” she said pointedly, as if it should have been obvious.

He smiled and leaned against her, further entangling their arms. “I don’t deserve you, cara mia.”

She glared at him sideways. “No, you don’t. And don’t call me that. Lucanis would be cross with me if I let his brother starve, that’s all this is.”

Neither of them knew if that really was the extent of it. But for once, he neither questioned nor corrected her. 

She held his hand the whole way home, and they sat in silence as they shared a bowl of pastina on his bed. For a night, that could be enough.

[rook-laidir]

Rook Banter Part 5

I really need a hobby. Enjoy!

Rook: I have a weird question.

Davrin: This should be good.

Rook: Are the Dalish always…like that?

Davrin: Condescending and obsessed with a world that hasn’t existed for thousands of years? Pretty much.

Rook: I’m not used to being around so many other elves. I didn’t realize how seriously the Dalish take everything.

Davrin: Hard to blame them, given the circumstances, but you can see why I left.

Rook: At least you wear shoes. I’ll never understand that one.

~~~

Rook: You’re thinking about something. You’ve got your thinking face on.

Neve: Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain have had centuries to watch the stories about them twist and distort. The atrocities they committed became warped until they were lauded as gods. We need to look closer into their accomplishments - see if we can find some hint of truth between the lines.

Rook: Between Davrin, Bellara, and I, you’ve got two and a half elves who can help. We’ll figure something out.

Neve: Well look who’s looking on the bright side.

Rook: We might even only die a little.

Neve: There it is.

~~~

Rook: How’d that woman’s missing sister case end up?

Neve: Everyone’s safe and sound. Thanks for mapping out that section of the catacombs for me.

Rook: Anything for you.

Neve: Careful. I might just take you up on that.

~~~

Rook: How’d you like those skulls I found?

Emmrich: They were just what I needed for my research! The ones who are inclined to talk have the most fascinating stories.

Rook: Glad that old crypt wasn’t completely empty. Did any of them happen to mention anything about a long-lost treasure hoard left behind by an exiled ancient Rivaini queen?

Emmrich: I’m afraid not, but I’d be happy to see what assistance I can lend you in the meanwhile.

Rook: Dammit. Thanks anyway, Emmrich.

~~~

Emmrich: You were most impressive in the Hall of Valor, Rook. Where did you learn to fight like that?

Rook: All over. Isabela and a few of the Lords taught me a lot, but I was a pretty small kid who never knew when to shut up. I had to learn how to throw a punch pretty quickly. Got my ass handed to me more times than I can count.

Emmrich: Yes, you do seem to have a habit of challenging much larger opponents.

Rook: It’s a better win when you’re punching up.

~~~

Bellara: Have you seen the latest edition of Crossed Daggers and Hearts?

Rook: One of your serials? No. Why would I have seen it?

Bellara: I can’t seem to find it anywhere and Neve did mention she saw you going to your room with a bunch of newspapers.

Rook: We can’t have any secrets around here, can we?

~~~

Lucanis: So, Crossed Daggers and Hearts?

Rook: *sighs* Neve or Bellara?

Lucanis: Davrin, actually.

Rook: I’m looking over my shoulder around all of you for the rest of my life.

~~~

Rook: Did you read the latest chapter?

Lucanis: Guilia can do so much better than Ricardo.

Rook: Right?! Bellara’s almost finished, we’ll debrief when she’s done.

[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.

[t00tsmcgee]

Rook as a companion banter episode seven : Lucanis

Banter written with my Rook in mind. Read more about him here.

Part 1 (Neve) | Part 2 (Bellara) | Part 3 (Davrin) | Part 4 (Harding) | Part 5 (Taash) | Part 6 (Emmrich) | Part 7 Lucanis |

-

Lucanis: “You eat garbage.” Calais: “I feel like I’m being accused of something?” Lucanis: “Not literal garbage but I saw you fish out a flat sandwich from your pack the other day and eat it like it hadn’t been in there for two days.” Calais: “It was still good. The cheese was a little hard and sweaty though.” Lucanis: *Shuddering*

Lucanis: “What do you like to eat?” Calais: “I like fries and chicken and fried chicken.” Lucanis *quietly whispering* “Ayayay..” Calais: “I also like fried fish.”

Calais: “I liked that salad you made.” Lucanis: “It’s a Nevarran recipe. Blood orange salad.” Calais: “I’d had it before, but it was never this good.” Lucanis: “Every salad is better with cheese and some kind of nut.” Calais: *chuckle* Lucanis: "What's funny? ..Oh." *sigh*

Lucanis: “Aren’t most Nevarrans vegetarian?” Calais: “Most, yes.” Lucanis: “But not you?” Calais: “No. I’m only just really discovering that food can be something besides sustenance. I want to experience as many flavours as I can.” Lucanis: “I’m glad you’re having fun.” Calais: *fondly* “I blame you.”

Lucanis: “What about drinks?” Calais: “I like almost everything, but I don’t drink alcohol. Always just kind of tastes like paint thinner to me.” Lucanis: “What about warm beverages? Tea, coffee, hot chocolate?” Calais: “I’ll take tea over coffee any day.” Lucanis: “Who hurt you?”

Calais: “You know, Lucanis, I appreciate all the effort you make to take care of us.” Lucanis: “Someone has to. It’s a miracle you didn’t all contract some disease before I was here to cook for you.” Calais: “I didn’t have much choice.” Lucanis: “No?” Calais: “Rations are rations. We just ate what we were given, back at the Necropolis.” Lucanis: “That explains a lot, actually.” Calais: “So your food is a real treat. Just wanted you to know how much I’ve been enjoying it.” Lucanis: *Warmly* “Thank you.”

Lucanis: “Don’t even think about eating that sandwich you still have in your pack. I saw you take it with you when we left.” Calais: “It’s just a cheese sandwich, it stays good for a while. Maybe a bit stale but-” Lucanis: “Unacceptable. If you want to eat that at least let me toast it for you.”

Calais: “Hey, Lucanis?” Lucanis: “Yes?” Calais: “Will you teach me how to cook?” Lucanis: “You never learned?” Calais: “Not really. I mean I can fry an egg just about, and I read books about it, but I see the most wonderful illustrations in those books, that make my mouth water. I want to be able to make those!” Lucanis: *Chuckles* “Sure, I can teach you.”

Lucanis/Spite: “Spirit One reminds me of home.” Calais: “What was home like, Spite?” Lucanis/Spite: “It was home. Where I belonged, until she did this to us.” Calais: “I’m sorry, Spite. You didn’t deserve it.”

Lucanis: “So how is that you can see Spite when no one else but I can?” Calais: “I’ve always been able to speak to spirits in this way. If one has manifested as a possession I can see them hovering around the person they’ve possessed because that person tethers them to this world. Otherwise I have to draw them here with my magic.” Lucanis: “But Spite can touch things when you’re around, too.” Calais: “He uses a little bit of my power to manifest that touch.” Lucanis: “Doesn’t that tire you out?” Calais: “No, I barely notice. He’s very careful.”

Lucanis: “You’ve taught Spite how to paint.” Calais: “Actually I didn’t teach him anything. He just.. took a brush and went for it.” Lucanis: “He seems to like it.” Calais: “I think it’s a way to express himself when he’s lost most of his ability to do so.”

Calais: “You have fun painting don’t you Spite?” Lucanis/Spite: “Yes! Many colours giving shapes to emotions!” Calais: “And your colours are so well chosen.” Lucanis/Spite: “Yes, he likes it!” Calais: “I like it very much. Can I have one to hang on my wall?” Lucanis/Spite: “No! Its mine!” Calais: *laughing* “It was a compliment, I like it so much I want to look at it all the time.” Lucanis/Spite: *snarling* “Fine! Pick one! But only one!”

Lucanis/Spite: “The Spirit One is hurting.” Calais: “Oh, that’s just my leg. It always hurts. Don’t worry.” Lucanis/Spite: “Perhaps we can help.” Calais: “How?” Lucanis/Spite: “We can fly. We can carry!” Calais: *laughing* “As exciting as that sounds, it’d be a little impractical. But thank you, Spite.”

Lucanis: “You seem fond of Spite.” Calais: “I’m fond of you too, Lucanis.” Lucanis: “I know. But Spite listens to you. I spent the best part of a year with him and he hardly ever listens to me.” Calais: “Well I do speak to spirits for a living. It’s kind of my thing.” Lucanis: “Makes being around you hard, he constantly wants to speak with you.” Calais: “I’m sorry. I’ll try to engage less.” Lucanis: “No, it’s alright. It makes Spite calmer to talk with you. I had an actual night of sleep the other day, after he spent all evening talking with you. I think you’re good for him.” Calais: “He’s adorable, once you get past all the anger.” Lucanis: “I enjoyed your company, last night.” Calais: “And I yours. That was some very good tea you made.” Lucanis: “It’s no problem. I’m glad you enjoyed.” Lucanis/Spite: “Should have kissed him!” Calais: “What?” Lucanis: “No! Nothing, please, ignore him.”

Lucanis: “You’re getting better.” Calais: “At what?” Lucanis: “Cooking. For a while I wondered if my lessons were actually landing, but that pot roast you made yesterday was delicious.” Calais: “Thank you. I learned from the best.” Lucanis: “Well-” Calais: “And the most handsome.” Lucanis: *clears throat* “I’m not sure that’s relevant.” Calais: “Helps me pay attention to you.” Lucanis/Spite: “*cackle* He thinks you’re handsome!”

Lucanis: “Cal, would you maybe like to learn how to dance?” Calais: “Dance? Why do you ask?” Lucanis: “I was taught how to dance for social occasions and official parties. It’s a fun way to exercise. You said you struggled with regular work outs, this might be easier, for your leg.” Calais: “You’d do that for me?” Lucanis: “After everything you’ve done for me and Spite? Of course.” Calais: “It’s not transactional, Lucanis. But yes, I would like to learn. Thank you for thinking of me.” Lucanis/Spite: “He does it a lot!”

Calais: “Kind of sad we don’t have music to practice dancing to.” Lucanis: “I suppose we could give Spite a violin and see what he produces.” Calais: “I like my eardrums in tact, thank you.” Lucanis: “You think it will be that bad?” Calais: “Do you remember when he tried to play my piano?” Lucanis: “Ah.. say no more.”

Lucanis: “You seem quiet, ever since we returned from Treviso.” Calais: “You let Illario live.” Lucanis: “Yes. I don’t have enough family that I’d happily execute whatever shredded pieces of it are left.” Calais: “Family isn’t always blood.” Lucanis: “And blood isn’t always the answer.”

Lucanis: “Mi amado, I would like to take you to Treviso soon, meet my grandmother officially. She’s invited us for tea.” Calais: “Are you sure? She didn’t seem to think much of me when we rescued her.” Lucanis: “She’s going to have to get used to you, whether she likes it or not.” Calais: “What do I even say to her? ‘Hello Mrs Dellamorte I’m in love with your grandson?’” Lucanis: “I’d leave out the question mark at the end.”

Calais: “Papi Chulo.” Lucanis: *Hard exhale* “What?” Calais: “Viago said I should call you that, that it was a cute Antivan nickname for one’s lover.” Lucanis: *Deep sigh* “You don’t listen to what Viago says. Ever.”

[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

[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.

[himluv]

The Incident, pt. 2

Impossibly, this is Chapter 30(?!?!?!) of my Rookanis fic Say My Name (Say it Twice). Thank you to everyone who's been reading along and leaving such wonderful comments. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Read The Incident, pt. 1

Read from the beginning

With Embria sky-high on gingerwort truffle tea, Lucanis's night has been thoroughly derailed. But... is that really such a bad thing?

The trip through the Crossroads was slow, and stressful. For the most part Rook was in a good mood, marveling at the magic all around them, and laughing at things Lucanis could neither see nor hear. But Spite was furious, spitting and hissing and shouting the whole way about her being poisoned. It did nothing to help Lucanis focus on helping her. And then she burst into tears as he tried to get her into the Caretaker’s boat.

“I can’t swim,” she cried over and over. 

“I know, Embria, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” She sniffled. “It’s embarrassing! What kind of person doesn’t know how to swim?”

He shrugged. “Plenty of people.”

She looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Do you know how to swim?”

He winced. “Yes.”

Her face crumpled and two delicate tears fell, one down each cheek. He tried to guide her into the boat, but she just shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Dweller,” the Caretaker said in its soothing voice. “You are safe here.”

She sniffed and wiped at her face. She looked at the spirit for a long moment, as if she couldn’t see it correctly, then she looked back to the boat and stepped right in. 

Lucanis sighed and thanked the Caretaker as he sat down next to her. She instantly put her head on his shoulder and sniffled some more. 

“What’s happening to me?”

His heart clenched at how small and frightened she sounded. “The gingerwort truffle tea, remember?”

She chuckled. “Oh, yeah. Worms.” She snorted. “Creators, Assan is so funny.”

He had never heard her use the Elven gods as a curse, or even invoke them in reverence. She’d given that up when it became clear the Evanuris were not the benevolent beings the Dalish had always believed. So, Lucanis knew she was very, very impaired for it to fall off her tongue so easily, and without notice. 

Mierda, he was going to kill Davrin. 

“Lucanis?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

He peered down at her, frowning. “For what?”

She heaved a disappointed sigh. “I don’t think we’re going to meet in the music room tonight, after all.”

He chuckled at that. “No, probably not.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pressed the corner of his mouth to her forehead. “But, that’s all right.”

She peered up at him, her pupils still so, so wide. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Embria, I’m sure.”

They were quiet for a moment, the Caretaker rowing them through the Fade. It was almost peaceful, until Rook sniffled and wiped at her face. 

Rook. Is crying! Again?! Spite howled. He was handling Embria’s impairment much worse than she was. 

Lucanis froze, momentarily unsure what to do. Then he gently rubbed his hand up and down her back. “What’s wrong?”

“I just…” She shuddered and shook her head. “I’m sad.”

He took a deep breath, knowing this was going to be a long evening. “About what?”

Her face crumpled as a fresh wave of tears overwhelmed her. “I really wanted to see you tonight.”

He smiled, but bit back his chuckle. It wouldn’t do to hurt her feelings now. “I know,” he said. “But, I’m here, now.”

She sat up so she could look right at him. She was a mess, her cheeks wet and blotched red from crying. Her eyes were swollen and her chin wobbled with the force of her frown. “Will you stay with me?”

He blinked at her for a moment, not comprehending the question. Did she think this little incident would chase him away from her? “What do you mean?”

She sniffled. “When we get to the Lighthouse,” she said. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He let out a relieved sigh. “Of course,” he said. He’d already planned to stay by her side – she could not be left on her own like this. 

The Caretaker brought the boat up to the dock at Beacon Island without a word. Lucanis helped Rook up and carefully guided her back onto solid ground. Her grip on his elbow was so tight, he knew that, if not for his leathers, she’d leave bruises. 

Only when they stepped through into the Lighthouse, did Lucanis think about where to take Rook. She was right, he couldn’t leave her alone in this condition. The Lighthouse was a perilous place on a normal day – he couldn’t imagine navigating it while hallucinating. 

But, he also knew he couldn’t sit with her in her chambers. Not even two weeks ago that room had unraveled him completely. And while he was improving daily, he wasn’t ready to spend hours facing that wall of water and its pale, shimmering blue light. 

There was the music room, but there wasn’t anywhere comfortable to lay, and he knew Rook would need to sleep this off eventually. Which left the pantry. His room. His cot. 

His mouth went dry at the thought. He’d fantasized about bringing her to his room, about retrying that mortifying almost-kiss, and where that might lead now that they were together. But, he had never imagined her in his room like this.

Spite settled now that they were back in the Lighthouse, the demon’s anger relegated to faint hissing and growls. He circled Rook protectively as Lucanis led her through the library and out into the courtyard. They were lucky, for once, and no one was outside. The last thing he wanted was to explain to the others what had happened, and where he was taking her. 

He led her into his room without incident, but once he closed the door, she stopped and blinked around the room. 

“This is the pantry,” she said.

“It is,” he said. He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”

Embria smiled at him, slow and sweet. “Thank you, Lucanis.”

He nodded, then ducked down to grab the spare blankets from under his cot. He laid them out and made an attempt to fluff the thin, sad pillow he sometimes used. His bed was uncomfortable by design, to make it hard to fall asleep. But it would have to do for now. 

“Get comfortable,” he said. “Have you eaten since breakfast?”

She nodded, shrugging out of her Halla leather overcoat. “There were snacks with tea.”

He did not even want to try to imagine what Davrin thought passed for snacks to pair with his atrocious tea. “Are you hungry?”

She shook her head, and now that her tears had subsided, Lucanis thought she looked a little pale. Right. Strife had suggested a bucket, and he should probably get a carafe of cool water and a washcloth. Just in case.  

“I’m going to get us some water, all right? I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, but it was a slow, dazed motion. He was not at all sure she’d heard him, but he needed to get that bucket, so he stepped out quickly and gathered some supplies. When he returned to the pantry Rook stood bent over a basket, her arms elbow deep in coffee beans. She was giggling and swirling her hands through the beans, and her pants were on the floor. 

Lucanis stood and stared for a long moment, processing the sight before him. 

She still wore her long-sleeved linen tunic, which was long enough to reach her mid-thigh. Though, the slits at the hip showed a hint of the brown fabric of the shorts she wore underneath. She wasn’t technically indecent, but he was certainly not prepared to see so much of her skin. 

He might be taller than her, but Embria carried more weight, her body full and curved. Her legs were pale and looked so smooth and, Maker help him, there was no gap between her thighs when she stood upright. He desperately wanted to run a hand up the inside of her leg, to know how soft and warm her skin would be just beneath the hem of her tunic. 

And these were wildly inappropriate thoughts to have about her at this moment. She was impaired, as good as poisoned by one of Viago’s concoctions. She was vulnerable, and he would never take advantage of that. 

But, mierda. She looked good. 

He closed the door behind him and pointedly did not look at her as he stepped past to set the bucket beside the bed. He pulled a carafe of water, a bowl, a washcloth, and two glasses out of the bucket and set them on the side table nearest the cot. He poured some of the water into the bowl, and soaked the washcloth in it. Then he poured her a glass of water. Only then did he clear his throat and turn to face her. 

She was still playing with the coffee beans, a wide grin on her face, but her eyelids drooped and her skin was quickly losing color. 

“Embria,” he said. “Do you want to lay down?”

Her brow furrowed as she considered his words. Then she nodded, and tottered over to him. Lucanis was very, very careful to keep his eyes on her face as she approached him. He expected her to sit on the cot, to perhaps even collapse onto it as her exhaustion caught up to her. But, Embria did neither of those things.

She stepped up to stand before him, her gaze fixed on his mouth. She was so close, he could feel the heat from her body. She was always so warm. And she still wasn’t wearing any pants.

“Embria.” Her name was hardly a whisper off his tongue. He felt transfixed, rooted in place with nowhere to run. No desire to run.

She lifted her hand and traced her index finger along his bottom lip. “I never noticed this scar before,” she said. There was no heat in her voice, no intent. She sounded in awe of the the little echo of the slice on his lip. He’d bore it for so long he didn’t even remember how he’d got it. 

Maker, he was trembling. A deliciously vicious mix of anticipation, worry, and lust rattled through him. He needed to stop her, now. 

“Rook,” he said, his voice low and sharp.

She blinked and looked up at him. Her eyes went wide and she drew her hand back from his face. “Oh! Oh no. Lucanis, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean–”

“It’s all right,” he said. “Just–” he exhaled. “Just drink this–” he handed her the glass of water “–then lay down.”

She took the glass and sat on the cot. She took careful sips until the cup was empty. He took it from her, refilled it, and left it on the table within her reach. She let down her hair from its usual half-up, half-down bun, running her fingers through it and sighing. Her tunic lifted dangerously with the motion, baring just a little more of her thighs.

Lucanis cursed under his breath and shook his head. This night was going to be a special brand of torture. Then he helped her slide under the blankets and settle in to rest. 

He crouched beside the cot to look her in the eye. “If you start to feel sick, there’s a bucket right here,” he said. 

She scrunched her nose at the idea, but nodded. “Thank you.”

He smiled at her and brushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. “I’m happy to care for you,” he said. And it was the truth. This wasn’t how he’d expected this evening to go, but he was happy to share it with her regardless. “Now, sleep,” he said. “You should feel better when you wake up.”

He stood and made to go, but she took his hand in hers. “Will you lay down with me?” She whispered, as if she was afraid to ask. She winced. “Just until I fall asleep?”

Lucanis sighed. He knew he shouldn’t. His self-control had already been put to the test tonight, but her eyes were heavy with sleep and glimmered in the candlelight. He knew he could never tell her no.

He blew out some of the candles, dimming the light in the room, and quickly changed from his leathers into his usual shirt and slacks. He skipped the vest and boots, then he climbed onto the cot behind her, his back to the wall. 

It was a small, uncomfortable cot when he was alone. Sharing it with Rook was an improvement, even with the blanket firmly between them, but there was no way to lay together without his front pressed to her back. They lay curled together, her under the blankets while he stayed on top of them, and Lucanis marveled at how naturally his body fit around hers.

It would be such an easy thing to bury his face in her hair, to press a gentle kiss to the back of her neck. He wanted to, just as he wanted to wrap his arm around her waist and breathe her in. Lucanis had not shared a bed with someone since he and Illario were boys. He’d forgotten how comforting it could be, knowing he wasn’t alone.

 She was so warm, even through the blanket, and the rhythm of her breathing was as soothing as the sound of water lapping in the canals back home. In the quiet, half-dark of the pantry, Lucanis listened to Embria breathe, and imagined a lifetime of nights of just that. He smiled at the thought, and it didn’t take long for him to doze. 

He didn’t know how long they’d laid there, if he’d even really fallen asleep, when she moaned. Instantly, he was awake and alert.

She moaned again, lurched, and then heaved over the side of the cot and into the bucket. 

He sat up and swept her hair back from her face as she heaved again. He rubbed her back in gentle circles, something he remembered his mother doing when he’d been sick as a boy. He didn’t know if it actually helped ease the sickness, but he knew it felt good. 

It took a few moments, and Rook’s retching was not quick or efficient – each heave seemed to take tremendous effort – but eventually, the sickness passed. She lay panting, her face hanging off the cot, over the bucket as she spat the last of the sick from her mouth. 

“Fuck,” she groaned. She rolled onto her back, one bare leg off the cot with her foot firmly planted on the floor. 

Lucanis reached over her for the glass of water. “Here,” he said. “Little sips,” he reminded her as she took it. He watched her take a few swallows, then took it back and set it down. Then he wrung the washcloth out into the bowl, and laid it across her forehead. 

She sighed. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“How’re you feeling?” Her whole body quivered from the exertion of expelling Davrin’s terrible tea, but her voice sounded clearer. More like herself.

“Uh,” she said. “Better? I’m not seeing things anymore.” She blinked, then frowned at him. “We’re lying in your bed.”

He smirked. “Don’t worry, Rook,” he said. “I’ve been a perfect gentleman.”

She snorted. “Of course you have,” she said. “I’m more worried I haven’t been very ladylike.” She shifted under the blankets, then froze, her eyes going wide. “Lucanis?”

“Embria.”

“Where are my pants?”

His smile widened. “Somewhere by the coffee beans.”

She glanced around, then put a hand to her head. “What the fuck was in that tea?”

He frowned. “How much do you remember?”

She scowled, but wouldn’t look at him. After a moment she said, “all of it.”  She covered her face with both hands. “Lucanis, I am so sorry.” She made to get up, but he pressed her shoulder back down. 

“You need to rest,” he said. 

But, she wasn’t listening. “You asked for slow and a week later I’m half-naked in your bed? Puking?! What is wrong with me?!”

“Rook,” he said, again using that low, sharp tone.

She looked at him, her eyes wide and her brow pulled low with concern. 

“Enough,” he said. “Let’s go back to sleep.” He removed the washcloth from her forehead, setting it back in the bowl. 

She watched him, her eyes shining in the candlelight. “Okay,” she whispered. She rolled away from him, onto her side with her back pressed flush against his front. 

This time, Lucanis brushed the hair away from her face and pressed a gentle kiss to the crook of her neck. This time, he let his arm drape over her waist and she laced her fingers through his over her stomach. This time, it was perfection 

“Goodnight, Embria,” he whispered against her neck. 

“Goodnight, Lucanis.” Her voice was thick, but he couldn’t tell if it was sleep or emotion that made it so. Either way, he pulled her closer, breathed in that smoky-sweet scent of her hair, and smiled. Sleep came quickly after that, for them both. 

Sniiiiiifff. Faint stink of sour dirt. Sick. Poison. Gone. Now, smoke and berries. Salt and coffee. Together. Rook is soft. So soft. Hair between fingers, against his face. Our face. Smells good. Smells nice. Like FREEDOM. Like home.

Hmmmmm. Take care. Never hurt. Our Rook. 

Rook sleeps. Lucanis sleeps. Spite rests and will watch. 

Always. Take care of. Our Rook.

[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.