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plasticfreckles · 26 days ago

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🪶 drunk flirting rookanis enjoy 🪶

"Mmm. Tell me more." Lucanis didn't know he could be that suave.

Or maybe he isn't aware of the effect it would have on Rook, clearly taking her wine worse than he his. She inhales audibly, pushes her glass aside by the stand and reaches to take his own from his hands.

"Say that again." She leans in closer.

"What, tell me more?" Another sigh. He slowly realizes its his timbre that thrills her.

"Yeah."

"Tell me more." The sound out of her resembles the blissful sigh at a delicious sauce.

"That may very well be the sexiest thing I've ever heard you say."

"You've said that before."

Rook snorts, moving her flat hand around the tabletop blindly, looking for her glass. She finds his instead.

"Impossible. You've never been this sexy."

"And you've never been this drunk."

"Tell me one other time I've told you that."

"This morning, when I inhaled some of my coffee and greeted you after I'd caught my breath."

"That doesn't count. You had breakfast ready. And you were a little hoarse. Few things sexier than a rough voice, when it's usually all soft and smooth like silk on skin."

The taste of her lips could mislead him into thinking she had the whole bottle all by herself, as opposed to half a glass.

"Have you eaten enough today?"

She whines, instead of an answer.

"Rook..."

"I'm eating! I'm eating, see?"

Why is she this way? Because she's drunk. So are you! I'm buzzed, not drunk. It's not gone to my head. Not yet!

Lucanis reaches for the charcuterie, pulls the board away from the table center, closer to her. She presses the edge of the table into her diaphragm this deep one more time, she'll start to feel nauseous.

"Three grapes and a cube of asiago don't make a meal."

She blindly grabs another fistful from the plate, curling her fingers into the display as if she was kneading dough.

"...It's more than three grapes. Probably."

"Let me get you some bread, at least."

"Noooo-" She almost tips over both glasses, by her fingers and behind her elbow, as she pulls on his hand. "Don't leave. Finish your glass, at least."

She says it as though he could say No to her.

"Fine," he says, and she looks utterly pleased as she returns his wine to him. "But only because I have such sweet and intruiging company."

Rook giggles into her fist. She's flushed so deep it makes the whites of her eyes pop like silver cufflinks on a burgundy shirt.

"I sure hope I'm not a kiss goodbye."

"The only kiss goodbye I want from you is the one we share before we're both headed for the pyre."

Maybe he is drunk after all. He's prone to letting go of his control around Rook, speaking his thoughts and feelings into existence without a care because with her, they'll be kept safe and sound like Andraste's ashes. Though even so, he's rarely as flirtatious as Illario. He feels like the paramour in a mediocre serial.

"Even so. The kiss goodbye was the coffee. You're speaking of the taste of a first kiss. And of those, you can have as many as you like."

"Well, then." Another sip, another grape, before she leans into him.

She has to hold on to him, for stability, not for intimacy. He can see the way the world starts to spin around her in her iris.

If he squints, it almost looks like the brown in them is making way for the green.

"Woah. Maybe I am a little drunk." She empties her glass like it was water after waking at midnight. Then she reaches past the charcuterie board, toward a new bottle.

"Oh?" Rook giggles. "Are we putting Viago to shame tonight?"

"Mmh! Soon as I can get this bottle open."

"Querida, no. Don't do that. You'll knock all your teeth out." He turns toward the corkscrew a little too fast. His own head starts to spin. Spite spins on his toes like a ballet dancer, and a proficient one at that.

"I won't." She doesn't stop trying to pull the cork out with her teeth.

"Daisy." Lucanis didn't know she's a giggly drunk. Her hands slip down from the bottle neck to the body, holding it toward him in a way that does not remind him of Bellara's serials at all.

"Gods, your arms are pretty."

I like her drunk. She's happy. Cozy. Snuggly like a lapdog. We get her drunk. More often! Every day! Wine for water! You want her to live, you protect her liver, too. You're no fun!

"I'm sorry?" He isn't even doing anything. He's barely twisting the corkscrew into the bottle.

She drapes herself across the tabletop, her right arm close enough to walk her fingers up his arm.

"Your arms are pretty. Your arms, and your shoulders, and your beard, and your hair, and your nose, and your big brown wet puppy eyes-"

"Rook, please." He can feel his elbow dig into her flesh as he reaches over her arm and moves to fill their glasses once more. "I'm a grown man. I have doggy eyes."

"Yessss." She drags out the S until their glasses touch and she stops to take a sip. There's a fascinating tangerine note to the wine. He turns the bottle to read the label. Definitely not an Antivan. "Like a mabari, big and wet and brown and round and full of love."

"You know, you don't need to lie to me for me to refill your glass."

"I'm not!" She blows up her cheeks and frowns. It's poorly executed and blushed and glassy-eyed and adorable. "You are pretty! So pretty, and strong and manly. You're so well-proportioned. Your beard makes your lips all shiny and puffy and kissable." Her eyes flick down to his mouth, and as her mind processes her own words, she starts pouting. "All I know is stuff."

"What on earth are you talking about?" He tries to move her hair over her shoulder, to hold her cheek and have her rest her whole head in his palm, but she moves to sit up straight. His hand lands on her arm.

She needs to hold on to the edge of the table. The wine sways precariously in her glass, almost out of it. She'll never get the stains off her pants.

"Brother Benito - you know, from the Orphanage that found me - he used to say that love comes in at the stomach." So does poison, Lucanis thinks foggily. "But I don't know how to bake, or make drinks, and I hate cooking even less." She needs to close her eyes so she can focus on the words coming out of her own mouth. "So I need to give you compliments, and gifts. Ssoo many gifts! So you know I- I care for you." Her eyes are no longer glassy from drunkenness.

SHE LOVES US. Shut it. SHE DOES. That's not what she said. She WANTS TO.

"Aye, querida, I know you do." He takes her glass from her hand once again. Collects both her cheeks in his hands and moves to kiss her forehead. He miscalculates the distance, and his nose collides with her hairline hard enough to make them both make a surprised noise. "There's a reason I don't use your gifts."

"You don't like them?" The way her voice sounds, small and uncertain, tears at him, and Spite in turn tears into him. YOU HURT HER. USE THE GIFTS. The necklace will choke me at best. DEATH BY LOVER. GREATEST DEATH. This is real life, Spite, not a serial.

"I love them," he says, pulling at her until her chin pokes into his shoulder. "I worry they'll break, or that I'll lose them. They're safe in the pantry. I know you've thought of me every time I look at them. And knowing that... it makes me happy."

"Really?" He aims for her temple, though he's not sure his lips find the target. "I don't even do things for you."

"You love to sleep. And yet you stay up with Spite so he doesn't run off. That seems quite a thing done to me."

"You make it sound like I'm fighting him tooth and nail." You'd LOSE.

"You let a demon pull you into my mind, found a broken man and you did not turn away. That is the greatest thing you could possibly do to me." He doesn't quite find her lips. "And you break up my doomclouds every day."

Rook snorts. Lucanis is pretty sure there's some mucus peeking out from under her nose.

"Your existence next to me is the greatest thing you could possibly do for me." He's just said that two sentences before, but it's all the more true the more he says it.

"Stop being so sweet! You'll make me cry, and then I'll throw up on you!"

But she's laughing and aiming her thumb and forefinger around his chin.

🪶

I've not been drunk once in my whole entire life. or in love. or in a healthy functional relationship. lol.

[~rina]

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flowersforthemachines · 15 days ago

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Remembered I talked about it under one post but never actually posted this here.

Here's a (rough) visualisation of how many times Rook's faction is referenced in conversations. Based on the pics, from most to least referenced it goes like this:

Grey Wardens > Mourn Watch > Antivan Crows > Shadow Dragons > Veil Jumpers > Lords of Fortune

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itsrainingpandas · 14 days ago

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Ever since @vonspe released the NPC version of her OC Scipio, I have had a brain worm with him and my dummy gremlin Crow!Rook. So I wrote a thing!

Scipio belongs to Vonspe , I just admire her art and her drawings have given me joy in these here trying times. Hopefully I can return the favor in a small way. ❤️

Pick Your Poison

She was silent, creeping up on him, crouched with a dagger in her hand. He had his back to her and was none the wiser to the danger. Closer, closer, and then…with a fierce grin, Rook lunged for him.

She landed with the hilt of her blade at the small of his back, snickering. “Oh, Scipio,” she tsked, “You’ve gotten soft! You really should pay attention. You're dead now!”

A chuckle rumbled through him as he turned to peer over his shoulder, looking thoroughly unsurprised. “Am I?”

Rook looked down. Scipio had shifted his arm behind his back in the split second before she had lunged, gripping a needle in his gloved hand. It was pressed against her leathers, and were this a serious scenario, it could slide past her armor and fill her with poison before she got a good stab in.

Upon seeing this, Rook burst out laughing. “Oh, no! I’m dead!” She stepped back and resheathed her mageknife, delighted to be bested at her own game. “Oh, you got me. This is so tragic. You'll have to break the news to my many admirers.”

Scipio smirked, pleased with himself even before he said, “I'll be sure to let them both know.”

Rook made a face and moved as though she were going to punch his kidneys. He simply swayed out of her way, unperturbed, before regarding her with amusement. Her childish petulance melted as she grinned, looking back and forth between his eyes. They were striking in their color difference- one so dark it was almost black, one staggeringly blue. He seemed to give in to the fondness, poking at her playfully. “And what brings our Rook to this level of the Diamond today?”

Rook leaned back against the counter that served as a place to get both drinks and poisons, and hopefully never the wrong one of the two. “I'm looking for a specific poison. Or�� a friend of mine is looking for it. A poison.”

Scipio’s eyebrow arched in interest. “Anything fun?”

“No. It's the opposite of fun. Academic things.” Rook’s nose crinkled in distaste. She was never a good student, so she couldn't imagine how or why someone could keep researching past the required schooling. Scipio chuckled as if he could see her thoughts; he had known her as a fledgling, so he wouldn't be surprised by her disdain.

“And this poison,” he continued, rolling up his sleeves and tightening the ribbon keeping his long, dark hair back, “Viago didn't want to do it?”

“Between you and me, he's better at antidotes. Mixing poisons is more your specialty.” Her eyes narrowed in an attempt to look dangerous that was not enough to offset her small stature and full head of bright red curls. “But if you tell him I said that, I’ll deny it and put one of your snakes in your boot.”

“I’m beginning to think you just came here to threaten me.”

“Me? Never,” Rook hoisted herself up to sit on the counter, pretending not to notice Scipio’s vaguely disapproving look. She spread her arms wide. “Come on, I wanted to see you! I missed you! Didn't you miss me, Tío?”

He watched her a moment, and she noticed how tired he looked. Though, to be fair, Scipio always looked tired. After careful consideration, he shook his head and chuckled. “Oh, I suppose it is fun to hear Viago yelling again.” Rook laughed, the opposite of his laugh, loud and attention-drawing.

"Now," Scipio began placing dubiously unmarked vials on the counter, “what poison is your friend looking for?”

Rook blinked as though she had never thought to ask. “I dunno.” She leaned back on the counter to the point where she could have easily rolled backwards off of it and landed on her head. She scanned the room, but it wasn't hard to spot the odd one out in the sea of Crows. Rook gave a grand, sweeping wave over her head. “Emmrich! Over here!”

The professor appeared moments later, appearing harried by his standards and remarkably put together by anyone else’s. “Apologies, Rook,” he said sweetly, politely, “Manfred is quite fascinated by this place, so I was keeping an eye on him. I had to stop him from chasing one of the crows around…” he gestured to the birds roosted in the ceiling, who indeed seemed to be watching with some perturbation. Rook snickered at the mental picture before composing herself enough for introductions.

She held a hand out towards Emmrich in presentation. “Scipio, this is Professor Emmrich Volkarin. Emmrich,” Rook turned enough to loop an arm around Scipio’s neck, “this is my Tío Scipio.”

Emmrich smiled, brushing a hand back to smooth his hair which was hardly out of place. “Apologies, again. It's a pleasure to meet you, ah…” his eyes darted towards Rook, unsure, “I'm sorry, could you repeat…?”

“Scipio,” the man finished, bowing slightly at the waist. “A pleasure, professore.”

Rook hopped down from the counter. “What, he can't call you ‘Tío’?”

Scipio kept his eyes on Emmrich as he dropped his hand on top of Rook’s head. “You are on babysitting duty today, I see?”

She grumbled and pushed his arm away. Emmrich pressed a crooked finger to his mouth in an attempt to disguise an amused smile that did not help her mood. “I don't need babysitting!” Rook snapped. “You know, I make a lot of the decisions for our group.”

“That is true,” Emmrich offered amicably, his gaze shifting the significant height difference between the two Crows.

“Hmmm,” Scipio considered the information before asking Rook, “So why do you come back here and act like a fledgling?”

Emmrich let out a sound of surprise before leaning on the counter, eyes bright with excitement. “I have noticed that she tends to regress when we come to Treviso! It's very interesting,” he pressed his thumb to his bottom lip, “I wonder if it's a response to childhood stressors. Perhaps–”

“Emmrich!” Rook whined, betrayed. She would have stomped her foot if the idea of “regression” hadn't taken hold on her mind. But the professor received the complaint and stopped his analysis, mumbling apologies while at least having the decency to look sheepish.

Scipio, however, had no such scruples. He tilted his chin down, conspiring.“If you do take notes, I’d be happy to review them. I always appreciate new material.”

Emmrich chuckled warmly, much too charmed for Rook’s taste. She groaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I regret introducing you two,” she pouted. "Immediately regret it.”

They were now ignoring her completely, it seemed, exclusively focused on each other. “So, professore,” Scipio smiled faintly, “what poison are you looking for?”

“Ah, yes,” he startled as though he had forgotten why he had come, “I was hoping for concentrated magebane. You see, I want to test its effect on bone–”

“It won't corrode it, if that's what you're hoping for.”

“No!” Emmrich looked appalled by the very idea. “No, it was a thought I had. You see, if it could mark the deceased, then it might deter any necromancers who wander too far afield. Necromancy is a distinguished art, of course, but some do not wish to worry about their deceased. If those bodies could marked as unusable–”

Rook sighed noisily. “All right, well, if you don't need me…”

Emmrich didn't even pause, continuing to excitedly explain his theories to a thoughtfully listening Scipio. That was her answer, she supposed.

Rook wandered around until she found Manfred, who was still peering up at the roosting crows in fascination. She wrapped an arm around the boney cut of his shoulders with a sigh. “I think I accidentally set your dad up on a date,” she murmured to the skeleton. Manfred let out a cheerful, gurgling hiss, though she suspected he had no idea what she was going on about. Well, nothing to do about it. Might as well take advantage of having lost her “babysitter.”

“All right, Manfred,” Rook clapped her hands together, “I'll teach you about the birds up there. But first: we’re going to work on you saying the word ‘shit.’”

Manfred squealed cheerfully once more. Just a fun little surprise for Emmrich later as revenge for the regression idea that would do nothing but prove his point.

#*marge simpson voice* I just think he's neat #dragon age the veilguard #antivan crow rook #dragon age rook #pandy ficlet #Valkyr de Riva

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ximmortalis · 1 month ago

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Emmrich Volkarin/Rook: Confession.

Summary:

Rook harbours a secret keeps it hidden under lock and key in her mind; the secret of the dark figure that forced her down to her knees.

With a blossoming relationship with Emmrich; Rook lies and finds herself burning with the need to confess.

Warnings: Mentions of past assault/non-con, suicidal thoughts.

A/N: Second part in the works.

Joints in her fingers cracking as she wrings her hands over and over, breathing slow and deep an attempt to starve off the panic building in her chest. Rook should be happy; she is ecstatically so. She’d just returned from a romantic evening with Emmrich in the Necropolis, sharing an exquisite meal fit for royalty. Rook had confessed that she had never been with someone romantically that he was her first. Emmrich for a moment looked taken a back but a gentle smile followed, he told her they could go as slowly as she liked, there was no need to rush. His acceptance made her giddy and a short walk around the gardens ended with a sweet kiss.

She should be on cloud nine, but she finds herself in her room feeling guilty.

When she told Emmrich that she’d never been with someone romantically it was the truth. Never been on a date, never been wined and dined or handled in such a gentle way like a cherished object. Soft touches are a rarity in life for a Crow; Rook is used to the harshness that comes with it.

Rook harbours a secret keeps it hidden under lock and key in her mind; the secret of the dark figure that forced her down to her knees and stole her purity, ripped her insides with sadistic glee and left her on the cold wet floor, broken. She had no idea how long she’d laid there alone and afraid unsure if her attacker would return.

Viago was waiting for her for the intel she had been sent out to gather, a fledgling at the time her training had begun only a year ago, only recently being sent out on actual assignments. Viago was furious when she finally turned up, he was relentless with his verbal assault and Rook had stood there and took it. She couldn’t tell him; the embarrassment was too much. It was shameful that a crow had let someone sneak up on them, it was her job to become one with the shadows; to remain undetected and she couldn’t even do that. It was enough to have her crow status stripped and kicked out of House De Riva. If Viago was paying more attention he’d see the angry red marks that littered her body, fingertip shaped marks around her throat and the welts around her wrists where she’d been held with a punishing grip. Rook said nothing when he asked for an explanation, infuriated by her lack of response he turned around and dismissed her. He spared her not even a glance but if he did, he wouldn’t have missed the limp in her step and the crimson stain blooming on her pants.

Waiting for the dead of the night to sneak her way to the bath house, letting out a breath when she found it empty. It’s a slow process stripping out of her clothes. When she pulls her underwear down, they’re stained with her blood and the stranger’s seed. She isn’t stupid, Rook knows the consequences that can come of this. Her stomach lurches violently as she throws up the contents of her stomach and she doesn’t stop until her lungs burn and ribs ache from dry heaving. Rook scrubbed her body raw until her arms ached, and the water scorched her skin. No matter how much soap and scented oils she used, the smell of him wouldn’t leave it was cemented in the pores of her skin.

Mind numb she sits in the water until it turns frigid.

In the morning, she goes to the apothecary, hood pulled over her head as far as it can go to conceal her identity. Face burning with embarrassment as she explains to the woman at the counter that she needs something that will stop conception. Without judgement the woman pulls out a potion of Silphium, explains the potential side effects and hands it to her. Drinking it all in one go she cringes at the bitter after taste and now she had to wait to see if it worked.

Throwing herself into training, Viago is keeping a close eye on her. She keeps a low profile, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention. It works Viago slowly stops breathing down her neck and it seems that everything starts going back to normality.

That’s until a furious Viago bursts into her room.

��Want to tell me what happened that night?”

Time halts.

He knows, he knows, he knows!

‘’Nothing.’’ It’s a weak denial and she knows it and with the look on Viago’s face he doesn’t believe her.

‘’So, the trip to the apothecary and the Silphium was nothing?’’ His head cocking to the side, ‘’What? You didn’t think I’d investigate this?’’

Again, when she doesn’t answer it pushes Viago over the edge and she finds herself at the receiving end of another verbal assault. He couldn’t believe that she had jeopardised a whole operation for a quick fuck, asking if she was proud of herself. Once again, she sits and takes it, she already blamed herself for what took place; why not accept his blame as well?

‘’This stays between us; I’m not doing this for you.’’ He spits before taking a moment to catch his breath. He turns on his heel to leave but not before twisting the knife in her already shattered heart.

‘’You bring shame on House De Riva.’’

She feels numb again, out of tune with her emotions; she feels nothing but absolute emptiness. It’s strange, she thinks; there hasn’t been a single tear shed. Disconnected from her mind and body, she feels like an outsider looking in. Her body doesn’t feel like hers anymore, it feels dirty.

Desecrated.

It’s clear that this event is what starts her downfall, when she does finally become a full fledged Crow. Her risk taking behaviours increase, the contracts she takes are dangerous; ones that she couldn’t possibly survive. She’s not careful about them either but yet she seems to pull through each time. The relationship between her and Viago deteriorates and it was common place to find them exchanging verbal blows.

Viago thinks she has a death wish.

It’s not a wish, it’s a promise.

She wants to die; doing what she’s worked so hard for, then maybe she can claim some of her lost honour back.

It’s funny how her last death charge is what saves her, a patrol of Antaam herding captives. She didn’t even think, just leaped into action. She saved lives that day but the disappointment that she didn’t meet her bitter end was palpable. Unknowingly she had compromised a larger Crow operation. Her superiors were incensed and punished her accordingly. She’s sidelined and forced out of Antiva.

On the road she meets one of the captives she saved. Varric, the man who undoubtably saved her life.

Rook shakes her head a feeble attempt to push back the memories, it was years ago; it shouldn’t affect her as much as it did. Rook had spend many years lying to herself, shying away from relationships; starving herself of the loving touch of another. She was far to damaged no matter how good of a facade she put on, it wouldn’t be long before the cracks of her broken psyche would start to show.

If she stayed alone no one could take the opportunity to harm her again.

But, Emmrich appeared.

And he turned her world upside down.

Older, distinguished with an air of authority – a senior Mourn watcher.

A professor she expected for him to be harsh and critical of almost everything. Instead, he was softly spoken, gentle and his presence kept her calm. He respected her; not because he had to but because he wanted to. He indulged her when she had questions about his work, his patience unmatched. Rook would watch how he interacted with Manfred. Emmrich is an incredibly powerful necromancer, it would have been very easy for him to treat the spirit of curiosity as nothing more than an object to do his bidding. Instead, he treated the spirit as if he was human, teaching and nurturing him as a father would his own child.

It was safe to be around him, and it didn’t take long for her to fall head over heels for him.

Their relationship new and blossoming and she was already building the foundation on a lie. How would he react if he found out that she hadn’t told him the truth? But, what would he think when she told him what happened? It made her nauseous thinking about it.

She needs to confess.

No matter how painful it might be, no matter if he walks away from her. He deserves to learn of her failings – her sins.

Outside the door to his room her hand outstretched to knock, hovering in the air. She pauses, there is no going back after this and with a deep breath she knocks. A muffled permission to enter comes from within and she follows the voice inside. Emmrich is sat at his desk, the flicker of candlelight casts a hue against his features, he looks handsome in such lighting. He glances up and his face fills with warmth when he looks at her, but it quickly shifts to a look of concern. Emmrich stands and makes his way towards her, resting his palm against her forehead.

‘’My dear you look unwell, it wasn’t the food was it?’’

Savouring the warmth of his hands for a brief moment, looking up at him; the deep look of worry in his eyes almost brings her to tears. She converts this moment to a memory she will hold dear. Sensing her distress Emmrich cradles her face in his hands; hers come up to wrap gently around his wrists.

‘’My darling girl, what ever is the matter?’’

He guides them over to the couch and Rook sits with her legs crossed, her hands once again held tightly together. “I need to tell you something,” She looks down at her clenched hands knuckles turning white, “But I’m afraid you’ll not look at me in the same light.”

The air in the room changes as Emmrich senses the seriousness of the conversation. His hand slides over hers gently prying them apart, he keeps it there; lets her trace her fingers over the rings. He waits patiently, watching her facial expressions, the pinch of her brow, how her eyes dart back and forth, her mouth opening before closing again.

“When I said I’d never been with anyone, I wasn’t entirely telling the truth.”

Emmrich lets out a breath, almost wanting to chuckle at how his little darling had worked herself up over something so trivial. The relief he feels is short lived as the next words out of her mouth steals the air from his lungs.

“Years ago, I was doing recon on a target.” She begins, “I was in an alley keeping an eye out, when I was grabbed from behind.”

Like the flooded canals of Treviso, the words pour from her mouth an overflow of a long-kept secret. She spares no details. The fact that she hadn’t fought back and allowed him to do what he did. How she bled for days after, spent weeks worrying about being possibly pregnant and the relief when she wasn’t. Viago’s fury and sheer disappointment, how he had reduced her to a common whore. The deep shame and embarrassment. How she had sought death around every corner. Words coming out chocked as she tries to breath, she doesn’t realise she’s crying until she is pulled into Emmrich’s arms, he gently shushes her.

The lock on her emotions ruptures and she wails; loud and anguished.

It was gut wrenching to see her like this, all he could do was embrace her and let the torrent of tears soak his shirt. Her hands clutching at him as she near suffocates with each breath. He holds her tighter as his body shakes from the force of her sobs, his hand holding the back of her head, he tries to ground her, and he can’t help that a few of his own tears escape.

She lets the tears fall, each one washing away a little bit of the pain she’d been holding onto all these years. Grieving for the person she used to be, before that monster had stolen her away.

‘’It’s my fault,’’ It comes out as a harsh croak, ‘’If I had – ‘’

‘’No,’’ Emmrich interrupts he coaxes her to look at him once again his hands cradle her face, pushing the hair out of her face. ‘’It is not your fault.’’

Rook tries to shake out of his hold, but he doesn’t let her.

‘’The blame is not yours to carry my love, that sorry excuse of a man had no right to put his hands on you.’’

As her sobs subsided, she was left with a lingering headache and a rawness in her throat. But amidst the physical discomfort, she felt a strange sense of relief, felt a lightness she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Emmrich takes care when putting Rook back together, her emotions like an open nerve; he doesn’t stray too far from her side; leaving for a moment to make tea; making it to her liking and adding a spoonful of honey to ease the soreness of her throat, he brings a bowl of warm water and a flannel. Softly he cleans her face, wiping away the snot and tears. She curls up in his lap once again and they sit in a comfortable silence, the only sound to be heard comes from her sipping the tea.

He can’t help the bubble of anger that simmers within; he’s never been a man of violence, but he prays to never come across the man that cause her suffering.

‘’I’ve never told anyone before,’’ She delicately speaks not wanted to disrupt the soothing calm around them, ‘’I never wanted to let people see me so broken.’’

Emmrich places a kiss on the crown of her head his lips lingering there, ‘’You are not broken dearest, bruised, yes. But, not broken.’’

She looks up at him, eyes reddened and puffy from tears; still even like this she is the most beautiful woman he’s laid his eyes on. He can’t fathom how he managed to get her attention, but he doesn’t question it in the slightest.

‘’Indomitable is how I see you, unpredictable in the best of ways and most importantly of all; a survivor.’’

Survivor.

She’d never seen herself like that, frankly she hadn’t seen herself in years; now it’s time to let go of all the guilt she’d carried. To break down the walls and soothe the frightened girl that still lives within, to let go of the crushing guilt, show her the kindness that the world can offer, to feel the love of another.

‘’I feel safe with you.’’

A warmth blooms in Emmrich’s heart; this was more than a confession of love, she had come to him unknowing how this would go, gone against her judgement to remain silent. Shown him the parts of her that she had longed to keep hidden, she had put her trust in him, opened herself up to the potential of more judgement and disappoint. He knows that the events of that night will never fully leave, their will be times that she remembers, and the fear will come back, and she’ll fall.

She’ll never be alone as he will catch her every time.

‘’You’ll be safe with me always, my love.’’

#dragon age veilguard #dragon age rook #emmrich x rook #emmrich volkarin #female rook #antivan crow rook #angst #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #fanfic

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bargu · 2 months ago

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"Ours."

Dragon Age: Veilguard and Lucanis Dellamorte are living rent free in my brain. I somehow also love the idea of possessive Spite.

I've heard that people doesn't like when there is so much purple in the Veilguard so I made this extra purple just for you xD No spite (heh), I love y'all!

Art made by Barguest, do not copy or repost thank you!

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raoneven · 13 days ago

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~ how does his touch feel like? ~

Full

#lucanis dellamorte #rookanis #datv #dragon age 4 #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age #rook and lucanis #lucanis x rook #antivan crow rook

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bisexualmultifandommess · 1 month ago

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It’s funny to me to imagine that the team were so stressed trying to locate Rook in the fade that they forgot to tell Viago about the whole situation and Rook is sat a couple of hours after he gets back and just goes “man I can’t imagine how Viago must be feeling”

Cue the whole team freezing and turning to Rook in simultaneous horror while Rook stares back like “what??.”

He’s then completely baffled that they forgot to tell his dad that he’d gone missing.

#cue them all hearing boss music as viago who just heard is storming through an eluvian just to confront them #on why they never told him they lost and then found his son #lucanis has never been more scared in his life because his lover’s dad wants to kill him #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #da:tv #rook #antivan crow rook #rook de riva #viago de riva

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selunesdreams · 1 month ago

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Chapter 17: No One From House Dellamorte Kneels

“The Crows abandoned me.” She said, shoving him off. “I just had the sense to go where I was welcome.” Viago shot to his feet, gesturing around the room. “Is this where you’re welcome, Fiammetta? Jeopardizing your life in a conflict you should have no part in? Parading yourself around a leader while-” HOW DARE- “Viago!” Lucanis snapped before Spite could break through. “This is not the time or place.” “He’s right.” Teia said, pulling Viago by the arm towards the courtyard. “Clearly the de Rivas have some things to work out, but right now, saving Caterina and stopping Illario is priority.” Viago worked his jaw as his eyes flitted between Lucanis and Rook. HE DOES NOT LIKE YOU NEAR ROOK. DOES NOT LIKE US. “The meeting begins at dusk. In the Opera House. We’ll hold Illario’s plans off as long as we can until you arrive.” He tore his gaze away from Rook and stormed out of the kitchen, Teia casting an apologetic glance over her shoulder as she hurried after him. As the doors swung shut behind them, Lucanis grasped Rook’s wrist and drew her towards him. “He’s worried about you. Don’t take his words to heart.” “Too little, too late.” She said, wrenching her arm away. “Just get me out of here so I can kill someone who deserves it.” YES. GIVE ROOK - GIVE US - SOMETHING TO KILL. Lucanis pursed his lips, exhaling through his nose as he glanced in the direction of the courtyard. “I’ll talk to Davrin. The others have too much going on right now. You should take some time for yourself. I’ll come get you when we’re ready.” Out of respect, Lucanis pretended not to notice the tears pooling in Rook’s waterline. He walked to the courtyard, giving her a moment of privacy, despite how badly he wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her. He was going to throttle her cousin later.

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

Summary: Viago tours the Lighthouse, Davrin learns about Crow customs, neither Dellamorte ends the evening how they imagined, and Lucanis practices his brooding.

Word count: 5k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! This chapter contains content from Lucanis' veilguard quest, A Murder of Crows. Warnings for: violence, blood, Viago yelling. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

Read on AO3

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“So my cousin makes you sleep in a closet?”

“I chose the pantry.”

Viago sat at the kitchen table in the Lighthouse, watching Lucanis pour himself his fourth cup of coffee that morning. He and Teia had wandered through the eluvian with news of Illario, and after last night, Lucanis had suggested Teia be the one to wake Rook up.

“Hm.” Viago drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “I suppose it has good choke points.”

As he leaned against the mantle, Lucanis glimpsed his reflection in a pot hanging by the stove. Deep circles were carved under his eyes, evidence of his paranoia of Spite sleepwalking them into Rook’s chambers again last night.

A few more beats of uncomfortable silence passed before Viago spoke again.

“You know, Teia and I broke up over that shit Rook pulled last week.”

“Just over Rook?” Lucanis raised his eyebrows skeptically, his voice echoing inside his mug.

“I need to work on my tone, apparently.”

Lucanis swallowed and nodded, suppressing a grin. “How long this time?”

“Ten minutes.”

“A record,” Rook sneered, following Teia into the kitchen. She perched atop the table, her legs dangling over the side. “You have news for me?”

“Illario is making his move.” Viago said, sliding an envelope across the table to her. “An invitation. To celebrate our new First Talon and discuss the situation in Treviso. It came across my desk this morning. He’s hosting nearly every Crow House at Caterina’s villa.”

“Cousin, you look so melancholy. I thought you loved parties.” Rook ignored Viago’s scowl as she drank from his untouched cup of coffee and turned to Lucanis. “Are we crashing?”

“This is our best shot at getting Caterina out. Then, we stop Illario.”

“All the Crows in one place.” Rook said. “I’m sure an abomination and the embarrassment of the de Riva household will be more than welcome.”

“Your poor decisions would have been easily forgiven had you not deserted Treviso entirely.” Viago interjected.

Rook froze, slowly turning to face him.

“Excuse me?” Her voice pitched higher as she slapped the invite down onto the table in front of him. “I’m fulfilling a contract fighting elven gods . I chased a dragon out of our city. Give me a fucking break.”

Viago stared, unflinching. “You abandoned your family to take a contract I didn’t approve.”

“Vi…” Teia warned.

“I abandoned no one!” Rook snarled.

Lucanis shifted, feeling Spite bristle in reaction to her anger.

“Where were the Crows when my father lost his mind? When he drowned me every day as some part of his sick training regiment? When he beat you senseless for trying to protect me? When I was starving, because he poisoned what little meals we coud afford to build my immunity, until I was petrified at the thought of eating breakfast? ”

Viago remained silent, his fury simmering beneath the surface. Teia bit her lip and Lucanis set his coffee on top of the mantle, both moving closer in case they needed to arbitrate.

“And then, when I made a well-intentioned mistake, my own cousin makes a mockery of me by having me serve as the First Talon’s glorified maid, all because he decided I needed to be made an example of!”

As Rook held Viago’s glare, Lucanis reached for her shoulder, pulling her several steps back.

“The Crows abandoned me.” She said, shoving him off. “I just had the sense to go where I was welcome.”

Viago shot to his feet, gesturing around the room. “Is this where you’re welcome, Fiammetta? Jeopardizing your life in a conflict you should have no part in? Parading yourself around a leader while-”

HOW DARE-

“Viago!” Lucanis snapped before Spite could break through. “This is not the time or place.”

“He’s right.” Teia said, pulling Viago by the arm towards the courtyard. “Clearly the de Rivas have some things to work out, but right now, saving Caterina and stopping Illario is priority.”

Viago worked his jaw as his eyes flitted between Lucanis and Rook.

HE DOES NOT LIKE YOU NEAR ROOK. DOES NOT LIKE US.

“The meeting begins at dusk. In the Opera House. We’ll hold Illario’s plans off as long as we can until you arrive.”

Viago tore his gaze away and stormed out of the kitchen, Teia casting an apologetic glance over her shoulder as she hurried after him. As the doors swung shut behind them, Lucanis grasped Rook’s wrist and drew her towards him.

“He’s worried about you. Don’t take his words to heart.”

“Too little, too late.” She said, wrenching her arm away. “Just get me out of here so I can kill someone who deserves it.”

YES. GIVE ROOK - GIVE US - SOMETHING TO KILL.

Lucanis pursed his lips, exhaling through his nose as he glanced in the direction of the courtyard.

“I’ll talk to Davrin. The others have too much going on right now. You should take some time for yourself. I’ll come get you when we’re ready.”

Out of respect, Lucanis pretended not to notice the tears pooling in Rook’s waterline. He walked to the courtyard, giving her a moment of privacy, despite how badly he wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her himself.

He was going to throttle her cousin later.

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“So, where are we headed?” Davrin asked as Rook pulled her blade from the heart of a Venatori mage.

“The Opera House. It’s…” Lucanis stopped in his tracks and scanned the rooftops on the horizon. “You know it’s across the grounds. In the guesthouse.”

“Opera House?” Davrin echoed.

“Caterina hosts galas there, Crow business. Those kinds of things.” Lucanis leapt down onto a balcony, motioning for them to follow.

“No Opera?”

“Rarely.” Rook interjected. “It’s a bit of an inside joke.”

“How?”

“It’s ah….where we make people sing. If you catch my drift.”

“Uh…” Davrin offered her a hand as she hopped across a gap between roofs.

“They interrogate people. Torture them.” Rook ignored his hand, landing safely on the rooftop beside him. Chivalry wasn’t dead amongst Crows, but underestimating a lady certainly was. Out of her periphery, she caught Lucanis observing with amusement as the warden awkwardly wiped his palm on his armor and muttered something to himself.

“There.” Lucanis pointed out a tower with a stained glass window. “That will get us where we need to be.”

“Estate’s pretty big already. Does it really need a second house?” Davrin asked.

“It’s for guests.” Lucanis replied, as if the answer should be obvious. “You don’t think we’d just let them stay in our rooms? Risk them cutting our throats?”

“I had my own room in the main house.” Rook bragged, catching up to Lucanis on the next rooftop as they neared the villa.

Lucanis smirked. “You were…special.”

Rook’s mood had lightened after a few hours of uninterrupted rest, but she was certain the second she was in the same room as her cousin and Illario, her fury would return. For the time being, she chose not to be bothered by Viago’s earlier comments.

With a polite touch to the small of Rook’s back, Lucanis ushered her ahead onto a fallen beam between platforms.

“After you.”

She nodded graciously, holding her arms out and stepping carefully across.

“I get it. He can be a gentleman because he knows all your bird customs.” Davrin grumbled, balancing precariously on the walkway behind them. “Remind me why we couldn’t just go through the front door?”

“Rook already tried that. It didn’t end well for her.” Lucanis said, earning himself a jab to the ribs as she passed him. “Besides, there’s no way my cousin would let me in-”

“-HE FEARS US. GOOD. HE SHOULD.”

Rook slipped inside a broken window, descending over stacked crates and barrels to the landing below. As they arrived at a gate, Lucanis pried some freshly placed boards off the secret passage to the villa.

“I had to come back and conceal the escape route again after you tried to die here.” He said as Rook shot him a questioning look. “I thought I was the only one who knew about it. I found it playing as a boy.”

“I found it when I left the villa. Illario doesn’t know it’s here.” She said, effortlessly slipping through the narrow passage. Lucanis followed her, Davrin grunting as he squeezed himself inside.

They crept through the cavernous tunnels until they reached the underbelly of the house in silence. Rook pressed an ear to a pair of wooden doors, listening carefully to a conversation on the other side.

“They mentioned an old woman.” She relayed, closing her eyes to better make out their voices.

Lucanis scowled. “Caterina.”

“Must be a difficult prisoner,” Davrin mused.

“She’s difficult in any scenario.” Rook mumbled, earning herself a glare from Lucanis. He cracked open the door before motioning them on. In a blur of violet, he advanced ahead, running his blade through two Venatori standing guard in the hall.

“Ugh. Illario let them in here?” He wrinkled his nose, wiping his sword on their clothes as they choked on their own blood, “I’m going to have to have the entire place cleaned.”

His footsteps were silent against the intricate marble flooring as Lucanis led them through the villa. White sheets covered the furniture and sculptures, just as they had over a year ago, albeit dustier.

“This is your home?” Davrin asked, looking around from floor to ceiling. “No wonder your cousin wanted to inherit.”

“I lived here until I was 18. Caterina made us get our own homes after that. But she still kept rooms for us. Ilario abused that privilege. Insufferably.”

Spite inhaled deeply. “Home? Smells like dust and linseed oil.”

“Don’t say that when Catrina is in earshot.” Lucanis chastised him.

“So, Rook, what was so bad about that cushy assistant job?” Davrin asked.

“Illario.”

“TRAITOR.”

Lucanis motioned them towards the den. “Caterina’s room is up here.”

Slowly and soundlessly, the three ascended the stairs. At the top, Rook pressed her back to the wall, peeking around the edge. Two Venatori were stationed outside Caterina’s door, bored and yawning. With an outstretched hand, she delivered a swift electrocution to one, stunning the guard beside them in time for Lucanis to cut their throat, discarding the body into the corner. Davrin nodded, his mouth forming a line as he watched them work.

“The door is barred from the inside.” Rook said, tugging on the handles.

“I’ll go first.” Lucanis said, pulling her aside. “If my grandmother is in there, better she strikes me with that cane than you. I’m at least used to it.”

He leaned back and delivered a swift kick to the doors. They swung open, revealing Caterina’s room precisely as Rook remembered it, save for the mess of broken furniture that had been served as a barricade. As Lucanis stepped inside, his hopeful expression dimmed, finding it empty, but out of the corner of her eye, Rook caught a flash of amethyst just above his head. Before she could open her mouth to warn him, he caught the First Talon’s cane before it made contact with the crown of his head. Lowering her weapon, his face fell, as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Caterina?” He breathed.

“Lucanis! My poor boy.” She lamented, kissing both of his cheeks affectionately. In shock, he returned the gesture vacantly, going through the motions before shoving a hand in his pocket.

“I believe you dropped this,” He said, handing Caterina the opal ring she had slipped under the door to signal Rook of her presence. The two exchanged a somber look before she slid it onto her middle finger, kissing Lucanis’ cheek again before her eyes fell upon Rook.

“Fiammetta. You kept your word and returned my grandson to me.”

“You can thank me later. Right now, we should get you to safety before we stop Illario.”

“Do not speak about me as if I cannot fend for myself! Have I not survived these Venatori on my own?” Caterina snapped. “There’s no time for heroic nonsense. I will come with you.”

“Illario is reckless, Caterina. Don’t make Lucanis lose you all over again.” Rook pleaded.

The old woman squinted, assessing both Lucanis and Rook before giving a resigned grunt.

“Go.” she grumbled, appraising Davrin as she pushed past him out the door. “I’ll meet you in the Opera House.”

Lucanis flashed Rook a faint smile.

“Welcome back to House Dellamorte, De Riva.”

She took his hand in hers, running a thumb across his knuckles. “It’s good to be back.”

He clasped his free hand over hers affectionately, searching her face intently.

“When this is over I-”

From the hall, Assan rushed in, inspecting every corner of the room. Lucanis’ smile faltered as Davrin entered behind the griffin, clearing his throat.

“I thought we were in a hurry.”

“We are,” Rook said, dropping Lucanis’ hand. “Come on, we can scale the window to the gardens.”

Rook bristled as they stepped inside the Opera House. It was ominous, as it had been the night she’d been misled to kill an innocent man. Since then, she had been to Crow gatherings in the space, but never under such grim circumstances or with the knowledge she now possessed about Illario’s motives.

Chatter and whispers traveled through the stairwells from above. Nearly every Crow in Treviso must be present tonight. If things didn’t go their way, it was certain death for her and Lucanis.

“Caterina’s death was a tragedy.” Illario’s voice echoed through the building as Rook and Lucanis dispatched two Venatori in the Opera’s anteroom. “But to get Lucanis back from the dead, only to lose him to a demon? For me? That is a deep personal loss.”

At her side, peering through a crack in the door, a low rumble escaped from Lucanis’ throat as he gritted his teeth.

“Keep your head…” Davrin urged.

“And so I take the mantle of First Talon with a heavy heart.” Illario continued, “But the Crows will rise from the ashes-”

Lucanis rose to his feet. “I’ve had enough of this.”

“Do you even have a plan?” Rook hissed.

“Knives are involved.” He replied as she followed him.

“-with our new Venatori allies, we could claim Antiva-”

“Over my dead body!”

Illario turned, his eyes narrowing the sight of his cousin kicking open the main doors. Behind him, Viago and Teia exchanged a glance as two other Talons unsheathed their blades.

Cutting his fingertips on the Crow brooch upon his breast pocket, Illario drew a red haze of power between his palms, making Rook’s stomach roil with dread.

“That could be arranged.”

Several Venatori stepped from the shadows, and the remaining Talons drew their swords. Rook quickly worked to assess who would side with them as she cut through a Venatori on her right. Teia and Viago were a given, and Bolivar, Sixth Talon, usually sided with the Dellamortes, but tonight, it was impossible to tell: Which Dellamorte did he consider the true heir? Could any of the Crows in this room trust a Dellamorte after this?

“Yield!” Illario commanded, summoning his reserves of blood magic.

“You can’t…overpower…us both!” Lucanis gritted out, Spite’s wings unfurling behind him. The crowd gasped collectively, and Illario’s smug expression wavered.

“Now you fall.” Spite and Lucanis snarled in unison.

“You should have stayed dead, cousin! All of this is on your head!” Illario roared as he unsheathed his blades, one clashing with Lucanis in an instant.

“You started this, cousin.” Lucanis said with a cloying sweetness. “I’m ending it.”

A Venatori blade nearly hooked Lucanis from behind, and he turned to engage them. Rook pointed Davrin towards the rest of the incoming Venatori as she stepped between the Dellamorte cousins, not allowing Illario to get the upper hand. His face slackened as she swiped at his middle with the sword he’d gifted her so many years ago.

“Keeping your grandmother locked in her room?” Rook demanded, dodging his half-hearted attempt at cutting her. “What is wrong with you?”

“It was for her own good.” He seized her by the wrist as her free hand attempted to drive a dagger into his ribs. “I would have never harmed her.”

“Damn it, Fiammetta!” Viago barked from across the room. “Do not let him get the upper hand!”

Rook ignored her cousin, freeing herself from Illario’s grasp with a flick of her wrist, just as her father had taught her.

“Was poisoning me for my own good? Did you know I would have died without Viago’s intervention?”

“I never wanted to hurt you-”

“Or how about your alliance with Elgar’nan?” As she threw her blade at his face, Illario dodged, turning to watch it lodge itself in the wallpaper and rip a line through the ivory embellishments. “You know he wants me dead, right?”

“Fi-”

She silenced him with a slap to the face. Illario’s hand came to his cheek, pressed against the red flushed skin there as he returned his gaze to her slowly, a lethal look in his eyes.

“You were one of my oldest friends.” She snarled, “I trusted you above so many others. And you lied to me. Betrayed me. And Lucanis! Your own blood . Your ambitions really know no bounds.”

Illario threw her against the wall, knocking the wind from her.

“What I did, I did for the Crows!”

He pinned one hand above her head, the dagger in his other hand hovering over her neck.

“You did it for yourself!” Rook shrieked.

Just above Illario’s shoulder, she watched as Lucanis dispatched three Venatori, desperately trying to reach her. Illario followed her gaze and, with a cry of frustration, thrust Rook ahead of him, blade pressed to her throat.

“Stop!” He shouted, wrapping an arm across her torso and walking her to the center of the room, as if she were a human shield.

Lucanis threw aside the final mage he’d been fighting just as Viago leapt from the Opera stage. The two met them under the grand chandelier, weapons drawn, while Davrin checked over his shoulder as he and Assan continued pushing back the remaining Venatori.

“You don’t want to make an enemy of me, Illario.” Viago advised, circling them. “Let my cousin go. Don’t do something you can’t take back.”

“You decide what happens next!” Illario warned, his blade digging further into Rook’s skin.

“You think you’re in too deep, Illario,” Rook murmured as she felt a single bead of blood run down her neck. “But you can still fix this.”

“Stop talking, Fiammetta.” He hissed, but his hold relaxed, giving her room to breathe.

“What’s your endgame here?” Rook asked him, “Because Lucanis doesn’t want to kill you, but Spite will. This little standoff only lasts as long as I’m alive. Harm me, and it’s all over for you.”

“Maybe that’s your problem, Fi. You’re on a first name basis with my cousin’s demon.”

“I tried playing nice.” Rook said, slipping one hand through the crook of his elbow and wrapping her fingers around his knife. An electric current danced up to the hilt, causing Illario to flinch, and his grip on her to falter. Blood stained her palm as he recoiled, inadvertently slicing open the skin where she held his blade. Illario shoved her forward to break the static that surrounded them, and Rook tumbled to the floor, leaving a trail of crimson handprints as she scrambled backwards. Viago bent and pulled her up, fingertips digging into her shoulders as he restrained her, keeping her from intervening.

Lucanis approached his cousin, pointing the tip of his sword at his heart.

“I’ll kill you for that.” He growled.

Illario scowled, clutching his chest as he fought to steady his pulse, falling to his knees.

“So I’ve heard.” He said through clenched teeth, “What are you waiting for, cousin? Finish what you start.”

Spite’s wings disappeared behind Lucanis as he sheathed his weapon with a look of contempt. He gestured to the Crows leaning over the balcony with bated breath, the Talons standing with disappointed expressions behind him.

“I already did. What am I ever going to do that is worse than this? On your knees? In front of every house?”

Illario stared at the crowd, jeering and booing from above. Hope and malice faded from his features, replaced by the sting of humiliation.

“Get up, Illario.” Caterina commanded, her cane falling on the floor with a resounding knock between each step as she entered the room.

“Caterina!” Teia cried, “Thank the Maker!”

Viago released his hold on Rook, yanking Illario to his feet as the First Talon stood over her grandson, disgusted. Both hands poised atop her cane, the bejeweled eyes of the carved Crow head beneath her fingertips stared directly at Lucanis.

“No one from House Dellamorte kneels.”

Rook felt a pang of empathy for her old friend. He looked like a boy again, scolded for playing in the gardens too roughly. Proven inferior to his cousin, once again.

“He’s your family.” Rook moved to Lucanis’ side, resting a hand on his arm. “You said he was all you had, besides Caterina…”

“That was before you.”

Lucanis drug a hand over his face and sighed.

“But you’re right. He’s family.”

Illario scoffed.

“You think you can show me mercy? That’s not up to you, is it? Caterina is still First Talon.”

“Enough, Illario! Lucanis is the new First Talon.” Caterina announced over a roar of cheering from above. “His decision stands.”

Both Dellamorte cousins’ faces fell in unison. Whether or not Caterina intended for it to be, Illario’s loss was a punishment for each of them. What one desired most in the world, the other desperately had tried to run from.

Lucanis schooled his expression into something focused, commandeering, void of the remorse and aching etched there moments ago.

“Viago. Keep him out of trouble.” He directed.

“I’m no miracle worker,” The Fifth Talon said, tugging Illario aside, “but I’ll see what I can do.”

Illario leaned towards his cousin as he was escorted from the premises.

“Lucanis…” he taunted, holding out each syllable.

“Don’t.” Lucanis voice was hard and clipped. “Not now.”

Caterina walked slowly to a nearby table, picking up a goblet of wine and passing it to her grandson. Reluctantly, he stared at it in his hand, panic flickering across his face as he lifted his head to meet Rook’s stare. Before she could react, a glass of wine was shoved into her own hands, and Teia began making a toast. Rook’s ears rang as she watched Lucanis swirl his drink, lost in his thoughts.

“To Lucanis!” Davrin called out with a proud smile. Well-intentioned as their friend was, something about the way everyone raised their glasses, the way Lucanis brought his wine to his lips like a death sentence, made her want to choke. She mimicked a drink, and discarded her goblet, watching from the perimeter of the room as Lucanis was congratulated by each Talon, save Viago, who was likely giving Illario a beating somewhere between here and the casino.

Davrin joined her on the wall, wine in hand and Assan at his heels.

“I thought you’d be happier for him.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “Does this make you Queen of the Crows or something?”

“This isn’t what he wants.” Rook whispered, voice catching in her throat as she watched Lucanis smile and nod in a sea of congratulations.

All those years of Crow training, just to feign happiness.

“In that case, try not to be offended if I don’t stick around to celebrate. Those Venatori landed a few good blows on me and I’m ready for a hot salt bath.”

Rook nodded and gave an appreciative, thin-lipped smile as her friend disappeared. In silence, she observed the party from afar until she was interrupted by a scraping sound against the marble floor beside her.

“Dellamortes, get all the praise.” Caterina muttered, tapping Rook’s shin with her cane. “Come. Walk with me.”

Suggestions were never optional with Caterina, and knowing better than to decline, Rook uneasily followed her out the patio doors to the gardens.

They strolled past the rose bushes and sat on a stone bench under a willow that was not native to this area of Treviso, but that Caterina had insisted to have imported decades ago. Rook had to admit it was thriving here.

“Do you recognize this opal?” Caterina asked, slipping off her ring. Rook took it gingerly between her thumb and forefinger, letting its iridescence catch in the moonlight.

“It’s the same gem Lucanis stole and gifted to me when we were children.” She smiled softly, her breath rising in the fog as she spoke. “I still remember the look on my father’s face when you came to our door.”

Rook passed the ring back to Caterina, and she held up her hand to decline, shaking her head.

“Keep it. I’ve outgrown it.” She said firmly. “Consider it a token of my appreciation for saving my grandson, and myself.”

“Caterina! I can’t possibly accept this.”

“You would insult your First Talon by declining a gesture of her gratitude?”

“To be fair, you just gave that title to Lucanis.” Rook knew she was in dangerous territory, but felt bold enough to test the waters. Riling Caterina was a risk, but one with an amusing payoff.

“Precisely. I gave him a title. He knows I won’t retire until long after he buries me.”

Rook carefully slipped the opal over the ring finger on her right hand. So strange how it found its way back to her, given the circumstances.

“Maybe I was too soft on Illario. I stoked the fires of his resentment by favoring Lucanis to take my place. But I knew Illario would never be cut out for Talon. He was prone to fits when he didn’t get his way and spent too much time fretting about what was fair or unfair. In the Crows, there is no such thing as fair.”

Caterina lifted her head towards the stars and frowned, as if they shared her disapproval.

“From a young age, Lucanis always saw the world for what it was. He would cry for dead birds in the garden, and then wipe his tears and bury them under this willow tree, because he knew it needed to be done. He has an impeccable talent for leaving no job unfinished, even when no one is watching. His internal compass is strong, where Illario’s is easily led astray.”

Rook remained silent. It was rare that Caterina was talkative, and rarer that she showed even a glimmer of regret.

“I was hard on Lucanis, focused my lessons on him because I needed him to have what it took to survive. Being First Talon doesn’t just make you a target, it makes the people you love targets. Lucanis showed exceptional talent and caught the attention of the other Crows even as a boy. Whether or not he wanted my title, I needed to ensure he’d survive long enough to turn it down.”

Uncertain Caterina would let her live to regret it, Rook spoke anyway.

“You hardly gave Lucanis an opportunity to say no, announcing his change in rank before every Crow in Treviso.”

Surprisingly, Caterina’s cane remained firmly planted on the garden cobblestones.

“Sometimes we are burdened with things not because we desire them, but because we are the best person for the job. Lucanis will make a good First Talon precisely because he does not want it.”

“You knew?”

“I knew. Illario was talented in charming people, but being skilled in manipulating others put him at risk of being manipulated himself. My grandson could change his colors to suit whatever person or situation he needed them to, because his own identity was so unstable. Lucanis is who he is. He’s a lethal assassin, and an excellent Crow, but he cannot resist doing what he believes is right.”

Rook blinked, certain she’d been poisoned when Illario’s blade nicked her throat, and that she was hallucinating this entire exchange.

“I will not insult you by telling you your parents would be proud of you, Fiammetta. I think you already know that. And we both know it’s not their approval you desire.” Caterina continued, “You are like Lucanis in many ways. You did what you felt was right, and when you made a bad call, you accepted your punishment with your head held high. You never complained. You paid your debts, and you moved on. You accepted the role of leader against gods, because it needed to be done. Your cousin believed you were neglecting your responsibilities, abandoning your family, but wherever your battles lead you, you will always embody the spirit of a Crow.”

She rose to her feet and nodded towards the manor.

“Come. My grandson is spying. I think he’s worried I’ve brought you out here to kill you.”

Rook glanced towards the Opera House, where Lucanis was brooding against a foggy window pane, hands buried into his pockets.

“The guest room is as you left it. Several of the gowns in the closet belonged to my daughter-in-law. She was about your size. We might be assassins, but there’s no reason to be covered in blood at a party.” She said with a wink. “Rest assured, she fitted all her clothing to be suitable for an ambush. You’ll be at no disadvantage.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Rook assessed the opera house floor as she descended the staircase, dressed in a sleeveless black gown that took her nearly half an hour to lace herself into. Caterina wasn’t joking - the dress fit her like a second skin, and she could kill someone in this ensemble just as easily as she could in her leathers. The trouble would lie in getting it off. Wearing heels, against her better judgement, Rook decided to allow herself the enjoyment of one last Dellamorte soiree.

A dense crowd surrounded Caterina, Teia close to her side. Even though former First Talon had opted for the party to continue despite the disgrace her grandson had made of himself, everyone present was on edge. Repairing the distrust between Houses would take time, but at least the First, Fifth and Seventh Talons still had faith in one another. And, at the end of the day, Crows never really trusted one another.

“There you are.”

At the sound of a familiar voice, Rook’s footstep faltered on the final stair, and she caught herself on the guardrail as a hand slipped around her waist.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

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