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weaveandwood · 1 month ago

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The Snake and The Crow: Regrets

Pairing: The Viper x Female Rook (Bianca, an Antivan Crow mage) Words: 3.4K Rating: Mature

Summary:

Bianca faces all of her regrets, both in the Fade Prison and outside of it. Ashur deals with a fading mind. AN: Surprise! I got the chapter done early and was able to get it posted before the scheduled Wednesday update date! I've had a lot of this chapter sitting waiting to be used for a bit now, and I'm so happy to get it out for you to read.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! Read on AO3! Previous Chapter

Bianca blinked open her eyes. How long had she been out? Her head hurt, her vision was swimming, and every muscle in her body was screaming. The last thing she remembered was Ghilan’nain dying and everything going to shit.

What happened? Everything felt wrong, like the air was thick and the color had been leached from the world. It reminded her of something. Almost like…

She sat up quickly, her head spinning, and saw a yawning chasm, not unlike the one she was used to when talking to Solas. There was someone on the other side, a woman. Bianca tilted her head, squinting to get a better look.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

It was her.

“Your work is done,” he had said, looking down on her with a mixture of pity and disdain.

She curled in on herself, panic beginning to course through her veins. She was trapped. Solas had betrayed her, used her to escape this prison made for gods and left her to rot. Her breathing quickened along with her pulse. She looked around this greyed out wasteland, desperate for anything that could get her out of here. Something.

She thought she heard the faintest whisper on whatever would pass for a breeze here—there one second and gone the next, but it sounded so much like him. Like Ashur. But it couldn’t be him, not really, not when he was still alive, or as alive as the blight would allow him to be. It had to be either a trick of the Fade or her mind. Still, she stood up, following where she thought the voice went. He was impossible to ignore.

“There has to be a way out of here, I just have to find it. Then I can…What? Make things right?” she laughed to herself, bitterness replacing any humor. Her voice sounded loud and out of place here. Neve, Davrin, Assan, Lucanis…all dead. All because of her. Again. This is my fault, this is my fault, this is my fault . Her old ghosts came back to haunt her, like they had for weeks after the blighted dragon razed Minrathous.

“Hey, kid. Solas found a way out, now you need to find yours.”

She turned in a circle, looking for the source. Another voice on the breeze. First Ashur, now Varric? Her mind had to be playing tricks on her, craving something familiar, something comforting. Nothing in the Fade made sense.

Stairs, though. Stairs were good. Stairs made sense. She started to climb. Another voice filled her head, the familiar shape of a friend flooding her vision as larger than life statues appeared before her.

“I told you the enchantments were dangerous, but you chose me anyway. Who will protect Dock Town now? It’s like you want to see it wiped off the map. I trusted you, and it got me killed. Just like you killed Ashur.”

Each of Neve’s words were perfectly sharpened to cut her where it hurt the most, each syllable a quick stab, poised to kill. They echoed around her, a whirlwind of pain, dragging her out to the sea and pulling her under. This is my fault .

“Rook is not to blame.” That same faint whisper. Was it in her ear, or her memory? She couldn’t tell either way, only that it was Ashur once again providing a small act of mercy, stopping her from collapsing in on herself just as he did the night the dragon razed Minrathous. The flurry of daggers stabbing at her soul with every beat of her heart fell to the ground and she could breathe once more. This wasn’t her fault. This prison was locked by regrets—she couldn’t afford to dwell on them anymore, not if she wanted to get out and finish what they started.

“I made a choice. I live with the choices I make. The successes…and the failures. We all believed in this. The real Neve knew what it might cost.” She wasn’t sure who she was saying it out loud for. This fake Neve surely didn’t care. Maybe it was just for herself.

More stairs. With shaky hands, she continued. What would she face next? Who would she face next?

“Whatever it takes, that’s what you told us. You lived it every day. You asked a lot of us, of the team. But you asked even more of yourself. After everything you’ve done? It was my turn to make the sacrifice. And I’d do it again. Without a second thought.”

A tear fell down her cheek. Davrin was supposed to be living a new life, finding new purpose with Assan and the other griffons. He was more than his sacrifices, he mattered outside of his death. And now he was gone.

“I’ll make sure your sacrifice matters, Davrin.”

“What about mine?” Varric asked. He was no trick of the Fade, as real as anything here could be. She wished she was imagining things, that this was just a dream. Wake up, wake up, wake up .

Solas had betrayed her yet again. Used her this entire time. Fooled her. He certainly had earned his many titles. She felt her magic deep within her, dulled by this prison but heated and burning with rage all the same. He was lucky this wasn’t a prison locked by wanting to throw him off a cliff, weighted down by the heaviest of stones or she would never break out. She looked at Varric and her fire gave out, extinguished by overwhelming grief she had not yet been allowed to feel. He had been…all this time…

“I think I knew the truth, deep down, but I couldn’t face it because it would mean admitting I let you die.” This was my fault. “I made a call, and it got you killed.”

“Haven’t you learned anything, kid? I made the choice, even knowing the risks. My decision, my sacrifice. You don’t get to take that from me.”

Varric always had a way of making her see things clearly. Everyone made their choices, they knew the risks. She may have been the leader of the team, but it was not on her to shoulder everything. It was not on her to diminish their sacrifices, to take away their autonomy.

Even me , the faint whisper said. It is what it is .

She closed her eyes, allowing it to seep in, filling every empty space within her, grief replaced by acceptance. Of course Ashur would challenge a dragon by himself to save those less fortunate than he was. Of course Davrin would distract Ghilan’nain to allow Lucanis to take the shot. Of course Neve would offer to break the wards. Of course Varric would try to reason with his old friend. They were who they were.

It is what it is.

“Rook!” She heard Lucanis’s voice in the distance, relief flooding her so quickly she thought she might drown in it. An arm grabbed her through the pale light she had been walking toward the entire time without realizing it, the place where the veil was thinnest.

“I’d say good luck, but you don’t need it,” Varric called as she was pulled through, reunited with her friends once more.

She wanted to believe him.

Dear Ashur, if you’re reading this, I didn’t make it back from Tearstone Island .

Dear Ashur. Dear Ashur. Who was Ashur? Was he Ashur? He must be Ashur.

The thoughts in his head were dissonant, making it nearly impossible to focus sometimes, but when he thought of her, he was able to find himself once more. He was Ashur, The Viper, so many other masks, and she was Bianca, Rook. Gone. Betrayed. Pulled into the Fade by the Dread Wolf. The very one who was assisting Minrathous at this very moment with holding back the blight and Elgar’nan. It had taken all his restraint not to use what little magic he had remaining when he saw Solas. Had he been healthy, unblighted…but he wasn’t. He didn’t have the strength to focus his magic on anything but keeping the blight within himself contained, just for a while longer. Just a little while.

His brief hold on his focus was waning, the call of the Blight growing ever louder. It would be so easy to succumb to it. For some reason he couldn’t recall, he didn’t want to succumb to it.

Through blinding mist, I climb a sheer cliff, the summit shrouded in fog, the base endlessly far beneath my feet. The Maker is the rock to which I cling

The Chant always provided him with comfort in times like these, he had said to her the last time he saw her. He did not know then it would be the last time he saw her.

Her? Who was her ?

Bianca. Bianca. Wild curls, ocean blue eyes, spark and flame. The letter. He went quickly to the desk in his room, no longer at the Shadows hideout but in his home that was too grand for one who was just a man. A man, not a title. The letter lay there, well-read with edges crumpled and stained with drops and smears of black blight. He skimmed, looking for his favorite part:

I had already started falling in love with you.

Love. It made his magic spark to life once more, warmth flowing through his veins. Something it had not done these last weeks once he learned she was gone. They were trying to get her back. He could not do anything but pace his room, a fate worse than this blight for a man of action.

It called to him. Sang louder than The Chant at times. He had fought this for months, but it was winning. Tendrils of inky black coated his body, the dripping proof of his injury everywhere he touched. Perhaps it was better she did not see him like this. He read the letter again, his eyes stopping once more at her confession.

I had already started falling in love with you.

He had loved her from almost the beginning, that was one thing he remembered. He never got to tell her and now it was too late. So many secrets, so many lies, so many things he thought he was protecting her from. For nothing. She was gone and he would be soon. A faint thought of “It is what it is” echoed through him, anger rising. The blight sparked, feeding on it. He didn’t want acceptance. He wanted her. He wanted love. He wanted to be selfish for once in his life.

Why wasn’t he selfish? Who was he? A glance at the letter. Dear Ashur. He was Ashur.

A soft knock at his door. The blight within him surged, the song begging. Rip. Attack. Tear. Feast. He swallowed it down. His magic was so tired of swallowing it down.

“Enter,” he called, as much as he could. His voice was weak for the first time in his life, used to echoing through the Chantry or the hideout, leading his faithful. No more. A man opened the door. He had a vague flicker of recognition. Who was he? Tarquin. Tarquin.

“We just got an urgent missive. They have her—she’s back. They’ll be fighting Elgar'nan tomorrow.”

Something he once recognized as relief flooded through him. The end. It would be over tomorrow. He could hold on just one more day, join the fight. He knew he wouldn’t survive it, but he could help. He sat down and grabbed his pen, hands shaking from the effort.

Bianca, I have succumbed - either to illness or violence but either way I no longer remain on this side of the Veil and have gone to the Maker’s side. The truth of the matter is this…

It was time to write his own confession. For her.

It turns out, you don’t have to be trapped in the Fade to be in a prison of your regrets. Regret didn’t have to be a statue of a fallen friend, the memory of one you didn’t realize was lost, or the voice of someone you were on your way to losing. Regret could take the form of a pair of warm brown eyes looking down at you, a trusted friend who could be more. Who you thought you wanted to be more. It could take the form of a pair of violet wings wrapping around you in comfort when they were usually used to aid in violence. It could be the gentle press of lips followed by a more urgent one, whispers of “you’re here,” and “I promise.” It could feel like hands that are not the ones you truly want tracing the shape of your body. It could feel like dancing on the knife’s edge of love, but with the wrong person. It could feel completely right, but completely wrong at the same time.

She wanted this. She didn’t want this.

He wanted this. He didn’t want this.

“Wait,” Bianca said.

“What is it?” His brows knit together, the crease between them present once more.

“This isn’t…we shouldn’t, Lucanis. I’m not what you want. I can’t be what you want,” she said. She couldn’t be a statue in his own prison of regrets. Something he looked upon and thought if only I hadn’t.

“You—I want you, Rook, as you already are. I thought you knew that. I thought you felt the same,” he said, sitting back on his knees between her thighs. Lies. To her, to himself, to everyone.

I do. I don’t. You do. You don’t.

She was silent. She saw him start to retreat back into himself, the pedestal of her sculpture already formed in his mind. How do you tell someone that you want them, but that you want someone more? Someone you can never have, someone who will be on the other side of the Veil sooner than either of you would like, someone you would have gladly stayed in the Fade to meet once more? How do you tell them you know they feel the same about you—the wanting and the not wanting, constantly at war with each other.

“I thought I did. I want to.” She had thought, when he came into her room moments ago, that she could love him fully, that she would be able to forget everything else and have only him. He understood her, he trusted her, he had been there for her through it all. His was the first voice calling her name as she was pulled from Solas’s prison. She had been so close to falling before, what was stopping her now? She had been so good at lying to herself her entire life, why would her heart not let her lie about this?

She had fantasized about it, being with Lucanis. The Demon of Vyrantium, the First Talon, the rogue who almost captured her hardened heart. The man who would kill with pinpoint precision then come back and make her churros because he remembered her favorite drink was hot chocolate. Daydreamed how it would feel to be a part of something, fully, and have a family with the Crows she always felt like she was on the perimeter of, just inches away from belonging. She had wondered how those hands would feel on her body, in her body, and now that they were…they weren’t the right hands.

It’s not fair to him. He deserves more. She deserves more. She sat up, still in her undergarments but feeling completely naked in front of him.

“Lucanis, I–”

“I thought we had something, Rook. Why are you pulling away now? After all this time?” he asked. “Why would you—”

“Lucanis,” she interrupted, smiling softly. “You don’t want this either, it’s just easy . I’ve seen how you look at Neve. How you smile around her. You don’t smile like that around me. And I don’t think I can smile like that around you. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll be able to smile like that around anyone, at least not until…”

His face softened. “At least not until you know…”

Neither of them could bring themselves to say the hard truth. Until he was dead .

She nodded, though her head barely moved. Her hands in her lap suddenly were the most interesting thing in this room—anything to avoid seeing the hurt on his face. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

They sat there in silence, moments dragging out into eternity. Would the Fade reclaim this space with the two of them frozen in this position, the stone of the Lighthouse crumbling around them while they sought to avoid looking at each other? Would the glass separating them from the aquarium crack and deteriorate with age, the fish long gone due to lack of care, the plants that brought her so much comfort with their rhythmic floating on the currents crumbled to the floor below while they avoided saying anything that mattered?

She felt a hand on hers. It may have been moments, minutes, hours, or decades later, she couldn’t be sure. She looked up to see him looking at her, his eyes warm and soft, a knowing smile on his face. A tear she didn’t even know had formed escaped down her cheek. He reached forward to brush it off her face.

“I still can’t believe we found you. I thought we’d never see you again, that I’d never see you again. That you were lost for good.” He laced his fingers with hers, still fighting the war between wanting and not wanting.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, I’m afraid,” she said with a half smile. She brushed her thumb against his, fighting the same war. Her heart tugged and pulled, Lucanis and Ashur on opposite sides. Something growing or something dying, something expected or a beautiful surprise, something easy or one of the hardest things she’s ever experienced.

Why did she always have to choose the difficult path?

“You’re right. About Neve,” he said after a few moments. “You’re always right, Rook. It’s infuriating sometimes.” He cocked his head to the side. “Spite agrees.”

She let out a small laugh, her fingers sliding out of his after his confession. “Well if Spite agrees, who am I to argue that?”

She wanted to cling to him, to tell him it was a joke, that she was only kidding— “Oh, you know Rook, never serious!” She faced the prospect of being alone, truly alone, for the first time the day after tomorrow and she had to admit she was terrified. But that was her sacrifice to make, for Lucanis to be as happy as she was in those hours before the dragon attacked Minrathous and all of her hopes were as blighted as the man she hadn’t yet admitted to herself she loved. That she still loved. That she would love, until it was over. Maybe long past that.

“Will we…be okay?” she asked, tentatively. She didn’t want there to be any issues or unhealed hurts between them, especially when they both went back home to Antiva to resume their lives—him as First Talon, and her as a thorn in Viago’s side.

“More than okay, Rook,” he said softly, brushing a curl from her face and tucking it back into place. He kissed her softly, one more to add to her small collection of kisses from him that night. One tentative and sweet, one desperate and urging, and one for goodbye. She stared at her empty hands, lost in thought while he dressed and left, the door to her room closing with a gentle click.

She lay back on her sofa and turned toward the fish, her constant companions. She watched as they swam to and fro, free to go where they pleased, wherever the current took them. She wondered, as she contemplated how her life would look after tomorrow, if she could be afforded that same option. Throughout her entire life, she realized she had never had a say in where she ended up, always a pawn in someone else’s plan for her. To be able to go where she pleased…it sounded like a luxury she used to only dream about on those cold nights surrounded by other orphans in Treviso, or when she was huddled up under a threadbare blanket distracting herself from her growling stomach back in Vyrantium. She had seen so much of northern Thedas now, she was changed through and through. How could she go back to her old life? Did she even want to?

As her eyes fluttered and finally closed, she found her head at war with her heart. She knew her heart would win.

She always did choose the difficult path.

#viper x rook #ashur x rook #the viper #the viper datv #datv the viper #ashur datv #ashur #my writing #datv #dragon age the veilguard #the snake and the crow #the snake and the crow fic #bianca de riva #viper x bianca #ashur vesperian #Vianca #viperook

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