#ashur vesperian

[muwitch]

blighted

[weaveandwood]

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.

[kossithmercar]

Viper:

Tarquin:

[proffbon]

Is Tarquin in on the whole Black Divine thing? I mean, he knows which family Ashur is from, so that checks out.

[houndvoice]

Rook.

ASHUR.

[welcomefortune]

VIPER IS THE FUCKING BLACK DIVINE?!?!

AND YOU ONLY LEARN THIS IF YOU SAVE TREVISO?!?!

[joy-jpg]

midnight rendezvous

[the-raven-and-the-tower]

[atimefordragons]

ummm, apparently there's dialogue that implies that ashur/the viper and rook mercar ARE EXES???? SOMEONE TELL ME HOW TO UNLOCK THAT PLEASE!!!! I'M ON MY SIXTH PLAYTHROUGH, three of which were shadow dragon rooks, and I DID NOT GET THAT AT ALL!! I ONLY HAD MY HEADCANON WHICH APPARENTLY IS CANON??!?!? HELP!

[avernusreject]

Just gonna drop this off for the viper girlies (gn)

[sacred-sh0elace]

I still haven't played Veilguard yet, but lately I've discovered two very neat little npcs and now I need ALL the information u guys who played the game have about them.

I couldn't even find a wiki page for Tarquin and Ashur's lacking tbh

It all started when I saw some fan art and then started going down a rabbit hole and read almost every single fic I could find please please pleaseee write more guys, ur amazing

Gimme everything u know about these idiots!!

[muwitch]

shadow dragon to shadow dragon communication

[weaveandwood]

The Snake and The Crow: Reckless

Pairing: The Viper x Female Rook (Bianca, an Antivan Crow mage) Words: 2.8K Rating: NSFW!

Summary:

Bianca attempts to take over planning a mission from The Viper. The two argue after he refuses her suggestion of being bait for a slaver. Will she come back that night, and if so, will it just be another argument?

AN: Smut! As always, these can be read as one shots! We are so close to catching up to present day and the end of the story. I'm really looking forward to what comes next.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Read on AO3 Previous Chapter

DOCK TOWN, ONE WEEK BEFORE THE DRAGON ATTACK

The only sound in Ashur’s office that night was the that of him opening and closing his pocket knife, metal on metal. He leaned back in his chair, unhooking his mask and laying it on the desk before running his hand down his face. It had been a long, frustrating day. Thankfully, at this hour of the night the hideout was quiet—perhaps even quieter than normal, the aftermath of arguments that afternoon and the anticipation of more fighting when she returned. 

If she returned. 

He debated waiting in the eluvian room that night for her as was his habit. He loved seeing the soft glow of the mirror, seeing her shadowed form step through, feeling her in his arms the moment she was there. In Minrathous. For him. He should have been there, but he was feeling childish after the day’s events. This mission had been meticulously planned for months, a near guaranteed success to take down a major slaver in Dock Town. Naturally, Bianca would throw the whole plan out the window that overlooked the sea and come up with something chaotically different. It was her style, who she was. Part of the reason he was drawn to her. 

“Use me as bait. I’m an elf, and you know Tevinter slavers simply can’t resist an elf.” “No.”  “No?” she laughed. “Ashur it’s—” “You could get hurt.” “I can take care of—” “No. We stick to the original plan.” 

She was furious at his easy dismissal of her idea. A small part of him wanted to admit it was a good plan. A very small part. If it had been anyone else who offered…he flicked the knife open and closed again. 

The door to his office swung open, slamming against the wall before she closed it, making sure to hit the locking mechanism. Clearly the time away had not cooled her down, though he hadn’t expected it would. Her fire was one of his favorite things about her. He pictured her back in her room, pacing, having fake arguments with him and winning every one. He smiled to himself as he twirled the knife in his hands, wishing he had been there to see it.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come tonight,” he said, his voice calm and cool.

“I almost didn’t, but I’m not done with our conversation from earlier,” she said, leaning against the wall in the entry. “That is, if you’ll let me finish a sentence this time.” 

“Please, continue then.” He smiled up at her from his chair, reclined with his feet resting on his desk, the very picture of someone unbothered by someone else’s anger. He knew he was egging her on, stoking the fire within her. He wondered if that was his plan all along. He could sense her frustration simmering under the surface, anger making it start to boil. He wanted to make her release it.

“It’s a good plan.”

“No, it’s not, and it’s not going to happen.” 

“You have seen how capable I am in a fight, Ashur!” 

“This is not a fight, Bianca! This is you offering yourself up as bait. It’s dangerous, and reckless and you are not thinking this through! I won’t let you—”

“You don’t get to make that decision for me!” 

“In this case, I do! This is our mission, and we’ve been leading up to this for months.” 

“I have been around plenty of slavers. I think I know–” 

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it? Why are you so against this? Everyone else agrees it’s a sound plan. I have faced far worse than this even in the time you’ve known–”

He slammed the tip of his pocket knife into his desk before crossing the small room in three steps to get to her. She was without a doubt the most frustrating, impulsive woman he had ever met. She looked up at him and he swore he could see her lightning flash across her eyes as they darted back and forth between his. 

“Because the thought of anything happening to you on my watch is unbearable!” 

She was all those things, yes, and he had never wanted her more. His lips crashed into hers, desperate and hungry. She let out a surprised gasp, her hands landing on his chest. He thought she might push him away, that their argument wasn’t over, but she grabbed onto his coat and pulled him closer.  Kissing Bianca was like dancing in the middle of a storm, furious and frenzied. He could feel the faint shock of sparks as her lightning coursed through her, joining his own as his tongue pushed past her lips, sliding against hers in a rhythm he knew all too well. 

Her hips pressed into him, and all he could think about was taking off these damned robes and taking her on his desk, his hand on her waist, the other in her hair. He let out a soft groan into her mouth before breaking the kiss, leaving them both breathless and panting. 

“You’re distracting me,” he said. 

“You’re the one who kissed me!”

“Well you’re the one who’s so...” He turned away from her, putting his hands on his head and closing his eyes, his cool demeanor melting away as it always did when she was near, all spark and flame. He needed some space. He needed to breathe. He needed to get a hold of himself. 

“I’m so what?” She asked. He didn’t need to look at her to know her arms were crossed, her brow was crinkled, and she had that look on her face that he had seen her get before fights. 

Infuriating. Vexing. Rash. Impetuous. Breathtaking. Wonderful. Inspiring. Beautiful.

“You’re being…you’re being unreasonable!” he said. There were so many things he could have said in that moment, and he knew instantly he chose one to escalate the situation.

“Well, maybe I should just go then if I’m so unreasonable,” she said, turning from him to the door. 

He grabbed her wrist as she turned, her anger plainly written across her face like a headline on the papers sold in the squares. Maker, he had never seen her look at him like this, and he liked it. His entire life, people had shown him deference due to the nature of his birth and the nature of his many roles—both in society and in the Shadows. 

“Don’t you dare,” he said.

“Let me go, Ashur.” She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling noticeably. 

“I will not.”  

“This is who I am! This is all I am. If I have to throw myself into danger, jump into fights, be bait, so be it! I was recruited for this because I go where the fight is first and make the plan up as I go. That is me, until I see this through. If you can’t —“

His lips were on hers again, needier than before. His fingers tangled in her hair as he kissed her deeply, roughly, hoping to prove to her how much he wanted her—more than anything he had ever wanted. Where she was heated fire, he was cool ice, the two of them joined by electric sparks that threatened to melt them and set them ablaze all at once. Hands grasped at clothes, pushing robes off shoulders, fumbling with buckles and laces and so many buttons . Her skin was warm, her eyes were closed, and her cheeks flushed as his lips moved from her mouth to her ear, nipping at her earlobe and sucking it lightly. Her gasp as his tongue moved to the tip of her pointed ear ignited something in him, any semblance of control hanging on by the thinnest thread. 

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered in her ear, his fingertips slipping just inside the waistband of her leggings. He wanted to rip them off and kiss the faint red marks where they were slightly too tight against her body before tasting her and feeling her come on his tongue.  He dipped them lower, feeling the soft curls between her legs. He smiled against her neck—even though she had been furious at him all day, she still came with one thing on her mind. His fingers moved lower still, almost touching where he wanted to the most and, judging by the sound she made and the way she tilted her hips toward him, where she wanted as well in spite of her anger. He started to pull his fingers away and found her hand on his wrist. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

That was all he needed for his last thread of restraint to snap. He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist. He knew she could feel how hard he was, straining in his pants against her as he took the few steps back to the desk, sitting her on the edge and kissing her deeply once more. Their bodies melted into each other as belts were removed, laces undone, and clothes were pushed down just far enough to matter in their frenzied haste. He reached between them to her center while his lips pressed searing kisses against heated skin, fingers circling her clit, making her back arch. Two fingers pressed in and her quiet sighs turned into moans, her nails digging into his arms and her hips rocking to meet his touch. He kissed her neck as he moved his fingers faster, in and out, in and out. 

“Is this what you wanted?” he said, fingers curling inside her, knowing it would make her hips move faster, her moans louder, her breaths quicker. 

“I want you to fuck me right now,” she whispered, her words hot against the shell of his ear. Her hands reached to him, pulling him free from his unlaced undergarments and finding him desperately hard for her already. She did not need to ask him twice. He withdrew his fingers from her, using her slick desire to coat his cock before lining himself up at her entrance. He pressed in quickly, roughly, fully hilting himself within her in one stroke. Her moan was music to his ears and when coupled with her tight heat surrounding him, it was better than any Chant. His pace was set, relentless and unyielding. He felt every inch of her around every inch of him with each powerful snap of his hips against hers. 

“Like this?” he said, moving one hand to her back to support her as he thrust hard and slow into her, a rhythm he knew she loved, though at this moment he wanted nothing more than to lose all abandon and take her quickly, fucking her like he would never fuck her again. He rested his forehead against hers, resisting the urge to capture her lips in his teeth, her mouth with his own, for fear he may quiet the sounds she was making. 

“Harder,” she panted.

It seemed neither of them wanted tenderness, not tonight. 

“Turn around,” he whispered before pulling out of her, a small sound escaping her lips as he pulled out. She slid off the desk, turning away from him before bending at the waist. Her leggings pooled at her ankles before she kicked them off, free of clothing at last. He had to admit there was something very pleasing about her being fully naked in front of him, her body bared for him to worship.

Maker, he would never tire of this view. He ran a finger down her spine between the textured skin of her scars, her wings. The way they moved, the way her muscles made them flex and spread when he took her from behind was one of the constants in mental images he would conjure up in lonely hours, which were more often than not when she was not with him. Did she know how hard it was to think of anything else but being inside her, unable to go even one night without thinking of her crying out his name while he was between her legs? Did she do the same?

He grabbed her hip with one hand, thrusting in quickly, not wanting to waste another second. The sound she made as he entered her once more reignited the sparks within him, threatening to replace the ice storm inside with a fiery blaze that would be his undoing. 

He wouldn’t care. 

Not for one more night of this. Not for one more night of her bent over his desk, arms stretched in front of her as he thrust into her deeply, roughly, the desk creaking each time their bodies met. Gasps, grunts, moans echoed off the walls of his office, neither one able to stifle the sound of their pleasure in that moment. He set an unforgiving pace and took her as she wanted to be taken, her cries of “Yes, yes, yes…” driving him as his own powerful lust coursed through his veins. He found his hand in her hair, threading through her wild curls, pulling as she arched her back. He had never wanted anyone like this. She stoked the storms within him and made him yearn for things he shouldn’t, things he couldn’t—he wanted nights like this, heated with fiery passion, he wanted cool and quiet solitude with her head resting on his shoulder, he wanted days and nights only with her at his side. 

But for now, his only desire was the sound of his name falling from her lips as she came around him. He dragged his hand from her hair to her hip, joining the other in pulling her back against him, feeling her body start to tense up. His hand snaking around to rub her swollen clit had her gasping his name, finishing around him so intensely he could have sworn he saw spark and flame licking her body as she lost control, collapsing against his desk. The sight sent him quickly over the edge, the ever growing tension within him finding release with one last driving thrust, spilling inside her with a cry of her name and the faint buzz of electricity and frost on his skin. 

He collapsed on top of her for a moment, laughing softly before placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder blade before pulling out of her, instantly missing the warmth of her body around him. How different the mood was now that they had gotten that out of their system. 

“Well that’s never happened before, sorry about your desk” she laughed as she stood, examining the faint scorch marks on his desk.

“Same here, don’t worry about it” he said, plucking a snowflake out of her dark curls. He had never lost control like that, in battle or…other activities. Something about Bianca uncovered things deep within him that he had never connected with—magic, emotions, desires. Even when he was angry with her or she was with him…when they were together, like this, it felt like everything could work out. With the mission, with the gods, maybe even with them. A dangerous thought for one in his position.

“Besides, now when I look at those marks I’ll remember exactly what caused them,” he leaned forward, whispering in her ear. 

“You being an arrogant ass and not taking my suggestions on a better plan for your mission?” she teased.

“I was thinking more like you pressed against it, crying my name as I made you come so hard you almost set us both on fire, but sure, that works too,” he laughed, the tension in the room gone. She had such a talent at diffusing situations. He considered that it was likely a part of her assassin training, something taught to get a mark to trust them. He knew he should be concerned about getting so close to an Antivan Crow—Tarquin pointed it out at every opportunity—but she was…she was Bianca and nothing else, to him. She wasn’t her faction, she wasn’t Rook, she was just…her. The dim arcane lights in his office played off the curls and frizz of her hair, forming a sort of soft halo around her.

She wrapped her arms around him, laying her head against his chest. His heart was pounding, and he wondered if she could feel it through the fragile cage of his ribs. The two of them stayed there, standing still, breathing for a moment, if only for a moment.

“So is that still a no on the whole ‘Rook as bait’ plan?” she said softly, looking up at him. He brushed an errant curl from her face, tucking it back with the others. A memory of their first night together played through his head on a constant loop some days. “Odds are I won’t be around to spill your secrets.”

“I will not see you in a slaver’s hands. You are too important to risk.” 

You are too important to me, is what he wanted to say.

[mythalsknickers]

happy friday! very intrigued by rook x the viper! how about "the sun's coming up." for those two?

Title: A Dawn for the Shadow Pairing: Rook x Viper (Vipcar, Vipook) Rating: T Warning: Veilguard Post Act 1 Word Count: 587 - @dadrunkwriting Veilguard

The rain silenced his footsteps.

It was late enough that as he crossed the gardens, no one should be in the chapel. Slipping behind a statue he stopped and listened, templars down in the lower courtyard gossiping. Pulling the collar of his jacket up, he waited until he could no longer hear their voices. Pushing off the statue he made his way up the stairs.

Lights filtered into his line of sight and he paused looking towards the wall with a soft sigh, bowing his head. "Lux in aeternum, may you find peace always beloved." His voice barely whispered yet raw from unshed tears of the day. Turning back towards the entrance of the chapel he quietly let himself.

Praying to Silence for the souls lost and would be lost didn't seem right. It was a blighted dragon and his decision after all. They were mostly worshippers of Andraste too from what he understood. His boots squeaked along the polished stone as he made his way to a pew. He mimicked the behaviors he had seen of friends more devoted to her than he could ever claim to be.

Kneeling down he reached into his bag pulling out small copy of the Southern Chant, his fingers trailing over the worn cover. It had been a gift from Varric when he mentioned having a hard time understanding the South. He quietly opened the book flipping through the canticles. Even as his mind tried to focus on the canticle he was looking for. It wandered to that song Ashur sang sometimes when the situation for the Lucerni turned Shadows looked bleak.

"Shadows fall and hope has fled..." The words slid out in his soft voice unaware of a pair of concerned eyes watching as for the first time in his life he prayed to a god he didn't wholly believe in. At some point the scent of the candles and myrrh filled the air of the chapel. His gaze lifted from his hands to see the previously unlit candles now flickering.

His shoulders tightened as he stayed kneeling, though a hand fell to a familiar abyss soaked dagger. A rustle of robes, and his eyes narrows as someone entered the pew.

"Let me join you?" For once. It was unsaid and his hand fell away from his dagger as he met those too teal eyes. "I don't know what I am doing." he admitted weakly and there was a warm reassurance. "It differs." He offered. Admittedly as much as Athras had hoped to do this alone, it was comforting that Ashur had found him even here. The one place he didn't go aside from work. He slowly started again and on the second verse his heart joined in with him a hand held out. He took it squeezing it as salt burned his eyes.

It had been longer and at some point he leaned against Ashur, as complicated as it all was, he was familiar. "The sun's coming up Athras, tomorrow will be a better day. Why don't you go rest in the apartment, Benefaris misses you." He might have had a quip but the idea of curling up in a familiar bed, and with Ashur's hound...it did make things feel a little more in his realm of problem solving.

"...maybe you can come check on me after services..." he offered to Ashur weakly, rising catching the concerned look and very quiet. I will.

Stepping out onto the throughfare he could see the sun rising. Dawn had come.

[proffbon]

Wrex.

Shepard.

[peachblossom-odyssey]