#but unlike Spite and Lucanis

[pupkinpumpkin]

Aight, don't get me wrong, I have and will read about almost every Rookanis fanfic there is, and I enjoy almost every version of Spite I see, but I think I see Spite's development and role in Rook and Lucanis' relationship in a certain way, but, suffice to say, Spite's relationship with Rook is just as much of a slow burn as Lucanis' relationship is

Just my personal opinion under the cut, you're free to believe whatever you wish

Spite is interested in Rook from the start, not romantically or sexually, but as a new person to learn about/annoy the fuck out of

As Rook gets closer to Lucanis, they also begin to tolerate and like Spite, which is new to him since everyone he meets kinda hates him, so, since acceptance is a very nice feeling, he wants to spend time with them. He's also realizing that Lucanis is developing feelings for them, feelings that are rare for Lucanis and completely new, and therefore, weird, to Spite

All Spite really knows is that Rook is nice, Lucanis trusts them, and Lucanis has certain feelings for them that Spite doesn't really understand, but he wants to (he's very curious for a Spite demon), so he wants Lucanis to hang out with Rook more so he can potentially talk with them more himself so he can understand these odd new feelings better

Here's where I may start getting a tad bit far fetched in my beliefs when it comes to how Spite, and possession in general, works

I'll keep it short, but just know I have a lot of feelings about Justice (all good, I love him dearly)

So, Justice in Awakening takes over Kristoff's dead body, and, when he does that, he gets these memories of him and his wife. He tells The Warden that he longs for the connection that they had and when he was just a spirit, he used to pity mortals, but now he finds beauty in their world and wants to experience all of it for himself.

I personally believe that when Justice takes over Kristoff's body, he is now able to feel different kinds of love more than the average spirit can because of this new form, and I believe that applies to Spite

When Spite possesses Lucanis, he is able to feel more than he can when he's just a spirit, feelings he's not used to and has never even thought of before. The feelings equivalent of seeing shrimp colors. New and confusing, but still exciting and worth investigating

It's in these moments that Spite's interest and fascination with Rook becomes more defined and intense, especially since Lucanis feels it as well, but because Lucanis doesn't let go of control often, these moments are few and far between, which kinda pisses Spite off, since it's another thing that he doesn't get to experience because Lucanis won't let him, so Rook becomes this forbidden thing that he wants to learn about, but has little to no access to, and, as a Spite demon, this only makes him want them more, but not in the way you're thinking of just yet

Lucanis is demisexual, we've learned that from God herself, so on top of Spite being interested in Rook, which is only intensified by Lucanis' feelings and Lucanis refusing to let Spite talk to them, Lucanis starts developing more intimate thoughts of Rook (which I personally think is around the time of the almost kiss), adding to the disaster of this overly caffeinated bisexual (well, biromantic)

Spite does not understand this. He's already trying to untangle the weird feelings he has for Rook, but now Lucanis is adding even more weird feelings that Spite can't possibly understand. He could understand, at least a little better, if he possessed Lucanis (which would give him deeper access to those feelings according to my little headcanon) and unpacked that with him, but Lucanis does not allow this, so the whole thing frustrates Spite and Lucanis, who is constantly being asked why he thinks Rook being in certain positions is so interesting all of a sudden

So, stretching my headcanon even further, I think that after Inner Demons, when Lucanis and Spite finally accept each other, Spite is given greater access to all of Lucanis' feelings for Rook, romantic and otherwise

He still needs time to truly get what all of that means, but I think those wings unfurling during the last romance scene is him beginning to understand exactly what he's feeling and being able to fully explore his new emotions, desires, etc without the previous constraints that were holding him back

I don't think Spite is by any means going between Rook's thighs and that he has any idea what he's doing by the end of Veilguard, but he's at a place where he is trusted, loved, and wanted, which is new, and he is a very curious demon who may or may not want to see what the fun's all about now that he understands people and their complexities more

Or maybe he's asexual and he just really loves cuddling, that's up to you, I'll read it either way

TLDR: I don't think Spite was begging Lucanis to pin Rook to a wall and have them scream his name from the beginning, but after Veilguard, who's to say?

[rissi-chan]

(Spite voice) I want. To make. My Rook!

-Me, screaming into the void for an early character creator in an undemanding, but rather totally hype/overly-excited way

[silverhalla]

alright single digit days so it’s time for last-minute baseless + unfounded veilguard theories!!!!!!! I’ll go first: the reason spite can’t take over lucanis’ body is because that body is ALREADY being possessed by lucanis, who was in fact dead and buried in the wake and rebound to a new form in the ossuary

[dalishious]

Lucanis and Family

House Dellamorte is so gloriously messy. You don’t get to achieve and keep the seat of First Talon without getting your hands dirty…. and unfortunately, without a great deal of loss.

Caterina

Caterina Dellamorte had five children and eight grandchildren. Lucanis’s mother was her favourite; she gave his mother her opal ring as a show of that favour. But House Velardo killed Lucanis’s parents and sent the ring back to Caterina to demand she surrender the seat of First Talon. When she refused to submit, a war of succession broke out amongst the Crows. House Dellamorte remained First Talon, but at great cost – the only surviving family Caterina had left was two of her grandchildren, Lucanis and Illario.

Lucanis says he and Illario lived in Villa Dellamorte with Caterina until they were eighteen. While he says they would have ended up under Caterina’s care regardless for training, they were taken in by her early after their parents were killed by House Velardo.

In the Tevinter Nights story, The Wigmaker Job, Lucanis reflects on the following:

“Memories of sweat-filled days without food or water came unbidden. Lucanis’s back tingled from where his grandmother’s cane had bruised his flesh for letting his guard down or fumbling his footwork. For years, he’d hated her. But his time as a Master Assassin had since taught Lucanis that Caterina’s cruelty was her way of making sure that he was prepared for this life—that he survived.”

And if Rook is a Crow, they share this dialogue:

Rook: What was it like? Training under the First Talon?

Lucanis: What was your training like?

Rook: Torture.

Lucanis: There you go.

Rook: But you didn't resent her?

Lucanis: Not anymore.

Thus, it makes sense that in Lucanis’s mind prison, Spite describes Caterina as “tenderness and terror.” She is his grandmother, and he has always been her favourite, as he acknowledges. I do not doubt that she showed affection for him, but unfortunately it also came with cruelty.

While I do not wish to defend Caterina’s actions, I do think it is important to contextualize them with a reminder that she is a woman who lost her entire family. I really do believe that Lucanis is correct in his assessment that Caterina torturing her grandchildren was her way of making sure they would survive, where their parents did not. Because unfortunately, she is also someone who clearly cares about maintaining her power, and was not willing to sacrifice it for the good of her family’s wellbeing. She wanted to have both power and family, and Lucanis and Illario suffered for it.

Illario

I truly do have sympathy for Illario, despite all the terrible things he’s done.

First of all, remember that all Lucanis went through, Illario also went through. But unlike Lucanis, I don’t think Illario has ever really fully forgiven Caterina. In The Wigmaker Job, he comments, “All that effort training and grooming us, and the old woman still won’t step aside.” Illario doesn’t see the point of been groomed as he was, and doesn’t excuse Caterina like Lucanis does. Probably because no matter what, he’s always been treated as the lesser one.

The saddest thing about Illario though is, in my opinion, that the only way he would have ever actually gained Caterina’s respect is if he really did kill her. Lucanis says he believes as such to Emmrich in party banter. But he couldn’t even do that right. He’s such a fuck-up and I love him.

Lucanis

Lucanis’s mind prison offers more insight in how he sees Caterina… and himself.

When you approach Caterina in the mind prison, she is angry that Lucanis is an abomination, and Rook is able to observe that Lucanis fears he has disappointed her. Spite comments, “Old stale fear of disappointment.” As the favourite child of an abusive parent myself, I can tell you right now I really relate to this sentiment of thinking you need to be perfect in order to keep your favouritism, because they make you feel like you owe that to them.

When you approach Illario in the mind prison, the first thing Illario says is that Rook is too good to be wasting time with Lucanis. He also says that Lucanis will fill his mind prison with corpses. Because that’s how Lucanis has traditionally seen himself, I think; as someone who’s only importance is that he’s a good killer. It’s how Caterina raised him. But now that he’s had a taste of more with the Veilguard, he’s terrified to lose it. Spite says that there are three kinds of people: “Family. Enemies. Contracts.” But the Veilguard has shown Lucanis that he can have friends, too. (And potentially a lover if Rook romances him, or he gets with Neve.)

Average families can be complicated. Assassin families, apparently even more so. I think a crucial part of Lucanis’s character is that he values his family so strongly. He no longer resents Caterina for how she raised him and Illario. He is unwilling to kill Illario, even though Illario made it clear that he would not have spared Lucanis in return. Because they are cousins who were more like brothers, and that means something to Lucanis. After all, as one of the notes found in his mind prison says, “So few of us left…”

-----

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[psin314]

kicking my feet.. in the were wyvern crow spite au.. does he allways look that way or is it a spite influence thing.. how does it play out with the rest of the dellamortes and veilguard seeing that ?

still wip but i have something.

it was interesting to think how the quest (bloodbath) would work here. illario was caught off guard and didn't expect lucanis to turn into... this. so rook had to do something and quickly, because Illario didn't fight back well and his head was about to be chewed off. so rook stabbed the wyvern in the thigh and provoked it to attack him instead. he didn't run far - spite pinned him to a column and now wanted to bite his face off. rook tried to get through to spite and he almost succeeded, but illario came to his senses and stopped spite with his blood magic stuff. he said the same thing and left. fucker.

transformation scheme!! when spite is angry and wants to talk to rook, but lucanis has the strength to resist, he shifts into a humanoid crow-wyvern-like creature. they share the body and sometimes spite can do and say things, but basically everything is under lucanis' control. if luсanis has no strength to resist - a wyvern. if spite calms down, then feathers and everything else slowly disappears within half an hour or two. and when spite gets furious and lucanis can't resist it, he instantly turns into a full wyvern. the transformation is uhh unpleasant, with crunching bones and groans of pain, i won’t draw that. although... who knows. 🗿🗿🗿🗿🚬🚬 wyvern spite won't just turn back into lucanis. he either has to get bored (which is unlikely) and lucanis turns back into his usual self, or rook has to convince spite or bribe him with coffee beans - then it's quite possible.

i haven’t thought about other people’s reactions yet. but I don't think it will be positive. 💀💀💀✋ but rook genuinely wants to help lucanis and won't give up on him. cus he likesss himmmm

+more visible size as a bonus

[vaguely-concerned]

can you even imagine what a fucking horror show the early game is from spite's perspective, though. not only is this funky forcibly severed little slip of the fade having to deal with the reverse cosmic horror of physical reality as perceived by a spirit and being trapped in it against its will -- existentially confused and disoriented and hurting and nothing makes any kind of sense, at the mercy of human cruelty at its most deliberately sadistic. and then the one source of comfort and compassion and some kind of safety and clarity that lucanis surely must have been to him in the ossuary despite everything just goes and shuts himself in his room inside with a seemingly passive aggressive number of locks between them and no explanation and won't speak to him and they're STILL in the fucking ossuary. rook came and found them and they could be free now (rook is here!) and still lucanis keeps them in the ossuary even though he PROMISED he promised they'd get out of there together!!! what the fuck DO you think at that point? like did he trick me that whole time??? he wasn't like zara before, so why is he doing this to me now? why isn't he saying anything? 'he won't move. I can't reach him'. at least in the ossuary they had a deal, a goal, a hope -- each other. at least he wasn't entirely alone, before.

this poor poor poor little spite spirit really was ferried into the real world like 'hey welcome to reality! as your first introduction to it you're first getting horrifically tortured and then getting to vicariously experience one of THE most distressing and harrowing psychological conditions the human brain can cook up for itself (a fully fledged and deeply entrenched freeze response flaring up with catastrophic severity due to an unbroken ongoing and unlikely to let up any time soon chain of Unfortunately... Recent Events). I think spite is being extremely reasonable and patient about the whole thing, when you put it into perspective. I'm not saying let him eat the self-lighting candles or anything, but he's got some extremely valid points along the way lol. spite is not only child-like, the metaphor work going on is a lot more pleasingly flexible and complex than that, but he is also helplessly existentially dependent on lucanis in a way that, if anything, is a heightened version of the way a child (or child part) has to depend on a parent to navigate the world and survive.

tl;dr: we truly don't give enough sympathy to spite for having to live in the head of lucanis dellamorte. a place even lucanis dellamorte would prefer not to be. to be fair to him I think lucanis would be the first person to agree with this lol

[conchcronch]

Sweat, Salt and Seawater

WC: 1792

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem!Rook

Summary: Lucanis is just trying to enjoy the view, but Spite just has to distract him.

A/N: should I be finishing my Kinktober? Yes. Do I have a new hyper fixation? Also yes.

It wasn’t unheard of for Lucanis to be outside of his room during the day, cup of coffee in hand, his back against the stonewall of the dining room/bedroom. His eyes never leave Rook.

He watched as she swung her sword with so much ease it was as though the weapon was an extension of her arm. Next to her stood Bellara, who held one of Rook’s older, smaller swords in her left hand, nodding as Rook tried to explain basic hand to hand combat. They weren’t close enough for Lucanis to hear what they were talking about but now that Rook’s back was to him he was able to look her up and down without needed to act nonchalant about it.

She stood taller than him, something he was not new to. Her auburn hair which was normally tied into a bun when out in the field was currently swaying past her shoulders, only her bangs were pulled back in a half up style. Despite the use of a sword, she hadn’t bothered to daun her equipment, opting to remain in her casual attire. The red sash that wrapped around her waist always drew Lucanis’ eyes down to it, her body looking delicate yet deadly. He couldn’t see the muscles in her arms, but he knew they were firm from years of training with a sword. Where he was fast and light on his feet, she was sturdy and powerful.

While she moved, demonstrating how one should stand while anticipating a counter, something that Bellara seemed interested in knowing but unlikely to use, he couldn;t help but watch her ass. Every time she shifted her weight from her non dominant foot to show a brace, her pants hugged the curve of her cheeks, her thighs almost straining against the fabric as she bent at the knees.

He feels the presence without needing to look at the figure standing next to him. He hoped that by refusing to acknowledge him, Spite would quickly grow bored and retreat back into him. The sound of the creature sniffing the air beside him made the Crow sigh. “smells of-“ The twisted version of his voice rang both in his ears and his head simultaneously. The demon stepped out into the sun, his form untouched by the light, almost swallowing it instead. Lucanis knew there was no use telling him not to, so he hoped by not doing anything it wouldn’t draw attention to himself, allowing him to watch longer. “Smells of blood, of sweat, hints of…of melon, in her hair.” Spite walked right up to Rook, stepping around her as he sniffed the air, leaning into her personal space, the way Lucanis so desperately wanted to.

Lucanis couldn’t help the grimace that befell his lips as Spite sullied his view of Rook, no longer could his eyes move over her tensed muscles, firm ass, her tapered in waist or her pillowy chest, Spite was always in frame.

“Smells of arousal” Lucanis’ eyes raised from the swirling dark liquid in his mug, now seeing Spite directly in front of Rook as she listened to Bellara’s hurried questions, the demon’s lips were parted, his tongue darting out over them as he almost began to drool. “Sex, she wants it, craves it, reeks of it.” his words were becoming frenzied, Lucanis could feel the demon’s power surge inside of him, but he forced himself to remain level, not wanting to alert the rest of his companions. “Let me take over, let me give her what she craves” He’s back in front of the crow in the blink of an eyes, his knees bent so even while Lucanis is looking down at his coffee he can still see the crazed purple eyes. “Want a taste, a taste of her, she reeks of it, reeks reek REEKS of sex” The crows’ jaw clenches and unclenches, moving to breath through his mouth, as Spite power courses through his body just one inhale through his nose he’d smell whatever the demon did. And that was a line he didn’t want to cross.

It was hard enough to be so infatuated by the party’s leader, to look at her every chance he got, to invite her to Traviso under the gauze of dealing with Crow matters, but truly only wanting to get an evening alone with her, it was becoming difficult to handle. But to smell her, to really smell her, he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He could already feel Spite’s frenzied arousal pulse in his crotch, having to shift his position to cross his legs as he leaned against the wall. “Smell her” He was back, where there should have been air from his words on his cheek there was nothing, as though there was no one standing a few inches from his ear and yet the words rang so loud. “Give in, smell her, taste her on the air” Spite huskily spoke into Lucanis’ ear, “Salt, seawater, sweat” salt…Lucanis recalled one of their first normal discussions over coffee after his cousin had left. She had mentioned salt in her drink, as they went back and forth over the taste of a first kiss.

Subconsciously he sucked in a breath through his nose as he recalled their banter. Her smell flooded his senses, breathing it in wasn’t enough. He swallowed a lung full of air, her taste on his tongue as though he were between her thighs. “Yes yes yes yes taste, smell, she needs us, craves us”

The sound of two swords clashing made his body tense, his head snapping up on instinct. Rook stood with her sword in front of her, slashing lightly at Bellara who was standing with decent blocking form, her sword crossed in front of her face with her palm firm against the side to give the weapon more support.

Normally pride would fill his chest to see his companions teaching each other, helping one another improve but his mind was so clouded by the taste of her on his tongue and the throb between his legs. His erection was now so obvious he had to excuse himself, kicking himself off the wall and turning on his heel as he tossed the rest of his now cold coffee back.

If he had looked over his shoulder he would have seen Rook glance in his direction, eyes hoping to land on the crow but seeing him step into his room instead. Her smile dropped. And he missed it, but Spite did not.

The door slammed, his cup placed on the long wooden table as he walked around it and towards his small back bedroom. He couldn’t remember the last time his cock pulsed like this, the taste gone from his tongue but not to be forgotten. Maybe it was Spite’s nagging but he vowed he would taste it again, when he was on his knees between her legs, he was determined.

He closed and locked his bedroom door, his hands working his pants open before he could even get to the bed. He hated to do this, it always made him feel so slimy, especially when the only person on his mind was his employer. When his hand wrapped around his cock the two of them moaned in unison.

Spite wasn’t material, but his voice and sounds were everywhere. “We need her” The crow tipped his head back against the stone wall, mouth falling open as his breathing quickened. “We need to fuck her, claim her as ours” Lucanis’ eyes felt heavy, allowing them to fall closed as he worked his cock with quick strokes, his thumb swiping over his flared head, wiping the bead of pre cum down.

Behind his closed eyes he imagined it. Imaging how she’d look underneath him, her hair splayed out on his lackluster bed. Her soft lips parted, waiting for him to press his lips to hers again. Her sounds could be like music to his ears, nothing like her battle cries. But maybe like her pained winches, he once heard her dressing a wound and since then he found himself replaying that sound as his hand tightened around his shaft.

“Get her” Spite’s words rang around him, his tone dripping in carnal lust. “Bring her in here” for the first time this afternoon Lucanis found words coming from his own mouth.

“No” Spite growled then hissed as Lucanis tightened his grip on his cock, his hips twitching up to fuck into his hand.

“We need her”

“No” even such a simple word was a struggle to push out through his bared teeth, his hand now moving so quickly the sound fills the room.

“I want to see her” Spite’s tone was insistent but also with an underlying whine, something that only happened in these private moments. “I like her, I want to fuck her, make her scream, make her beg for me, for us!” His words were frantic, moans echoing around the crow as he tried his best to focus on chasing his pleasure instead of imagining his employer.

“Rooook” Lucanis’ own voice surprises himself, his free hand shooting up to cover his mouth, unsure whether the word came from his own pleasure or if Spite was the cause, but he didn’t want to take the risk.

“Louder”

“No” Lucanis breathed, muffled by the hand gripping the bottom half of his face.

“Loud enough she comes running” the crow tries to ignore the demon, he feels like he’s teetering on the edge of orgasm. “Give me control, I can ta-“ The rush of pleasure must have come as a surprise to the demon, his sentence ended prematurely by a moan perfectly echoing Lucanis’ own as he spilled his seed.

“Maker” the crow breathed, when the shocks of climax had died down, staring at his hand which now had ropes of drying cum on it. He knew he should get up, to start cleaning the few drops of cum that had landed on his pants and his vest before they left a crusty stain, but he just couldn’t force himself to move quite yet.

He couldn’t remember the last time he slept, exhaustion settling into his limbs quicker then he could fight it off. But the sound of knuckles on his closed door jolted his eyes open. “Lucanis” her voice was soft, a hint of concern underlying his name. He remained silent as he forced his softening cock back into his pants, grimacing as he wiped his hand on his blanket and hoping she would call his name again as he rested his head against his barely used pillow, sleep tugging at his eyelids. Spite was appeased, for now.

[glitteringdust]

Rookanis request: Something where they actually talk about Spite and set boundaries or whatever for their relationship? I *really* wish the game had mentioned that at some point (also I’m just interested in seeing how folks handle it in their stories).

All Spite wants is Rook’s touch.

Ever since she’d started thanking the demon directly for his help, he’d been head over heels at every interaction.

She sees us. She talked to me! Let me talk to her.

It was hard enough for Lucanis to separate his own wants from Spite’s, when they aligned this close. Rook was always giving praise honestly where it was due yet Spite had such a craving for it, it was hard to contain. On top of that, the demon began to crave the usual high fives, the handshakes—any brief moment they were close Spite almost buzzed along the crow's nerves with interest.

Lucanis however…found the thought of her touch much more complicated than that.

The very thought of her touch stoked a desire within, one he could not indulge in while there was a job to do. Entanglements such as this were detrimental to an assassin. Even more so with an overeager demon tugging at the chains.

Then they'd almost kissed.

Exchanged heated glances, after that. Thanks to Spite, he knew the exact number of footsteps it took for Rook to get to his room from the eluvian. He knew what those footsteps sounded like, light against the stone floor. A distinct rhythm, not unlike a heart beat at rest.

It doesn't surprise him, when she knocks twice and enters the room. The last ten steps have her standing before his seated spot on the bed.

It does surprise him, when she runs a finger under his chin, pulling his gaze to hers.

“Stop me, if this is not what you want.”

As she moves forward, he moves back until she is straddling him, his back inches from the wall. Her weight is welcome against him, anticipation tingling along his skin as her breath ghosts over his face.

Rook was so close. So close.

She was going to kiss him, a fact he was only just becoming aware of when her lips meet his.

Mierda.

Lucanis kisses her in a calculated way, slow and specific and bleeding a kind of desire he’d never afford himself usually. He wanted to get each one right, savoring this moment as long as he could. He rests one hand along the small of her back, and cradles her head with the other as he tastes her lips again and again. He can't help the pleased sound that escapes as she runs her fingers along his temples, and then through his hair.

Everything is abuzz, every nerve and inch of him consumed by her. He can barely feel the shift in the air, the scent of blackberry and ozone dancing along his tongue. The fingers in his hair grip him tighter, Rook's breath quickening as his lips travel from her mouth down her jaw, along her neck, teeth grazing her throat and the junction between shoulder and neck…

“Lucanis.”

She's pushing him away, albeit so, so gently. He grunts out what he hopes is acknowledgement, untangling the haze over his mind. Brown eyes meet her blue, and as he regains a sense of reality he releases the grip his one hand had on her hair.

They both catch their breath.

“That was not only you, kissing me just now.”

He goes still. Rook makes no move to leave his lap, arms still draped around his neck and gaze nothing but soft.

“Spite has always been intrigued by you, but he knows what I feel, too. It's… hard to explain.”

“Does it bother you, what Spite thinks of me?”

He doesn't answer for a moment.

“Sometimes, it's hard to know where he ends and I begin. Especially when we agree on something.”

Rook tastes good. Feels good.

“Sharing a body must only make that worse.”

“It amplifies it. Makes what I feel more real than anything.” He looks away briefly, “What he and I feel for you… cannot be separated anymore. Are you okay with that?”

She doesn’t even hesitate, “I am. Are you?”

Most of his life had been decided for him by Caterina. Lucanis had very little say in most of the things he’d faced, and he’d faced betrayal and possession by a demon. If it hadn’t been for Rook’s understanding and kindness, where would he even be?

For the first time in his life, this choice was up to him.

"I want you, Khalia, with all that I am."

He'd ask the demon what he thought, but the only decisions Spite wanted to make were new places to kiss Rook. The buttons of her shirt had almost succumbed to Spite's clumsy fingers, but demons lacked dexterity.

Next time, we tear it open.

“Spite, can you not? Mierda.”

Rook laughs, “What's he saying?”

“Thinking of new places to kiss you. He's mad you have so many buttons.”

A cheeky grin, one that sets his insides fluttering, “Well, I can't say I don't like where that's going.”

She leans in, capturing his mouth in hers again. Nimble fingers slowly work their way along those buttons.

He could do this all day.

[carterashofficial]

Romanced Lucanis headcanon

Endgame spoilers below this is your warning

my headcanon is that while him and Rook have both admitted they Like each other, and are technically in a relationship, Lucanis is holding back a little b/c:

1- What if it’s Spite influencing his emotions/thoughts (possible? Unlikely but if so, it’s unfair to Rook) 2- they’re all in a very stressful situation and emotions are high, is this what they really need right now? 3- what if one of them dies? Do they deserve the pain of losing their beloved? 4- he’s just overthinking and trying to protect them both

This is why he cuts off Rook with “Don’t-“ when they start to say “I love you” before the Ghilan'nain fight. He’s not sure if he’s ready to hear it, and hasn’t admitted to himself that he loves Rook back.

And then Rook is grabbed by Ghilin’nain and is hanging there upside down, Lucanis is trapped and breaks free with the sacrifice of Harding/Davrin, kills the god, and decides yeah, he almost lost Rook, he needs to tell them how he feels. And then Rook vanishes into the Regret Prison and Lucanis PANICS

So the script is flipped when Rook is back and he says “I love you” first, he’s the teasing one trying to lift her spirits, and he’s fully relaxed with her and openly flirting. He loves them, it doesn’t matter that it’s a high-stress situation, or that Spite is obsessed with them, or if one of them dies. He needs Rook to know that he loves them, and that they can have one normal night of comfort before the world ends. He thought he’d never see them again, and that they were trapped wherever they where unaware that he loved them. He’s not wasting any more time.

[ab121500]

I tagged this as spoilers, but its really not. Theres no mention of anything that happens in veilguard but just in case lol

This is such a stupid idea, but it keeps making me making me go "👀👀 wait actually-"

The idea of my mage elf rook (her name is Aylewin) also being an abomination, but being possessed by a spirit of Righteousness and unlike Spite she's pretty chill but she fucking hates, and i mean HATES, Spite with a passion.

So while Rook and Lucanis end up having their wholesome slow burn romance, the two extra passengers are doing an enemies to lovers romance. But heres the thing, Spite likes Rook and Righteousness likes Lucanis, so its literally a miraculous ladybug love square, except its actually 4 people they just share bodies.

Anyway i made a visual for it to show my (extremely tired of my shit) friend if anyone else would like to see it.

I'm sorry my handwriting is awful

ideas I thought up involving this:

Aylewin did not summon Righteousness.

Righteousness was originally a Rage demon, but she changed upon seeing the lengths Aylewin went to in order to do the morally right thing (I.E. sacrificing herself by stabbing herself so that she killed the demon at the cost of her own life.)

No one knows of Righteousness' existence until Spite, living up to his fucking name, exposes her. And even then, no one believes him until Taash/Emmrich mentions the other spirit.

Righteousness calls Spite "Little Demon" this angers him deeply.

Spite tries to find a nickname that pisses Righteousness off as much as Little Demon does him. He doesn't succeed.

Righteousness knows that her name is long and not easy to spit out in danger, so she insists on being called Ria by friends (so all the veilguard except Spite.)

Much like how Spite is essentially Lucanis but purple, Righteousness is Aylewin but orange-y red.

Righteousness is more powerful than Spite, mainly due to Aylewin being a mage and also due to her having easier access to her body.

In terms of characters, Aylewin's possession is most like Wynne's, except she didn’t actually die. She did get mortally wounded, and Righteousness joining her saved her life.

Righteousness lives up to her namesake and is extremely soapbox-y at times, like every single time Aylewin helps the Crows.

Righteousness and Spite get into arguments all the time. It is especially weird to Aylewin/Lucanis because they only hear one half of the argument.

I just needed to yell this into the void, feel free to ignore lmaooo.

[writerfromshikahr]

Some random writing. Now back to playing the game. You know the one, with this stupid Antivan man that lives rent free in my head.

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Conversation with a Demon - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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Lucanis sat in the quiet of his room, the dim candlelight casting shadows across the walls. Spite’s voice, low and rumbling, lingering on the edges of his thoughts.

“She likes. When I fuck. Noises. She cries. Lucanis!”

His jaw tightened, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair as he let the demon’s words wash over him. He couldn’t deny it—not to himself, not to Spite. There was something raw, profoundly dark, and primal about the way Spite connected with him in those moments. It wasn't just the act itself; it was the sheer intensity of it—the way their shared hunger seemed to amplify and create something far beyond the ordinary.

He exhaled slowly, his body still humming with the memory of the evening. The way she had clung to him, as if he were the only thing tethering her to the world, played over in his mind. Her body had responded beautifully to his touch, his demands, and her voice had carried his name like a prayer.

“Ours.”

Lucanis closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the chair. “She’s not ours, Spite,” he responded quietly, though his voice lacked conviction. “She’s...her own. She chooses to be with us.”

“Chooses. Yes. But wants. From us. Me. Both.”

He couldn’t argue. Rook’s willingness to embrace him, to embrace them, was something he hadn’t expected. And the way she responded when Spite’s influence crept into their joining—it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It wasn’t just the thrill of the act, the forbidden nature of it. It was how she surrendered to the darkness, how she trusted him to hold her there, to guide her back when it was over.

“She. Ours.”

The possessiveness in the demon’s voice sent a shiver down Lucanis’s spine, and this time, he didn’t correct them. Instead, he let the thought linger, unspoken but powerful. Rook was theirs, and they...they belonged to her.

[cybershock24601]

I’ve been stewing on more alternate time travel au where the Veilguard sends themselves to the past trying to rip Rook out of the fade because there’s nothing like trying to save your bestie to make you turn to dangerous and unstable magic

Lucanis spends most of his time helping Harding out with her scout work yet refuses to wear the Inquisition uniform because he is still a Crow at heart which means he wouldn’t be caught dead in such an ugly uniform

Turns out the Orlaisean noble woman Emmrich had a thing with one summer was the wife of the Duke Vivienne’s with and the two of them get together to gossip. Vivienne wishes Emmrich wouldn’t drag along his skeleton every time but he is Nevarran so she will let it go. She also assists in giving Manfred etiquette lessons alongside Emmrich because it’s not like she can let the poor thing go around with such poor diction.

Mentioned this before but Dorian’s crush on Emmrich comes back full force and whoever is romancing him whether it be the Inquisitor or Iron Bull ends up wildly jealous of Emmrich

Hardings new connection with the Stone possibly helping soothe Cullen’s lyrium induced issues

Chess pieces from all over Skyhold start going missing because Cole keeps giving all the rooks to the Veilguard

Leliana offers Bellara a nug and she accepts and now walks around Skyhold with the most adorable nug the world has ever seen

If you thought Emmrich and Davrin were insufferable before, their dad off gets a thousand times worse when Davrin's new mabari starts stealing Manfred's bones and Davrin refuses to admit his good boy did anything wrong even if he is privately scolding the mabari.

Davrin and Cullen end up bonding over the mabari as Cullen ends up offering Davrin some advice on how to train the dog. Turns out mabari are not any easier to train then griffons as both are hyper intelligent animals and require different tactics though bribery seems to be working as well on the dog as it did Assan

Manfred starts copying Cole by giving people random objects but unlike Cole who has some weird esoteric logic behind it, Manfred is really just picking up a cool rock he found on the ground and handing it off to the first person he sees and crying out "HELPING" in his little skeleton voice

Harding is now the one in the awkward age gap relationship because what are you supposed to do when your significant other is now physically 13 years old but still mentally an adult but it’s not like anyone but your close friends know that because to everyone else they’re just 13? Hell if Harding knows

The Veilguard collectively gaslighting the Inquisition about Spite because people down south aren’t nearly going to be as cool about the whole possession situation and their assurances that Spite is chill so every time someone tries to bring up the glowing eyes or wings they come up with some bullshit excuse and stick to it no matter how ridiculous and some of them get real stupid

Neve sees Cullen practically falling asleep on his feet and offers him her cup of coffee. This is a mistake because now Cullen is using his new caffeine addiction to deal with his lyrium withdrawals and the man has never been so productive or strung out. Lucanis is suffering in the background because Cullen makes and drinks the same sort of sludge Neve survives off of.

Josephine and Lucanis end up bonding over their shared disgust over the sort of vile concoctions Neve and Cullen keep producing. Leliana also joins in because Josephine already introduced her to good coffee and she also has strong opinions on the culinary crimes they’re committing. She also has a whole lot to add when Lucanis brings up some of Harding’s more adventurous kitchen adventures because after a year of traveling around Ferelden during the Blight, Leliana has some stories of her own to share about Ferelden cuisine.

Solas who hates tea and wants an in to try to figure out what is going on and how much these people know approaches Lucanis about trying some coffee too only for Lucanis who can be one spiteful motherfucker even without accounting for Spite to essentially pull a “I suddenly don’t know how to read” and brew the most black, vile, and disgusting sludge like pot of coffee for Solas to drink. It would have been kinder for Lucanis to have just spiked his coffee with poison. Spite is in the background cackling at the barely concealed disgust on Solas’ face as Solas pretends he can’t hear Spite’s delighted laughter at Solas’ predicament

[rookinthecrownest]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fried fish for dinner tomorrow night”

“I was going to make Paella tomorrow night”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No sign of Rook yet.

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

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

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

He's pacing again.

“Am I interrupting something?”

He stops in his tracks.

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

“Rook” He says stupidly.

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

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

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

“What happened? Are you alright?”

Rook winces and draws closer to the large wooden table.

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

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

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

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

“What?”

Mierda.

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

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

“Churro?” He asks hopefully.

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

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

Lucanis rubs the back of his neck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She prefers chocolate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cioccolata Calda. An Antivan specialty”

“Is it coffee?”

“Try it”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Siegfried and Benno return soon thereafter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He leans in closer to observe the finer details.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You will, soon. Now bring Lucanis back”

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

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

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

Lucanis takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly.

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

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

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

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

She relents and her hands glow blue again.

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

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

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

Odette and Siegfried share an embrace.

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

The figure of Odette nods and disappears soon after.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rook laughs, “Alright, alright”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“’Do you love me, and only me?’”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, he wasn’t expecting that.

A moment later, they both disappear under the water.

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

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

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

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

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

“The End”

Lucanis exhaled.

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

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

He’s dumbfounded she even remembers that throwaway comment.

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

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

Lucanis laughs, “Now there’s an idea”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I don’t like one vegetable”

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

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

Rook swallows and places another croissant defiantly on her plate.

“Three nights”

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

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

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

“Madeleina”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

He would have to thank Neve for her advice.

[girlwithadragonheart]

Chapter 11 - A Touch of Spite

This story contains major spoilers for Dragon Age the Veilguard. Read at your own discretion!!

Kalais x Lucanis

Summary: Now that Lucanis has finally admitted his feelings, Spite wants a turn with Rook. Rook and Lucanis plan to crash a party

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Swearing, tension

A/N: I have nothing to say about this one. Just enjoy

Chapter 10 DATV Masterlist Chapter 12

After speaking with Solas and then the rest of the team, I sat alone in my room. The Lighthouse was quiet, and for once, my mind mirrored that silence.

The reflections of the aquarium moved across the room, painting it in a blue-green glow. I was sitting on the edge of my bed-slash-sofa, lost in the movements of the fish behind the glass, when a knock came at the door---soft, tentative, yet deliberate.

I frowned slightly. No one usually came to my room this late. Rising cautiously, I padded over and cracked the door open.

“Lucanis?” His silhouette filled the doorway, but something was off. His usual composed demeanor was absent, replaced by a strange energy that seemed to hum in the air between us. His gaze lifted to meet mine, and I froze. 

His eyes were glowing---that deep, eerie purple that sent a shiver down my spine.

Not Lucanis.

“Mischief, what are you---”

Before I could finish my sentence, his lips were on mine. It was sudden, insistent, and unlike anything I’d experienced before. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him, and though I should have pushed him away, my body hesitated.

“My turn.” Spite growled, his voice rougher and more gravelly than Lucanis’s. His lips moved with open-mouthed kisses up my jaw and down my neck. His kisses turned from lips to teeth, biting and sucking at my skin as his hands roamed, sliding down my back, his touch possessive in a way that left no doubt who was in control.

I tried to pull away, but my back hit the wall, and I was caged. “Spite---” I managed to gasp, my voice trembling with confusion and a flicker of something else I couldn’t quite name.

He pulled back, just enough to meet my gaze, his smirk predatory. “You want this,” he hissed, hand skimming lower, the heat of his touch searing through the thin fabric of my clothes. He tucked his nose into the crook between my neck and shoulder. “I can. Smell you.” He took a deep inhale, and my heart pounded in my chest, anticipation building in me.

I felt a rush of conflicting emotions---fear, anger, compassion, and lust that I couldn’t quite hate myself for. My heart raced as he kissed me again, his mouth demanding in a way that sent a flush of warmth coursing through me.

His hands pried apart the buttons of my shirt without care, the rough calluses on his palms dragging against my sides as he bared me from the waist up.

Before things could spiral further, his body stiffened, and his grip on me faltered. His hands dropped, and he stepped back, a deep gasp escaping him as if he were pulling himself out of deep water.

“Kalais?” Lucanis’s voice was hoarse, his expression twisted with confusion and horror as he blinked down at me. His eyes, now their usual dark brown, darted between my face and his own hands, as if trying to piece together what had happened. “Did he---” he cut himself off, his voice dropping to a pained whisper. “Did Spite hurt you?”

“No, no,” I said quickly, raising my hands to calm him. He was already backing away, his body rigid, his expression stricken. I felt a light draft, causing goosebumps to prickle my chest, and I realized I was still half indecent. I quickly pulled my shirt back together, clasping the buttons.

“I didn’t---” his words were strangled, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“Lucanis, stop,” I said, stepping forward, my voice trembling. “He didn’t hurt me. He just… he kissed me. And touched me, but… but not like that.”

His brow furrowed, watching as my hands buttoned up my shirt, a storm in his eyes. I hated the pain I saw there.

“I swear, I’m okay,” I continued, forcing the words out even as my cheeks burned with shame. “He shouldn’t have done that without talking to us first,” I said carefully. “I just wish…” I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest.

“What?” He asked, his voice low, careful, as if bracing for what I might say next.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I wish you had been the first one to touch me like that,” I said in earnest.

His eyes widened, the words catching him off guard, and for a long moment, neither of us spoke.

“Kalais,” he said finally, his voice raw with a mixture of emotions I couldn’t quite parse. “I… I don’t understand. How could you---” He stopped himself, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts.

I took a breath, lest I break down like this in front of him. One of us had to keep it together at all times. “It’s not a secret I care about both of you. Spite was never even…” I paused, searching for the right words. “Given a chance to be seen as anything other than what that place made him- made you. It hurt both of you, that doesn’t make him inherently evil,” I explained. “But… But he should have talked to us about it first.” My thoughts were racing and my tongue seemed to move with them before I could stop. “I want you… and that means I want him too, but…”

“But what?” Lucanis asked, looking astonished, dragging a hand through his hair.

“I want you to be my first,” I said quietly. “I’m not… experienced.”

I watched Lucanis’s cheeks dust pink, and he glanced away. “Oh.”

Lucanis’s stunned expression lingered as he processed my words. The tension in the room was almost unbearable, a sharp contrast to the earlier intensity with Spite. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first, his jaw working silently before he managed a shaky breath.

“I… didn’t realize,” he admitted softly, his voice low and cautious. His gaze flicked back to me, his brown eyes searching mine. “You’ve always seemed so confident. I never would’ve guessed…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair again, clearly out of his depth.

“That I’m a virgin?” I laughed slightly, my cheeks warming as I wrapped my arms around myself. “I guess I’m good at pretending,” I said with a small, self-conscious shrug. 

Lucanis frowned, his expression clouding with guilt. “Kalais, I… I don’t know what to say. I’m angry at him for not giving us a choice, for doing this to you. But…” His voice softened as his gaze dropped to the floor. “I don’t want him to… mess this up. For us.”

I stepped closer, my hand brushing against his arm, trying to draw his attention back to me. “He won’t,” I said firmly. “I trust you, Lucanis. I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t. I’ll talk to him.”

His eyes snapped to mine at that, a flicker of something vulnerable flashing across his face. He swallowed hard, visibly gathering himself. “You trust me,” he repeated, the words almost reverent. He exhaled shakily and reached for my hand, his fingers curling around mine with a gentleness that made my heart ache.

“I do,” I whispered, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

For a moment, he said nothing, just holding my hands as if grounding himself in the simple connection. Then, he let out a low, humorless laugh. “You make it sound so easy,” he muttered, his lips quirking in a wry, self-deprecating smile.

“It is,” I said simply, echoing the words I’d spoken to him before. “At least for me.”

Lucanis’s grip on my hand tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “You deserve better than this,” he murmured, his voice heavy with guilt. “Better than me… better than Spite…”

I shook my head, cutting him off. “Don’t decide what I deserve for me,” I said firmly. “I’m not looking for perfect, Lucanis. I’m looking for you. And I don’t regret anything that’s happened. I just… want us to figure this out together.”

His gaze softened at that, the storm in his eyes quieting just slightly. “You’re too good to me,” he said quietly, a faint, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips.

“And you’re too hard on yourself,” I countered, stepping closer until we were only a breath apart. “You’re not responsible for Spite’s choices, Lucanis. And you don’t have to carry all of this alone. I’m here. For both of you.”

Lucanis stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he raised his free hand to cup my cheek, his touch achingly gentle. “You’re incredible,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over my skin.

I felt my breath catch, my heart pounding in my chest as his gaze bore into mine. “Someone has to be the voice of reason around here,” I whispered.

His lips curved into a small, genuine smile---a rare, unguarded moment that made my chest ache. He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine, and I could feel the warmth of his breath against my lips.

“We’ll figure this out,” I murmured, my voice a low promise. “Together.”

“Together,” he echoed, the word steady and full of hope.

For now, that was enough.

❈❈❈

Lucanis sat on the edge of his bed, elbows braced on his knees, hands raking through his hair as he fought to keep his emotions in check. His heart was still racing, the memory of Kalais’s flushed face, her trembling voice, and the sight of her fumbling to button her shirt playing on a loop in his mind. His fists clenched involuntarily, nails biting into his palms. The tightness in his pants certainly didn’t solve any problems.

“You’re quiet,” Spite’s gravely voice broke through the tension, the tone almost teasing. “Regretting already?”

Lucanis’s jaw tightened, refusing to look at the aspect of himself leaning against the wall. Spite had no right to bring her into this. Not now. Not after what he’d done. “What the hell were you thinking?” Lucanis snapped, his voice low but seething. He pushed himself to his feet and started pacing, the energy humming under his skin demanding release. “You can’t just… take over and do that. You violated her trust, Spite.”

“She. Wanted it,” Spite replied smoothly, his voice echoing in Lucanis’s mind like an unwelcome shadow. “Wanted more.”

Lucanis spun on his heel, eyes narrowing as he glared at Spite. “Wanting something and being ready for it are not the same thing!” Lucanis growled, pointing at him. “Consent, Spite. It’s not just some formality you can skip because you think you know better. You ask. You wait.”

Spite scoffed, his voice rich with disdain. “Ask? Why? Rook. Wanted it. Her body. Sang.”

Lucanis’s fists clenched again, but he forced himself to take a steadying breath. “It’s not just about what you think you can sense, Spite,” he said tightly. “It’s about respect. About giving her the chance to choose for herself. You took that away from her tonight.”

Silence followed his words, heavy and oppressive. For a moment, Lucanis wondered if Spite would retreat, slinking back into the recesses of his mind to avoid this confrontation. But when had he ever done that? It was always harsh words and angry tones flung between the two of them. Never civility. The Ossuary had stolen that from them both. At least with each other.

Instead, his voice came back, quieter this time. “I’m not used to… Asking,” Spite admitted begrudgingly. “This. Is new. For me too.”

Lucanis paused, the raw honesty in Spite’s tone catching him off guard. He folded his arms, his anger dimming just enough to allow a sliver of understanding. He didn’t know how spirits or demons experienced affection or lust besides the obviously lustful kind of spirit or demon. He wondered briefly if his own feelings were starting to bleed into the demon from their time together.

“Well, it matters now,” he said firmly. “Kalais isn’t some toy for you to play with. She’s a person. Someone we both care about.”

“She cares. About us. Both.”

Lucanis exhaled, the weight of the night pressing heavily on his shoulders. “She does,” he admitted softly. “But that doesn’t mean you can ignore her boundaries, Spite. If you want her to trust you---to trust us---then you have to respect her choices.”

Spite’s aspect, the purple glow surrounding him, flickered, dimming slightly. “If I. Don’t?” Spite asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Lucanis’s expression hardened. “Then you lose her,” he said simply. “Because I won’t let you hurt her again. I’ll find a way to keep you from taking over if I have to.”

The threat hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Spite growled softly, but it wasn’t the defiant sound Lucanis expected. It was almost… thoughtful.

“I’ll try,” Spite said at last, the words begrudging. “But. I want. My turn.”

Lucanis’s brow furrowed, and he turned away, pacing again. “Your turn?”

“Yes,” Spite replied. “You’re awake. During the day. You get Rook. I only have. The night.”

Lucanis’s teeth ground together, the idea setting him on edge. But he could feel Spite’s determination, the tenuous thread of compromise dangling between them. He thought of Kalais, her words echoing in his mind: I’m here. For both of you.

“Fine,” Lucanis said finally, his voice sharp as he crossed his arms. “But there are rules. When I’m awake, she’s mine. You stay out of it. And when she’s asleep, you leave her alone. She needs her rest, Spite.”

“And when. You sleep?” Spite pressed, his voice low and coaxing.

Lucanis hesitated, his mind warring with itself. Finally, he nodded reluctantly. “You can… spend time with her. If you respect her boundaries. No more taking over without permission. You want her trust? Earn it.”

His purple glow brightened briefly, then dimmed again. “Deal,” Spite said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction.

Lucanis sank back onto his cot as Spite disappeared from view. He didn’t fully trust Spite---he doubted he ever would. But for now, it was a start.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Lucanis muttered under his breath, staring at the ceiling.

❈❈❈

I wandered to the kitchen for a bite to eat after blissfully uninterrupted sleep. No god of lies, no spirits, no people, and lots of healing rest.

“Good. You’re here,” Lucanis said.

“What happened?” I asked.

“A note from Viago.”

“Illario’s making his move?” 

Lucanis nodded. “A big one. He’s hosting all the Talons of the Crows at Caterina’s villa.”

“That means the finest wine, and an even finer banquet,” I said.

“You deserve better than anything at Illario’s table,” Lucanis told me seriously.

“I’ll let you re-educate my palate. Once we’re out the other side,” I grinned.

“We have to do this carefully. Illario has to be expecting us,” Lucanis said.

“You think he knows that we know about him and Elgar’nan?” I asked.

Lucanis smirked, “He knows we know about him and Zara. After your gracious display of threatening him. He wouldn’t be avoiding us otherwise. Be ready for a trap.”

“I always am,” I told him. “Are you… Are you and Spite okay?”

“We’ve come to… an agreement,” he said carefully.

I nodded slowly. “Okay… Should I be worried?”He reached up, fingers playing through the ends of my hair. “Do not worry, mi diosa. I can handle Spite.” His fingers brushed under my jaw, tipping my chin up. I shivered. “You should worry about Teia. Viago said she’s inconsolable with preparations for Illario’s banquet. Knowing her, she has a plan to get us in.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I have planssss >:3

As always, let me know if you want to be on the Lucanis tag list or the tag list for this series!!

Tags: @encrytpta

[vakariansyndrome]

The Spiteful Watcher (Short fanfic)

He watches her. She is graceful; everything she does seems riddled with poise and elegance, even when she is, by all accounts, being reckless. Especially when she is reckless. Through Lucanis’ eyes, Spite watches Rook dart between enemies, a blur of power and beauty, her laughter ringing like a battle hymn. She is chaos and control in equal measure, and he hates how deeply he admires it. It’s not his admiration—it’s Lucanis’. It must be.

But then Rook pauses, leaning on a crate to catch her breath, and Lucanis looks at her with a softness Spite can’t reconcile to anything he has known in his existence. His host is smiling, watching her brush a strand of hair from her cheek with a gloved hand. The action is insignificant, trivial, yet it stirs something in him. It bothers him.

“What are you smiling at?” he growls inside Lucanis’ mind. He feels the faintest flicker of Lucanis’ amusement in response, and Spite loathes it.

“You’re the one watching her,” Lucanis says smoothly, and Spite feels a rabid urge to pummel the rogue. He wants to snap back, but the truth stifles him. He is watching her.

It’s subtle at first, this fixation. Spite tells himself it’s because Rook is a distraction. Something that leaves Lucanis vulnerable, unfocused. Her sharp wit and the way she smiles just slightly after landing a particularly scathing jab—it’s merely an irritation. That is all. She’s too clever for her own good, always dragging Lucanis into situations that could get him killed. But then Spite realizes that every time she risks herself, Lucanis follows, not with exasperation, but devotion.

She’s dangerous, Spite warns him during one of their quieter moments, though the severity in his gravelly voice is lacking.

Lucanis says nothing, but the warmth in his chest is answer enough. And that warmth seeps into Spite, making him fester in a sea of comfort and security. Ugh. He tries to shove it down, to ignore the strange pull he feels every time Rook smiles, every time her voice lilts in that teasing way that makes Lucanis’ heart race. Every time, it is a surprise… Each time, he fails to ignore what is becoming the apple of his eye.

When Lucanis and Rook finally come together, Spite tries to shut it out. He tries not to feel the way Lucanis’ hands thread through her hair, or how her breath hitches when his lips graze her neck. But demons are not meant to feel love, to crave anything but destruction, and this... while destroying him, is unlike any destruction he has ever known. It burns, but it doesn’t hurt—it soothes. It consumes him in a way he cannot explain, and he hates it.

No, he hates her.

He tells himself that lie every time he catches himself yearning for her presence, for the sweet sound of her voice, for the heat in her gaze. And though truth claws at him, merciless, he cannot admit it.

At the very moment of Solas’ betrayal, Spite loses himself. Lucanis’ grief is overwhelming, and Spite feeds on it like a starving beast, twisting it into rage, into something violent and entirely too familiar.

“Basta. Enough, Spite,” Lucanis whispers, though his voice shakes. Spite wants to roar, to break free and tear apart whatever stands in their way, but he feels it—the calm, the restraint. Lucanis grounds him, pulling him back from the edge, and he knows in that moment that it is not Lucanis’ grief that binds him. It is his own.

She is gone. The thought tears him apart, leaving him hollow in a way he has never experienced. And when she returns, when she steps out from a prison meant to house the very gods set on blighting the world, Spite cannot hold back.

Through Lucanis, he embraces her, feeling the soft strength of her body against theirs. He doesn’t let himself think as he pulls her closer, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that is scorching, searing into her everything he cannot say. Lucanis doesn’t stop him—he feels the same, after all.

When Rook pulls back, breathless, Spite says nothing. He hides behind Lucanis’ silence, letting the Crow’s emotions speak for both of them. But deep inside, a quiet truth blooms.

For as long as he is bound to Lucanis, Spite will follow her. He will fight for her, bleed for her, and hope against his own nature that she never leaves them. --- A/N: Something about Spite falling bad for Rook, not understanding it, hating it, but ultimately succumbing, is so sweet to me. Thank you for reading! <3

[jainydoe]

Metastable; Chapter 1

When it started, he told himself it was something irrelevant - that squirming in his gut and need to straighten his vest, smooth his hair, feel if his face was really getting hot or it was a trick of the senses.

This whole thing was a bug to be squashed. A burnt dinner you ate anyway and hoped you forgot about in the morning. Her glances were an accident. She wasn’t taking an inventory of his features the way he did hers. Those weren’t the kind of words he should take seriously. Her comments on his jewels or his impressive use of language. Each time she’d look up at him through her lashes, ghost of a smile on her lips and a quick remark about his intellect, his looks, how very capable he was and what a brilliant idea it was to bring him along, she should kiss Bellara for being such a good scout - he really was such a dashing asset - he’d feel that voltage in his chest saying do it. 

Ask her to dinner. 

Buy her some jewelry. 

Tell her how dashing she’d look in Nevarran robes. 

With a Nevarran date. 

In his Nevarran sheets. 

Then, of course, reality would whack his thoughts away with a ruler and cruel grin. 

You published your first paper before she was a thought in her mommy’s belly. 

He quickly ushers her out of his quarters so he can grip the balcony railing and will himself to hold down his lunch. He reminds himself to ask Lucanis about how he keeps Spite at bay. He’ll be sure it comes across casual. Purely academic. That’s all he is, anyway. A brain for hire. Years of practice in the type of classical restraint that comes so naturally nowadays will work on the likes of Lucanis. It held up with the Dalish boy years ago, too. And that woman from Orlais. And the bartender from that place after that thing a while back. Maybe it’s because Rook can dismantle him so easily that terrifies him as much as it intoxicates. A girl with a puzzle she’s solving too fast, expectant eyes soon to be following. Was that all? 

He tells himself getting to know the rest of their quilt-together cohort will distract from the certain doom of Captain Rook, Daring Young Adventurer. Stronger. More capable. More dashing of an asset. Bellara is a fine way to achieve this. So many questions. So eager. So curious. Time flies when they dissect their studies. She reminds him of a younger version of himself, back before things got easier. He’s not here to make friends, exactly, and after meeting everyone, it’s not something he banks on succeeding in, but she’s a decent partner for lengthy discussion. The sun is on their shoulders one afternoon, papers scattered on a bench outside, and after they’ve exhausted themselves over rhetoric, he watches as Bellara’s eyes follow after their fearless leader. She sighs. 

“Isn’t Rook just so,” she trails off. 

“She is,” he answers. 

Yes, he sees himself in her. Curious and eager. Hungry. A dreamer, cursed. They don’t realize minutes go by in silence until Rook casts a glance their way, eyes darting between the two before a smile unlike one he’s seen before melts and simmers onto her expression. It’s hard. Acidic. The kind reserved for enemies before battle. It runs a shiver down his scalp and settles in his hands. They continue their discussion on summoning spirits and ignore each other’s shaken breath. 

The next morning, Rook doesn’t invite him on the mission and it’s an embarrassment. He’s become accustomed to their routine. Expectant. It’s a strange type of pride he holds close to the vest. He knows it’s because he’s older, wiser, more practiced than the rest of their crew. 

But isn’t that a bad thing, old man? 

He still hasn’t asked Lucanis about Spite. Damnit. Serves him right. He stands at the breakfast table, patting his mouth free of crumbs and making his way to change into his gear when Rook shouts, “Neve, Lucanis, we’re heading out to Tevinter.” 

He’s embarrassed by how fast he turns to stare. It’s embarrassing the way his mouth opens, as if to protest, before quickly shutting and his hands beginning to flex. 

It should be strange for you to come along, at all, reason whispers. You’re a brain for hire, remember? Sometimes, Rook doesn’t wanna carry the team all on her graceful shoulders. You should know. Dead Weight Walking. 

Even Neve looks confused, but steels her expression and nods. He sees the ways hers and Lucanis’ eyes meet, then depart, then meet again, cheeks growing redder by the second. They’ll make a handsome couple. An appropriate couple. He feels a boiling behind his eyes at how easy it must be for him. To just ask. To smile at Neve. To offer her sweets and them both understand it’s a prelude. When he gets back to his quarters, he rips open his desk drawer and rummages for the gold case of Rivaini cigarettes he’d managed to stave off for long enough he couldn’t remember. For someone so petrified of death, it was funny how instantly he itched for a smoke at times like this. He decides he won’t draw comparisons between the cigarettes and Rook. She’s not an addiction. She’s not death. She’s not something to hide in a drawer. He paces out his room, through the den, out onto the balcony to get some last few seconds of fresh air. As he closes his eyes, breeze kissing the back of his neck and hips leaned against the railing, his mind billows over to a girl - bloody, victorious, fire in her gaze as she looms over her latest triumph - and he feels himself get hard. It’s harder to ignore when he hears her laughter below. 

He looks down at the quad, quickly finding a rare smile on brave Davrin’s face, and next to him, a giggling Rook. They’re going inside to the library. Perhaps to her room. Maybe they’ll swap horror stories and he’ll show her just how those Grey Wardens keep warm in the wetlands. Before he can stop himself, he flicks the rest of his cigarette off the edge, it landing on Davrin’s shoulder. He’s quick enough to duck away before either can find his horrified expression looking down at them. Their continued laughter makes his mouth taste like ash. 

A week has gone by and he’s catching up on one of the books he brought from home, a story about two brothers and betrayal, when a low knock echoes through the room. Manfred is with Harding, this evening. He’s thankful for the companionship. He makes his way to the door, tying his robe and beginning a Thank You, Harding speech when those eyes stare up in mild amusement, minor challenge. “Do you always wear collared shirts to bed?” 

He stares for a moment before looking above her head, out into the darkness of the hall. “Common side-effect of working late.” They watch each other before she steps close and then closer, shoulder brushing his ribcage as she pushes her way into the room. 

“You have a real eye for design, you know. Everything is so very … clean.” She brushes her fingers along the staircase, the autopsy table, the fireplace, and he follows her trail, stalking like a wisp. “And it smells like something lovely. Flowers?” 

“Lilacs.” 

She hums in acknowledgement, turning to him. Her nose twitches as she inhales, gently leaning in. “You even smell like lilacs. It’s perfect in here. Pristine.” He can’t breathe. “I suppose that’s why you smoke outside then?” 

This must be what it feels like when your lungs collapse, he thinks. “I am, I am so very, very sorry, I had no idea young Davrin, or you, for that matter, were walking that way, I was simply falling into old habits and once I realized what happened, I was so mortified, I just had to, well, I just, I panicked, I suppose the point is I am so completely sorry and will be sure to send Davrin a plate of confections in the morning as an apology, I hope he wasn’t offended,” he hasn’t breathed in a while and decides to. She says nothing. Then laughs. Like the fact she’s found him funny should be a secret. She follows with a whisper. 

“Next time you want to smoke and be angry, send over an invitation.” 

He wants to ask how she knew he was angry, but she brushes past his arm and glides slowly to the door. Ghostly in her perfection. 

“Have a nice night, Emmrich.” 

He’s not sure if he does.

Things go back to their version of normal. He comes along on journeys, offering information and excellent healing charms. He kindly ignores the jabs her colleagues take, making it clear not only do they find him off putting, but they question Rook’s judgment. When she shuts them down, lovingly firm, eyes clear and shoulders squared, he wants to kiss her. Thank her for rescuing him. Bat his eyes and smile and sigh and grip her armor as she pins him to the side of a cave. It’s refreshing, being outside and flexing his magic. Proving his worth beyond a seminar. The sun agrees with him. The exercise agrees with him. For once, he’s not thinking about how slow he feels and how choking the future can be. He’s staring out at the coastline, the bustle of Minrathous buzzing behind him when a hand rests on his shoulder, her breath hot against his ear. “You were excellent today. How lucky am I?”

I. I. I. Not we. I. 

By the time he looks down, she’s gone, but she’s smiling at him over her shoulder, hair floating in the breeze and tan setting in on her skin. Her cheeks are flushed and the hair around her temples are sweaty. The slice of pie she had earlier has crusted into the corner of her mouth. A berry smudge that paints her lips in a suspended smirk. He realizes, in that moment, that things are much worse than he originally thought.

That evening, he writes a letter to his colleague at the college. 

Dear Simon,

I hope you’re well, blah blah blah, I’m doing this and that, etcetera, etcetera, how is so and so, whatever whatever, tea at our normal haunt? Hope to hear from you soon.

E

Simon wasn’t exactly a friend. There are a lot of not-exactly’s when you’re a professor as decorated and relaxed in his field as Emmrich was. But when there are plenty of pricks in the department and you find a fellow with enough self awareness to not keep his published works loudly present on his desk or laugh the hardest at the dean’s quarterly dinners, you keep in touch. 

“What’s shaking, Ricky,” he smiles, flat accent blaring. Fine, he responds, just fine. They share a pot of tea, trading rumors and stories about other faculty members before he feels comfortable enough bringing it up. 

“I know this isn’t something you probably want to discuss,” he starts, keeping his eyes trained on the tea leaves lurking at the bottom of his cup. Blueberry lavender. “And I understand if you want to change the subject entirely.” He holds his breath. “You and your wife.”

He doesn’t have to say anything more. Simon straightens, crossing his legs and leaning away from the table to stare at the rest of the establishment. It’s dim in lightning and warm, a kind separation from the chilling darkness outside. No one they know is here. That doesn’t make things better. “Is this why you wanted to meet? To question me about,”

He throws a hand over the table, splayed next to Simon’s cup. This is out of character. He hopes it conveys the urgency. “When did you know it was more than,” he looks around, “more than just you. Did she,” he’s sweating. Must be the fire. “Did she say something or, or do something to suggest,” he can’t finish his thought. 

Simon’s eyes widen for a moment before his shoulders lower, eyes quickly going to the fire before meeting Emmrich’s. He understands. “She held my hand. I’d told her about my daughter being sick and she was so. Sorry. But she wouldn’t stop staring at my mouth.” He tilts his head. “Of course, nothing happened until after she graduated. No matter what the others might tell you.” He leans in. “How old is she? Yours?” 

Emmrich thinks of rotting flesh, Assan dead, mutilated villages to wage war against the shocking thrill of hearing her described as his, however untrue the claim may be. 

“Young enough for it to not be real.” 

At that, Simon laughs. “Been there, old pal. Write me when it gets all too real, all too fast.”

He promises, should that unreality make itself real, he will. He’d throw a parade, too. And go skinny dipping in Hossberg. 

No one asks where he’s been when he returns to the Lighthouse. Instead, he arrives to a slice of pie on his desk, a note with a bit of blue thumbprint on the edge. 

Trust me, it’s delicious. 

-R

He doesn’t think twice before digging a finger into the center, ripping off his slice and slipping it into his mouth. It’s sweet. It’s tart. It’s a perfectly fine pie and he imagines blue thumbprints all over her body. A joke about how she's the only thing he'll get dirty over. He lets the slice melt on his tongue. 

“A little birdie told me someone likes you ,” Bellara sings to Davrin, feet kicking under the dinner table. Conversation swings their way, smiles all around and drinks spilling in favor of hearing Bellara’s hot new gossip. Rook is the only person not present. 

“Oh, yeah? What have you heard?” Bellara’s beaming behind her hand, leaning over the food to whisper in his ear. 

This table is a young man’s game. 

Emmrich prides himself on manners. No one would ever accuse him of impoliteness. Which is why he says to no one in particular that he’s excusing himself for the evening before pushing his chair out and beginning the walk back to his room. It’s more like a pre-jog. He’s only had half a dinner but that’s fine. There will be no wars won tomorrow. He wishes there were stars around here, instead of this blasted, perpetual summertime. He considers going home, where he could wallow and rot in peace. Before he can enter the library, tell Manfred to pack a bag and make sure to pack his robe, a flaming hot sizzle lands on his left shoulder. In surprise, he yelps, brushing it off and looking up to see who the hell would dare?

She would. She would dare. “Walking home all by yourself, handsome?”

He huffs, if just to make her feel the slightest bit bad. He knows it won’t work. “Lost my appetite, I’m afraid.” 

She beckons him up the stairs. “Good thing I’ve got just the thing to help.”

When he reaches the top, she’s lighting a new cigarette, passing it to him as she stares out onto the cul-de-sac they’ve begun to find familiar. “If these kill me, will you bring me back?”

He doesn’t want to let on how terrified the thought leaves him. Instead, he looks her in the eye, letting the end rest on his lower lip before sucking down a deep inhale, eyes stuck on hers. “You know, the likelihood is I go out before you, my dear. Should I decide against immortality.”

Her eyebrow quirks. He ignores that she’s staring at his mouth. “What do you think of our little stowaways?” 

“Perfectly qualified team of individuals. They’re certainly exciting.” 

She sighs. He starts wondering how he answered her wrong, but she cuts in. “One of these days, I’d appreciate if you told me what you really think. However,” she stops, looking at his nose, his tie, his chin, “... improper … you may think it be.”

He wants to kiss her. He’s going to kiss her. He’s going to drop his cigarette and light this place on fire and feel the flames licking their legs as he bites into her neck and dares everyone to admire just how accomplished he really is. 

She grabs the cigarette from his lips. He finds it’s his cue to answer. “I could do with less from Davrin, lately.” He’s shocked he’s said it. “I mean,”

“Wow, didn’t realize you really meant to burn him earlier.”

“I didn’t, I-”

“You got a problem?”

“No, I don’t, really, I don’t know why I-”

“It makes sense, really. He’s brave, and strong, and all the things that make a hero. ”

He schools his expression into the one reserved for faculty meetings and difficult students. It’s hard. It’s acidic. “I see you’ve taken an interest in a new companion. How charming. I’m sure you’re both," he considers his words, "well-suited for each other.”

Something shifts in her gaze. Off-kilter. On the back foot. She ceases to be the warrior he works with, the woman that torments him - instead, he sees a girl, fingers picked bloody and lip worked raw, suddenly unsure. He sees himself in her. Hungry and cursed. 

“I certainly have taken an interest, Emmrich.” Ever daring, she steps closer. Her hand brushing his against the rail, then curled against her chest, then to her lips and finally placing the bit of cigarette left between his lips. “A little birdie tells me you feel the same.” 

Later that night, when he’s ghosting his hand over her backside, watching his fireplace dance shadows on their legs, he asks Manfred for some stationary and ink. He has a surprising letter to write.  Ch. 2