#datv fic

[thewardenisonthecase]

Of Nightmares and Sleepless Nights

Lucanis Dellamorte x Grey Warden!Rook

Read on AO3

Summary: Lucanis was enjoying the quietness of the night, driking his coffee in the pantry when he hears an intruder in the kitchen.

A/N: so i recently finished the Veilguard and romanced Lucanis and I love him and decided to write something between him and my grey warden Rook. This is before they're in a relationship and there's a very small mention of his past.

word count: 1,258

The pantry was a strange source of comfort for the assassin. After spending a year in the Ossuary, one would think he’d prefer somewhere with more space, more freedom but Lucanis had chosen to stay in the pantry. It was small and quiet, a good place to be when the outside world became too much. 

After all, a year in isolation heightens the senses. 

There were other upsides to the pantry. If he fell asleep and Spite took over, he would be the farthest from most, especially from Rook, and so, less chances of someone getting harmed. Then there was the fact that he had easy access to food when he wanted to cook, and he could keep track of the storage. 

But the best reason for staying in the pantry is that, on nights like this, when it was quiet and Lucanis was on his second cup of coffee to drive away sleep, he could hear if an intruder entered the kitchen. In the months they had stayed in the Lighthouse, no one had braved the kitchen at this hour. 

He heard footsteps walking around, chairs being moved until the noise started to come his way. He stood near the entrance, with a dagger in hand. Years of training kicked in as the door slowly opened and he prepared himself to hit whoever has invaded the Lighthouse when he heard

“Maker’s balls Lucanis, it’s me.” 

Standing mere centimeters from the dagger’s blade was Rook. She took a step back as he sheathed the weapon. 

“Rook…” he said, embarrassed “what are you doing? It’s late.” 

“You’re not the only one who has trouble sleeping.” Looking past him, Rook motioned to the shelves of the pantry. “Do you know if there’s anything sweet in there?” 

He furrowed his brows, confused. “I…we ran out of chocolate last week.” 

“Damn it.” Rook sighed and began to turn to leave.

“I could brew you some coffee, if you want.” Lucanis offered. 

She looked at him, contemplating the offer, and saying “I’ll take it, but only if you keep me company.” 

Lucanis gave her a small nod and smile. “Of course.” 

Rook made her way to the table, sitting on one of the chairs close to the kitchen door as she waited. Once he was done, Lucanis handed her the coffee, sitting on the opposite chair and holding a cup of coffee of his own.

She blew the steam coming of it before drinking it. She sighed contentedly. “You make really good coffee.” 

“Thank you.” He drank from his cup. 

“How many have you had tonight?” 

“This would be my third.” 

“It’s probably not good for your health to be drinking this much coffee at night.” 

He smirked. “Probably. But I’m also sure attempting to raid the larder late at night is also not good for you.” 

Rook raised a brow “Touché.” She sank into the chair, making herself more comfortable. She only wore her pajamas, a sleeveless shirt and a short, and for the first time, Lucanis had noticed the various burn scars across her arms and legs, ones usually kept hidden underneath armor. On occasion, he had caught a glimpse of them on her forearm, but he never realized the extent of them. 

He wondered what was the story behind them, if she would share it if he asked but instead, he looked away, hoping she hadn’t noticed him looking. 

“You said you had trouble sleeping?” Lucanis asked. 

Rook nodded. “Nightmares, but I’m used to it.” 

“What were they about?” 

Rook looked at her coffee, biting her lip before looking at him “I’ve heard you and Davrin talking. How much do you know about what’s like being a warden?”

His brows furrowed, confused at the question. “Besides that you’re all going to slowly die of the taint, have a secretive order and are supposedly the only ones who can kill Archdemons, I know as much as everyone else. Why?” 

She sighed. “When you’re a Grey Warden, you are connected to the darkspawn because you’re all blighted, right? It’s how we’re able to sense them, because we’re a bit like them.” He nodded as she explained. “One of the side effects of that is that just like them, we also dream with the Archdemon.” 

Lucanis raised his brows. “I…I didn’t know.” 

“I guess most people don’t know.” She shook her head, looking at the fire. “It’s hard to explain if you don’t have them but you just…it’s like you’re a darkspawn, listening to their call. The Archdemon, it-it looks at you, like it’s staring into your soul, compelling it to them, knowing you’re not one of them. It’s…hard.”

“I’m sorry, Rook.” 

She shrugged. “It’s fine. You learn to deal with it. But with this whole blighted gods and two of them walking around…it gets more difficult to sleep.” 

“I see. At least, you have Davrin.” 

“Yeah…” she said, but there was a certain…sadness? or unease in the way she said that. “I don’t know if I’d want to talk to him about this though.” 

“Why not? He probably would understand it better than I do.”

“I know but he’s him and you’re…” she hesitated, and for a second, Lucanis swore he could see a blush on her face, though he believed it must be a trick of the light. 

“I’m what?”

“You.” She said and looked down. “Do you ever deal with this? Nightmares, I mean.” 

“One of the upsides of not sleeping is not getting nightmares.” He joked and she chuckled. “But sometimes, I do get the occasional bad dream.” 

“What are they about?” 

“Nowadays, the stuff done to me and Spite in the Ossuary. But other times…” he hesitated. His other nightmares consisted of his childhood. Of being starved and beaten into the assassin he was. Of past mistakes. Of losing the ones he loved.

Her voice brought him back to reality “You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to. Makers knows there’s things I’d rather forget that still haunt my dreams.” 

He looked at her, seeing a kindness in her eyes he hadn’t felt in a long time. Lucanis offered her a small smile. “Thank you, Rook.” 

“Always.” 

After that, the two continued to drink in silence. It was a welcoming silence, not one brought on by discomfort, and Lucanis couldn’t help but think of how nice this was. 

Once she was finished with her drink, Rook placed it on the table and yawned. “I think I’ll go back to my room now. Maybe the coffee will ensure no more bad dreams.” 

The two of them stood up and Lucanis chuckled, as he grabbed her empty cup. “You’re the only person I know who gets sleepy after drinking coffee.” 

“Well, you know how I am.” She said before making her way to the door. 

Before she left, her said “Rook, wait.” 

“Yes?” 

“If you ever have…trouble sleeping, I wouldn’t mind doing this again.” 

Rook smiled shyly, nodding. “I’ll know where to find you. Goodnight.” 

“Night.” He sighed, making his way to sink to wash her cup and Spite soon began talking. 

“Rook. Likes you.” 

“Rook likes everyone.” Lucanis tried to ignore Spite. 

“But with you. It’s different. I could smell it on her.” 

“Don’t talk about her like this.” He said harshly, but that only made Spite smirk. 

“You. Like her too. It’s why you offered to help.” 

“I…” Lucanis sighed, as the demon began to laugh and he poured himself another coffee. 

It would be a long night. 

[girlwithadragonheart]

Chapter 2 - A Mourning Crow

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

Rook x Lucanis

Summary: Lucanis invites Rook for coffee ;3. Arrangements for Caterina's funeral are made. Lucanis and Rook share feelings over cookies.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Spoilers, cursing, mentions of death

A/N: A shorter one for some bonding <3

Chapter 1 DATV Masterlist Chapter 3(wip)

Meeting with the Shadow Dragons didn’t go quite as horribly as I’d expected. Tarquin looked more surprised to see me than anything. “Welcome home, Rook. Try not to get yourself run out of the city again,” he said.

“No promises,” I told him with a smirk.

We set off to take care of the relic that had fallen into the Venatori’s hands. Lucanis and Neve trailed me as we made our way through Dock town.

“You didn’t tell me you were a Shadow Dragon, Rook,” Lucanis said.

“It was only a couple years. Just long enough to have to leave,” I glanced at him over my shoulder. “They didn’t want to risk taking out a slavery ring, so Varric and I did it ourselves. Every magister in Minrathous was hot on my tail after that,” I chuckled. “It was the first job I ever did with Varric, and it was the day I joined him.”

“The day he picked you up off the streets, more like,” Neve teased.

“It sounds like he means a lot to you,” Lucanis said thoughtfully.

“Of course he does,” I said simply. “He saved me.”

“You. Saved. Us!” Spite’s voice hissed through Lucanis’s lips.

I shrugged. “I had help.”

Neve grinned. “Shadow Dragons stick together,” she said simply.

After trekking all over Dock Town and fighting a Tevinter Magister asshole who got off the hook cause his daddy’s got money, we were back at the lighthouse. I was exhausted but I also did not want to see Solas. That was something Lucanis and I had in common, not wanting to sleep and unwanted tenants in our heads. 

I went across the courtyard to the dining room. The table was now set for the whole team. Next to the fireplace was a hanging grocery list in Lucanis’s handwriting. The assassin had tucked himself in the pantry behind the dining room.

I suppose it would be odd to expect him to adapt so quickly to being out in the open after spending a year in the prison. I just hoped he was comfortable.

I knocked on the door and he opened it, cup of coffee in hand. He smiled a bit when he saw me. “Rook, Illario sent word. He’s got intel on Zara. He wants to meet up. Fancy a trip to Treviso?” He asked.

“Sounds like fun,” I smiled. “We can head out soon.”

It was hard to know what time it was in the Fade. The sky never really changed and there was no indication of the sun. When we left Minrathous the sun was setting. I wasn’t disappointed about getting to see Treviso at night. The barest piece I had seen when we met Teia had captivated me more than Minrathous ever could.

Lucanis and I stepped through the eluvian together into the Cantori Diamond. He led me through the tower and down the spiral staircase. There was a zip line across to another rooftop that I clung to while we swung across. I jumped down to the lower roof beside it before sliding down the lattice. If I remembered right this was the same way Teia had taken us on the way in.

Instead of going across the bridge, Lucanis veered to the right and took us down an alleyway leading to the market.

“Illario will meet us at Cafe Pietra, it’s not that far from here. We have time before he arrives, I wouldn’t mind looking around a while,” Lucanis told me.

“I wouldn’t either. I’m sure Treviso has lots of sights to see. What I’ve seen of your city is beautiful,” I answered. Something in this place sung to my soul.

“The markets are open… good. I have some things I need to get,” he said. “Treviso… I barely had time to look around after the Ossuary.”

“Has it changed much?” I asked curiously as we browsed the stalls.

“In some ways more than I expected. But then… perhaps it’s me.” We wandered for a moment before Lucanis made a stop in front of a stall.

“A potted plant?” I asked.

“For Harding’s garden. Spearmint is supposed to calm bad dreams. It’s good in desserts too.” I nodded thoughtfully. He led me to another stall. “Bellara mentioned a danish seafood recipe she wants to make,” he said.

“The Demon of Vyrantium is grocery shopping for the team,” I said with amusement.

“Have you seen what they eat? It’s a miracle you didn’t all starve before you hired me,” he said exasperated, leading me to a produce stall. “Fresh fruit,” he sighed. “Neve only eats fried fish. You’d think a detective would have discovered scurvy by now.”

I laughed. “Is that everything on the list?”

“Yes, and Illario should be here by now. Let’s go meet him before he gets himself into some kind of trouble.”

I hummed, walking back through the market. “Just one last thing,” I said, approaching the blacksmithing stall. My eyes roved over the selection before a tossed some gold at the trader, picking up my gift.

I smiled, handing it to Lucanis. “You can’t buy something for everyone but yourself. Here this is for you.”

“A wyvern-tooth dagger?” His eyes went wide when I handed it to him. “I loved wyverns as a boy. Caterina would never let me have one of these, though.”

I just smiled at him before he led us to the cafe to meet Illario.

When we entered, the air was warm and thick with the scent of coffee. It was enough to make my mouth water. I sat down across from Illario and Lucanis sat to my left between us. 

“Finally! I thought you might leave me here all by my lonesome,” Illario said as we sat down. I shifted in my seat, keeping my gaze on Lucanis. The presence he put off made me feel calmer.

“Please,” Lucanis said. “You think I’d ever pass up Cafe Pietra’s coffee?”

“You see, Rook? My cousin is all stomach and no heart,” Illario said.

Lucanis grinned, looking over at me. “Don’t mind him. Illario cannot appreciate anything but himself.” There was a light in his eyes that made him seem younger. A light that likely disappeared in the Ossuary. “They serve a specialty roast here: Andoral’s Breath. Bitter and sweet like a kiss goodbye. You should try it,” he told me.

“Bitter’s good. Chocolate is better,” I said with a grin.

“They have cioccolata calda. It was my favorite drink as a child,” Lucanis said, amused.

“I think you’re shaming me, but I’m ordering the choco-chico thing,” I crossed my arms. Lucanis tipped his head back and laughed. “Two Crows and a Shadow Dragon walk into a cafe. It sounds like the beginning of a very bad joke.” Even Illario cracked a smile with that one. “To business?”

“Our final listener left when Lucanis started making out with the idea of coffee,” Illario crossed his arms, shifting in his seat.

Lucanis grinned. “What can I say? I take it very seriously. So. You have something?” he asked, leaning forward with his elbows braced on the table.

My eyes trailed the leanness of his body, built for agility and precision, unlike me. My body was a conduit for my power despite my preference of a dagger in combat.

“The Crows I sent after Zara have picked up her trail. They say she’s gone to Vyrantium,” Illario said.

My eyes flicked over his face. “If she was here in Treviso to kill Caterina, she can’t be in Vyrantium already.” I glanced at Lucanis, and the corners of his lips twitched.

“Rook’s right. Zara’s given you a false lead, cousin.”

“You have better information?” Illario questioned.

“We’re compromised,” Lucanis said simply. “There’s no other way Zara could even touch Caterina. You need your eyes here. In Antiva.”

“Zara would never be foolish enough to stay. Not with you out for blood,” Illario said.

Lucanis put his hands together. “Of course she would. If the Crows protecting her are here.”

Illario looked to me. “Rook, reason with him, would you? He’s being paranoid.” Something about the way he purred that made me uncomfortable.

“I am not paranoid! She came after me. She came after Caterina. She will come for you, too,” Lucanis pushed.

Illario scowled. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll clean house, all right? Leave this to me.” He stood and left the room. 

I walked him out, leaving Lucanis to think. He looked at me, nodded and shook my hand before heading off. As I walked back into the cafe, I wiped my hand on my leathers. “He’s gone,” I said as I sat down next to Lucanis.

“Of course he is. Illario always caves under pressure,” Lucanis scowled.

“Your cousin only seems to hear about one word in ten,” I said, picking up my chocolate drink that Lucanis had ordered for me while I was out.

“He’s always been this way. He hears what he wants to hear.” Lucanis swirled his cup, bringing it to his lips and taking a deep inhale of the brew, sighing. He took a sip, eyes closed in contentment as he savored the drink. He looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him.

I grinned. “Bitter and sweet, you called that blend. Like a kiss goodbye. So what would a first kiss be?” I asked thoughtfully.

“Honey and lavender cream. Sweet, intriguing…” He said smoothly. “And you? How would you describe it?” He asked.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know,” I said. “I’ve never had one. There’s just never been… well…” What was I even going to say? A person? No. An opportunity? A choice? 

Lucanis smiled softly. “In matters of the heart, one must be discerning.”

“When it’s right, you know,” I said.

“I’ve always thought that to live truly is to live fully. But even before I was captured, my life was not really my own. So much had been determined for me,” he told me.

“You must have found time for a little trouble along the way. And if you didn’t, I can find you some now,” I smiled.

“We’ll see. You don’t know how much trouble I can handle yet. How’s your cioccolata calda?” He asked.

“Just sweet enough to intrigue me.” I took another sip, sitting back and letting my shoulders drop. I felt Lucanis’s eyes on me. “Thank you for this,” I said. “For getting me out of the Lighthouse. And for the drink.”

“Anytime, Rook,” he said. “I mean that.” And I believed him.

“Ready to head back?” I asked.

“In a while,” he said, looking off into the distance, swirling his coffee. “Do we have a minute?” He asked, looking back at me.

My brow furrowed. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

“Teia wants to meet,” Lucanis said.

“I’d never pass up the chance.”

“She wants to plan Caterina’s funeral,” he said darkly, looking into his drink.

“Oh,” my face fell. “Right.”

“If you don’t mind, I… could use some backup. In case Spite gets out of hand,” he said carefully.

“Of course, Lucanis. Let’s not keep her waiting.” I stood, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. His muscles were taut, and I pulled away. “Sorry.”

“No,” he said. “It’s alright.” He looked up at me and stood. “Thank you.”

—-------------------------------------

Illario and Teia met us at the Cantori Diamond.

“Good! You’re here,” she said upon seeing us.

“Thank you for making the arrangements, Teia,” Lucanis said.

“For Caterina… how could I do otherwise?” She said with a frown. “I’m so sorry, Lucanis. This must be such a blow.” She looked over at me with a smile. “Rook, thank you for coming with him. I need one Dellamorte to plan this. His cousin has been no help at all.” She put her hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry, Teia. This is just… too much right now,” Illario said.

“If there’s anything I can do, just say the word,” I told them.

“You’re such a dear. I hope these two are paying attention,” Teia smiled at me.

“Teia. Don’t flirt with my… colleague,” Lucanis said, looking wounded.

“Jealous?” She smirked. “Fine, to business then. There’s a lot to plan. But first, I need the ashes.”

“Ashes?” Illario asked, dumbfounded.

“Maker help us, yes, the ashes! Caterina’s ashes. From the cremation?” Teia asked.

“Oh. Yes. Of course. I’ll get them to you right away,” he said.

“Illario… what happened?” Lucanis asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Caterina. How…? How did the Venatori get to her? When? Where? In the estate? In the city? How did they get past our people? What did they use? Poison? Blades? I need to know,” Lucanis questioned. 

“Cousin, stop,” Illario chided. “You can’t dwell on this. It’ll drive you mad.”

Okay, I’ll be the first to admit, that pissed me off. Illario couldn’t dictate how people handle grief, and Lucanis had perfectly good reasons for needing to know those things.

“I’m not dwelling,” Lucanis argued. “Zara killed the First Talon. I have to know how if I’m going to stop her.”

“I told you, I’m handling it.” I glanced sidelong at Illario, trying to gauge if it was just me getting annoyed or not. This wasn’t even my group of people and he was pissing me off. It felt dismissive. Lucanis had earned more respect than that, even from his cousin.

“Boys!” Teia said. “Enough of this. We have other things to discuss.”

“My apologies, Andarateia. Continue without me. I’ll… get you the ashes,” Illario excused himself.

Lucanis had a scowl on his face when I looked at him. “How are you holding up?” I asked.

“I’ll be fine. Better, once we kill Zara Renata. It’s him I’m worried about,” he told me.

“Illario can be a handful, but this… the only time I’ve seen him like this was when Lucanis died,” Teia told me. She looked over at Lucanis. “You’re worrying, aren’t you? What will people say if they hear the Demon of Vyrantium has a big soft heart?”

“He’s been careless at times, but never when his own life was on the line. Zara took down the First Talon. Anyone could be next. And my cousin doesn’t want to think about it,” Lucanis said, frustrated.

“You have a point,” Teia said. “It’s not like Illario to ignore a knife coming at him.”

“What do you need from me for the funeral?” Lucanis asked.

“I’ve already handled everything, I just wanted to run it by you,” she smiled sadly.

“Our house owes you for handling all of this,” Lucanis told her.

“Caterina was family. Can you imagine what she’d say if she saw us all like this?” Teia questioned.

“She’d be furious. Especially at Illario. As usual,” Lucanis grinned.

“I barely know your cousin, and he already seems like trouble to me,” I told him.

“Oh, he is,” Lucanis nodded. “I’ve lost count of the times I’ve had to pull him out of the fire on the job.”

“He’s a good assassin. Most jobs don’t have as many fires as yours do. I’ll have my people keep an eye on him for you,” Teia assured him.

“Thank you, Teia,” Lucanis said. The grief he carried was evident in his voice.

“Go on,” she said to us. “I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

—-----------------------------------

Flour coated my hands and clothes as I mixed the dough between my hands for the cookies I was making. I couldn’t sleep, or at the least didn’t want to, and I had my thoughts to myself while my hands were busy. 

Soon enough, I had them baking. Lucanis eased out of the pantry, squinting into the dim glow of the kitchen. The sweet, buttery smell of baking cookies was unmistakable. I smiled at him from where I leaned against the counter. 

“Perfect timing,” I said as I set the fresh batch in front of me. “Midnight snack?”

“You bake?” He asked, coming over to eye my handy work. “You never cease to surprise me.” His eyes trailed over the cookies, leaning against the counter beside me, gaze lingering on me as I worked.

“I’d hate to become boring,” I said with a smile. “I don’t really like sleeping these days,” I told him. “I… I can’t seem to escape Solas when I do. He invades my dreams. It’s like I’m trapped in them, and nothing feels real when I wake up.”

He studied me for a moment. “We are more similar than I anticipated.”

He reached for a cookie, and my eyes went wide, “Careful–!”

He picked it up with a smirk. “I can handle it,” he said, taking a bite. “This is delicious.” His eyes slipped closed and I laughed.

I brought the tray of cookies to the dining table. Lucanis sat across from me. “How are you feeling about everything?” I asked him.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t know. After the Ossuary, nothing feels real.”

“What about Caterina?” I asked. “What was she like?”

“Caterina was… strong,” he said slowly. “She was fierce and never backed down from anything, sometimes to our detriment. She never stopped. Not until she was forced to,” he told me.

“She seemed like someone who could calm storms or raise them,” I said to him. “I could’ve used someone like her in my corner.”

Lucanis’s gaze softened, and his fingers twitched as though he fought the urge to reach out. “She would have liked you,” he said quietly. “I think she would’ve seen something in you, something… worth protecting.”

“Varric used to say that. Do you know what he said when I asked why he chose me?” I couldn’t help but smile thinking about my friend and mentor. “He said, “There’s a reason I brought you into this mess. You’re clever. Adaptable. And you don’t know when to quit”. He said it was my best and worst quality.”

“He was right in that regard,” Lucanis said with a smirk, and I rolled my eyes.

The quiet stretched between us, and the sound of Spite’s voice filled the space before his aspect appeared in the chair beside Lucanis. “How sweet. Two poor souls, drowning their feelings over cookies.”

“Okay, but, have you tried one?” I picked a cookie up, reaching to hand it to Spite.

“Rook—” Lucanis began.

“Smells like. Chocolate. And Rook.” Spite sniffed the cookie.

“Yes, I made them. Try it,” I urged with a grin.

I watched Spite try a tiny piece before shoving the whole cookie in his mouth. “More.”

I laughed. “By all means, Mischief,” I said, pushing the tray toward him. “There are plenty to share.”

“Spite doesn’t scare you?” Lucanis asked, watching the encounter play out curiously.

“We’re up against gods. No, Spite doesn’t scare me. And you two didn’t deserve what you went through in the prison. I can’t fault him for being angry any more than I can fault you.”

Lucanis studied me, his gaze softening with a touch of admiration. “You’re far more understanding than most. I think it’s why Spite has taken a strange liking to you.”

I shrugged, popping another cookie into my mouth, scoring the sweet warmth as Spite continued to wolf down more. “I don’t know about that.”

Lucanis’s eyes lingered on me as I leaned back in my chair, and for a moment, the weight of the silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt… familiar, like the calm before the storm, or the soft hum of a connection that was only beginning to form.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” he asked quietly, his voice carrying the weight of understanding that so often showed in me.

I paused, unsure of how to answer. It felt easier to just nod. “A lot more than I ever wanted to, and yet… here I am. I think I’ve gotten used to it. Surviving. Trying not to let the nightmares take over.”

Lucanis leaned forward, his elbows on the table. His gaze was intense, but not in a way that made me feel cornered. It was as if he was searching, but not with a sense of urgency. He wasn’t probing; he was simply trying to see. “I know what it’s like to carry that weight,” he said quietly, his voice lowering. “The fear. The doubt. The need to keep moving, even when it feels like it would be easier to just stop.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “You’re not alone in this.”

“I’m not alone, ever,” he said with a pointed glance at Spite who just grinned menacingly.

“You know what I mean.” I reached over, taking his hand on the table and rubbing my thumb over his knuckles. “We aren’t alone. Any of us. Something to think about,” I said before standing. “Thank you for tonight.”

“You know I’m a sucker for good food,” Lucanis smirked slightly. “Even when the world outside is a bit chaotic.”

“More than I bit,” I laughed. 

But for now, the cookies were still warm, and the night, however fleeting, was ours to share.

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

A/N: I'm so tired ;-;

Let me know if you wanna be added to a tag list!

[roguelioness]

Pharos

When Neria agreed to serve as Rook's advisor, she never thought she would meet Solas outside of a battlefield.

Pairing: Solas x Neria Lavellan Rating: G Words: 1540 dragon age: the veilguard spoilers ahead.

Read on AO3

Sleep does not come easy, her heart frantically drumming its excitement. Neria stares at the roof, lets her eyes trace the many beams that criss-cross and support the structure. It has been so long since she saw him, so many years spent with barely any news of his existence. How often she has worried about him, even as she fretted over his plans. 

Would he have forgotten her? Had he thought of her at all?

Did he miss her?

Well, she thinks, I will have all the answers I need once I fall asleep.

It is no easier, but sheer exhaustion soon consumes here. When her eyes open, she is in the Fade, familiarly green in an unfamiliar location. She glances around, waiting for her guide to show up; a few moments later a figure strides towards her, her silhouette familiar, and Neria’s shoulders relax.

“I thought you would never turn up,” Rook remarks.

“I could not fall asleep,” she confesses with a faint smile.

Rook nods abstractedly, her mind still clearly occupied by the disastrous turn of events. “Come,” she says as she starts to walk away, “the Lighthouse is this way.”

“How can you tell?” Neria asks. “The Fade is so vast…”

Rook’s expression is grim. “Interrupting the ritual had a price,” she says, voice and body stiff. “I do not know the specifics, but I am bound to Solas, and the Fade. I will always know where he is, and he will know where I am.”

She stumbles, emotion catching in her chest and clogging up her lungs. Bound to Solas? Tied so close to him that she would know his location at any time? It is what she has wanted the most the past years, and that this new hero, her successor, has been granted it while she, the one who had loved him and who still loves him, has not… The sense of being discarded, as illogical as it is, has tears prickling at her eyes, and her fingers curl into her palms, nails digging into the skin, to steady herself. I was his enemy, she reminds herself. Why would he want to let me know where he wanders when he knew I wished to stop him?

Still, the rejection stings, hot and angry, and she has to remind herself to calm those wayward emotions lest she attract the attention of demons.

“Is he-” Neria hesitates, then starts again. “Is he well?”

Rook throws her a sympathetic look over her shoulder. “You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

Soon enough comes quicker than she expected, and it is with a near-overwhelming sense of awe that she glances at what Rook has called The Lighthouse. So this is Solas’ real base, his personal home. Once again that feeling of bitterness that she’s not the first to experience this, that for all he claimed to love her, he did not truly trust her enough to-

He gave you Skyhold, she reminds herself. 

He gave the fortress to the Inquisition, she rebuts. He gave the fortress to the Inquisitor. Not to me. 

He did not invite them, her mind patiently counters. It is Rook’s interruption of his ritual that has resulted in her presence here. He did not prioritize them over you.

For an indeterminate length of time she merely gazes up at the grand building, at the hues of gold and purple that adorn it. That it is his is impeccably clear; she has intimate knowledge of how his magic feels, and it is so thick here it is a physical touch against her non-corporeal skin. Large, gilded windows allow golden light to stream in; the stone that make up the walls gleam with a kind of mother-of-pearl sheen. The Fade here is warm, comforting, a balm to her riot of emotions – it is unsurprising that his space in the Fade is so heartening.

And yet, for all its majesty, there is something heart-wrenchingly lonely about The Lighthouse.

Rook huffs impatiently. Neria rouses herself out of her thoughts at the sound, and follows the other woman into the mansion. There is opulence everywhere, though it is not garish; wherever she looks are touches of that same purple and gold – on the border of the carpet, the edge of the drapes, the pattern on the cushions adorning the plush couches.

So much space, she thinks, for one person.

When they pass the dining hall – twice as long as it is wide, and it is so very wide – she spies a great table with more chairs than she can count, and it is empty, so, so empty save a single plate and knife and fork, with a solitary goblet to match, and it slams into her then just what a terribly isolated, lonesome existence he must have led. How many times had he been betrayed to be instilled with the belief that he could trust no one? How many friends, how many lovers had cast him aside, had turned away from him because of the rumors that accompanied his name?

“Why are you crying?” Rook asks. 

Neria wipes at her face, mildly surprised to feel the tears. “It’s nothing,” she shakes her head. “Let’s keep going.”

The library is their destination, Rook’s unofficial war room as Solas has barred entry into other places in his home. She can understand that; it must be hard enough for him to handle this intrusion into his fiercely-guarded privacy, he would not want to let these new interlopers into every little bit of this deeply personal space.

They pass what she thinks to be the library. It is- she has no words for it. A row of towering bookshelves line two walls, filled with tomes and tchotchkes and trinkets. Sofas carved from rich, warm wood and covered in soft, shimmering velvet rest next to mosaic-covered tables, atop which rest intricately sculpted lights that glow with a bright, cozy light. There are books everywhere – stacked on top of tables, scattered across the floor, spread open on the seats. This, Neria realizes, this is where he spends the most time, the true heart of his home. The urge to enter and give everything within a closer look is almost irresistible; were it not for Rook taking their arm and giving a gentle tug, she would have succumbed.

“Not that one,” she says simply as she guides away from that oh-so-compelling room.

They encounter one of Rook’s companions on the way to their destination; Neria thinks the russet-skinned woman exuding such confidence is the one Rook said was called Neve. 

“Rook, a moment if you would?” Neve says.

Rook turns to her. “The library is right around the corner,” she says. “Give me a few minutes, and we’ll catch up.”

Slightly insulted over her exclusion – did Neve not think she could be trusted? – Neria makes her way to the library, coming to an abrupt standstill at the doorway.

Standing by a window, gloriously warm amber light caressing his face, is Solas. His back is to her, and she takes advantage of his ignorance of her presence to take his in. He is dressed in dark leather armor – beautifully made with materials she doesn’t recognize – as though despite this being a safe place, he does not entirely trust the people wandering his halls. Shoulders and back stiff, his chin jutted forwards, he reminds her of a cornered wild creature that is ready to lash out and strike at any moment.

And then he turns, and she sees his face for the first time in almost a decade, and her heart skips a beat before beginning a galloping rhythm–

A deep furrow sits between his brows, but the scar she has kissed so many hundreds of times is still there. There are heavy bags beneath his eyes, but his irises are the same shade of blue-grey-violet she remembers. His face wears a touch more color but his freckles are still visible, and she wants to count them to ensure each and every one of them are yet there. He– he is thinner than she remembers, his cheeks more gaunt; he appears like a man who has been well-plagued by stress.

He looks worried and frustrated and anxious, though it soon gives way; first into an expression of shock and surprise, then muted sorrow and dulled regret, before going blank entirely. But his eyes, oh, his eyes – they are ravenously, desperately hungry, and she shivers under the weight of that rapacious gaze, her skin flushing and warming beneath the force of it.

“Oh, vhenan,” she murmurs, taking a step towards him, trying not to take it personally as he takes a step back in response, “you have not been taking care of yourself.”

Whatever he had expected her to say, it had not been that, and the tension bleeds from him. “Neria,” he says, so quietly and reverentially it pulls tears to her eyes, “ir abelas, vhenan.”

Unable to help herself, unable – and unwilling – to resist, she bridges the space between them with long, rapid strides, flinging her arms around his neck and rejoicing in the form and feel of him. “I’m here,” she whispers, making a soft, choked laugh as his fingers tighten their grip on her, “I’m here.”

[asharaks]

so gravely held

rook/davrin 1.2k words

Anade laughs — and isn't that a thing to behold, head thrown back (throat exposed) and their hair falling like a live thing — and he grins, ducks his head to the block of wood in his hands so they won't see the way it twists in him.

[wabart]

i've been reading octavian's story and i just want to say that i'm Such a fan ❤️

AAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! EEEEHEHEEE

[ibahibut]

💀: Fewer wounds, more kisses from me.

🐦‍⬛: Contract's accepted, mi amor.

Music inspiration: A Little Death by The Neighbourhood

[rosieofcorona]

solavellan heaven, actually (wip)

[momspren]

OK so important follow up: did he think back on that after she left and lose his mind thinking about it? How many little moments did he deconstruct later and feel both like a heel and an absolute fool?

Sorry for sending another ask so soon, I'm just in love with Agnes and Emmrich and I spent last night rereading your series.

How did Emmrich feel about having to share a tent with Agnes? Was that immediately apparent to him when he suggested that they continue their journey, or did he have an "oh, shit" moment when it came time to camp for the evening?

okay I CAN answer this one i’m like <100 words, because Agnes caught Feelings way earlier than Emmrich did. So he actually felt totally fine with it. To him it would have been like sharing a bed with his sister (who is not canon confirmed I 100% made her up.)

He did feel slightly guilty after the fact, because it clearly made Agnes uncomfortable in some kind of way, but he was in it for those sweet, sweet Grand Necropolis horrors and really didn’t want to lose the tail end of his trip. (very nerdcore of him)

His big "oh, shit" moment is in really in Chp.7.

(and don’t apologize you are more than welcome to keep them coming I love talking about Them)

[valiantvillain]

So if Lucanis really has no social skills if what little we're hearing is accurate...does that mean the other companions might feel the need to give him advice on how to fucking flirt like a normal person, dammit, to increasingly absurd but at least amusing results?

[saintsbuffy]

You’re an angel, i’m a dog.

Pairing: Lucanis/Rook Lucanis/Rook/Spite

TW: injury detail, sexual references, references to abuse, ptsd and depression.

Word count: around 3000

Chapter: 1/?

1 - MIDNIGHTS

— Rook finds herself unable to sleep, Lucanis is always awake.

It’s midnight in the lighthouse when Rook is wakes. Her deep breaths and rapid heartbeat fill the silent chamber as she places one hand to her damp chest whilst the other clutches a dagger from beneath her pillow.

With a final shaken breath as her body comes to full consciousness she pushes herself up off the sweat soaked sheets and tosses them into a pile in the corner along with her loose bed shirt. Moonlight reflects off the stone walls and it shines through the stone cracks and under the curtain of her balcony window.

You are alive, you are safe, you are not alone.

Rook repeats to herself, a phrase in broken Dalish that has brought her comfort since she was a babe.

Her voice hardly a whisper as the wind begins to howl. A clash of thunder groans against the stone as the wind picks up. Another clash, and this time it’s accompanied by a downpour of rain that blows the balcony doors open in a flash, dark blue drapes flying out towards her as the glass and metal bangs against the wall. Without thinking Rook is across the room in one swift movement pushing her entire strength against the doors and she plants her feet firmly against the cold stone fighting the wind until it the force of her body is enough to hold them closed. She fumbles with the dagger letting her hand fall for just one moment until she can secure it through the two handles.

A faint caress of pain beings to bloom at her side as she pulls back from the door and lets out a string of curse words inspecting the temporary fix. The doors appear to hold - only rattling slightly against the floor to ceiling glass as the storm continues on. The first flash of lighting illuminates her room for one swift moment as Rook closes her eyes and holds her hand out willing the storm to stop. Her naked body illuminated by light, she feels the familiar burning sensation followed by warmth as power hums beneath her skin.

Once, she could bend the elements to her will without so much as a second thought but tonight she is begging them to listen, praying to the gods that the storm spare the building she has come to call home.

It had been three months since she’d left the only place she’d ever known. All it had taken was one mistake, one moment where she had lost control and her entire life had changed in a night. Stormborn her mentor had called her, daughter of the sky. The Grey Wardens had raised Rook, fed her, adored her, given her a roof over her head and sword in her hand. She’d been taught how to hunt, fight, kill.

They had taken her in for no burden but their own, a child less than a few weeks old, alone and half frozen to death found in the rubble of an Elven village. It hadn’t taken long for them to recognise the power she had been born with, not only had they found a child with no family or allegiance to mould into whatever they desired but they had found a weapon.

The Wardens had used her to their advantage, honed her powers when it suited them and cast her out when they could no longer control her. She was so young when they had first taken her out on a mission, keeping her at arms length and under close control as she had given instructions. They had watched in awe as the rain choked their enemies.

Finally the burning in her fingertips dulled as the rain began to calm, the pounding noise of droplets against glass now a steady drum instead of a raging fist. Tonight the elements had given her grace, a compromise of the destruction her nightmares often brought.

There would be no more sleep for Rook tonight.

She dressed quickly in an oversized black shirt, fingers too weak to tie the front. Without an undershirt or armour to keep it in place the lace hangs open just above her breasts. She pulls on some loose trousers a few shades lighter than her shirt and a pair of beaten lace up boots slowly as her head throbs. The cloth bandages wrapped around her ribs have held at least, lifting her shirt slightly to check, she can see in the fading light the wound at her side appears to have just strained against her stitches and not ripped open.

The hallway outside her chambers is empty as to be expected, initially she had chosen the room furthest away from everyone in the hopes of keeping her nightmares - and the damage that usually came with them as far away from her companions as possible. Varric was the only one fully aware of her situation, he knew what she had done and had made a deal with the Wardens, most likely saving her from a life of exile or worse. The last thing she needed was to have another group of people fearing her. Though no matter how much time she had spent trying to get to know her companions - some more than others she had come to realise that everyone had their own reasons for being here and their own secrets to keep.

Using the remainder of her strength she manifests a flickering ball of white energy that floats above her palm to light the way. Rook makes her way down the winding halls and staircases that separate her rooms from the heart of the Lighthouse. With no direction in mind she lets her body choose which turn to take, passing the library and the dining hall, the training room and observatory until she has passed all that is familiar to her.

Theres a slight change in scenery as the walls become older, full of more crumbling brick and walls bare of decoration. If her memory of the tour she was given is correct this must be one of the lower levels where those who live and work in the lighthouse slept, and faint chatter of hushed whispers and snoring flows through the walls, doors lining each side as she continues her exploration trying her best to keep her footsteps light as she turns down each path refusing to admit that despite knowing pretty much all of the upper levels of the Lighthouse by heart now - she might be a little bit lost.

Up and then back down another staircase she moves trying to retrace her steps, legs sore and muscles aching until finally she faced a dead end and a singular door at the centre of it. The door itself is small and unassuming - some sort of storage cupboard if she had to guess, with no desire to investigate further Rook turns to go back as the orb of light in her palm begins to vibrate her power humming in alarm. With a snap of electricity and faint sliver of purple smoke her light is gone leaving her in almost complete darkness.

Rook’s hand drops to the waistband of her trousers expecting to find the familiar metal of her dagger at her side only feel the empty space and memory she had left it behind to secure her windows shut. The only light in the corridor is a faint glow seeping out from underneath the door that stands before her accompanied by the faint sound of metal clinking and something fizzing.

Shit.

With no weapons and magic that refuses to obey her at least she can always count on her firsts and years of gets training for protection, even if her body feels like it could keel over at any second.

She clenches her fists by her sides and takes two strides towards the door before kicking it open letting the wood splinter as it swings hitting the back wall with a crash. Upon first glance she has entered nothing more than a storage closet but as her entrance into the room deepens the glamour begins to fade away revealing that this was or is some sort of living quarter or study.

Her eyes adjust to the low light as her vision darts around to take in any threat that could be waiting for her. Stacks of books line shelves that looked like they might collapse at any moment, candles are piled upon trays covered dripping wax that are awkwardly balanced on top of old food crates, a large table is at the centre of the room with glass vails and bottles of varying sizes and colours scattered across the stained wood.

Her inspection of the room is cut short as the sound of glass breaking followed by a grunt that tears her gaze away from her quick inspection. The glamour is completely gone now and a person draped in shadows is silhouetted at the other end of the room. From the noise they just let out and the lack of urgency in their movement it seems they are more irritated than alarmed by her abrupt entrance. Her light going out must’ve activated some sort of warning barrier.

Back hunched over his desk- half seated half standing against a patchy velvet armchair is Lucanis Dellamorte, the Antivan Crow they had recruited only a weeks after Rook had first been brought here.

“Do you kick down the door of every room you enter?” He grunts not giving Rook a chance to answer or even taking his gaze off the pages covering the table infront of him. “You owe me a new door.” Lucanis’ adds eyes snapping up from his work.

Brows furrowed and black eyes narrow Lucanis glares up as he throws down the remainder of his broken glass jar, it smashes into tiny shards on the table as the rest of the black liquid bubbles and hisses until all that remains is a mark singed into the wooden table. The smell of sulphur thick in the air.

“I-“ Rook starts an apology on the tip of her tongue and yet as usual her stubbornness is pushed to the surface. “How did you do that? My magic, it’s like I hit a wall in the corridor and it just…it just stopped.”

Her tone more an accusation than a question, nobody had ever been able to stop her magic like that before, she could barley manage it herself.

Lucanis heaves a breath of annoyance and pushes his hands off the table to stand, flipping over the book to a close before facing her. She can’t see his face but takes in the old shirt, fitted trousers, tan skin and messy hair tied back from his face. A contrast to his usual attire.

“I was in the middle of something if you couldn’t tell, why are you in my room?” Sleeves rolled up his forearms and fingertips stained with the same black powder from his shirt he gestures from the mess on the table to Rook standing in the open doorway. The frustration is clear on his face now, from his clenched jaw to the sideways look of disgust and those dark rimmed eyes.

“You sleep here.” Rook states looking behind him to a sad looking cot bed pushed up against the wall covered with a thin blanket and one flat looking pillow that she was certain was just a pile of rolled up clothes. Lucanis crossed his arms in response. “Like I mean, this is your bedroom?”

Come to think of it, out of all her companions she had never questioned where Lucanis spends his personal time nor did she care. At social gatherings he was always last to arrive, first to leave, only concerning himself with short pleasantries and small talk. Occasionally discussing books with Emmrich in a corner. She couldn’t count the number times she’d gone for Tea in Neve’s quarters or walked around the grounds with Davrin, everyone had welcomed her to her new home with open arms but she’d never even considered where Lucanis might sleep or do whatever it is that he does when everyone goes their separate ways.

There’s no answer again, he just continues to glare at her looking right through her the way he has since they first met. In all the time they’ve worked together, trained together, searched for information and slain enemies over the past months she’s sure those two sentences are probably the most conversation they’ve since their very first meeting when he essentially called her an insolent child and refused her help. If it hadn’t been for the others she was sure he would have never have agreed to come back with her.

“It’s just-“

Rook pauses choosing her next words carefully, suddenly aware she is in his space, has disturbed whatever he had been working on and practically kicked his door down for no reason.

This Lighthouse was supposed to be her fresh start and so far all she’s managed to do was blow up a few enemy hideouts, not get her new companions killed, yet and piss off the guy that’s possessed by a demon.

“There’s plenty of empty rooms, why do you choose to stay down here? I mean even Emmerich has his own quarters and he’s got like bones and stuff everywhere but in a decorative way and Taash has the most comfortable bed-“ She gestures to cot in the corner trying to keep the judgement in her tone to a minimum, desperate to fill the silence.

“I do not care who’s bed you spend your free time in.” He scoffs running a hand down his face. “That’s not what I meant.” Rook can feel her cheeks heat slightly, thankful for the low lighting. “You are not the only one who wishes to sleep alone, Rook.” His accent sounds thicker when he’s annoyed, the way he says her nickname sounds like poison upon his tongue.

Rook feels her chest tighten, she shouldn’t be here, she should’ve left the moment she realised this was his room. Turning back to inspect the damage of the door she pulls down the sleeves of her shirt suddenly conscious about her lack of dress, her long hair that’s that’s come free from its braid and no doubt the exhaustion and embarrassment that’s clear on her face. “My apologises, i’ll leave.”

“Wait.” Lucanis orders, she can hear him walking towards her but he does not close the distance all the way.

A flick of his wrist, and the same smoke from before blows past her moving her hair over her shoulder as it slams the door shut with force but the lock does not latch.

“You know, your room is almost directly above mine spare the space of a few floors.” Lucanis is almost directly behind her now but leaves enough distance so that she is just beyond arms reach. She can feel his breath on her bare neck as the scent of smoke and coffee grows stronger.

Rooks breathing becomes shallow once again, she’s not afraid of him despite every one of her senses screaming at her telling her to leave, to run. If not fear pushing against her ribs then anticipation? shame? She’s exposed here, her mind is going too fast to understand what her instincts are trying to tell her. He’s powerful, with years of experience on her, it came down to it Rook knows she stands no chance against him especially not after the week she’s had.

They work together, of course he has no reason to want to hurt her. Other than the title of Mage Killer that makes her skin crawl every-time she hears it. The man has had more than one chance to kill her if he wished, just two days ago an accident in battle ended up with her in the infirmary. She was too focused on clearing the bridge so the villages to flee that she hadn’t seen the creature watching from the tree, if the arrow in her side had been poison it could have ended her. Death would be too easy for the assassin. She was just a girl after all, a reckless failure. Nobody would miss her.

“Your little storms are rather impressive no? It shook almost the entire building tonight.” He raises a brow watching her back stiffen but she doesn’t move away from him. “You are very powerful.”

The way he says that last sentence makes her body still, her hand still outstretched to where the door where the handle would’ve been. There’s no fear in his tone when he says it, no disgust or anger, no awe or compliment, just fact. You are very powerful. She was.

“I’m sorry if I woke you, but I really should be going.” Rook snaps back to reality a single glance back at him before moving to make her exit.

Lucanis considers letting her go, but there’s something about this girl that goes against his everything he has even known, he kills her kind of a living and yet. There’s something deep in his bones calling for him to make her stay. She is like him, an outcast amongst her own people, surrounded by friends and yet utterly alone. The hairs on his arms come to a stand as he feels the familiar presence at his side. A cold gust of air fills the room as the candle light flickers. Jaw clenched, nails digging into his palms Lucanis knows there is no fighting this when it comes. It was painful the first time but the ripping sensation in his chest comes easier than breathing now.

“I do not sleep well either, stay.”

When Lucanis speaks, his voice is not his own for his demon self has returned and in truth, Spite never left.

end chapter notes -

Rook is a femme presenting Grey Warden Mage cast out from her people. In this fic I use she/her pronouns but i’m trying to keep them as non descriptive as possible, feel free to imagine Rook as you wish. This is written before game release some things may contain potential spoilers, non canon events, i will try my best not to mischaracterise him.

you can find this story on ao3 linked below or follow me on twitter @/saintscain for updates and more lucanis brainrot posts

[emmg]

What's Good in the Fanfic Hood: DA Edition

(i also have a bg3 version coming up)

For no particular reason, and in no particular order, here's some good soup I need to share with the universe (aka tumblr). Very, very good fanfics right here

the interlude by @thessaralka >>GOOD SMUTTY SOLAVELLAN SMUT with a side of angst. Fade tongue, elf dick as an anxiety cure (her words not mine), just beautifully written shameless smut for the egg aficionados. And I'm not just saying this because I strong-armed her into writing this lol

A Breach of Decorum & Spill the Tea by kdriegantir >>> The sweetest Emmrook lil one shots. I was kicking my legs, twirling my hair, giggling like a school girl. Sooooooo cute

Flower in a Cage by @teamdilf >>> If you like some plot with your angst, this is it. I had soooo much fun reading this leading up to Veilguard. This is for my Elgar'nan girlies, even if technically he's not shipped with anyone here. But damn what a charming villain. I mean, we know now he's a massive bitch with an anger issue (and the bedroom-iest voice I've ever heard, like hot shit, ask me to sit on your lap daddy) but, eh, who cares, the fic is great lol

Rook, No. also by @teamdilf >>> I just caught up on this and it's soooo fun. Just Rook being a menace to society (in this case Solas is society.) The roommate scenario Solas never asked for while he cries internally about his wife

The whole Countdown to Veilguard series of drabbles by whoframedjessicarabbit >>> Just lovely, smutty, or not, Emmrook drabbles. Soooo fun to read

Suture by @heylittleriotact >>> ok so I JUST finished reading this, like maybe 10 minutes ago, and I have THOUGHTS. Because CUTE, so CUTE, how CUTE. Emmrook a la two awkward nerds. I'm waiting for my headache to pass to write a more coherant comment but in the meantime, big reccomend

I couldn't find some folks on tumblr, so just let me know and I'll tag you if you have an account

Thanks for tuning in, ta-ta

[girlwithadragonheart]

Chapter 1 - The Demon of Vyrantium

This story will have spoilers from the game. Like entire quests. If you don’t want those don’t read this. You have been warned.

Rook x Lucanis

Summary: The gods strike at D’Meta’s Crossing. Neve suggests hiring the Antivan Crows and the most respected mage killer out there, turns out he has problems of his own.

Word Count: 8.9k

Warnings: graphic violence, mentions of slavery, cursing, let me know if I missed something it's so long I lost track

A/N: I told you I’d take more creative liberties with the next one didn’t I ;3

Prologue DATV Masterlist Chapter 2(WIP)

I sat across from Neve and Harding at the circle table in the lighthouse to go over next steps.

“So. We stopped the ritual,” Neve said.

“And Varric paid the price,” Harding answered.

“Hey. Varric made his choice to go talk with Solas. He knew the risks. We all did,” I said.

“And now Solas is… gone. And we’re here, wherever here is—besides in the Fade,” Harding thought.

“Solas called it the lighthouse,” I told them.

“He did?” Neve questioned. “When?”

“While I was out cold. He showed up in my dream, and he’s really mad that we stopped his ritual.”

“Good,” Harding said smugly.

“He’s also trapped in some kind of prison in the Face. Not happy about that either,” I explained.

“You’re sure that wasn’t just a dream? It’s a reasonable reaction,” Neve said.

“Solas can speak with people in their dreams. Even kill them,” Harding told her.

“I’m safe on that front. I bled a little when I got knocked out. Enough that he can gripe at me, but not enough that he can make my head explode.”

“So Solas is using blood magic. Like any normal mage would to play with your mind,” Neve replied.

“But he’s not a normal mage. Like I told you, he’s an elven god,” Harding said.

“Putting together a nice ritual doesn’t make him a god,” she shot back.

“The gods of my people were incredibly powerful,” I interrupted their squabbling. “I don’t mean they were powerful like a skilled mage. I mean they destroyed entire cities. They shattered mountains. So no, they might not literally be gods, but they’re a lot worse than whatever you’re thinking.”

“Alright. Well, we’ve stopped the ritual, and there doesn’t seem to be an immediate danger. For now. You’re certain Solas can’t use blood magic to affect your mind?” Neve asked.

“I’m certain that if he could he already would have, but I’m still pissed at him as ever. I’m not certain of anything else, but we’re not out of danger,” I said.

“What do you mean?” Harding asked.

“Solas had two of the other elven gods imprisoned. When he got trapped, they escaped.”

“So those things we saw come out of the fade when the ritual went wild… those are…” Neve’s voice faded.

“Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain. Two of the ancient elven gods that Solas rebelled against. Solas warned me about them being evil, which is pretty rich coming from the guy who just tried to tear down the Veil,” I said.

“You don’t believe him?” Neve questioned.

“No, that’s the problem. I do believe him. He said they were horrific tyrants.”

“Tyrants so powerful elven history remembers them as gods,” Harding added.

“Solas says Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain drew on the blight for power and became corrupted. That was when he imprisoned them.”

“So instead of one… god… running around, we have two. And they’re not just powerful, they’re blighted,” Neve scowled.

“We need to get out there and stop them,” Harding said firmly.

“Just like that? Without Varric? And you’re still getting back on your feet,” Neve looked over at her.

“I’m fine. We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“We need to investigate. Figure out what we’re dealing with before we rush in and make things worse,” Neve told her.

“And how many more people will get hurt—get killed—while we spend time investigating?”

I cut them both off. “If Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are worse than Solas, we can’t go in blind. We need to know what they can do and what they want.”

“But we only have Solas’s word about all of this,” Harding said.

I shrugged. “Then let’s go investigate for ourselves. We find out what we’re dealing with, and then we take our shot.”

“Fine. The eluvian led us here instead of back to Minrathous.”

“Let’s hope it goes back to the ritual site,” Neve said. “Maybe we can find some clues at the scene of the crime.”

“All right, then. Let’s get back to the ritual site,” I said.

—------------------------------------

The second we stepped through the Eluvian, a group of Veil Jumpers were running at us for their lives. Some kind of old elven construct was chasing them, swinging a massive golden axe at their heads. One of them, a woman, was using her magic on a device in her hands, trying to stop the construct, but it didn’t look to be working.

One of them got knocked to the side against a boulder, groaning from the impact. An older dark skinned elf parried the swings of the mighty axe, giving the girl time to work. The construct swung past the elf, the blade going through the device in the girl’s hands. As the device broke, the construct shut down, falling limp.

Harding seemed to know the older elf and the girl. She addressed them as Strife and Irelin. She told us that she met them with Varric when they first started the hunt for Solas. Veil Jumpers, she said they were called, experts in ancient elven magic.

Strife told us millions of artifacts are being faulty and coming alive because of Solas’s ritual, pointing the finger at us because we were supposed to stop him.

I informed him that we did, in fact, stop him, but Solas was now trapped in the Fade and two of the Evanuris escaped. The Veil Jumpers knew the extent of the horrors the Evanuris caused centuries ago. 

“I was really hoping Solas was lying about all of this,” I told them.

Strife frowned. “The god of lies, but some things are sacrosanct, even to him. He might be a bastard, but he’s a damned sight better than the Evanuris.”

I snorted. “No kidding.”

They still had dozens of Veil Jumpers unaccounted for, but Irelin said if we could find Bellara Lutare it would be a massive assist. Apparently, she was the best there is at working with the ancient elven artifacts. She was off looking for one before the ritual shook everything loose.

Harding told them we would go and get Bellara, but I told her to stay behind and help the Veil Jumpers because they needed her. Definitely not because she was still injured and way too stubborn to see sense.

—--------------------------------------

“Protocol is to wait at least a week before sending anyone to look for me, I’ve only been gone for three days,” she said, twisting her hips back and forth in place like a child being scolded.

“Well, things have taken a turn for the worse, I’m afraid,” I told her. “Our gods are back and they’re trying to take over the world.”

“Our gods… I need a moment,” she said.

“Take all the time you need. It won’t help, unfortunately, I’ve known for days and it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet,” I replied.

“That is quite a predicament.” She sighed, looking around. “All right, but I need your help first, I’m on to something big here.”

“Just tell me what you need,” I smiled.

“We’ll take what we can get,” Neve told her.

As it turned out, Ancient Elven ruins could be tricky. Barriers and old mechanical devices that were rare in these times. Luckily, it was pretty straightforward to figure out and Bellara was a great help finding our way through the ruins. Whatever work she had done with elven ruins and artifacts would definitely come in handy.

It was all fine and dandy when we found what we were looking for, except for the ogre that decided to pay us a visit and try to wreck our shit.

A lot of its attacks I could parry or at least redirect. Some I could only dodge, and I spent most of the fight doing so, shooting firebolts in between its attacks.

It finally fell, and I sheathed my dagger, fighting to regain my breath. 

Bellara found what she was looking for, the “Nadas Dirthalen” or the eighth archive or the archive spirit. Pick whichever you want to describe it, it was an artifact crafted with the knowledge of the gods and it could give us information we might need. If she could fix the crystal, that is.

We headed back to the Veil Jumper camp and they told us one of the towns they work closely with had gone dark. A place called D’Meta’s Crossing. With everything going on, it likely wasn’t a coincidence. Harding rejoined the three of us and we boarded a boat to go check it out.

—----------------------------------

D’Meta’s Crossing was on the far side of the lake. It was bleak when we approached on the water. 

“This isn’t right,” Bellara said. “The dock usually has people bringing goods to market, bartering and shouting… It’s always busy.”

“Stay sharp,” I said as I climbed out of the boat.

The main entrance to town was barricaded. Clearly not to keep anything out. We moved to the side, seeing a smaller barricade. I pulled myself over it, eyes going wide as I dropped down. The place reeked, and there was blight everywhere. These masses, they looked like rotting tumors, not the decay or stagnation of the normal blight, this was alive.

There were cysts that popped like blisters when fired at or hit with anything and exploded. The second I stepped foot in this place I felt I needed a shower.

We moved further in, sticking close together. There was a villager standing by a home completely taken over with the blight.

His face was drained of all color and his eyes were black. “What happened here?”

He stared at me. Well, through me. “Keep them inside. Listen to the mayor.”

My brows furrowed. I waved a hand in front of his face. Unresponsive. “What’s controlling them? Blood magic? The blight?”

We moved deeper in. The town square was even worse for wear. There were bodies everywhere taken over by the blight-cysts. We continued on, keeping an eye out for survivors. There was no one that the blight hadn’t taken over, either their bodies or their minds.

We came to a part of town blocked off by a wall of the blight. A bright red bulb pulsated at the center of it. I shuddered, taking a couple steps back and blasting cold from my fingers to minimize the explosiveness.We had gotten through it, but only a narrow passageway. Squeezing between a corridor of the blight was not on the top of my bucket list.

I would desperately need a bath after this.

We came to the other side and a giant mass of the blight stood in the center. At the center of it looked like a person was being held there.

“Mihlva!” Bellara gasped, running over to one of the bodies.

“One of your fellow Veil Jumpers?” I asked, watching the blight tendrils wrap around them and pull them away. I moved to the mass at the center. The man in it was moving. “Bellara!”

She looked over. “Jahel! He’s alive!”

“Bellara?” The man groaned.

“We’re going to help you… we’ll get you down, Jahel,” Bellara said.

A tendril snaked around his neck. “No… listen. The gods… the gods have returned. I saw… them. I heard their voices.”

“The gods did this?” Bellara questioned, panic evident in her voice.

“A blood ritual,” he said. “To release the blight. The villagers… they said they needed power… Bellara… be careful…” That tendril looped around his neck twice over, caressing his lips as he spoke before tightening around his throat.

His body was strangled, blood spilled to the cobbled streets, the blight pooling at our feet. The ground shook, and I heard someone shout for help.

We ran through the remains of the village, shooting down the blight we could along the way. Coming through an archway of it, we came out to the other side of the village. A man was wrapped in barbed fleshy pink tentacles, a writhing mass of the blight.

“Help me! Hurry!” He yelled, panicked.

The ground shook and a dragon shot up into the sky, screeching as it landed, crushing debris underfoot.

“No! Please!” The man yelled as the writhing mass drew tighter around him. I looked between him and the dragon, feeling my chest tighten. I stepped forward, putting two fingers to my lips to produce a loud whistle.

It took a step toward me, and I stared it down as embers floated from its mouth. After a moment, as though fighting a command, I watched it back off and fly into the horizon, roaring as it went.

I took a breath, approaching the man in the mass. 

“I know you,” Bellara said. “You’re the mayor of this town.”

“The village… the people… are they…?”

“Blighted. Dead. All of them,” Harding said.

“You gave them to the gods, didn’t you? Didn’t you?” Bellara spat.

The mayor sobbed. “They were in my head… infecting my thoughts. They made me do it… Please, help me!”

“Deep breaths… Tell me what happened,” I said gently. If it really was blood magic he may not have been acting completely of his own will.

“I tried to protect people. You have to believe me. The gods told me to lure the Veil Jumpers to the center of town. The others were to be rounded up and kept safe. They would be the first to witness the glory of Ghilan’nain’s new creation… She showed me gold. So much gold…”

“So you brought the Veil Jumpers to the middle of town…” I said.

“For a blood sacrifice!” Bellara cut me off.

“Because the gods needed power,” Neve concluded.

“Did you know what the gods would do?” I questioned him.

“The Veil Jumpers… they were just strangers. I thought if they were taken first, everyone else might be spared.”

“So you did know!” Bellara yelled.

“The gods exploited his greed and fear,” Neve said.

“I’m supposed to feel sorry for him? I say we leave him right here,” Bellara said.

“But I’ll die. The blight’s everywhere. What if the dragon comes back?” He panicked. “I understand what they do now. I won’t be tempted again! I swear!”

“Rook?” Harding asked.”

I sighed. “Let’s get him out of there.”

“What? This entire village is dead because of him.” Bellara argued.

“I know.”

“Then why spare him?”

“We don’t kill people. Not like this. We’re not murderers. We’re not like the gods. We are better than them,” I explained. “If we leave him to be a source of their power we’re no better than he is.”

“Thank you… I think,” he said.

“I didn’t ask for your gratitude,” I snapped.

“Then if I may offer some advice: steel yourself. I felt their power, the promises they made. It’s irresistible.”

“Then try harder next time. Don’t make me regret saving you,” I said firmly.

“Yes, of course. But you should be worried about the rest of the world. Or this will be our future.”

—---------------------------------

We made our way back to the Veil Jumper camp. We were speaking with them when an old friend of the Inquisition, Morrigan, made an appearance. She told us to find Solas’s ritual dagger and that the eluvian at the lighthouse should go anywhere there is an existing eluvian. Bellara offered to come with us to fix it.

I just wished Varric was here to give better advice. He was always stronger at speeches than I was. Doing this without him to guide me felt wrong.

Neve, Harding, and I made our way back to the ritual site. After a wild goose chase after a darkspawn that stole the dagger, and watching Harding get possessed by some kind of new strange dwarf magic—which doesn’t exist, mind you—I was ready for a nap.

We came back to the Lighthouse and talked about Harding’s new abilities. I encouraged her to explore them but be wary. It wasn’t like any magic I’d seen before, and dwarves didn’t have any connection to the Fade, so it was completely new territory.

I went up the stairs, seeing a new area branched next to the hall leading to the infirmary. I could hear Varric snoring from here. At least I knew he was still alive.

I headed down that hall, pushing the door open to see an aquarium of sorts. There was a bookshelf to the right and a wardrobe to the left. In the center of the room was a chaise lounge with a bookcase behind it.

I saw my pack sitting in front of that bookshelf. Neve or Harding must’ve brought my pack in here. It made sense, it was a better place to sleep than the infirmary. I suppose I could spare a few moments to unpack my things.

I pulled Varric’s shaving mirror out, placing it on the bookshelf behind where I would be sleeping. Varric and his life lessons. I asked him how we were supposed to stop Solas, and he gave me the mirror.

“Take a long hard look in it, kid. It’ll always show the face of a hero who can get it done,” he said.

I don’t know if I see a hero’s face, but it’s a face that has seen a lot. Got a few new scars. Some that show up in a mirror, some that don’t. But Varric believed in me then, and he believes in me now. I can do this.

I moved to the small armoire on the right side of the room, placing an elven scroll down. A peddler gave it to me after I saved his caravan from bandits. He said the scroll went back to even before Tevinter. Said that elves had a rich history, “even more than the rest of us.”

Too many humans look down on us, even though elves were here first. It was nice to have someone see how much our people have done. I just wish I could’ve been a part of it.

On the opposite side from the mirror, I put my broken chains. I helped a lot of Minrathous slaves escape to freedom the night I met Varric, including my mother. Freed only to be killed in the chaos. Another time Varric had shown up for me. I remembered his hand on my shoulder as I wept over her.

“Come on, kid. It’s time to go. I’m sorry.”

Then the magisters cracked down in retaliation, and the Shadow Dragons decided I was too much trouble to keep around. We could have taken a stand and dared the magisters to come after us. At least people are free because of what I did.

I sighed, brushing my fingers over the cold metal before going to sit in the chaise lounge. Carefully, I laid back, letting my eyes drift shut. I was wound tight despite my exhaustion. I don’t know how long it took me to actually fall asleep.

I woke in the Fade, Solas’s voice already penetrating my thoughts. “Back so soon. It must have been worse than I thought.”

“Hello, Dread Wolf.”

“Ah, but perhaps I am mistaken. You may be here to correct me, to tell me that my concerns were unfounded. I am, after all, remembered as the god of lies, treachery, and rebellion.”

Haunted, hopeless, hurting… a voice nagged at the back of my head. No, not nagged. Soothed. 

“So you’re gonna be insufferable about it. See, this is the reason nobody likes you,” I told him.

“I led a rebellion for centuries that culminated the creation of the Veil and the destruction of the elven empire.”

“Okay, this is among the reasons nobody likes you,” I corrected.

“My information was accurate. Now you realize that the danger is real.”

“I need to know what the gods are planning,” I said plainly.

“You are asking for knowledge no mortal in this world is privy to,” he replied. “If I am to share it with you, I need to know what makes you the right person to lead the fight against Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain.”

“Well, for starters, I’m the only one here,” I said, throwing my arms out and looking around the desolate prison. “And I stopped you, didn’t I?”

“You disrupted the ritual.”

“Yeah, I did. Even though I’m nowhere near as powerful as you. Even though I’m just a slave.”

His brow furrowed, and I saw him blink as the only hint of surprise. “You were a slave?”

“Yeah. Varric said you hated slavery. I suppose that’s one thing we can agree on.”

He only nodded. “Your plan is to tell me how powerful you aren’t?”

“I met Varric when he asked the Shadow Dragons for help with freeing an old friend from Venatori slavers. The Shadow Dragons had a safe plan that wasn’t going to work, and Varric wasn’t the only one with something to lose if we failed.”

“So you and Varric led an armed rebellion and dealt a devastating blow to the Venatori,” he finished for me.

“You did your research,” I said, looking him up and down.

“I would’ve been a fool not to. You and Varric were pursuing me for the better part of a year. I needed to learn who was hunting me.”

“Then you obviously also know that powerful opposition doesn’t frighten me. I find a way to get the job done, whatever it takes.”

“I suppose I was not so different when I started.”

“No,” a voice said, inches from me and lightyears away all at once. “You were not different. You are not different.” The voice of a friend.

“Cole.” Now, I did see the Dread Wolf’s surprise evident in his expression. “How did you…”

“You are trapped,” he said. “She is hopeless, haunted, hurting, just like before. Escaped one master just to be fighting another. You are not different,” Cole said, looking up at Solas. “Hello, Solas.”

“Hello Compassion,” Solas dipped his head in greeting. “It has been an age.”

“You left the Inquisition to free us, but it didn’t work. Instead you freed them. The Evanuris.”

“Someone got in my way,” Solas leveled a condescending glare at me from his high horse—or at least his slightly higher piece-of-floating-rock.

“People were dying. I heard their screams,” Cole said. “The Veil needs to stay.”

“Oookay, this is all fine and good, but what are you doing here, Cole?” I asked, turning to him. “I thought I’d seen the last of you when Dorian freed me?”

“I felt the Veil weaken, and I knew. I knew it was Solas behind it, I always knew, even when he didn’t want me to, even when he hid it from everyone else. I went back to that place where it’s still weakest, and I felt your despair. I followed it here.”

“The gods need two things to reclaim their dominance of the world,” Solas interrupted, clearly growing bored. “First, the blight. What exists in this world is a bare fragment of its power. The rest is imprisoned… until they release it.”

“What would they need to do to free the blight, and how do we stop them from doing it?” I asked.

“They will need to pierce the Veil to reach the blight’s prison. My lyrium dagger is one of the few artifacts capable of doing so.”

“We’ve already recovered it from the ritual site.”

“Excellent,” I could’ve sworn he almost looked proud, but I doubted the smug bastard was capable. “Then they will have to make their own. That will give you time. The second is followers. They have called themselves gods, and what is a god without worshipers to sing their praises?”

“I’m not gonna bend a knee to blighted murdering monsters just because their ears are pointed like mine. I don’t think many other elves are going to either.”

“Agreed. Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain care little for the elves. They will find worshipers among those hungry for power. Tyrants and bullies. The cruel and corrupt, who fear their own vulnerability and seize any chance to feel strong. If you hunt them, they will lead you to Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain.”

I laughed without humor. “You want me to pick fights with tyrants and bullies? Sounds fun.”

“I gave no orders. All I can offer are suggestions.”

“I’m on it. What else?”

“The Vi’Revas, the Lighthouse eluvian, can take you anywhere, if you master its secrets. Have you done so?”

“Not yet, but we’ve got one of the Veil Jumpers working on it. She’ll get it sorted, and we’ll see how it goes.”

“Yes. I suppose we will. And when you speak with Varric, please tell him that I… regret what happened.”

Cole put his hand on my arm, and the world spun for a moment before I opened my eyes. We were in a grove, the stars above us, trees towering around us.

“Woah.” I put a hand to my head. “Where are we?”

“The Fade.”

“Right…” I took a seat in the grass with a sigh.

Cole crouched down, fingers fidgeting with the blades of grass. “You feel heavy again. Like before.”

“Varric picked me up to help him, but I disrupted the ritual, Varric got hurt, and the gods escaped. That doesn’t much feel like helping.”

“Varric used to help me. He wanted me to understand things, I think.”

“I don’t know how to lead, Cole. I’m barely used to being in charge of my life.”

“You’re already leading,” he said simply. His head bowed, and he glanced back behind him, as though listening for something. “They need you, it’s time to wake up.”

I gasped sitting upright, my chest heaving and my palms sweaty. I hadn’t seen Cole in years. Not since I was a slave. Not since I was at my lowest in life. Shit…

I needed to talk to Varric. I wiped my hands on my pants, standing with a huff. Having Solas in my head might prove to be more hindrance than help if he wouldn’t let me sleep in peace.

I made my way out, rubbing out the kink in my neck, hoping he might be awake. If not, I would let at least one of us get some restful sleep.

I approached him, sitting on the end of the bed, legs crossed opposite where he was sitting up against a pillow.

“So Solas told the truth about the gods,” he said as I sat down.

“You heard? It’s bad, Varric,” I shook my head. “If you’d seen D’Meta’s Crossing…”

“The team needs to act fast… and it can’t do that with me leading from a bed,” he said. “You’ve gotta take point on this.”

My chest tightened. “I can’t do what you do. I’ve barely been holding it together in the short time you’ve been out.”

He shook his head. “You don’t need to do what I do. You just need to get it done. Rook, when I put this team together, what did I look for? A detective to find the Dread Wolf and a scout to get us the lay of the land. Exactly the people he’d expect me to recruit. Disciplined. Predictable. And then there’s you. Remember when we first met, kid?”

“Of course I do.”

“You risked your neck to bring down an entire slavery ring. Pretty much by yourself,” he grinned.

“I had help.”

“Sure. I got winded about five minutes in. You did most of the work. Ticked off a bunch of Minrathous big shots, but… You’ve got a knack, kid.”

I hugged my knees to my chest. “A knack for what? Almost dying?”

“Exactly. You’ve got a knack for finding a way through the wildest shit I’ve ever seen. With a plan that no one expects. You can do this,” he said with a softness in his eyes I’d only ever really seen when it was just us. The protective kind. “And don’t worry. I’ll still be here to talk if you need me.”

“There is something… D’Meta’s Crossing was awful. While we were there, we found one survivor—the mayor.”

“You took him back to the Veil Jumpers,” he said. Harding must’ve filled him in.

“Not everyone was happy about my decision…” I told him. “We’re just starting out and I’m already losing their trust.”

Varric sat up a little straighter. “The key to earning the team’s trust isn’t to only make decisions everyone agrees with. It’s showing the team that they can tell you whatever’s on their mind, even if they think you’re full of crap, and know you’ll listen. It’s showing them that you’re capable of making the hard decisions, even if they don’t agree.”

“When I took over at the ritual site, I had to make a call on who came with me to knock over that statue. It was the first decision I made leading this team, and Harding got hurt because of it.”

“You made a decision with the best information you had. Sometimes you do that, and people end up hurt. Or worse,” he said simply.

“What would you have done?” I asked.

“What would I have done? Probably gotten myself killed and failed to stop the ritual if you hadn’t stepped in,” he laughed. “A good leader isn’t someone who never makes mistakes: It’s someone who admits when they make one. That’s how you earn their trust.”

“Did Neve tell you about me talking to Solas in the Fade?” I asked.

“I had some good arguments with Chuckles back in the day. I can’t imagine being stuck with him in my head. But how are you feeling about it?” He asked.

“Your old friend is kind of an asshole, Varric.”

He chuckled. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall while the two of you get into it. Solas fought a rebellion against Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain. He didn’t want to be a god. But he’s also a lot older and more powerful than any of us. He looks at us like we’re toddlers.”

“So how do I deal with him?”

“Act like you’re as smart as he is, and he’ll be insufferable. Show him you respect his age and experience, and he’ll remind you he’s just a man. Honestly, pick whichever of those pisses you off less,” he grinned.

“He also asked me to tell you that he regrets what happened. Hurting you, I mean,” I told him, letting my knees fall back to either side.

“Chuckles is sentimental. He could burn the world down, and the thing that would make him cry is a single flower with blackened petals.”

“He seems the type. Cole visited me. I know last time I told you about him you said he was with the Inquisition. He came to my dream with Solas too, and he looked almost… regretful, if you could even call it that.”

“Well, shit. How’s he doing? What was he doing?” Varric asked, shifting slightly.

“Apparently, he sensed my despair when he was checking out the ritual site because of how thin the Veil is there. He followed it back to me.” I sighed, standing and brushing myself off, whatever invisible dust there was. “I’ll let you rest.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Rook. Hey, one last thing before you go,” he said. “I’ve been racking my brain thinking of contacts who might help us with these gods.”

“You got any ideas?” 

“Nothing. But being a leader isn’t about having all the answers yourself: It’s about knowing who does. Neve has connections to a whole world that Harding and I barely know. A world you barely got the chance to learn. Might be worth talking to her.”

“Will do. Thanks, Varric,” I offered him a smile. One of the few I was sure I would be able to give in the coming days.

“Any time, kid.”

I closed the door behind me so he could rest as I made my way out to Neve’s floating office. She told me we needed to hire the Antivan Crows, but specifically their most feared mage killer. The Demon of Vyrantium. I had heard of his work, and most of us in the wards and servants’ quarters revered his assassinations of our masters. They had given us plenty of reasons to side with the trained killer over them.

Neve said she set up a meeting with their bosses. Next, she said that we needed to take a trip back home. The Shadow Dragons of course made sense to take out the gods in the capital city of Tevinter where blood magic was strongest. We had done so much work against it and the Venatori, but I was a bit worried about seeing them again after the stunt I pulled. We trained to be the best at countering evil magic, it was time we proved it. Hopefully together this time and not just me and Varric.

The Antivan Crows seemed our best bet to start off. I wasn’t ready to go back to Minrathous yet. Not after everything.

Neve and I made our way down to the Vi’Revas, the eluvian, where Bellara was working. We watched her tinker with it for a moment before it lit up, showing the path to what Morrigan called The Crossroads. A spirit appeared beside it in tattered blue robes. Though I tensed instinctively, I felt nothing malicious from it.

“The wolf’s fang. You carry it now. Old paths. A new journey. Through there. I will wait,” he gestured to the eluvian before fading away.

When we entered, the spirit introduced itself as the caretaker who goes where they are needed. The Crossroads was a beautiful place in the fade. Paths branched out, the caretaker guiding us in a levitating boat to each island of Eluvians. This place was slowly becoming tainted, though. I could feel the blood magic and blight like invisible eyes or a forgotten touch. It caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.

We made it to the eluvian leading to Treviso after killing some Venatori trying to take over the crossroads. Neve and I glanced at each other before stepping through. Treviso… One of the finest cities in Antiva, or so I’d been told. It was now under occupation by the Antaam. Hopefully our contact would still be able to meet us.

Neve and I made our way to the coordinates given to us, seeing a petit woman leaning against the railing of the bridge. She looked over as we approached.

“Welcome to Antiva. You must be Rook. Follow me,” she said, running off, leaving me to follow in her wake.

“And you’re Andarateia Cantori. Of the Crows?” I asked.

“Teia, please. Come, my associate Viago is gathering the others.”

We ran through the streets of Treviso, through the market and up the lattice on the side of a building. From there, we ziplined to a casino, the headquarters of the Crows.

“Welcome to the Cantori Diamond,” Teia said as we went up the stairs to the right.

As soon as I entered, I felt as though I was going to be interrogated, stripped of my valuables and tossed to the streets, if the expression of the woman eyeing me and the cane in her hand were anything to say for it.

Teia took up her spot on the left, a man with a very well groomed mustache to the right of her, followed by the older woman in the throne, and on her other side a younger man who looked way too charming for anyone’s good.

The man next to Teia spoke. “You’re the client?”

“This is Rook,” Teia said with a smile. “Did you want a drink? I promise not to let Viago near it.” It struck me how pretty she was. And the man next to her.

“Viago de Riva. Fifth Talon,” he introduced. “And this is Caterina Dellamorte. First Talon of the Crows.” He gestured to the woman in the throne.

“An honor. And you are?” I asked, glancing at the man beside her.

“Illario Dellamorte. Her grandson. What brings you here?” He asked.

“Right,” I took a breath. “My target is a pair of elven gods—or that’s what they call themselves. They’re ancient blighted mages. My detective says you have a man who brought blood mages and Venatori to their knees.”

“Lucanis,” Caterina said. “My grandson. They called him “the Demon of Vyrantium.” He was the one who did those jobs.”

“Sounds like there’s more to it,” I said carefully, tilting my head.

“Lucanis Dellamorte is dead. He was killed a year ago, now,” Viago said solemnly.

“What I say doesn’t leave this room,” Caterina said slowly. “The body our people brought back was not my grandson. It was dressed in his clothing, but it had been altered with blood magic to have his face.”

“My cousin is still alive?” Illario questioned. “And you didn’t think to tell me?” Something was off about Illario. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew that I would rather have dealings with Teia and Viago more than him in the future if we had any at all.

“His ship was attacked,” Viago interrupted my thoughts. “We knew someone sold him out… so you kept your suspicions to yourself.”

“But you’ve brought it up now. Why?” I asked, looking back to the First Talon.

“I’ve had eyes on the Venatori ever since they took my grandson from me. They were hunting your Dread Wolf. And what you did to his ritual threw them into disarray. They made mistakes. And now I have a location. The Ossuary. Where the Demon of Vyrantium is kept. Find this Ossuary. Free Lucanis. You’ll have your god-killer. And I’ll have my grandson.”

Something about the way she presented him twisted my gut. Like that was all he was, a weapon to be used and discarded. Even not having met him, the thought didn’t sit right with me. I knew what it was like to be seen only for what you could do for other people, and that was not a feeling I wanted for anyone else.

I wondered though, how a mage killer captured by the Venatori would feel about two Tevinter mages freeing him.

Illario led us to our lift to the Ossuary. I was almost relieved when he didn’t get in the boat with us. Surprisingly, he was the only Crow I had met so far that had major stab-you-in-the-back vibes.

We were boated out to the middle of the sea, the Crow mage with us parting the waters below us to grant us passage to the underwater prison. When we got there, bodies littered the sand, bloodstains running red. We passed over two dozen bodies as we made our way through the prison.

It seemed to have been some ancient elven ruins before being repurposed. It was a wonder it still functioned. If the wards on this place ever broke…

I didn’t want to think about what could’ve happened when the gods got released. I was more relieved I didn’t have to be the one fending off all the guards. We came to a Venatori barrier with three crystals connected to it that I beamed fire at before the barrier fell. A large corridor led down a set of stairs where a group of Venatori gathered.

“We don’t have to fight. We’re just here for Lucanis Dellamorte.” The mage in the center slammed his staff into the ground, the wisps of red blood magic gathering around its tip. “Get ready,” I said to Neve, who braced for a fight.

“Razikale, Dragon of Mystery. Lusacan, Dragon of Night. Hear your faithful call—”

A man in blue leathers flipped down from seemingly out of thin air, black and purple glowing wings sprouted from his back as he fell. He grappled the mage, pulling him as he spun so that the Venatori next to him stabbed straight through his comrade’s gut. He ducked as another sword came at him, kicking the Venatori in the gut. The cultist flew backward, impaling on one of the ice spikes surrounding us.

The man sprinted at the other two, a dagger in one hand and a rapier in the other. In a flash that was barely visible, he spun, slitting both of their throats before turning and putting his sword through the final cultist’s back.

He stood with his back turned to us, chest heaving. My eyes were wide. “I’m guessing you’re the reason we’re here,” I said carefully.

His wings flapped and dissipated as he turned back toward us. “Who are you? Who sent you?” He asked, the thick accent of Antiva coming through in his voice.

Something about his presence was calm, assured, even though he just murdered six people before my eyes. It drew me in, and I wasn’t sure I would have the strength to back out.

“My name’s Rook. Caterina sent me.”

“Caterina…” He looked at the ground. “But… you’re not a Crow.” He put his hands on his hips.

“I’m breaking you out of here,” I told him. “But… you’re not just you. Care to introduce me to your friend?”

“Rook. He’s possessed by a demon,” Neve said carefully.

“It’s complicated,” Lucanis said with a slight shrug.

“Caterina promised us a mage killer if we could get you out of here,” I told him.

“I can still work,” he assured me.

“Good,” I smiled. “Cause I’m pretty sure more Venatori are on their way. We have to get moving.”

“They have a vial of my blood. They can use it to control me. I cannot leave it in their hands. And… I had a contract when I was captured. One of my targets is here. Calivan. Crows don’t break contracts,” Lucanis said.

“All right, we’ll help. But in return, I need help killing some things,” I told him.

“I’ll owe you,” he said slowly.

“I’m sure we’ll owe each other before this is all over. Let’s go.”

We made our way back through the prison, coming to a huge gap that none of us would be able to jump across.

“What are you—Fine. He says he can help. There is something in the Fade close enough to grab onto.”

I watched Lucanis’s wings come out, energy flowing from his hands and a large piece of floating cobblestone came into being. “All of that… came from the Fade?”

“I’m as surprised as you,” Lucanis said honestly.

Eventually, we came to a room protected by at least six of the Venatori’s crystals powering the barrier. Behind it, was a massive garnished vial of blood. “Yeah, they can’t do anything subtle, can they?” I asked, aiming a beam of flames at it, making it explode on impact.

Through a close-by archway, there was a lift. We took it and it led to an audience chamber, a mage standing in the middle of it.

As we approached, Calivan did as all villains do, and started giving a long-winded speech. Something something, Zara said it would be ironic, he’s already the Demon of Vyrantium, now it’s just more literal. Lucanis smirked at me, glancing sidelong as Calivan went on his tangent, and I found myself smiling back. Something something she always leaves him to clean up the mess.

Maybe he should’ve picked someone better to follow.

I put my hands together, feeling the energy build between them as I loosed a death ray of fire and lightning right at his face. That’ll shut him up, surely.

Lucanis blinked at me as Calivan fell to his knees. “Sorry,” I said impulsively. “I know that was your contract. He was getting on my nerves.”

“Don’t be. Imagine how I feel,” Lucanis said, the corners of his lips twitching up. He spat on Calivan’s body. “The Crows send their regards.”

I glanced down at the ashen body, and when I looked up again I saw a purple version of Lucanis standing right beside him, and I blinked.

“The contract is done,” Lucanis said.

“Smells like blood. Ashes. Not done. Not yet,” The purple man said. From what I was sensing, this was his demon. Though he was closer to a spirit, not quite monstrous yet. I opted to ignore him for now. Not drawing attention to it was likely safer at least for the moment.

Lucanis just stared at him blankly. “Lucanis? Are you alright?” I asked.

“Careful, they know. We’re not right.”

“You cannot see him. I wondered,” he said, putting his hands on his hips.

“We clearly have things to discuss. Somewhere else,” I told him.

“Agreed. I think… it’s time I got some air.”

—--------------------------------------------

Back at the Cantori Diamond we found Teia and Viago looking at Illario who was leaned over against the table, breathing heavily. The two of them turned around and Teia’s face went whiter than I thought possible.

“Maker…” She said.

“Lucanis?” Viago’s eyes were wide.

Lucanis looked around at them. “What happened here?” He questioned.

Illario’s fist hit the table, and I flinched instinctively. “A message,” he snarled. “From Zara Renata. I can’t believe it. You’re home.” Illario put a hand on Lucanis’s shoulder.

“Zara… Her people got this close?” Lucanis asked.

“The woman who runs the prison?” I guessed.

“The Venatori witch who captured me,” he answered.

“Revenge for the breakout, maybe,” I said.

“Where’s Caterina?” Lucanis asked, eyes darting around at the three of them frantically.

“She’s…” Teia’s voice broke, and her head bowed with an impossible weight on her shoulders.

Viago came up behind her, hands on her shoulders comfortingly. “The Venatori got her in the confusion.”

“I got one of you back, only to lose the other,” Illario said, sounding devastated. I wanted to feel bad for him, but something still felt off.

“Lucanis…” I said softly. “I’m so sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“I need to work,” he said, shifting on his feet.

“Are you sure?” Teia asked. “You should take some time.”

“I don’t need time—I need a target,” he said darkly.

“You just got here, and already you want to leave again?” Illario questioned. How he didn’t understand was beyond me.

“Caterina gave me a contract. I’m not breaking the last deal she ever made. And I owe Rook. Once that’s done… I’ll come home,” he told them.

“I’ll return him in one piece,” I promised.

“Thank you,” Illario smiled at me. “Cousin. When you find Zara, I want—I need—to be there.”

Viago shook his head. “We’re under attack. Antaam on one side and now Venatori on the other? Forget revenge, we need you—”

“No, Viago,” Teia interrupted. “Zara came for us here. In my house. She took Caterina from my house. You find her and cut her heart out, Lucanis. Vi and I will hold down the fort.”

“I’ll give her your regards, Teia,” Lucanis said.

“For Caterina,” she looked around at all of us.

—--------------------------------------

“They’re the same thing. Mostly. Well, kind of,” Bellara said as I walked in.

“Except one will manipulate you. Or kill you. Or both,” Neve replied.

“But how do you get rid of them?” Lucanis leaned against the fireplace, one hand braced against it, the other on his hip.

“What’s everyone talking about?” I asked.

“Spite,” Lucanis looked back over his shoulder at me.

“The demon in Lucanis,” Neve said. “When a person gets possessed—the demon usually takes control.”

“And they turn into a monster. The spirit just… molds them. However they want,” Bellara added.

“I’ve heard of abominations being cured by killing the demon in the Fade. That’s not a sure bet, though,” Neve thought.

“Well, there’s one way. But it’s well… we’d have to, um…”

“You’d have to kill me,” Lucanis finished.

“That can’t be the only solution. Can’t we… reason with Spite, maybe? Persuade him to leave?” I asked.

“Talk doesn’t work on Spite,” Lucanis said.

“She won’t hurt you. How sweet,” Spite crooned, the ghost of his form next to me. He vanished and appeared in front of Lucanis. “I want to talk to her!” Lucanis kept his gaze on me, no doubt seeing my eyes track the demon.

“Before we do, well, that. Let’s think this through some more. There has to be a solution,” Bellara said. I braced my hands against their chairs, leaning over them slightly.

“I have people in Minrathous I can ask, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” Neve said.

“All right. So, what’s next?” I asked.

“Let me talk to them! I want. To talk. To Rook!” Spite swung, punching Lucanis in the nose. Blood spattered, and Lucanis winced, his hand going to his nose.

Bellara and Neve stood. “Lucanis!” Bellara cried.

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine,” he said, putting his arm out.

“He’s done this before? Enough that you just… shrug it off?” I questioned, leveling a glare at the aspect of Spite next to him.

“He’d do this in the Ossuary. The Fade does whatever a spirit wants. Real walls and chains, not so much. Just… give me a minute. He’ll get bored once everyone leaves.”

I leveled him with a stare that said I would absolutely not be leaving even as Bellara and Neve got up and left. Neve shot me a glance that said ‘be careful’, but I just nodded to her.

He put his hand back up against the fireplace and stared into the flames as I walked around the table, sliding up to sit on the edge of it.

“I thought you couldn’t see him. At the Ossuary…”

“I didn’t want him to know I could see him. That was the last thing we needed there,” I told him.

“You can hear him too?” He asked, looking back at me with furrowed brows.

“When I can see him or when he’s showing through you, yes,” I answered honestly.

“But the others, they can’t. Why is that?” He asked, looking at me curiously, if not a bit suspiciously.

I shrugged. “I’ve always had a connection to the Fade. In worse times I was in such turmoil a spirit of Compassion appeared in my dreams or pulled me out of reality if things got bad. And now that connection is stronger than ever. Some of my blood is circulating around in the Fade from when we interrupted Solas’s ritual. That’s how he visits me in my sleep.”

“I am sorry,” he said. “I can’t stand him, I didn’t want him to be a problem for you too.” I just shook my head. “I would kill for a decent cup of coffee right now.”

“Have you? For coffee, I mean,” I grinned.

I saw the corner of his lip twitch up. “Not today. You’ve got questions. You might as well ask them.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, watching him. “You’re the best mage killer in the Antivan Crows. So how’d the Venatori catch you?”

“Someone set me up,” he said simply. “I had a contract for Calivan. In the Ossuary. I took a ship from Treviso to Minrathous. They were waiting for me. Knew which ship and when it would arrive. I don’t know how they convinced the Crows I was dead, but I woke up in the Ossuary with Zara gloating about it.”

“Blood magic.” I could tell him that at least. One thing I had the answer to. “Caterina said they had dressed the body in your clothes and altered it with blood magic to look like your face too. I can’t even imagine… I know she… “volunteered” you to work with us. Are you okay with that?” I asked sincerely.

“When the First Talon of the Crows gives you a job, you do it. Especially if she’s your grandmother. But, there’s plenty of reason for me to work with you beyond that, Rook,” he said.

“Such as?” I tilted my head, kicking my feet under the table.

“I owe you a debt, for one. And after a year in that hole, maybe I’m looking forward to stabbing a god or two in the back,” he answered.

“Two!” Spite hissed.

“The Crossroads can be dicey, but the Lighthouse is safe. Oh, and if you see a spirit around called the Caretaker, they’re friendly,” I smiled.

“After the Ossuary, that will be a pleasant change,” he said with a grin. After a moment’s silence, he put his hands on his hips. “You haven’t asked anything about Spite.”

“Based on what I’ve seen, I’d say he picked the right name.”

“He’s stronger when I sleep. So… I try not to do it much. No one was in the Ossuary by choice. Not even the demons. We both did what we had to, to get out of there,” he told me.

“I admire you,” I told him. “What you’ve been through would break most people.”

“I would not give Zara the satisfaction,” he smirked.

“I understand. Still, you must be a very courageous man,” I smiled.

“A very stubborn one, perhaps. But, that’s… kind of you to say. Leave Spite to me. If he’s trapped in this world, he has a good reason to fight for it. For now, I must honor our contract. Gods, magic, politics…” he hummed, the rumble in his chest trying to drag me toward him. “Things are going to get very bloody.”

I gave him one last smile as he turned back toward the fire. “If you’re stubborn, I’d say Zara picked the right demon. If I remember right, Spite is a demon of Determination,” I smirked, looking back at him.

His brows were raised. “Perhaps it was the only thing she got right. She was nothing if not fond of irony.”

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

A/N: Please give me your thoughts on this. I missed Cole and he was so important to me in Inquisition I wanted him to have a role in this story too, however minor. Also the back and forth with Solas gets me every time XD

Let me know if you want to be on a tag list! <3

Have a good day lovelies!

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories for a Demon, Night 1: The Sleeping Princess (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

“Lucanis?”

Some assassin, he thinks bitterly, as Rook’s soft voice breaks him out of his reverie. She finds him sitting at the dining room table, staring at the fire with a cup of now cold coffee in his hands. He didn’t hear her come in.

Caterina would’ve given him at least ten lashes with her cane for letting someone sneak up on him like that.

His mind, lately, was a restless sea. Waves of him and Spite crash over each other, fighting to rise above the din. Fighting for control. And like the moon pushes and pulls the tides at night, Spite’s influence becomes harder to ignore in the waning hours of the evening. Sometimes it was hard to pay attention to anything but Spite rattling the bars of the prison that was Lucanis’ mind.

On most nights he finds himself alone in the pantry, or the dining room, with only a flickering fire and the demon in his head for company. Until a few moments ago that is.

“Rook” he manages a pleasant, tired smile while turning towards her. “You’re up late”

She shrugs and pulls up a chair beside him, now rimmed in the warm orange glow of the fire. “Thought you might want some company – you know, after the whole…” she gestures vaguely in his direction, and he doesn’t need any further elaboration.

He remembers feeling tired, so tired after their last mission. A bone-weariness that only came with the kind of world-ending threats they were becoming entirely too accustomed to handling. Three cups of his strongest brew hadn’t been enough to curb the knife’s edge of sleep deprivation. He remembers sitting upright in his cot and closing his eyes for just a moment.  Then, he was in the basement hallway with the Vir’Evas Eluvian, surrounded by Harding, Rook - and the terrible realization that Spite had taken him for a walk.

Perhaps it was his brutal training at the hands of his grandmother, perhaps it was his own stubbornness, but he hated to make them worry. Especially Rook, who already carried the weight of the world on her small shoulders and the voice of an Elven god in her head. Dealing with a sleepwalking abomination was probably the last thing she needed to be worried about.

“I’m fine” he lies, and stares down at his coffee. His grip on the handle of his mug tightens. Rook’s bright green eyes flicker down to his hands, and he knows she doesn’t believe his words any more than he does. “As I said before – Spite is my burden to bear. Please, go get some sleep, Rook”

Her face falls just a little at that.

“Would if I could” she starts, “You won’t sleep, I can’t sleep – I figure we might as well be night owls together. But if I’m bothering you, I’ll go”

He doesn’t know her well enough yet to catch if she is lying about not being able to sleep – but he imagines she has plenty of her own worries big enough to keep her up at night.

When he doesn’t answer, Rook moves to get out of her chair.

Lucanis quickly waves her back down into her seat.

“No, no, no bother at all” He raises his cup to her in a cheer, “I’ll be glad for the company”

He swirls the cold coffee in his cup, before looking back up at Rook.

“Coffee? I’m going to make a fresh pot” he asks, rising from his place. Rook gives an appreciative nod, the corners of her eyes crinkling with another smile.

“I’d love some, thanks”

Rook is silent until his return from the kitchen, with a cup of freshly made coffee – real coffee, in each hand. None of that instant boiled bean water that Neve had a habit of making.

As he hands her the cup, he notices something in her lap that wasn’t there before. A small journal. Its bindings were tattered and frayed, the colour had faded from what he presumed was a bright crimson to a more muted shade of red, and the pages were yellowed with time.

“What is that?” he asks, taking his place in front of the fire once more.

Rook sets the steaming cup of coffee aside on the table, so she can begin flipping through its worn pages. A musty, acrid smell like old mothballs hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, he’s a boy in the Dellamorte estate’s library running wild between tall, marble bookshelves seeking mischief and knowledge in equal measure.

“My father’s old journal” Rook thumbs through the pages more carefully now, and her voice grows soft.

“He was a Bard in his youth. Toured all over Thedas with his troupe. As he went, he wrote down stories from across the continent” She leans her chin against her hand and smiles fondly at the little book in her hand. “Never imagined he’d be collecting bedtime stories for a future daughter”

There was a softness in her voice that he was not accustomed to hearing, tinged with the barest echo of grief. This is the first time in the few weeks they had known each other that Rook mentioned any kind of family. He notes her use of past tense and decides not to pry, much as he finds himself growing ever curious about his new companion.

Companions.

Rook looks down at the book again before meeting his eyes. They were almost pleading.

“I thought... maybe you’d like to hear one. You know, to help pass the time?”

He thinks of refusing, of telling her she needs to rest, that there is little sense in them both being sleep deprived because of Spite. There is something in her eyes that stops him from turning her down. An emotion he cannot quite name but feels akin to longing. Not quite sadness, not quite nostalgia – somewhere in between.

He quickly comes to the realization that this may be as much for her, as it is for him. Lucanis remembers the comfort that reading old stories brought him. He can picture, in striking detail, the book on Wyvern physiology he stole from the Dellamorte library as a child. He knows the contents of each page by heart, because he can still hear Illario's grumbling about wanting him to shut up about Wyverns echoing through his distant memories. He would read it by candlelight until late in the evening, ready to extinguish the flame and hide the book under his pillow at a moment’s notice if Caterina came by.

He decides that if he can help her by simply listening to a story, he will. Rook spends most of her free time trying to fix everyone else’s problems. Always flitting to and from each room in the Lighthouse like a hummingbird, fretting over the team. The Crows were already indebted to her efforts against the Antaam, and she made it a point to help him with both Spite and tracking down Zara. With all that in consideration, he feels it would be a rather poor show to refuse. That and another feeling he didn’t have a name for, keeps him from rejecting her company tonight.

“Alright” He sighs and takes a sip of his coffee before leaning back in his chair. “Let’s hear it”

Lucanis ignores the skipped beat in his chest as she beams widely.

She claps her hands together and straightens in her chair. “Wonderful!”

“So, what tale will you tell tonight?”

“Have you ever heard the old Tevene story about the Sleeping Princess?” she asks excitedly, crossing her legs in her chair like an impatient child about to be served dessert. She’s practically oscillating with excitement in her seat.

Lucanis smiles at that.

“No, I can’t say I have”

“It’s one of my favourites” she gushes, picking up the journal again and flipping to the correct page. Ringlets of rich brown hair sweep over her shoulder as she does so, and he decides to focus on his coffee instead, before he’s caught staring.

“Aha” her brow furrows as she quickly scans the contents of the journal. “Alright, here we go”

Rook sets the journal aside once more and takes a quick sip of her coffee. He doesn’t miss the way she savours the brew. He knew she enjoyed coffee from their meeting at Café Pietra with Illario, but it was nice to know she appreciated his coffee as much as theirs.

He raises an eyebrow when Rook starts cracking her knuckles – and her neck, then readies her hands in the same pose he’s seen her use for magic.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see” she grins conspiratorially.

“If you’re about to throw a fireball at me – “

“Relax, relax” Rook shakes her head, and whispers “Magic has more uses than fighting”

He can feel Spite stirring in the dark recess of his mind and does his best to ignore it.

Rook’s delicate hands begin glowing with blue light, and to his astonishment, a moment later she conjures a fully realized image of a castle, floating in the space between them. He can see the spires, turrets, and even the wrought-iron gates in clear, astonishing detail. Lucanis leans forward to inspect the castle as it rotates in mid-air, giving him views of every side. Even the masonry and statues have an immaculate degree of realism. It was almost as if she had taken a real castle and shrunk it down.

“How …?” He is not usually one to be rendered speechless, but it was not every day he is exposed to new types of magic - and when he was, historically, that hasn't always been a good thing for him. Spite rumbling under his skin reminds him of that.

“I learned to do it back in my Circle days. It was my thesis work – the use of the Fade to create projections of objects from one’s minds” her pride in her castle falls when she continues to explain, “The senior enchanters thought it a waste of effort and I barely passed my final year – they couldn’t see a use for it past getting their children to sleep. I suppose if magic can’t be used to some terrible, destructive end, it gets relegated to a novice’s thesis statement to be buried in the Circle’s archives and never touched again”

“It’s incredible Rook” he breathes. The words leave his mouth before he can stop them. He’s not sure if it’s the warmth of the fire, or something else, but he swears a faint tinge of red creeps from her neck up to her ears.

He desperately wants to reach out and touch the castle, but keeps his hands firmly on his coffee cup, worried he may ruin her concentration.

Rook’s eyes crinkle with her smile, wide and genuine. He’s never seen her smile like that, and it feels utterly disarming.

He brings his coffee cup to his lips again, about to take a sip.

“Thank you, Lucanis” Her voice is sweeter than the coffee on his lips.

“You’re welcome” is all he manages to choke out, leaning away from the castle to give himself some distance to regain control of his faculties.

Rook clears her throat, “I ahh, guess I should get on with the story, hmm?”

Lucanis nods and takes another sip of coffee, feeling the warmth spread through him but he is not entirely certain it’s from the coffee alone.

“I would say you’re burning moonlight, but given where we are …”

He smiles when Rook chuckles at his terrible attempt at humour, and he appreciates it even if it is forced on her end, but it feels genuine enough. Everything about Rook was genuine.

Her focus returns to the castle in front of them.

“Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a small kingdom”

She waves her hands in a fluid motion and the solitary castle morphs into a bird’s eye view of that same castle perched on top of a hill, overlooking a small village.

“And in that kingdom, there lived a King and a Queen, much beloved by their people.”

The castle and village disappear. They are now replaced with two figures sitting on matching thrones upon a simple dais. In the thrones sit a man and a woman, each with a crown decorating their foreheads.

“The King and Queen longed desperately for a child of their own and had tried for many years to make it so. ‘Would that we had a child!’, the King cried, and yet, their child remained a dream.”

As she said those words, the mouth of the king moved in tandem.

He can’t imagine the amount of concentration it must be taking to accomplish telling a story, maintaining an illusion, and making an illusion talk. He continues to sit there in awe, with only his training keeping his jaw from hanging on the floor.

The corner of her lips pull down into a slight frown.

“The Queen would not accept the words of her physician, who told her bearing a child was not possible for her, for there was a sickness in her womb that would prevent it”

The image morphed into the Queen hunched over on the floor, on all fours, sobbing. It looks so real he is convinced he could hear her agonized cries.

Now, the Queen has traded her crown for a traveller's cloak. She floats aimlessly in the air between them, the cloak billowing on an invisible wind.

“The Queen, unbeknownst to the King, set off to seek the knowledge of a Spirit from the Fade. When she eventually finds one,” Rook pauses and waves her left hand to bring forth the image of an amorphous spirit in front of the Queen. “She wastes no time asking the Spirit if it could help her conceive a child”

The spirit continues to float above the figure of the queen, who is now on her knees looking up at it, hands clasped as if in prayer.

“The Spirit asks if she is prepared to do anything to have a child. The Queen fervently answers that she would give up anything – do anything for an heir.” The figure of the Queen bows down to the Spirit in deference. “Satisfied, the Spirit gives her knowledge of a ritual that could provide her with a child. It would take several mages and the sacrifice of an innocent, but that was the only way to cure the sickness from her womb and carry a child. ‘Do this, and your child will grow in grace and beauty. Hair spun in gold, lips as red as the rose. She will walk with spring time wherever she goes. Her song will put nightingales and larks to shame’”

Blood magic. Figures this story comes from Tevinter.

“But be warned” The Spirit holds up a hand, “Should the Princess ever prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and draw blood, she will die”

The figure of the Queen hurriedly nods, before disappearing into nothing.

“The Queen quickly returns to the kingdom and enlists the help of her council of Magi”

The figure of the Queen returns to its original appearance. She is now surrounded by seven cloaked figures, each carrying a stave in their hands. The form of a young woman is chained, on her knees, in the middle of them all.

“They had their sacrifice, and the knowledge on how to perform the ritual” Her voice is quiet, almost strained.

The figures appear to be chanting now. The faint blue glow of the form of the young woman slowly turns red, with some concentration on Rook’s part. A moment later, the form is swallowed by red light and disappears. Veins of red climb like vines and weave their way into the figure of the Queen, settling on her stomach, before fading from sight.

Rook’s frown deepens and her brows draw closely together. The figures of the King and Queen morph into an embrace. And quickly after, they are sitting on their thrones, side-by-side, with the Queen’s belly swollen with child.

“The King had no idea about the ritual. He was ecstatic, of course, at the prospect of finally having a child” Rook said. “And so he didn’t question it when the Queen asked that every spinning wheel in the kingdom be burned to ensure her safety”

The pair disappear, and now, a large pile of spinning wheels, burning with blue flames, takes their place.

It disappears soon after, and the image of a baby is conjured in its place. She is sleeping soundly in an intricately carved wooden cot.

“The Princess, who they called Rosaea, was perfect. And just as the Spirit had said, she would indeed grow in grace and beauty” The form of the baby changes to that of a young woman, with long, flowing hair and a beautiful face. “She was loved by all her people, for she had a kind heart. She lived happily with her parents and was adorned of gifts from her people, the nobility, and suitors alike. But things would not stay that way for long.”

The image of the princess disappears. The scene shifts to the King, Queen, and the Princess together at the gates of the Kingdom.

“Urgent business with another Kingdom called the King and Queen away, and so the Princess was left to wander the castle by herself”

Rook waves a hand and the Princess walks alone, before coming to the form of an old woman hunched over a spinning wheel.

The princesses mouth moves in tandem with Rook’s words.

“You there, madam” The princess says, pointing to the wheel. “What is it that you are doing?’ She asks, for she had never seen a spinning wheel before”

The figure of the old woman turns towards the princess and beckons her closer, “I am spinning, dear girl’, it answers” The figure of the princess moves closer to the spinning wheel. She leans over it, and asks, “What is that thing that twists around so briskly?”

No sooner had she said the words and taken the spindle into her hand, there is a flash of red light, and the figure of the princess is on the floor. Not dead, but sleeping, for he can see the rise and fall of her chest.

The old woman first morphs into the spirit from before, the one that spoke with the Queen, and then it changes again into a twisted creature - all horns, claws, and jagged edges. One he was all too familiar with. A demon.

“The Spirit the Queen had spoken with was no Spirit at all, it was a Terror demon in disguise.” Rook explains, waving her hand through the illusion of the girl and the demon towering over her, erasing it from existence.

It is at this moment that Lucanis realizes he’s forgotten to breathe. He draws a deep breath, and leans forward, resting his forearms on his legs. His coffee sits abandoned on the table, as does Rook’s. Spite is practically vibrating behind his eyes.

“Well, go on” he gestures at her.

Rook grins, evidently satisfied with her work. “Impatient, are we?”

Lucanis smirks, “Spite wants to know how it ends”

“And you’re not the least bit curious?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, looking at him doubtfully.

He distracts himself with a sip of coffee, miraculously still somewhat warm. “I might be”

Rook chuckles and shakes her head, mirroring him by bringing her own coffee to her lips. She licks her lips and sighs, and he tries to look anywhere but her mouth. For a moment, he finds himself preoccupied with his own shoes.

“Sorry, I was feeling a bit parched there. On with the story” She rings out her hands and brings them back into position. That familiar blue glow envelops them again. He feels its safe to meet her gaze again.

“The Terror Demon’s ritual didn’t just affect the Princess, it affected the whole Kingdom. One by one, everyone fell into a deep slumber, just like the princess”

He watches intently as the castle courtyard morphs into view between them. Figures of soldiers and servants alike start falling asleep in place, dropping like wilting flowers. The courtyard disappears and returns to another view of the entire kingdom. Large, twisted brambles begin enveloping it,He eererere forming an impenetrable wall of thorns encasing everything in sight.

“The King and Queen returned to find their Kingdom gone. They tried rallying support from other kingdoms, but none could breach the Demon’s brambles”

Figures of soldiers and magi alike lobbing magic and arrows and spears at the wall sprang to life. Each volley as useless as the last. She pauses as the image fades, and nothing takes its place.

“And?” Lucanis asks leaning onto his forearms even more.

“And I’m getting there” Rook laughs, flourishing her fingers like she’s conducting an invisible orchestra.

“The Demon’s spell kept the kingdom in a state of eternal slumber. It fed on their fears and nightmares in the Fade while they slept. On the outside, a hundred years had passed, and the King and Queen were long dead. But everyone inside the Kingdom still remained as they were when they were put to sleep”

Two elaborate tombs flickered to life, before fading a moment later.

“Another hundred years passes before a wandering adventurer, pure of heart and mind, and possessing the soul of a true hero, would come to the ruins of the Kingdom, still surrounded by the wall of thorns”

She conjures the image of a handsome-faced young man, in simple chain mail, riding atop a horse.

“But this adventurer was special, you see” Rook whispered and leaned in closer.

Smells like lavender and rosewater, Spite chimes.

“For he had a Spirit of Valor on his side. And the Spirit would see the Terror Demon banished back to the Fade forever”

The figure draws his sword, glowing a bright golden yellow, and pierces the wall of thorns with ease. He continues to cut through the wall and makes his way to the castle.

“There was a great battle between the Demon and the Hero, but the Hero prevails with the help of the Spirit of Valor”

The demon is pierced by the golden sword, and cries out a soundless scream, before disappearing. Now, the entire view of the kingdom is back. The brambles recede like a tide, and one by one, little figures of soldiers and servants begin waking up.

Curiously, when the image fades back to the figure of the princess, she still lies sleeping.

“Why didn’t the princess wake up?” Lucanis asks, his brows drawing together in confusion.

“The Nightmare Demon’s hold on the Princess is stronger than any of the other inhabitants of the Kingdom” Rook explains, shifting in her seat. "It was banished back to the Fade, but not defeated in its entirety. Terror is one of the strongest emotions there is, after all"

The princess and the hero fade from view, and this time, nothing takes their place.

“There has to be more than that” He throws his hands up and shakes his head, before taking another sip of coffee. He nearly spits it out. It’s gone cold. Again. Yet for all his love of caffeinated beverages, the thought of getting up to make another cup doesn’t even cross his mind.

She laughs again, her green eyes twinkling with mirth, “I’m getting there.” She repeats.

“You’re doing this on purpose” He points to her, frowning.

“I have to build suspense somehow!”

Rook raises her hands again, and the figures of the princess and the hero return to view.

“The Hero couldn’t help but be struck by the Princesses’ beauty. He could do nothing else but admire her sleeping form. And he was overcome with the desire to kiss her, for he knew it was love at first sight. He had no way of knowing if it would work – maybe it was his own heart, or maybe it was the Spirit of Valor whispering in his ear, but needed to know if a kiss could wake her from her slumber”

The figure of the prince moves closer to the princess, and hunches over her sleeping form. It leans in and presses a gentle, chaste kiss to her lips.

Both the princess and the hero were soon engulfed in a warm, golden glow. The figure of the princess wakes, and the hero takes her into his arms.

“The princess wakes to find herself in the arms of her rescuer. She and the Hero fall in love. They re-establish the kingdom and ruled together as King and Queen, living happily ever after”

And with a final flick of her wrist, the embracing figures vanish into the ether.

“The End” She says, with a satisfied smirk and a small bow at the waists.

Lucanis leans back in his seat, unable to stop himself from smiling. “That’s it? Everything is fixed with a kiss?”

Rook shrugs innocently, “Aren’t most things?”

He has no time to process that, or the way she’s looking at him while she says it.

“Besides, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was true love’s kiss. Love can be a powerful form of magic in its own right. Just as powerful as Terror - if not more so”

Lucanis frowns. He wishes he could believe that.

“In stories, perhaps” he mutters, swirling the cold coffee around in its cup.

Rook yawns and runs a hand through her wild curls.

“Perhaps” She stands and takes the journal in her hands. She offers him another sweet smile before turning to leave, “Never hurts to believe, though”

As she makes for the dining hall door, Lucanis stands from his chair.

“Rook?” He calls out after her.

She stops and turns, “Yeah?”

“Thank you … for this” he gestures to the fireplace. “For tonight.”

Rook nods, “You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked my story”

“Would you come again tomorrow night?” He asks, entirely too quickly. Convinced he sounds like a lovesick puppy, he wants to kick himself in the shin. Thankfully, he has Spite to do that to his head.

Rooks brows lift in surprise, like she wasn’t expecting him to ask. They quickly settle into a kind expression, one he finds he wants to burn into his memory until its all he can see.

“Yeah, of course” She gives him a small wave, “I’ll see you tomorrow night”

Lucanis returns the wave and returns to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee.

Meanwhile, Rook leaves the dining hall barely able to keep herself upright.

Being inside the Fade made it much easier for her to draw on her magic, but she’s never used that level of detail and sustained it for so long to tell a story.

Sleep would come easier that night for her from the mana depletion alone.

But Lucanis would stay awake replaying her story in his head over and over again. He would think of how the warm glow of the fireplace cast streaks of orange and gold into her wild curls. How her eyes practically sparkle and the softness of her voice when she tells a story.

But in all the loops of Rook and her story that play in his mind, it escapes his notice that a possessed man is the hero of her tale.

[nyxvalelovesdragonage]

A little sneak peek at what I'm writing rn

(No veilguard spoilers in this peek, but there will be in the actual fic)

“I will take care of Rook, I promise,” he told him with a gentle voice.

His nostrils flared and he tightened his grip on Rook’s shoulder. Spite was clawing at the walls inside Lucanis currently, screaming and shrieking to be let out. He could smell the danger on this elf, hear it in his voice. Spite wanted out, he wanted to kill this man. Lucanis felt like he was going to throw up

[zombolouge]

I appreciate that from everything that I've seen so far, the fandom has collectively decided that regardless of their Rook's overall personality and goals, we are all making it a high priority mission to irritate the living hell out of Solas with them.

[grandpasauce]

proud of the solas community for already getting hard at work creating dread wolf monster fucker art like it rly does bring a tear to my eye i used to dream of times like these yall doin the lords work god bless xoxo