#davrin fic

[bg3daydream]

Not like the tales (Davrin x Rook Fanfiction) Chapter 2

Davrin x female Rook Thorne

Summary: Canon divergence, Rook is already a grey warden when Davrin joins, and she's put in charge of his joining and his first weeks as a recruit and junior warden. Their relationship developes into more than just partner wardens, despite Rook's best efforts, since she knows that the life of a warden is a life of loss. Rook is a Dalish mage (I made a poll and that's the option that won).

Tags: Romance, friends to lovers, hiden feelings, slow burn, fluff, angst, hurt/emotional hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence and blood, eventual smut, canon divergence, eventual happy ending.

Chapter 1 / Masterlist of my fics / AO3

Rook didn’t take Davrin to the training grounds, instead, she led him up to the tower where she spent her time when she was not training or trying to find darkspawn.

She sat in the now familiar window seat, watching Davrin as he looked through the window, nodding to himself. “This’s a nice place to protect this outpost. With a good bow, you can kill a big chunk of enemies before they reach the building.” He looked at her. “That’s what you do? Your role here?

“Pff…nah. I’m here most of the time but there’s no need to take watch, I don’t think anything has threatened this place for longer than I’ve been a warden.”

Davrin stepped away from the window and looked at her. “What do you do here, then?”

“At the outpost or at the tower?” Rook replied evasively.

“Both?”

“At the outpost, I was ordered here a couple of weeks ago.” She didn’t elaborate. “At the tower…I like looking through the window.” She shrugged, glancing through it and to the forest. 

She noticed Davrin smiling as he looked at her and wondered if she'd been too honest. She’d totally lost her mask of a formal, serious warden, hadn’t she? Perhaps she’d never managed to wear it. “You say all Dalish do is wander the forest and that you were tired of it…but I miss it.”

“Rook…Warden Thorne,” Davrin corrected himself, and when she looked at him to tell him he could just call her Rook, he was looking at her with such softness in his eyes, that she feared she might cry. “I’m really sorry for what happened to you and your clan. I might have left mine, but I’m still Dalish, and I can’t imagine anything worse than what you went through.”

“Thank you.” Rook swallowed hard and got up, eager to think on something else. “You wanted to see the training grounds, let’s go.”

“Wait…you didn’t tell me why they sent you here where you say there’s nothing for a warden to do,” Davrin reminded her and she shot him a wary look, she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about that with him. Davrin shrugged. “I’m just asking, you’ve been interrogating me.”

“Because you are the recruit who wants to join and I’m your superior.” Rook’s defensiveness made her snap.

“True, that’s true.” Davrin’s friendly, relaxed face was serious now, his jaw set. “Apologies, Warden Thorne.”

“Just…it’s just Rook,” she sighed. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for and mean. It’s just…I messed up, that’s why I was sent here. I disagreed with the First Warden’s strategy about a mission and he didn’t like my input, so he sent me here as punishment. He didn’t word it like that, but I know it was that.”

Davrin looked at her, thoughtful, before he spoke. “Was the First Warden’s strategy bad?”

Rook shrugged. “It was not bad, but I thought some parts could be improved.”

“If he’s a good leader, he should listen to suggestions and implement them if they’re good,” Davrin said, matter of factly, and Rook snorted.

“If you end up joining, you better not say anything like that when the First Warden’s around or someone who might tell him.” She was only half-joking. “Besides…I was not the nicest, I might have said my suggested strategy a bit…let’s say bluntly.” She’d lost her cool and she’d been disrespectful to a superior, she admitted it.

“I still don’t think you deserved any punishment,” Davrin insisted.

Rook shrugged, trying to pretend it didn’t upset her. “It wasn’t our first disagreement. I know he thinks I’m a shit warden.” She hadn’t meant to say the last part, but she couldn’t stop it.

“I doubt you’re a shit warden,” Davrin offered, and Rook scoffed.

“You can’t know that, you don’t know me,” she snapped. She didn’t want his pity, neither did she want him buttering her up so she’d rush his joining…she refused to acknowledge that he might be saying that because he was nice or because he believed it. “I’m being a shit warden right now, if you ask them,” she said bitterly.

“How’s so?” Davrin arched an eyebrow, looking unimpressed and like he didn’t believe her.

“I shouldn’t be losing time walking you around and questioning you about things that don’t matter,” she began. “And I certainly shouldn’t be telling you how warden’s life is death and how you’ll have a short life and no future if you join,” she scoffed, it was the truth. “We take everyone, we need every last warden we can get, we always need more because the darkspawn threat is always here and our numbers are not as good as they used to be. I should have made you join already, no explanation, no questions. But here I am, trying to scare you off.”

Davrin blinked at her as she ranted, and then he smiled. “You’re honest and genuine, I think that’s good, and you care for people, you want better for them, how can all that make you a bad warden? I think it is the opposite and I don’t care what anyone, First Warden or not, thinks.” 

Rook wanted to smile and grimace at the same time. She liked his spirit, his ideas, his thoughts, but he shouldn’t say things like that and she shouldn't encourage that kind of talk. Perhaps Laura was right and she’d get him in trouble before he even joined.

“Recruit, I told you not to speak like that…” She sighed.

Davrin grinned…too charming for his own good, and for her own too, perhaps. “I’m not a warden yet, so I can say that. And if I call you Rook, then you call me Davrin,” she said. “And Rook…you’re not scaring me off.”

“I’ve already realized that…” Rook shook her head with a sigh. She still hated the thought of seeing Davrin going through his joining, his potential death, and condemning someone like him to this life. “Come on, you wanted to see the training ground, I’ll show you.”

On their way there, Rook was silent but for some comments here and there about the outpost, while Davrin nodded along, also silent, but Rook could notice him taking discreet glances at her from time to time, as if he were studying her, but she decided not to comment on it, sure he’d come up with any sassy or charming, or both, remark that she wouldn't know how to counteract.

On the courtyard, Ser Blasco, a warden veteran of the fifth blight, who was now in charge of training recruits and junior wardens in that outpost, was instructing Alan and Marcus as they fought. Ser Blasco was an excellent fighter and a good trainer, and at first glance, it might seem he was the same as always, but he’d told Rook once how he’d started to feel the first signals of his calling.

Rook glanced at Davrin as they walked. His eyes were set on the wardens, serious and thoughtful as he studied the fight, as if he was getting ready for it, planning strategy already.

“Halt!” Ser Blasco stopped the fight when he saw them.

“Sorry for the interruption.” Rook nodded at Davrin. “This is Davrin, a new recruit.”

“The one who fought the ogre,” Ser Blasco said, looking Darvin up and down, almost as if studying him for weakness and strengths already, even at first glance. It was one of the things that made him a good trainer, but sometimes it felt a bit intrusive and awkward.  

“The very same,” Davrin confirmed, nodding.  Rook could see him tensing under the veteran’s scrutiny and under the wary looks of the junior wardens. 

She didn’t dare to hope it might change his mind and scare him off, though, she might just have met Davrin, but she’d the impression he was stubborn and he wouldn’t back down from a challenge when his mind was set on what he wanted.

“Davrin, this is Ser Blasco, he’s in charge of training, he’ll have you feeling sore in muscles you didn’t know existed,” she introduced him and almost smiled when she noticed Marcus nodding along as he grimaced, he’d experienced the training. “And these are Marcus and Alan, our new junior wardens.”

“Nice to meet you,” Davrin smiled at them but his eyes were still studying them, almost like Ser Blasco was studying him.

“How was fighting an ogre?” Marcus asked, eager.

“I got lucky,” Darvin said and Rook was surprised he’d say something like that, instead of trying to show off. “I wasn’t as prepared as I should have. I didn’t know what I was hunting, other than it was big and a monster. You shouldn’t hunt monsters until you know what they are and you’re ready for it. That was a mistake that  I won't make again”.

“Yet I’m told you tracked the ogre yourself and were holding your own when the wardens found you, and you helped put it down,” Ser Blasco commented.

“Yes, ser,” Darvin said. “But without the wardens I don’t think I’d have left that fight unharmed. It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Ser Blasco nodded. “It’s good that we can see our mistakes and work on them. In the fight against the darkspawn, we can’t afford to make the same mistake twice.” He looked at Davrin up and down again. “So, what do you say, recruit, I know you fought an ogre and just left the infirmary, but do you want to show us how a monster hunter fights?”

Davrin grinned, his face lighting up, as if not only did he want to but was eager to do it, and he wouldn’t back down from a challenge, that much had already been clear to Rook.

“Take any weapon you want.” Ser Blasco waved at the stack of weapons. “And choose who you want to fight.”

Davrin looked at the junior wardens while they did the same. They looked wary and Rook couldn’t blame them, all they knew about Davrin was that he hunted monsters and had fought an ogre by himself. Perhaps they were nervous about losing a fight against him in front of Ser Blasco and herself.

“I don’t know…it doesn’t feel fair to choose. They’re both wardens together, they can fight me together.” Davrin smiled and shrugged.

“You’re going to fight them both at the same time?” Rook rolled her eyes. Was he trying to prove himself again? Silly. Perhaps she was being unjust, though, perhaps he didn’t want to choose and pit the juniors against each other…nah, looking at that cocky smirk, he wanted to show off. “Ser Blasco, in all your years training, have you ever heard how cocky wardens live less?”

Her silly joke got a laugh out of the veteran warden and Rook was proud of it. Davrin turned his head to look at her with that smirk but he didn’t say a word.

“Your choice, recruit,” Ser Blasco said and Davrin nodded, taking a sword like the one the other wardens were using. 

“Please, don’t beat him much, Laura just fixed him and I’d hate her good work to be ruined,” Rook couldn’t help but taunt Davrin a bit more, not with that cocky smirk of him, and when he shot her a playful glare, smiling, she couldn’t help her own smile.

“Begin,” Ser Blasco commanded. 

At first, the men only looked at each other, then took tentative steps back and forth, but neither of them was the first to attack, as if they were unsure. Davrin was the first to go for it, striking at Alan, but the junior warden stopped the blade with his own, pushing Davrin back, though he was quick to recover and retaliate. Soon, Marcus was joining too.

Ser Blasco’s eyes were focused on the battle, he didn’t miss a detail, as if mentally taking notes and reviewing Davrin’s fighting. Rook knew that by the end of it, he’d have a big list of corrections and things to improve, along with a long list of exercises to practice, for the three men. 

She’d assumed Davrin knew how to fight, she knew he couldn’t be bad at it, if he was a monster hunter, but still, she appreciated what she was seeing. Davrin was good, that much was clear, even if he didn’t seem to have much of a formal training in sword-fighting like Alan and Marcus did, and she thought she caught a couple of movements he might have learned with his Dalish clan.

He was holding his own, he had the upper hand more often than not, and even when he seemed to lose it, he didn’t give up and managed to retaliate somehow. However, Rook thought Alan and Marcus weren’t taking advantage of their numbers, they weren’t fighting Davrin together but almost taking turns, only focusing on themselves individually instead of joining their efforts.

“Ser, may I say something?” She asked Ser Blasco, who nodded. “Junior wardens, he’s beating your asses and he’s one against two, why are you both not fighting together? Work together or lose and be thankful he’s not darkspawn! Come on!”

“What’s this, my mentor is giving advice to beat me? The betrayal!” Davrin joked, panting and laughing. “I feel hurt!” He turned his head to grin at her, happy and handsome, the sight making Rook feel some odd and unwelcome flutter in her belly.

Davrin probably soon regretted having taken his focus from the fight to her, as the pommel of Alan’s sword hit him right in the stomach, cutting his breath short, his grin giving way to a grimace, but he managed to stop the next hit.

No matter the blows, Davrin seemed to enjoy the fight, his good mood apparent even when the combined efforts of the two trained wardens began to take their toll on him and he found it harder to keep up. Alan and Marcus had also lost their wariness, and the men were fighting as if they’d always been training together.

“That is!” Ser Blasco nodded, pleased. “Warden’s fight together against darkspawn, that’s how we win, fighting as one!” 

He took his own sword and approached the fighting men. “Darkspawn’s gonna swarm you, dozens of them together, so Rook’s right, you better learn to work together. Now, the three of you, come.” He raised his sword at them, waiting for them to approach first.

The men looked at Ser Blasco, then at each other, and nodded, trying to coordinate and fight him together as if they’d always done so, as if they hadn’t been fighting each other moments ago. It was nice to see, to Rook at least. They were good together, she was glad Davrin fitted in, if he ended up joining, and Rook knew that wardens who fought darkspawn together like that had a better chance of survival.

Their combined efforts didn’t avail them much against the veteran warden, soon, he had disarmed them all as if it was nothing.

“Shit, you’re good!” Davrin laughed, good-natured, but then he turned serious. “I mean…Ser…I’m sorry…” He began as if he were worried he’d broken protocol. Ser Blasco just laughed.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about rank here.” He waved it off. “You’re a good fighter, Davrin, but we’ll make you better, you’ll be a good warden.”

Davrin grinned and Rook could see his pride at the veteran’s words. It was a beautiful sight, yet it filled her with dread…There was no way she was going to manage to talk him out of joining now.

“To make him a good warden, first we’ll have to feed him a proper meal,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant, she wanted to get Davrin away from the training grounds that he was enjoying way too much. “Come on, I’ll show you the kitchens now.”

“Wait.” Davrin turned that stupidly pretty smile to her. “You don’t fight?”

“Yes, she does.” Alan grimaced as if he remembered the last time they’d trained together.

“Fight me, then.” Davrin was grinning as he challenged her, good-natured. “You’re my mentor, I want to see you kick my ass…unless you think it’ll be the other way around.” 

He was still smiling, Rook knew that his words were just teasing, taunting her like she’d taunted him. He seemed eager to see her fight, and Rook didn’t like to show off, but he was making her almost want to.

“Someone wants their eyebrows scorched…” Marcus murmured and Alan snickered.

“I’m not your mentor, I’m just in charge of your joining,” Rook said as she rolled her shoulders and stepped in front of him. “But sure, come try…I’ll be careful, don’t worry, I know you’d hate to postpone your joining because you got hurt.” That wouldn’t be too bad, actually…but Rook couldn’t get herself to actually hurt him.

Davrin just smiled again before he went serious as he looked her up and down in a way that made Rook wonder if he was studying her for the fight, or checking her out, or both. The thought was too distracting and she rushed to stop it.

“You are not taking a weapon?” Davrin asked when she didn’t move.

“I’m a mage.” Rook summoned small swirls of magic, that cracked like lightning, to both her hands for a couple of seconds, and she’d lie if she said she didn’t enjoy Davrin’s look of wonder and his smile.

“Alright.” Davrin nodded, squaring his shoulders and planting his feet firmly on the ground, sword ready, but he didn’t move towards her.

“Are you waiting to see if she can summon darkspawn or something, recruit?” Ser Blasco teased him when he kept waiting.

Darvin didn’t say anything to that or looked at the veteran warden, his eyes fixed on Rook, seeming hesitant.

“I’m waiting,” Rook taunted him. “Come on, recruit, strike.”

Davrin still seemed unsure, but he nodded, squaring his shoulders again. When he struck, though, his sword stopped before getting too close to her, and he glared at the junior wardens when they laughed at his uncertainty

“You weren’t going to dodge,” he accused Rook, she hadn’t moved a muscle. “And you can’t parry, you got no shield or sword, or…nothing.”

Rook wondered if she should be offended by his lack of trust in her ability to defend herself, but she couldn’t. It was kind of sweet, that he worried he might hurt her and he didn’t want to. Besides, judging by his reaction, perhaps he was not used to fighting magic.

“Do you think I’d let you hit me?” She arched an eyebrow and Davrin shook his head. “Then come on, fight.” 

Davrin got ready to strike again, and this time, he didn’t stop. When the sword was about to hit her, Rook summoned an orb of lightning to her hand, which quickly spread to shield her from the sword. Davrin was lucky he was still hesitant, barely putting any strength on his strike, because the force of the blow went back to him as the sword hit the magic shield.

He staggered a bit, and before he could catch up on what had happened, Rook quickly took her hidden dagger, striking at Davrin, her magic flying from the blade, amplifying the blow. She was pleased to see that, despite his surprise, Davrin was quick to try to dodge, he had good instincts and good reflexes. 

Still, he cursed when some of the lightning strikes hit him, creating small holes in his sleeve. Rook had been careful, though, trying to make sure her magic wasn’t too powerful and that the strike wouldn’t fully reach Davrin, which required more effort than probably a non-mage realized.

Davrin looked at her in wonder, smiling and laughing, as if she hadn’t just hit him with lighting. “That’s amazing!”

Rook was not immune to his praise or to the way he was looking at her, but she would rather not acknowledge the way it made her feel. Instead, she sent some tiny lightning strikes around Davrin’s feet, carefully not to hit him. He just smiled wider.

“Try again,” she challenged.

Davrin did, and they fought for a bit. He was observant and a quick thinker, Rook was realizing that as she saw him getting used to her magic and the way it worked, the way she used it. That was probably one of the things that made him a good monster hunter. Still, he wouldn’t get the upper hand on her, not that he seemed to mind, he still seemed to be enjoying the fight, and Rook realized that she was too.

“Alright, I’d say that’s enough for Davrin for today,” Ser Blasco stopped them. “He has to get ready for his joining.” His words killed Rook’s good mood in a heartbeat, instead filling her with dread at the thought of Davrin’s joining.

“I wouldn’t say no to free food,” Davrin joked.

“You will when you see the porridge,” Marcus said, cursing when Ser Blasco hit him with the flat of his sword on the back of the head, while Alan snickered.

“Okay, I’ll show you the kitchens…” Rook nodded, though her smile and good mood were gone. “Ser Blasco, junior wardens, I’ll see you all later.”

“This was great, thanks.” Davrin grinned at them. “I’ll see you all soon for more training I hope.”

Alan and Marcus shared a look, and Rook knew they were thinking they might not see Davrin again, if he went through with the joining. Nobody said anything, though.

“Good luck, recruit,” Ser Blasco said, solemn, and Darvin’s smile faltered for a moment, as if he could feel that something was off, but he nodded, thanked them again, and followed Rook.

*

Rook served Davrin a bowl of porridge and looked at his face as he tasted it, but he didn’t complain about it, despite being obvious he didn’t like it, and he kept eating, actually devouring the thing. Everyone was right, he’d be a good warden, despite how Rook resisted the idea. She squinted at him as he finished the tasteless bowl in less than a minute

“How long have you gone without eating?” She asked.

“I have been eating.” Davrin shrugged. “But not much this last couple of days, there wasn’t much game, I think the ogre scared it.”

She should have fed him right away instead of letting him fight. “Do you want another bowl?” When Davrin gave her a bashful smile and a nod, Rook gave him a refill of tasteless porridge.

“I’d never fought a mage before,” Davrin said between mouthfuls of food. “You’re great at it.”

Rook ignored the feelings that his compliment sent to her stomach. “Thank you. You are a good fighter too.”

“I told you I was.” Davrin gave her his cocky smirk. He ate the last spoonful of food before looking at her again. “It was great, really.” He grinned. “This is what I want, fighting together against the darkspawn for the greater good.” 

He sounded so idealistic, so eager, his smile was so beautiful, but it filled Rook with dread, knowing there was no way of changing his mind now.

“Out there, everyone’s out for themselves,” Davrin kept going. “But not here, not with the wardens. It’s like you and Ser Blasco said, we wardens have to fight together, work together.”

Rook considered his words and leaned back on her seat with a sigh. So, he wanted to be part of a group that worked together... “You miss your clan.”

“What?” Davrin’s eyes opened wide before he frowned at her. “No! Well…sometimes…” He shrugged and looked away from her. “But that doesn’t mean I want to go back, or that I don’t know why I left! Clan’s life’s not for me.”

“Davrin-”

“No!” Davrin stopped her before she could say anything else. “I’m not you, Rook! I know you lost your clan and I know it was horrible, I’m sure you wish you could go back to them, but that’s not me! So stop it!”

Rook forgot what she was going to say. She felt like her heart had been punched, her throat seemed to close and her eyes itched. She didn’t know why Davrin’s words affected her like that. It wasn’t unkind, and it was true, she missed her clan every day and she wished to be back with them every day, no matter that she liked her job as a warden.

“Rook…” Davrin said softly as she got up without a word. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I shouldn’t have said something like that to you,” Davrin insisted. “I’m sorry.”

Davrin was right, though. Who was she to stop his joining? She’d been stalling and trying to prevent it, she’d been intrusive and interrogated him, when it was not her business…

“There are things to get ready for your joining,” she said flatly as she turned around. “I’m going to talk to Ser Arthur,  I’ll find you when we’re ready to start.”

“Rook,” Davrin called after her but she walked away.

*

I'd like to thank @thedissonantverses and @mythals-whore for reading and commenting on the previous chapter, it's really encouraging, thank you!

Otherwise it feels like nobody is interested or enjoys this, so writing and postings ends up feeling a bit discouraging. I know this is a canon divergence and a slow, long fic, which is not for everyone, though.

Anyway, thanks for reading, if you liked this, please let me know in a comment, and as always, reblogs are more than welcome.

Excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

[biowho]

Rook…Slick….Scruffy….Bangles…Hero…Smokey….Bones…. and Harding :)

[redwyvernan]

something something something the magic in the elvhenan’s haven section of the crossroads making the companions smell home. but not rook. rook “can’t place it.” neve smells dock town after it rains. harding smells her mom’s apple pie. but rook cannot recognize the smell of home.

after all is said and done, do you think rook smells the lighthouse there? do they smell lucanis’s complicated antivan cooking, or davrin’s woodcarvings, or the electrical burn from bellara’s magical projects? or the smell of dusty pages from emmrich’s books, or the flowers from harding’s garden, or the fried fish and ink from neve’s office, or the woodsmoke from taash? do you think the scent of varric’s old leather duster is in there somewhere? do you think rook finally recognizes home?

[spinfins]

Assan does not like it when his dad is sick, you guys. Not at all.

They haven’t left the nest for days. And Assan is BORED. He has already spent time sleeping on his dad, staring at his dad, bringing his dad yummy things to eat, and covering his dad in all the warm, soft things he can find, but his dad is not any better.

There is a knock on the door.

“No better, Davrin?” Manfred’s dad asks in a soothing voice.

“Ugh,” dad groans,“No. Thanks, Emmrich. And Assan is getting restless. He needs to leave the Lighthouse. I’m gonna have to take him.”

“Certainly not,” says Manfred’s dad, and Assan chirps to warn his sickly father that that is the BAD voice. It means NO.

“You’re in no fit state,” Manfred’s dad says. “I’ll take him.”

Assan’s dad sneezes again. “You’re gonna take Assan for a walk?”

All of Assan’s legs stiffen at once. His wings rise in a manner that one might call “predatory.”

WALK?!

“I’m going to Arlathan anyway,” says Manfred’s dad. “As long as you approve of course.”

“Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all I rather think it will be—“

Manfred’s dad turns to find Assan ready by the door, already holding his favored stick, his eyes big enough to draw in one’s soul. He is a good boy.

“Splendid,” Manfred’s dad says.

Later, when they come back to the nest, the Leader greets them at the shiny door, “Emmrich…are you okay?!”

“…splendid,” Manfred’s dad murmurs, and Assan agrees. The walk is one big blur of excitement in his mind. He recalls lots of mud, and trees, and cliffs, and flying. He tried to help Manfred’s dad to fly, but he was too heavy, even though he looks skinny, so Assan had to drop him. But he dropped him safely in a pool of water like his dad taught him.

“…I’m just going to…sleep a bath…” says Manfred’s dad and wanders away.

Assan chirps at the Leader to let them know he approves of their choice of mate. Manfred’s dad is very good at walks.

He leaves to check on his own dad. Assan has brought him something that smells very nice and dead and if that doesn’t make him better, nothing will.

[hyper-elastagirl]

A non complete list of things i can't wait to see fic authors tackle post veilguard: (I am an artist and animator and open to fic/art trades 👀)

- solavellan having a million babies in the fade (and happy solavellan in general)

- inquisition retold with all the new lore dumps in mind

- spicy shenanigans with lich Emmerich (I KNOW peepaw has some sex magic up his sleeve)

- taking advantage of solas' shape-shifting (werewolf smut? Knotting? Go nuts)

- rebel leader fen'harel x general felassan

- Felassan is alive and part of the veilguard crew

- solas x felessan x quizzy ot3

- Ghilan'nain tentacles action with Rook and/ or the veilguard crew. Consentacles or dub/noncon take your pick

- Rook x spite x lucanis fade dream action

- Rook x davrin x lucanis (+spite ofc)

- just. Spite smut. Wing kink. Feral Spite. Cant wait.

- Rook x teia x viago

- Rook x neve x bellara

- Teia and viago on general

[ellie-writes-games]

Lucanis Lunchboxes Entry 6: Assan's First Catch

What if Lucanis packed Rook lunchboxes with little notes in them throughout the main story?

So I have a feeling that Spite would definitely have been able to smell something off about the Gingerwort Truffles, and an earlier draft of this mentioned this as well as some reflection from Lucanis that it was too bad it wasn't potent enough to be a decent poison. But it got long so I shortened it down.

Part of an on-going series of fan-writings. See the Masterlist here.

***This is some fanfiction/fanart from an elder millennial (me) who is stuck in Thedas. These are NOT actual screenshots from the game.

[thelibrarian1895]

Lighthouse dialogue

Since they refused to give us a dialogue wheel that we could go through with our companions, or a repeatable romantic interaction scene with at least one or more of the romance options, you know what could have been cute?

After you lock into a romance, do you know what could have been adorable?

Overhearing your love interest talking to the companion who's from the same faction and asking them about courting traditions in Nevarra or Rivain or among the Dalish or the Wardens or whatever.

Imagine your character running around the lighthouse and stopping just within earshot, but not within sight, of Emmrich talking to Neve and you hear him ask Neve about Tevinter courtship traditions.

Imagine overhearing Lucanis asking Emmrich not about help with Spite but about any sort of gifts that a Watcher would find romantic and if a certain Watcher might like particular qualities in a knife.

Imagine a flustered Bellara asking Taash if they happen to have any tips or ideas how one might indicate to a Lord of Fortune that they're interested, just for research purposes! For Bellara's book!

Imagine Neve "casually" discussing the Dalish with Bellara and getting Bellara to talk about Dalish romances.

Imagine overhearing Taash ask Davrin about Warden couples and if Wardens only go out with Wardens. Or what Rook, a Warden, might like best.

Imagine overhearing Davrin trying very hard not to criticize the Crows as he talks to Lucanis and tries to figure out what a Warden might offer a Crow to show interest. Also possible confusion as Davrin phrases his inquiries in a way that makes it seem like Davrin is interested in Lucanis who tries to turn him down gently and when the misunderstanding is cleared up, Lucanis recommends that Davrin talk to Teia.

And if you locked in with someone from the same faction, then imagine overhearing your love interest talking to Harding for romantic help since they've known Rook the longest.

Then if you get too close to the companions discussing this then your lover breaks off the conversation with a semi panicked "Rook!' or "hello darling!".

But if you manage to overhear the conversation without getting close enough for them to stop talking, then suddenly a new little trinket is unlocked to display in your room and a codex entry is added describing the significance of the gift with the observation that there's a note attached with a little drawing from your beloved of a bird or assan or an anatomically correct heart or whatever else.

[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?

[grimwarden]

holds davrin up to the sky. he proceeds to give the cutest sadest eyes ever.

"what does that have to do with anything?" elgar'nan asks.

"no no, he's got a point," ghilan'nain responds.

peace is achieved.

[ofcrowsanddragons]

Davrin/Rook concept, a Crow Rook in the "Thrill of the Chase" stage has been taking Lucanis and Davrin out on missions together after Weisshaupt.

Davrin and Lucanis are sniping at each other, occasionally in earnestness as they try to understand what the fuck their ally's life is. Lucanis is asking pointed questions about the blight and how Davrin feels about eventually dying to it. Rude, Lucanis, when Davrin is still dealing with the idea of not throwing his life away against the biggest, baddest monster at his first possible opportunity.

Rook is mostly content to let them dig in each other's sore spots until they've figured each other out.

It's getting concerning, though, as Davrin peppers the master assassin with questions. "How do you sleep at night? You'll kill literally anyone for money? No, but you'll just accept that your Talon is right when they say someone deserves to die?" Like men at arms don't do exactly the same thing under a lord.

Rook calls for a break when they recognize the feeling of resentment creeping into their gut.

"Lucanis, can you give us a minute?"

Rook catches a flash of understanding and maybe guilt on the assassin's face before he nods and makes an appropriate excuse. He retreats some distance away, staying just in sight and setting up as a lookout.

"Davrin—" Rook starts.

"I'm not going to apologize to Lucanis for not trusting him," Davrin says, firm. He could take the break to clean the muck out of his weapons and armour, but Davrin generally eschews distractions when there's something important at stake, and he's good at sensing when that is.

"I am going to leave that between you and him," says Rook. No one is going to just get over Weisshaupt, Rook thinks but doesn't say, and the assassin and monster hunter have chosen to blame each other over the mess out of a mixture of genuine suspicion and veiled defensiveness. "But Davrin, do you have anything to ask me?"

He looks at them in that cautious way he might use to assess a monster's nest.

Rook tries humour. "Am I a raging insomniac myself or do I sleep like a baby?" the mask cracks. "Do I trust my Talon when he says someone deserves to die?"

Davrin sighs and approaches them, reaching across and touching the back of his gauntlet to the outside of Rook's arm. "It's not like that."

"I'm an assassin, Davrin," Rook says, catching his eye and holding it, steady. "I'm not telling you not to ask these questions. I think you should." Rook catches his hand with their own and squeezes lightly.

"You're not like him," Davrin insists.

"I'm not possessed and I haven't rid the world of enough high-profile blood mages to get a title out of it," Rook says lightly, "But you haven't asked what kind of bloody work I've had to enact myself, on less deserving people."

Rook lets his hand go and Davrin steps away.

"Keep asking, Davrin. You need to know what kind of people we are."

[neve-gallus-girl-detective]

A fic where Davrin gets the group together a year after Veilguard to go watch and/or participate in the 9:53/9:54 Grand Tourney in the Free Marches. It's supposed to be fun, but we see that the group has struggled somewhat in the year after they beat Solas. Taash is a Hall of Valor champion, but overindulges after Harding's death. Davrin and Assan are doing wel, but Assan is a teenager now and Davrin hasn't gotten back into his stride as a warden. Lucanis and Spite still haven't separated. Emmrich is a lich, but is faltering because he doesn't quite know what to do now that his life's (and death's) goal has been achieved. Bellara is drowning in the weight of the knowledge from the Nadas Dirthalen and the pressure of being the one responsible for it. Rook and Neve are having trouble settling into regular life when they started their relationship at such an intense time. The story shows us how they all fall apart and how they all come together.

[headachecat]

Would love to see your Rook dealing with any jealousy/insecurity about Neve and Lucanis flirting if you believe it would exist. This is my obsession. My MW Rook looks up to Neve almost as much as Bellera does and had been flirting with Lucanis and then realises they are flirting and is like. Well I've got no chance. But is also devastated.

I keep playing in my head my Rook withdrawing and giving them space to be respectful and Lucanis being entirely oblivious and confused and ways it is resolved

There was a way about Neve that made your heart flutter in your chest. For some, it was the insecurity she brought to light with her talk, as if she knew all the secrets your mind was hiding before you were even aware of them yourself. For others, it was the blush she evoked on their cheeks with a confident flirt, fully aware of all her traits and the effect they could have if used properly. But for Rook? Well, for Rook, it was the intrigue of her smart talk, her mind, and all the things she held so much knowledge about.

In the midst of the chaos that spurned around them ever since the collapse of the ritual, there were stolen moments of respite where they exchanged their favourite pieces of information — random facts, obscure history, fragments of thought that felt too precious to waste. Rook found herself captivated, caught between wanting to learn more and marvelling at Neve’s sharp wit and how it made everything feel significant. She could make a passing comment about an old text, an anecdote about an ancient discovery, or even a sharp critique of a flawed argument, and Rook would be left reeling, turning the words over in her mind long after. She could have picked Neve’s brain apart for hours. But there was always something eluding her, something hidden, untouched, unshared – a mystery that lingered just out of reach. Something Rook just couldn’t uncover. Maker knows they flirted here and there, but it all soon faded away with the arrival of newer additions to the party. The camaraderie shifted, new bonds formed, and those playful exchanges became fewer, buried beneath the weight of their shared mission. It wasn’t the first time Rook found herself pushing romance away for the greater cause, and it would probably not be the last. There was always a battle to fight, a crisis to resolve, and a part of her had come to accept that her own desires would always take a backseat to the larger picture. There would be an appropriate time for the right connection, she told herself – maybe after the Gods were dead, when the world wasn’t teetering on the edge of destruction. Such is life, and she never gave it a second thought. Until Lucanis.

It was the small things. The tiny acts of service that Rook held so close and so dear to her heart. The thoughtful notice of her favourite drink, set aside just for her. The breakfast left by her seat at the kitchen table on mornings when she barely had the energy to rise. An extended hand to help her cross a fallen bridge, steady and unwavering. He was always there, always steady and caring, with a quiet kind of affection that spoke louder than words ever could.

So, she cared in return. She cared deeply and truly, as she found herself looking for him whenever time allowed, just to see the corners of his mouth lift in a smile that softened her world. She lingered near while he cooked, not just to watch, but to lend a hand where she could and to help him clean as he worked his way through his recipes. She made sure to give back the love he so willingly poured into others, crafting small moments of her own to show him he mattered. A new edition of his favourite novel hidden under his pillow, for when he couldn’t sleep. A story told just to make him laugh, as he covered his face in amusement. And when she caught the faint glimmer in his eye – a quiet sense of ease, a glimpse of comfort that told her he felt at home with her—her heart swelled.

One afternoon, she felt herself falling for him, as she came by the pantry to collect his empty cups. He greeted her with a soft smile, the kind that warmed her more than she cared to admit, and thanked her for her help as they carried the dishes to the sink. Without a word, as if guided by instinct, Lucanis reached for a piece of bread and a jar of honey from the shelf. His hands moved deftly, spreading the honey and slicing a few pieces of fruit, placing them neatly atop the bread. It wasn’t elaborate, but it was thoughtful.

‘Here,’ he said, offering the plate to her with a gentle tilt of his head. ‘You’ve kept busy today. You should eat something.’

‘I wish I could take you home after all this,’ she joked, resting her hip against the counter with a teasing grin, as she tasted the fruit. ‘Would you consider becoming my personal chef? Although, it would pay less than your current occupation, I suppose.’

Lucanis chuckled faintly, drying his hands on a rag, but his next words came quieter, as if he was speaking more to himself than to her. ‘Letting me take care of you would be enough of a payment.’

The air shifted between them as he looked up, his gaze holding hers for a second longer than usual. His eyes scanned her face, searching – perhaps for her reaction, perhaps for reassurance, or maybe even rejection. His lips parted slightly, as though he wanted to say more, but uncertainty lingered in the silence, holding his next words at bay. For now. That was enough for Rook. She smiled widely, tilting her head with a lighthearted wonderment that softened the tension. There was no need to push, no need to rush. She would wait until the words became clear for him, however long it took. And in the long run, it was the words exchanged between Neve and Lucanis that Rook started to notice first. The soft tease hidden beneath the guise of casual conversation. The laughter that lilted through the air, over-the-shoulder banter exchanged as the two playfully flirted with each other during their travels. It was effortless, natural, and it tickled in a way Rook couldn’t quite name. It was something she and Lucanis had never shared. Something, perhaps, she was waiting for. 

She didn’t worry much; it wasn’t like her. It was more of a quiet, bittersweet acceptance she felt deep within her chest, because how could she fault him? She had fallen under Neve’s spell too, after all. So how could he not?

But the feeling lingered deep inside her. She longed to see him, to talk, to touch. No one had made her feel the quiet yearning, the timeless depth of affection that grew stronger with each shared moment. Rook had always loved deeply, with a steady and enduring strength, and now was no different. There was little to do but make it clear.

The party stepped through the Eluvian, the echoes of their shoes radiating around them in a cacophony of dull, resounding thuds. ‘Where. Are. Lucanis and Darin. When we. Fight. Antaam,’ Rook groaned, dragging herself to the nearest stone column and collapsing against it, her staff clattering to the floor beside her. She could feel every single bone in her body protesting, her muscles aching with exhaustion as though they might simply refuse to carry her any further.

Neve, still catching her breath, let out a soft, relieved laugh. ‘They’re probably at each other’s throats somewhere. Care for me to find them?’ she offered, brushing back a loose strand of hair from her damp forehead. Bellara, looking no less worse than her companions, heaved a sigh as she trudged to the Lighthouse entrance door and pushed it open, leaning heavily against the frame for support. ‘The only relationship I’m interested in tightening right now is the one between my head and the pillow’ she muttered. Rook winced as she straightened herself with great effort, her legs groaning under the weight of her own body. ‘I got it,’ she said, brushing herself off. ‘They are probably in the kitchen. Need to find myself a bite to eat regardless. And some bandages.’ Neve followed closely behind, her tone carrying that unmistakable smirk. ‘And some Lucanis.’

Rook paused, glancing up at her with a weary chuckle. Of course, Neve knew. She always did. There was no use in hiding anything from her – not that Rook ever had much success in trying. ‘If I’m the lucky one, huh?’ she shot back, raising an eyebrow playfully. Neve shrugged, her lips quirking into a knowing smile as she looked down at Rook, her tone light and teasing. ‘Luck is what you make it, Rook!’ she said with a wink before turning and ascending the stairs.

But the mirror claimed the opposite. Rook caught a glimpse of herself as she passed the reflection in the hallway on her way to the courtyard exit. Her hair was tangled and streaked with blood, her face bruised, and her armor scuffed and torn in places, crying out for repair. She made a mental note to drop it off with Harding before heading out again. Maker, she looked disgusting, and definitely most unlucky. The kind of worn-down, battered appearance that would make anyone else wince. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to care – not after the day she’d had.

Her feet carried her further through the courtyard, her boots crunching against the gravel. The kitchen loomed ahead, a safe haven she desperately needed. She placed her hand gently against the cool steel door, ready to push it open, but paused, her ears catching the sound of voices drifting from within. She couldn’t make out the words at first, only the soft, muffled rhythm of conversation. The tone was light, familiar. It wasn’t loud enough to be an argument, nor strained enough to be serious. Something about it made her pause, her hand still resting on the door, as if some part of her wasn’t quite yet ready to step inside. 

‘Lamp oil. Everything stank of burnt tentacles for miles after.’ Davrin’s voice sounded relaxed. Amused, even? That alone peaked Rook’s curiosity. She stepped into the kitchen, her shoes making a soft scuff against the worn wooden floor as her eyes adjusted to the dim light inside.

‘Rook!’ The Warden turned towards the entrance, a bottle of wine swaying precariously in his grasp. Lucanis sat beside him, lounging comfortably, a cup nestled in his hands as though it had always belonged there. His usual cautious demeanour seemed to soften under the warm haze of the drink. Rook approached them slowly, her hands settling on her hips with a hint of playful reproach. She couldn’t stop the side smile creeping onto her lips. ‘If the two of you were going to open a bottle, you might have told me first.’

Lucanis looked up at her, meeting her gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away. She could feel a comfortable warmth spilling over her heart, a gentle pull in her chest as she studied his big, brown, yet currently murky eyes. They were soft, unfocused in a way that made her smile, and for a heartbeat, it felt like she was the only one in the room.

‘It’s not a good bottle,’ Davrin’s jest broke the moment, drawing Lucanis’ attention away. The Crow blinked slowly, clearly unfazed, and gestured towards the pantry. ‘Might have to pick up a supply. I have a feeling we’ll need it.’ Rook nodded, the smile lingering on her lips as she turned on her heel, her feet dragging just slightly as she made her way to the shelves. She reached for the first bottle of wine her fingers brushed against, not even bothering to check the label. ‘Is anyone else hungry? Maybe I should cook something?’ Lucanis’ remark made her chuckle under hear breath. Even under the influence, he couldn’t help himself.

Davrin cleared his throat, shifting in his chair and getting comfortable once more. His gaze darted toward her, completely ignoring the question hanging in the air. ‘What about you, Rook? What’s the worst job you’ve ever been on?’

‘You’re familiar with how this whole thing came about, right?’ Rook’s voice was steady as she moved about the kitchen, the sounds of utensils and the clink of ceramic hurting her ears. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure her companions were both listening, then turned back to continue her search. It took a minute before she began preparing a plate. ‘Well, after today’s Antaam encounter, I’m not sure that was my worst one anymore,’ she continued, a touch of weariness creeping into her tone. It was a quiet admission, though her hands worked efficiently in preparation. It took a moment longer to finish, but she eventually gathered the plate and made her way back to the corner of the room.

‘Sometimes it’s good to put things into perspective,’ Lucanis spoke up, his voice soft but thoughtful as he swirled the cup in his hands, watching the wine spin and settle within. ‘Especially if it’s funny,’ Davrin added with a chuckle, clearly enjoying the lightheartedness of the moment. He began shifting things around on the table to make space for Rook’s plate. Rook couldn’t help but humour them, her lips curling into a small smile as she set the plate down in front of them. She chuckled along, though her voice held a playful edge. ‘So. My suffering entertains you. Got it.’ 

‘You joining us, then?’ Davrin’s gaze followed her movement with a sudden interest, his eyes flicking over her as if weighing the possibility. His thumb rested against his lips, caressing it in a barely noticeable way. Rook winked at him teasingly in response. 

‘Fine, I’ll cook something if Rook’s staying,’ Lucanis declared suddenly, getting up with surprising speed. He moved forward, standing face to face with Rook, his eyes widening as she extended a smaller plate towards him. He looked down, his brow furrowing slightly as if trying to focus. ‘It’s some cheese and olives. And bread, with olive oil. I heard that’s how you eat it in Treviso,’ she said, her voice quiet and tender. She smiled gently, the warmth in her offer softening further as she added, ‘You mentioned you were hungry.’ 

Lucanis met her eyes, as he reached out to take the plate from her hands. His touch was gentle, and Rook couldn’t help but notice the quiet, polite gratitude in his movements. Her heart began to beat faster. She kept up the eye contact, just to relish the feeling. Maker, he was simply everything.

Lucanis nodded with a whisper, ‘Please, do.’

‘Rook’s story first. Then Lucanis owes me one about this contract on a bronto,’ Davrin said, shifting in his seat, his tone playful, but insistent, drawing their attention back to him once more. Rook raised an eyebrow, and threw him the bottle of wine with a practiced toss. ‘Mierda, that bronto,’ Lucanis muttered as he sat down, dipping a piece of bread into the olive oil with great care. 

The hours passed quickly, as they so often do with drink as company, each sip loosening their tongues and sharpening their tease.The room felt warmer, more comfortable, as the trio moved about, shifting seats and sharing stories. Davrin took a chance to demonstrate the time he had to lift a log by attempting to pick up both Lucanis and Rook at the same time. He breathed out exaggerated grunting noises as he did so, struggling with effort, and the room filled with laughter, carrying their chatter out the window and drawing in curious wisps. When he finally set them back down, the world felt a bit more chaotic, and it was unclear who sat where in the jumble of limbs and shouts. In the end, Rook found herself sharing the two-seater with Lucanis, their proximity natural and expectant, as though they’d fallen into this arrangement a hundred times before.

She could feel Lucanis’ presence closer, the subtle warmth of it pressing against her as she settled into the comfort of the company. The sweetness of the wine clouded her senses, soothing the edges of her fatigue, and she needed it – the reprieve, the breathe it allowed her to take. Somewhere along the line, she’d taken off her covering, unbuckling the straps of her belt and letting the weight of it slide off her shoulders. The casual robes she wore now felt infinitely more comfortable, a sign of surrender to the simple pleasures of the evening. Lucanis observed her in silence, his eyes flickering over the discarded pieces of clothing on the floor, as if they were the most intriguing thing in the world. Resting her tired feet up on the table, she let her body sink into the chair, eyes closing for a moment as she sighed deeply, a soft longing for peace washing over her. Without thinking, she shifted slightly, her head finding its place against Lucanis’ shoulder.

Davrin stretched lazily, lifting his legs to rest them on the table as well. He carefully moved Rook’s feet aside, settling them gently on his lap so as not to disturb her. The gesture was effortless, natural, and somehow just another part of the delicate balance of their shared space, like the room itself had drawn them closer into this small, peaceful circle.

Rook’s gaze almost unconsciously traced Davrin’s chest, up to his neck, and finally to his lips. It was a brief moment, but her thoughts didn’t linger there for long. They drifted instead to Lucanis, to the buttons of his vest, the way the fabric sat perfectly tailored against waist, and how the collar teased the line of his neck. And then, perhaps it was the wine. Perhaps it was the effortless charisma that always seemed to radiate from Davrin. Perhaps it was the sensation of Lucanis’ hand resting just a little too close to her own, his fingers brushing against her knuckles softly, as though the touch became an extension of the comfort he offered. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the silence itself – the way it stretched between the three of them for just a moment too long, breaking the shackles of Rook’s heart and loosening her tongue. ‘Davrin, what does flirting mean to you?’ she asked. Lucanis lifted his head suddenly, and Rook could feel his gaze tracing the curve of her features. She pulled a strand of hair from her cheek,  giving herself a moment of focus as she tried to steady her pulse, which was now racing beneath her skin.

‘How come?’ Davrin rested his head against his hand, clearly entertained by the turn in the conversation. Rook smiled, her heart skipping a beat, feeling Lucanis’ hand twitch slightly against her own, as though her words had sparked something in him, too. ‘Well,’ she started, ‘you flirt with me, and others, ceaselessly. And since we’ve had our… talk about where we stand, you’ve got me intrigued.’ The words hung between them, half teasing, half serious, as her gaze met Davrin’s. The Warden chuckled with a low sound. He patted her shin affectionately before leaning forward, his eyes gleaming.

’I suppose there’s an element of fun that comes with it. It eases the tension. It brings people closer, instantly.’ He paused, his voice dropping slightly as if sharing something more intimate. ‘But there’s also a certain amount of freedom to it. No promises are made, and yet it brings a promise of something more, if both parties wish it. A bond is made, even if it’s just through, or for, the thrill of the chase.’

‘Something more…’ Rook repeated, her lips curling into a smirk. She turned the cup in her hand  absentmindedly, before taking a sip, feeling the warmth of the wine trickle through her as she thought about his words. 

Davrin’s eyebrow lifted for a brief moment, his gaze shifting as he observed Rook’s position with a quiet, knowing smile. He took in the loose strands of hair cascading over Lucanis’ shoulder, the way her fingers were subtly tensing under the Crow’s instinctive touch, and the way her head had leaned slightly to the side. The scene was unfolding in a way that was hard to ignore.

With a slight shift, Davrin’s hand fell to Rook’s leg with a quiet slap, the motion deliberate but light, as though making a point. ‘I’m not the only one here with a talent,’ he remarked, his voice laced with amusement. His eyes sparkled with a teasing glint. ‘The Crow over there has some interested parties swooning over his tactics.’

Rook corrected herself, sitting up straighter to face Lucanis, who’s eyes widened slightly at the mention. ‘That’s a good way of putting it. Tactics,’ Lucanis said, his voice tinted with hesitation. The Crow let out a short laugh, his hand running up the back of his neck as though trying to smooth over the unease that had settled in.

Rook turned toward him, bending one leg beneath her thigh to face him more directly. There was a small, quiet hesitation before she placed her hand gently on his shoulder, offering him a soft gesture of reassurance. Lucanis closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in her touch, as if savouring the connection. ‘I’m not very… practiced,’ he confessed. ‘All I know about flirting is what the Crows taught me. And perhaps a few serials.’

Rook exchanged quick glances with Davrin, who looked just as intrigued. She leaned in closer, her voice teasing but filled with curiosity as she spoke, ‘Yeah, I’m going to need some details on that.’ The Crow looked up at her, his expression still a bit embarrassed, but also a little resigned to the conversation now.

Davrin took the opportunity to pick up the wine bottle with an exaggerated flourish, and took a few slow sips, his eyes never leaving Lucanis. ‘Flirting is an effective way to gain information. To blend in. To gain someone’s trust. Everything a Crow needs on a job. Naturally, the art of romance is one of the chapters taught to us. I’m no exception.’ Lucanis muttered, drinking from his cup, trying to deflect. Rook shook her head, tilting it in a drunken haze. ‘So it means nothing to you?’

‘I know the talk. I am rather inexperienced in the play itself,’ Lucanis looked at her, as he put his cup down on the table. ‘It’s complicated. There are moments when I catch myself in the act, as if it was an instinct. Years of training will do that to you. My mouth speaks before my mind thinks and I often find myself surprised by my own actions.’

A beat. ‘But the real thing… A real display of one’s affection…’ He held Rook’s gaze. ‘I believe I’m still figuring it out.’

Davrin slapped his thighs, before getting up with vigour,  ‘Right. So the Crow flirts by accident is what I’m hearing.’

Rook blinked, her eyes searching Lucanis’ for a moment. There was a level of peace in his expression, usually overshadowed by the daily struggles they went through. A steady calm in-between the passing storms, unbothered and certain, like never before. Rook could hear Davrin’s footsteps against the stone floor, and a creak of the door. A pretend yawn, before a certain goodnight. She couldn’t be more thankful for his tact in that moment. 

‘Have you done it with me?’ She lowered her tone, as if sharing a secret just between Lucanis and her. The Crow matched the slowly blooming intimacy, his hand running up to his neck again. A chuckle left his throat, echoing against the empty walls of the kitchen. 

‘I think you would know if I had. The Antivan approach can be unmistakably direct,’ he kept up Rook’s gaze like never before. There was nothing except for the two of them anymore. Nothing, but the words shared, no energy wasted.

‘No, I mean the real thing,’ Rook moved closer. She studied Lucanis’ face for any trace of hesitation, anything that could suggest he wished for her to pull back. She was met with a kind smile, as his eyes traced away with his thoughts. 

’Rook… I’m not sure I–‘

‘I wouldn’t mind it.’ His eyes returned to her face, dark and gleaming in the candlelight. Rook could feel herself smirk ever so slightly. ‘In case you’ve ever wondered. Or considered. Me.’ Lucanis’ brow furrowed just a little bit, as he looked down to notice her hand on his own. Rook breathed out, a tinge of nervousness creeping into her mind. How long has she been holding his hand? ‘I care for you, Lucanis. I thought you might… want to know. Forgive me,’ she added, letting go. But then, she froze for just a moment. Her breath caught, and hesitation washed over her, as if the moment had suddenly grown too large to hold. She reached up, her fingers touching Lucanis' chest. Beneath her fingertips, she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, each thump clear and reassuring. She observed how the material of his vest bent subtly under her touch, as though it, too, was yielding to her presence, allowing her to close the distance between them.

Lucanis took a slow breath, then another, his chest rising and falling beneath her hand, his eyes half-lidded as he watched her. Rook smiled widely at the simple, intimate sensation. She felt an unexpected flutter in her stomach but before she could let the silence settle too deeply, she felt his hand rise, gentle and certain.

His fingers cupped her palm, holding it lightly just above his heart. Lucanis’ lips parted, as if he was on the verge of saying something. Yet, Rook wasn't certain she could bear the weight of whatever words he was about to offer – perhaps it was too soon, or perhaps it was too much to be said aloud.

Unable to hold his gaze any longer, she closed her eyes, taking a breath to steady herself, and slowly, she let go of his grasp. She rose to her feet, but to her surprise, his hand followed her, his fingers wrapping around her knuckles with his usual tenderness. As he stood up with her, there was no rush, no urgency. ‘I care for you, Rook,’ he said softly. ’Thank you for… this.’ 

She chuckled quietly, squeezing his hand once more before letting go.

‘My pleasure,’ she whispered back, her voice soft and carrying a quiet weight. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, but it shifted, pulled toward the door. With careful steps, she made her way toward the exit, her footsteps muted on the floor, as if the world around her had momentarily paused. As she reached the threshold, she stopped, her fingers brushing against the doorframe, and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes finding Lucanis once again.

He was smiling.

And that was always more than enough.

[beetlethebug]

okay so i'm thinking about like. in my emmrich x rook x lucanis x spite polycule, it probably bothers emmrich (and spite) that spite cannot be heard by rook. so, he and bellara team up to use the power of ancient elven technology, some magic, and a whole lot of sleepless nights to make something for spite to speak into that allows rook to hear them. kind of like an object for him to possess, in a way? in my mind it's like an earring or ear cuff, and it's a set. lucanis, emmrich, and rook each have a piece, so no one gets left out. in my mind it works a lot like the earrings of sending from the vox machina season of critical role. they can touch the earring and send a message to a person who has an earring.

they spend a whole day just testing the limits. can spite speak to rook when they're all the way across the lighthouse? how about half-way into arlathan woods? can rook speak to them underwater (quickly abandoned for obvious reasons). spite is so so happy for rook to be able to hear him that he talks to them all the time. Lucanis finds it hard to be annoyed when Spite is so eagerly and happily saying "Hi, Rook," for the fourteenth time that day. Maybe it's because he gets to hear Rook giggle and say, "Hello, Spite," back.

spite being able to ask every question that he wants! spite who has two patient teachers (and lucanis) readily available to answer any question that he has. yeah, sometimes they're silly. but it's also so fucking charming when spite goes "do you like this?" and then seeing twelve of them in their room later. spite who can now ask for help when lucanis cannot. who isn't afraid to admit when they're struggling because what's the point? help is right there and he can reach them now!!!!

spite who is so happy because now he can flirt with rook directly! and he can flirt with emmrich and rook when they aren't in the same room!! spite who will get on the line and demand manfred updates. emmrich who finds a way to fashion it for manfred to wear so lucanis and rook get to hear manfred and spite chatting away. (it's actually very endearing. they forget that the others can hear and talk about how much they love and care about their people and they all get a little tear eyed).

i just!! i 100% think that between everyone in the veilguard they can absolutely provide spite with a vessel to communicate!

[emmrich-volkarstan]

Emmrich found Rook at the balcony, staring out the window. He hugged him from behind and planted a kiss on the top of his head.

"What are you looking at dearest?"

Rook pointed wordlessly at the courtyard. Emmrich narrowed his eyes and focused on the commotion below.

Davrin was trying to wrestle something out of Assan's beak. The griffon was squawking irritably at the intrusion. Davrin's voice was carried up to where they were but he couldn't hear what he was shouting, no doubt along the lines of "Assan get that thing out of your mouth!"

Eventually, the warden was able to get the object from the beak of the griffon. He held it aloft in triumph. Assan, annoyed, flew to the top of the hut he stayed in with Davrin and fluffed up his feathers and shrieked at his companion.

"What is it he had?" Emmrich asked.

Rook sniggered. "Something shiny that Taash found."

"Assan is rather mischievous."

As soon as those words left Emmrich's mouth, Manfred scurried over to where the warden was standing and snatched the object from Davrin. The skeleton then ran off, hissing with excitement. Assan flew down and landed beside Manfred, then they took turns passing whatever it was to each other.

"Not just Assan is it?" Rook said, the smirk evident in his voice.

"Oh dear." Emmrich sighed as Davrin tripped and landed flat on his face. "I suppose I better help."

[spinfins]

As mentioned previously, everyone in the lighthouse is so eepy, you guys, especially Rook.

It's not that Rook doesn’t get enough sleep. It’s just that they burn the energy of three people everyday, trying to save the world, trying to take care of their own stuff, and trying to help everyone else with their problems too.

When Davrin finds them passed out on the courtyard steps between Assan’s feet, he wets his finger in his mouth and then sticks it in their ear so they awaken with a shriek. Rook laughs and they go on their way.

When Harding finds them stretched out on the upper balcony, soaking up the sun (does the fade have a sun?) she stretches out beside them with the latest gory novel she found in Solas’s library.

When Neve finds them perched on the very edge of the drop off into the fade she shouts and shakes them awake because, Maker! Rook! Do you pass out anywhere you stay still long enough?! And Rook apologizes for scaring her.

When Lucanis finds them lying stretched out in front of the kitchen fireplace like a cat, he prepares a pot of cioccolata calda for when they wake up.

When Taash finds them curled under the couch in the library surrounded by books, they take the blanket from the couch and tuck Rook in, like Tama would have done.

When Bellara finds them slumped over the piano in the music room, she playfully hits a few notes she learned from a music box until Rook stirs, because she really needs to ask her something, and it's important, and Rook should really go to their bed so they don’t hurt their neck anyway.

When Manfred finds them, slumped outside Emmrich’s door, he goes and gets the first person he can think of to fix any problem. Emmrich emerges, carefully scoops them up so their head is resting on his shoulder, and carries them into his room.

Three of the Veilguard see it.

No one says anything.

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories For a Demon, Night 3.5: The Wigmaker Job (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

** Major Veilguard Spoilers ahead (srsly don't read if you haven't finished the game)

There was something amiss with Madeleina Mercar, and he wasn’t going to pry.

But a small part of him wanted to. Almost ached to know what she was doing, locked in either her room or the occasional visit to the infirmary. The infirmary is what he’s more curious about. Within hours of arriving at the Lighthouse he had scoped the entire place out- learned all the entrances, choke points, best defensible positions, etcetera. Within a day he has a fully fleshed out mental map of the grounds. He had peeked in the infirmary so as take to stock of all the supplies there. As far as he can tell, only Rook has ever stayed in that room.

She only comes out for brief periods of time to take a small meal from the dining hall back to wherever she decides to isolate herself. He tries to make sure there’s always something on the table for her to grab, if she refuses to come to dinner.

After they returned from Treviso, Madeleina had gone to Minrathous to check on Neve and the Shadow Dragons. Neve, understandably, had elected to remain behind and assist with the Shadow’s effort to rebuild. Between the dragon, the blight, and the Venatori, they had been decimated. He shudders to think about what the damage to Treviso might have looked like if she had chosen differently.

But the fact is, Madeleina hasn’t been the same since her return. Was it seeing the blight devour Minrathous? The Venatori taking control of the city? All of the above, or something else?

She made a quick appearance to the group after speaking with Solas, to tell them they needed a Fade expert and a Dragon Hunter. Both Bellara and Harding had leads, but it would take time to organize a meeting with either specialist. After that, her appearances become increasingly rare.

There’s a sort of hollowness in her gaze, whenever he can catch a fleeting glimpse of her. She won’t make eye contact for long, with anyone. Dark circles begin to rim her lower eyelids, mirroring his own.

She’s not sleeping.

Lucanis is certain he’s not the only one that’s noticed or concerned.

Bellara, tries and fails, to bring her out of the cocoon by offering to read together. Harding checks in on her, only to be met with a few polite words and a dismissive hand wave. Neve isn’t around to strong-arm her into snapping out of it. Davrin is too new to the team to broach the delicate situation around their leader.

And here he is, in the pantry, sitting on his cot. Doing nothing to help.

But what can he do anyway?

He doesn’t feel like he is any more equipped to breach whatever wall she’s put up any more than the rest of the group. Perhaps even less so. A year in the Ossuary had not exactly done him any favours in learning to deal with the emotional needs of others. His own were in a constant state of turmoil he can barely parse out. Some nights it grew increasingly difficult to tell where he began, and Spite ended.

On the nights that Madeleina sits with him by the fire, telling him a story with her magic, the lines between them stay a little sharper.

The demon bristles behind his eyes. He ignores it.

Compelled to break this inertia, he stands from his cot and makes for the door.

There is one thing he’s curious about that he thinks he could find the answer to. Lucanis decides that’s as good a place to start as any.

~*~

He finds Lace Harding tending to her garden.

Spearmint, he notices, growing in a neat row at the edge of the plant bed. He remembers picking that up with Madeleina when he showed her around the Treviso market. Remembers the awe on her face, and the warmth that settled in his chest at seeing someone appreciate his home like he did. The way she curiously picked at everything the vendors were selling, pet the stray cats, and clapped for street performers before tossing them a sovereign.

Warm glow of lanterns like bolts of light in her hair, the redness on her cheeks, her smile and –

Lucanis clears his throat, “Harding”

Lace perks up at the sound of her name and turns to face him. She’s surprised at first, but her face settles into an uneasy smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Not like it does when Madeleina is around.

“Oh, Lucanis” She pushes up on her thigh to stand, before wiping her gloves on her shirt. “Hi!” Her tone is light, but he doesn’t miss the undercurrent of weariness in her voice.

“I hope I’m not interrupting – “

Harding cuts him off with a dismissive wave, “No, not at all, just doing a little gardening. How can I help?”

“I wanted to ask you something …” He quickly adds, “About Rook”

Harding frowns. She motions to the stool across from her bedroll. Lucanis hesitantly takes a seat, and Harding settles herself on the bedroll.

“Yeah… she hasn’t taken losing Minrathous well.” She starts, crossing her legs.

“It’s not about that, actually. Although I suppose it may be related”

Harding tilts her head, now more curious than uneasy. He takes it as an invitation to continue but fumbles on how to word his question.

“Back in Treviso” he begins, lacing his fingers together. “Rook mentioned she had to check in with someone. Someone named Varric …”

At the mention of his name, Harding’s entire demeanour changes. Her spine straightens, and there is something flickering behind her eyes- an emotion or a memory he’s not privy to. Her mouth sets in a thin, hard line.

“Varric…” she repeats slowly. She sighs, her shoulders sinking with some invisible weight, “Right, you don’t know”

Lucanis gives her an expectant look.

Harding’s gaze drifts towards her lap. Her voice is low, and quiet.

“Varric…” She begins, then pauses. Like she’s not sure where to take her explanation next.

“Varric and I were in the Inquisition together. We’d been hunting Solas for the last ten years. We were the ones who recruited Rook out of the Shadow Dragons and started this whole…thing…” She gestures vaguely in the air, before continuing.

“You already know that we interrupted Solas’ ritual to tear down the Veil.” Harding’s hazel-green eyes meet his, and they’re glassy with tears just waiting to spring forth. “What you don’t know is that Varric was with us, and he died at the ritual. Stabbed by Solas’ Lyrium dagger.”

Harding takes a shaky breath and bites her bottom lip. He can see the gears turning behind her eyes as she tries to phrase the next piece of her sordid explanation.

“Harding …”

She brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them.

“Neve and I thought … we thought Rook knew too. But when she woke up at the Lighthouse, she started talking about how happy she was to see Varric survived. How… how she’d need to debrief with him after missions…”

Her voice is shaking now, and he desperately wishes he had a more comforting presence. Or knew how to be comforting in general. All he can settle for is patient silence.

“We’d hear her talk to him in the infirmary – well, talk to herself really.”

That explains her trips there.

“So, all this time… Rook has been talking to a dead man?”

Harding nods slowly.

Lucanis doesn’t know what kind of explanation he was expecting, but this was much worse than anything he could have come up with on his own.

 “I think … it’s her way of coping with what happened … Neve and I have just sort of been going along with it”

“Mierda…”

He’s surprised when Harding speaks next.

“Have you tried talking to her?” she asks gently.

He leans back in his stool, careful not to fall over.

“Me? No”

The dwarf stands up and pats her leggings free of some settled dirt, before returning to her garden.

“I think you should try” she calls from over her shoulder, while patting some dirt “She … she might listen to you”

He doesn’t answer. Lucanis stands to his feet, taking that as his cue to leave.

“Thank you, Harding” He says, as he starts for the door.

Though he’s not yet sure what to do with the information learned from Harding, he feels the awkward edges of a plan start to take root in the back of his mind.

~*~

Madeleina Mercar sits in Solas’ music room, surrounded by wisps and instruments from current and bygone eras, and …. Cheese. A lot of cheese.

She has no idea why the God of Trickery and Lies needs twenty cheese wheels in his music room. Doesn’t care to know the answer, either.

The lyre she was practicing with lies discarded at her side. She tries and fails to tune it. Tries and fails to play a few runs from a lullaby she can barely remember. Then, she gives up and lets the poor thing rest against the wall.

She nibbles on a small wedge unceremoniously torn off the closest cheese wheel.

Tarquin’s harsh words, Viper’s affliction with the blight, and Neve’s hurt loop in her mind like a never-ending dream. An eternal nightmare.

This is all you. The risen gods. The blight. The dragon. Now the city’s lost to the Venatori –

And although Viper had cut him off, the reassurance felt hollow from someone who was lying on his death bed because of her actions. Because of her choice.

This is all you.

Even if Tarquin didn’t mean his words, they pressed against her heart like a brand. Even if he tried to take them back, they’d been spoken into existence and burned into her forever.

It was all me.

Minrathous is gone because of me.

She brings her knees closer to her chest.

Somewhere deep down, she wants to believe that’s not true. That her being in Minrathous might not have drastically changed the outcome. She was just one person after all. They had barely managed to wound the dragon in Treviso. Had Ghilan’nain not called it back, she doubted the merchant city would have fared any better than Minrathous. Maybe even worse.

But she can’t bring herself to accept it.

She’s the leader. The consequences fall on her head, and her head alone.

And she is utterly terrified for the choices to come.

Maker’s breath, she would kill for a glass of wine to go with this cheese. Something to take the edge off. But she can’t bring herself to walk into the dining hall or the pantry.

She knows this can only go on for so long. She’ll have to start showing her face to the rest of the team at some point. To Lucanis.

She’s already starting to miss the little ritual they’ve developed.

A warm fire, good company, good food, and a good story. Spite’s occasional interjection when the story doesn’t go the way he wants it to. Scolding him like a misbehaving puppy when he does.

She doesn’t know how much she’s missed it until she’s gone a few nights without it. Doesn’t realize just how much comfort he finds in his presence. His quiet, steady confidence off and on the battle field. The surety in his step and his voice. She feels like she can falter, and he’ll be there to catch the misstep. To catch her.

She wonders if he misses the stories as much as she does.

Madeleina wants to move, to seek him out, and ask him to share a story with her.

But her limbs are made of lead. Her breaking heart is a stone in her chest, keeping her rooted in place.

She debates having another go at the lyre, but her arm only moves to bring more cheese to her mouth. What a pathetic sight she must make for someone who is supposedly this world’s only hope against the Evanuris.

Maker, I hope no one sees me like this –

Before she can even fully finish the thought, the stone door to the music room slides open. In walks the one person she wants to see, is terrified to see, and the last person she expected to see.

Lucanis Dellamorte.

She straightens up against the wall and quickly swallows the cheese already in her mouth, not bothering to chew.

“Lucanis” She says, stupidly. She wipes her hands on her shirt and shakes them out. A smile tries to pry its way onto her features, but it doesn’t quite get there.

“Madeleina” He answers, taking a few steps closer towards her. She’s still getting used to hearing her name roll off his tongue. It sends her chest fluttering every time he does.

He’s standing over her now, with two cups in his hand. She recognizes the smell. Sweet and warm – cioccolata calda. Lucanis casts a sidelong glance to the partially eaten wheel of cheese by her side. His brow quirks.

“You’ve been busy” He remarks dryly.

Madeleina’s cheeks flush.

“I … was just trying to tune this stupid lyre …” She reaches for the instrument and holds it up for a brief moment. Doesn’t want to say the real reason she’s alone in the music room eating through an ancient Elven god’s cheese stores. “Got hungry”

“Mm” He makes a noncommittal noise and nods slowly. “I see”

She knows he doesn’t believe her and is thankful he chooses not to say anything.

When he sits down on the floor next to her, she reflexively shifts over a bit to keep more room between them. He hands her the cup in his left hand, and she takes it gratefully. Takes a brief smell of the sweet aroma before her sip. The warmth of it is a balm to her sour mood.

They sit in companionable silence and with anyone else Madeleina would feel the moments stretch into an eternity, but not with him. The silence, like his presence, is like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s day. The longer she is surrounded by it, the less she wants to disturb it. It takes her by surprise when he is the one to do so.

“Did I ever tell you the story of how I got my nickname?”

The Demon of Vyrantium. The personal boogeyman of every crooked Magister and Blood mage in the imperium.

“No …” She starts, turning to face him. “I remember hearing about the incident…”

“But you don’t know the whole story”

She shakes her head.

“Would you like to?”

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious. Everyone in the Shadow Dragons had heard the rumours when the news first started making its rounds a year ago. Over forty casualties, including Vyrantium’s premiere Wigmaker, and high-ranking member of the Venatori, Ambrose Forfex. But that’s about all anyone knows. For days his name was a silent cheer among their ranks. He had the Venatori on edge, and it made them sloppy – which made the Shadow Dragon’s jobs easier, and did wonders for their mission success rate.

She takes another sip.

As much as she wants to retreat further into herself, to cut herself off from everyone so they don’t notice how much of a failure she is, one look into his patient, kind, brown eyes destroys any resistance floundering in her chest.

“Yeah… I’d like that”

Lucanis flashes a lopsided smile, and she thinks she may unravel on the spot. She’s grateful for the large cup in her hands and uses it to partially shield her face from view. The flush she knows is creeping onto her cheeks, her neck, her ears.

He quickly launches into a tale that is a mix of a classic caper, a spy escapade, and a horror story. She rolls her eyes when Lucanis goes into Illario’s lines he uses to pick up the guard captain. Equally surprised as he was that it worked.

She visibly recoils as he describes the slaves hanging from Ambrose’s ceiling, and the wig-based abomination he becomes. But there as much hope in his tale as there is despair. She smiles as he talks of freeing the slaves in Ambrose’s estate and stopping a dangerous man from committing any more atrocities like the ones hanging in his dungeon.

At the conclusion of his tale, Madeleina finds the strength to stand up.

Lucanis throws a curious glance at her but stays seated on the floor.

“You know, I think Illario’s wrong about you” She begins, tightening her grip on her cup.

“Illario is wrong about a great many things, you’ll have to be more specific” He grins.

“That you’re all stomach and no heart” Madeleina smiles.

“You’re a lot more heart than you give yourself credit for”

She thanks him for the cioccolata, and with renewed strength and purpose, leaves the music room to check in on the friends she’s been neglecting for the last few days. The warmth that settles in her chest, that familiar, safe feeling, acts as a bulwark against the darkness of her thoughts. Her regrets.

Instead, she’s focusing on one question in her mind – a question that brings her great comfort amidst the chaos encircling her life.

What tale should I tell him next?