#dragon age ficlet

[midnightminx90writings]

Emmrich wasn’t lying to Rook when he said he doesn’t regret their relationship.

But he did have second thoughts about it, before the end. And those are the thoughts he regrets more than anything, because they could have cost him everything.

His whole life, all Emmrich has wanted is lasting love, something that will last into eternity. Someone to hold his hand, to sleep next to at night. A person that will sit next to him and read books, or work in a garden.

Someone who will say “I love you” in return and mean it.

Wanting is a scary thing. A terrifying thing, if he is to be honest with himself.

Because now he has found someone who wants him back, and while Rook flirts with him in return, and does so at frankly the strangest occasions, Emmrich is terrified this is just another fleeting thing.

But Rook takes his hand, takes his heart, takes all of him and turns those too large feelings into something slightly more manageable.

Parts are put into Manfred; into carefully guiding him to become more, to become someone who can take care of himself long after Emmrich is gone.

More than an assistant; now a prodigy. A son, as Rook says, and a part of Emmrich settles, a part he did not know needed settling, but there all the same.

Like the piece of a puzzle he never knew the scope of.

Then there’s Rook himself; calming and exciting in equal measures until Emmrich no longer knows which way is up.

Rook, who loves unconditionally and surprisingly, who turns Emmrich’s knees weak and holds him up with the same look in his eyes. Rook, who tells him gold is his favourite colour and in the next breath admits that Emmrich is his first in everything.

And how can a man respond to that?

By bewilderment, at first, then pure joy and pride over being chosen. And lastly, thoughts he would like to not admit to, calculating ones entailing how to best go about it, to show how good it can be with the right person. How right.

It feels selfish, Emmrich thinks, but shows an immense amount of trust.

He cannot say no to that. To hold that honour.

So he kisses Rook, shows him the merest hint of what he can look forward to, even as his own body screams at him to take it further but also to step away before he ruins something beautiful again.

He gives, in the end, helpless not to.

Emmrich knows the exact number of days that pass between Rook’s first expression of interest, to their first kiss, to their first time.

And he knows the exact number of days between that, and when Rook is taken from them. From him.

When Rook is taken, Emmrich is terrified.

His love is gone without a trace, after an argument between them that they did not resolve, and the loss of two of their dear friends.

Emmrich can see why people are driven to madness, to desperation, doing whatever it takes to get their loved one back. His books hold no aid for the first time in his life. He cannot return to the Necropolis because what if…

And so he cries and he rages and wears himself into exhaustion again and again, dreams filled with nightmares where Rook is never found and there is an empty grave next to those of his parents.

Even Manfred holds no comfort for him now, as hours turns into days, turn into weeks until finally, there is a hand in his, and he knows that hand unlike none other, and he thinks do not let go this time, clutch it as tight as you can until only eternity remains.

EDIT: now on AO3

[the-font-bandit]

Gossip

Had fun writing the Veilguard crew in this short little ficlet, with the companions wondering exactly who Rook is sneaking off to see in secret.

(Hint: this takes place in my Illarook universe).

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

“Well, I’m not asking,” Lucanis said as he drew a card, the dining room’s hearth warm against his back. “I value my life too much.”

Neve chuckled. “What, the fabled Demon of Vyrantium, afraid of Rook?” She set a card atop the face-up one in front of Bellara and collected them both despite a whine of disappointment from the elf.

Lucanis could have felt insulted, but Neve's crooked smile had softened the taunt, warmed him like the first sip of a fresh batch of coffee. He snorted. “And you're not even a little bit intimidated?”

“Didn't say that.”

“But…” Bellara played another card. “Isn't it, you know… rude? To be speculating on Rook’s love life like this, that is.”

“Not rude if it's a risk to the team,” Davrin said. He was their final player for tonight’s game. Rook was napping on the couch in her meditation room. Emmrich worked on some new experiment with Manfred, and Harding took the night off to tend her growing garden. Taash had said they’d join in later, once they’d finished their nightly workout.

Lucanis wondered if Davrin even noticed that his free hand drifted to scratch Assan between the ears as he continued. “Love makes people do dumb things. Reckless things.”

“No one said anything about love,” Neve pointed out. “But it is reckless, if she's been careless enough about hiding the bruises that literally everyone has noticed.”

Lucanis had been the second person to spot them. When he’d pointed it out to Neve–that the scattering of small, round marks on Rook’s wrists matched the arrangement of fingertips just a little too perfectly–the detective had already known. Of course.

“They could just be from missions,” Bellara offered, but it came out halfhearted. “We all get a bit banged up sometimes.”

“Do you get love bites from hurlocks just under your ear?” Neve teased.

Bellara flushed, then sighed. “Okay, I suppose not. But still…”

“I am surprised you haven’t found out already,” Lucanis told Neve as he played his hand. “You are the detective, after all.”

“Not for lack of trying. I’ve narrowed it down to Treviso, but that doesn’t help much. As a Crow herself, she knows too many people there. The Shadow Dragon contact I put on the case doesn’t know the city as well as Rook does, and she’s lost the few tails I’ve put on her. Not sure if she could tell she was being followed, or just taking shortcuts.”

Lucanis frowned. “The Crows do have our own paths through the city.”

“My few contacts in Treviso declined the job. Said they don’t want to run afoul of the Crows for something so trivial.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “You know people there. Could one of them–”

The dining hall door opened, and they fell deathly silent, glancing up.

Just Taash.

The group visibly relaxed, and Lucanis sighed. They’d all have made terrible Crows. Save maybe Neve, the only one who’d managed to maintain her cool, thumbing through her cards nonchalantly.

“What? Who died?” Taash asked, tugging out a chair. “Deal me in.” They reached for the pitcher of tea–tea–near Bellara and poured a cup.

“No one died,” Bellara said. “We were just, um, well, how to put this…”

“Taash,” Lucanis asked. “Do you know if Rook has a secret lover?”

Taash nearly choked on their gulp of tea, but recovered quickly. “Well, yeah. She disappears ‘to hunt down leads’ or ‘clear her head’ and comes back all glowing. Only one thing does that, other than a good fight.”

Neve dealt a hand to Taash and set the deck back in the center. “Do you know who it is?”

A shrug. “Nah. Don’t really care. Good for her.”

Bellara drew a card. “So, if no one knows, maybe we just change the subject?”

Neve sighed. “I'll keep chasing down leads. If she's keeping it secret, that makes me nervous.”

“Has anyone tried just asking?” Taash set a card down.

“That’s what we were talking about,” Davrin said after a sip of his beer. “Playing a big game of ‘not it’ about who gets to poke the bear.”

Taash shrugged. “I'll ask.”

“Your funeral,” Neve said. “But good luck.” She set her hand of cards on the table. “I win.”

“Welp,” Taash said the next night as the group sat down to another game. Harding joined this time, and Lucanis didn't miss that she sat just a little closer to Taash.

Lucanis poured his coffee and sat. “I suspect it went as well as predicted.”

Taash crossed their arms. “Her exact words were ‘none of your fucking business’, so yeah.”

Neve sighed. “I'll keep at it. Lucanis?”

“I'll ask around. Maybe Illario can do some digging. Discreetly.”

“Thank you.” Neve's smile was a little sad. “I hate to be like a dog with a bone, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

Davrin huffed a laugh. “You have a bad feeling about everything.”

“And it's served me well so far. Now deal the cards, Warden.”

Davrin collected and began shuffling the cards. Wearily, he said, “Harding, I see you feeding Assan cheese under the table. If you don't stop, I'm sending him to your room tonight and you'll find out what a gassy griffin smells like.”

“Sorry,” Harding said even as Taash laughed, bumping the dwarf’s shoulder with their own.

“Loser has to do the dishes after dinner tonight,” Davrin said. “Rules are serpents high, nugs low. Blue cards are worth double. Let's go.”

[inquisiorastoria]

To Touch the Sun authors note: I wanted to write sad lesbian inquisitor fic for a specific audience (me) for a game that is 10 years old, enjoy! < 1k female inquisitor x cassanda tags: yearning, unrequited love/feelings, religion mention

I never believed in a higher power. But now, as I stand behind you on the balcony, the sun settling into the lines of your scars, Maker, take me—I want to meet your eyes the way you meet mine.

You cursed me at first; you blamed me for her death and all of your suffering, yet even as I was your prisoner, I couldn't hate you. Trying to ignore you was like trying to ignore the sun. Even if I was blind, I could still feel your heat, the beams of light dancing across my skin. Your presence was everywhere, forcing its way through the cracks of my heart, making me believe there could be something more each time you say 'we' or 'us.' The Inquisition, being your Herald, I told myself I could maybe believe in the Maker if you were standing there beside me.

Back at Haven, I watch as you, again, sharpen your sword, steel shavings falling and staining your trousers, your whetstone scraping against the blade, again and again. I watch, mesmerized by your calm confidence, no arrogance to be found. I wonder what sort of woman you are when you aren't sharpening yourself, the blade of your mouth sharper than any weapon. I wonder if you realize how your presence is hotter than any forge.

You learned to trust me, a woman of no standing, with decisions greater than any I have ever known. You prop me up, light my path when I feel like the darkness of the Fade will consume me; you turn my head up from the ground to face the road ahead with dignity and strength I didn't even know I had.

It's hard not to love everything about you as much as you try to force everyone away. Your orthodoxy, your tradition. It should have turned me away like it has turned many others away. Your dedication to the Maker grounds you, and yet you will never know how those same roots have woven tendrils into my heart. You are so rooted to your ways, so assured of what is right, your ideals toeing the line of bigotry. But I am blind to all of your flaws, maybe not blinded, but accepting. Because the sum of all your qualities draws me in instead, a glow from inside you that cannot repulse me no matter how different we are.

You say as the right hand of the Divine, you give, you take, you make a fist to be the enforcer. But who stands beside you at your right hand? Do you know how badly I want to take your fist and soothe your bruises? Kiss the scrapes of your knuckles and feel the calluses of your sacrifices against my face?

You don't need protection. Your guard is up to all, not just me. Yet, I daydream more than I should, much more than I ought to. Feeling the crushing weight of never knowing what it could be like to soothe your aches, to hold your heart in mine, to tell you that I can take your pain away. Will you ever know me?

I feel the ache grow each passing day, your attention never drifting, Maker, how I wish it could drift to me. Another battle comes and goes, metal against metal, and I watch as you carve out your place and our destiny in this chaotic world.

As strong as you are, you are not immune to suffering, to pain. I see it in the flash of your eyes as you speak quietly about your brother. And for all of your muscle and discipline, you still are flesh. You can be cut down just as anyone. In those moments, as I push a flask of potion to your lips, all I can think about is how I wish I was made of glass so I could be the one to give you the kiss of life that keeps you tethered to this earth, to me.

I am no worshiper of the Maker, but Maker, take me, the void that lives in me where religion should be; when I look at you, you make me truly believe in the Sunburst throne. You draw me to my knees, like a page from the Chant; you turn me from skeptic to devout; your light is a balm to my weary, tired soul, outshining the anchor in my hand.

When I finally tell you how I feel, you are flattered of course. But you are swift and polite in your rejection. Like most things, you treat my confession in your own pragmatic way, which I've come to love to hate, cutting my feelings off quickly and cauterizing them so there's no chance of them growing back again. I try to tell myself it was nothing but harmless flirting; it meant nothing, and I can return to simply being your friend, the one that teases and pushes, the one who doesn't take anything seriously, the one who can get over my little crush. But as I turn away, my humiliation is fresh, a raw, open wound that makes it impossible to believe that it won't ever stop the scalding ache that lives in me now.

Maybe the distance you've given me now is a small mercy; you're giving me a chance to realize nothing can happen, to return to my work, and to be the Herald you believe I am. And that's all I can do, return and play my part for you, always being in your orbit, but never being able to venture nearer again out of my predetermined path. I should have known not to try to reach out and touch the sun. Because, in the end, I have nothing but a burn to show for it. 

Now her hand is raised A sword to pierce the sun With iron shield she defends the faithful Let chaos be undone —Victoria 1:3

header/divider credit to @saradika !

[luinquesse]

“I meant it. I do not yet know what that entails, but I meant it.”

[jenn2d2]

Small background scene living in my head right now for my Rook, Carina (sometime just after she joins House de Riva as a kid, so like 13 years before Veilguard?) Illario is mouthing off and unintentionally says something derogatory about her.

Illario: "…. so I was saying, what do I care if a knife-ear dies along with the target? I mean, they're the poison taster, it's their..." Viago: **Bodies Illario out a fifth story window with no warning** Lucanis: ... Lucanis (internal): That is the sexiest thing I have ever seen.

And that's when Lucanis goes and buys the knife for Viago, who absolutely misinterprets it as a threat after he just defenestrated the man's cousin with no explanation.

Some time later, at at empty window:

Illario: A hand up, cousin? I think my nose is broken. Illario: ... Hello?

[auphaniim]

Drabble by @winebearcat & art by me!

“You’re injured, my Lord,” Hawke grunts. His brow is knitted, furrowed over a set of dark, impenetrable eyes.

“I’m fine,” Anders lies. He clasps a hand over his shoulder, radiating with pain where the shield split open from impact. It had been a thorough embarrassment, the way it shattered at the end of a jousting pole, but at least he stayed on his horse.

Worse than his defeat, Anders flushed to the ears when his knight helped him down, wrapped a steady arm around his waist, and slowly escorted him to his bedchamber. The given accommodations are threadbare – a draughty room set in a boisterous tavern – but it’s what they could secure at short notice for Lady Surana’s wedding.

“Let me see,” Hawke insists, placing his palm over Anders’ chest. Their eyes connect and he sucks in a sharp breath, acutely aware of how little separates them. It’s not the first time his charge has fussed over him, or been this close, so why does it suddenly feel so hard to breathe?

This is what Hawke of Lothering pledged to do. Pledged to be.

“You’re filthy. When’s the last time you washed?” Anders sniffs, stirring from his paralysis. His tone is more teasing than sharp as Hawke drags his hand higher. When he carefully tugs the tunic aside, Anders’ heart rises to his throat.

“So are you,” Hawke retorts, inspecting the bruise. Despite the concern in his eyes, his lips dance with a smile. He’s grown accustomed to his Lord’s quips. It once made him uncomfortable to parry, but he does so with such fluency now that Anders can’t help but feel proud.

As his knight devotes all his attention to him, Anders mind flits to the ongoing festivities. He’s mildly miffed to miss out on the sun and revelry, but being handled by Hawke like this, under the heat of his gaze, fills him with a warmth that neither could supply.

“Then bathe,” Anders orders, his head thick with drink. With want.

“I’ll do it once I’m done with this,” Hawke huffs, brushing calloused fingertips over Anders’ skin. It's tender, pulsing sharply with pain. He shivers and curls nimble fingers around the back of Hawke’s neck. His skin is warm; from sun and wine and perhaps something else. Could it be what's reflected back in Anders’ heated gaze?

“You'll do it right now,” Anders presses, acutely aware of the worn tub in the corner of the room. Hawke’s eyes snap to meet his, blown wide and swimming with confusion.

“My Lord?” he murmurs, ghosting warm breath over his lips. Anders' gaze flicks to Hawke’s supple mouth, parted around the question.

“I ordered you to bathe, Ser Hawke,” Anders’ voice drops to a hoarse croak. Hawke blinks, those perplexed, honey-brown eyes trained on him. Steady. Measured.

“So you did,” Hawke murmurs and Anders feels something shift between them. Their mouths are nearly touching and Anders feels his heart pound in his throat.

“Would you like to be present, my Lord?” he adds, barely above a whisper.

Anders bites his bottom lip, feeling his cheeks warm. It’s not the first time they’ve bathed in front of each other. Usually, as a point of necessity, washing up on the edge of a lake after a hard-fought battle. But there’s something different about today. Something charged in the way Hawke peers at him, like he’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.

“Yes. I require a wash myself,” Anders finds himself saying. He’s immediately mortified and his face flushes red-hot. He really has had too much to drink. Hawke’s eyebrows shoot up, his mouth falling open. It snaps shut, as a flush spreads over his cheeks, and Anders aches to kiss the warmth from his skin.

“May I undress you, my Lord?” Hawke murmurs. He lightly curls fingers around Anders’ neck, gently thumbing his pulse. Anders’ breath catches in his throat, skin aflame as his blood begins to race. Hawke peers at him openly, seeking permission.

“You may,” Anders whispers.

[lavenderprose]

Short shorts fic is now available to read on AO3, if you're so inclined.

Read on Ao3

[the-sparrohawk]

DATV Companion Week - Taash

Day 4 - Shokra toh ebra

For @datvcompanionweeks. I'm so excited to be writing Taash for this!

~~~~~ * ~~~~~

“Hey. I was looking for you.”

Lucanis sat on the small bench in Neve’s empty office. The wisps crowded at the other end of the room, avoiding the broody assassin and his demon. “Taash,” he said, his voice a low monotone. “What did you need?”

“Bellara’s making dinner for Rook. Are you gonna eat?”

“Not now.” He shifted, taking a sip of his coffee. It was cold but he didn’t care.

“You gotta eat.” Taash folded their arms and looked down at him. “You can’t just sit in here all the time.”

“It’s quiet in here. I can think.”

Taash grunted, their eyes narrowing. “Sitting in here thinking isn’t going to help her.”

His face twisted, but he didn’t reply.

“We got Rook back. We’ll get her back too.”

“You don’t know that, Taash.”

“I know we won’t give up.” They lifted their chin and stared at Lucanis. “You’re a Crow. Crows don’t abandon people.”

“Contracts,” he corrected. “We never abandon a contract. Neve was... is not a contract.”

“But you’re not going to abandon her either.” Taash made it sound like an order.

“No. No, of course I’m not.”

“Good. That’s good.” Taash studied him for a moment. “Do you wanna be alone?” 

Lucanis pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not really. I’m never alone, anyway. Not anymore.”

“Yeah. Because of Spite.” Taash moved over to lean against Neve’s desk, settling their hips against it and crossing their long legs at the ankle. “But you got wings. That’s something.”

“It is something.” He smiled, but it left his face before it reached his eyes. He sighed and leaned back against the wall. “How are you doing, Taash? I am not the only one who lost someone.”

Taash shrugged, the muscles at the corner of their jaw tense. “I’m okay. We’re gonna go kill Elgar’nan. That makes it better.”

“It does,” he agreed. “Still... I’m sorry about Lace.”

“I don’t want to be sorry.” Taash’s voice was suddenly sharp. “I want to be glad I had her. That we had each other. I want...” They broke off, and a tear ran slowly down their cheek. “I want to punch stuff. Hit stuff with my axe.”

Lucanis nodded. “And I want to stab things. I think we will both get our chance very soon.”

Taash huffed a curt, damp laugh. “Yeah. Soon.”

“We’ll both feel better when we can take action. It’s easier to do battle with an enemy you can see.”

“And punch.” Taash agreed. Then their expression grew thoughtful. “Sometimes... sometimes the enemy is just... you.”

Lucanis looked up at them. “Often, I’ve found. That enemy is harder to fight.”

“Shokra toh ebra,” Taash said, so quietly it was barely audible.

“What was that?”

“Something my mother used to say.”

“Ah.” Lucanis looked down. “I’m sorry about your mother as well, Taash.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

There was a long silence, broken only by the creak of the desk as Taash’s big body shifted against it. “Shokra toh ebra. It means ‘through struggle you find what you are’.”

“Shokra toh ebra,” Lucanis repeated. “Is that right?”

“Pretty close.”

“Probably Shathann would correct my pronunciation, though?”

Taash smiled. “Probably.”

“I know about mothers like that,” he said. “Or grandmothers, at least.” He looked down into his coffee cup and grimaced. “Do you know what I think, Taash?”

“What?”

“I think we are all going to know ourselves a lot better before this is over.”

“Yeah. I think so too.” They rose and stretched. “Come on. Let’s go and get some dinner.”

Lucanis pushed himself up from the bench. “I would not want to disappoint Bellara,” he said, and he followed them out into the courtyard.

[cacospirit]

The Coddled Griffon Case

Davrin: Hey Lucanis, do you… have a minute?

Lucanis: Oh, Davrin, I… sure 

Davrin: I know we haven’t… always seen eye to eye, like, maybe I called you an abomination…

Lucanis: You did, among other things

Davrin: …and maybe I suggested that we should kill you because you’re a demon…

Lucanis: You made a strong case for it. Several times. 

Davrin: …but at the end of the day, I think we are both men that can set our differences aside when it comes to doing what’s best for the team

Lucanis: Davrin… where are you going with this

Davrin: Look… someone has been sneaking Assan extra treats

Lucanis: what 

Davrin: I know, I know! It doesn’t seem like a big deal but… it’s not good for his training! We can’t have him think he can just cozy up to anyone and get rewarded for it

Lucanis: I… sure. I will take your word for it

Davrin: And look, I’m not trying to come after anyone with torch and pitchfork here, I just… need to know who it is, so we can discuss it, as adults

Lucanis: An admirable goal 

Davrin: Right? But the thing is… no one wants to admit to it! I know it’s not any of the ones sleeping at the back of lighthouse, it’s someone out here with us. And first I figured… if it was you I probably wouldn’t have noticed in the first place

Lucanis: I like to do things discretely, it’s true

Davrin: So I talked with everyone else, and we both know that Bellara and Harding can’t tell a lie to save their life, so… it has to be Neve! But talking to her is just pointless because she’s not giving away anything, she’s like a fortress!

Lucanis: She has a certain composure 

Davrin: So… I can’t really accuse her of anything without evidence, and I know she’s not dumb enough to let me catch her in the act, but… she probably wouldn’t be looking out for you 

Lucanis: You want me to spy on Neve for you?

Davrin: It sounds bad when you put it like that

Lucanis: …would you like to put it another way?

Davrin: I would like to do that yea, I just don’t know how to

Lucanis: I feel like that should tell you something 

Davrin: Lucanis... I know that you are an honorable man, that is willing to make the hard choices for the sake of family. And we here… at the Lighthouse… we are like a family. You, me, Assan… Neve, Rook…. even that weird crab-head ghost, we’re all in this together

Lucanis: ..The Caretaker? 

Davrin: Exactly! We should all strive to be the caretakers of each other’s problems 

Lucanis: You know what... sure 

Davrin: And I know Caterina taught you that sometimes you have to be tough one the ones you love if you want them to survive

Lucanis: I’m... not really sure that applies here

Davrin: I think it does. 

Lucanis: Well  

Davrin: And look, I’m no trying to tell you what do to here, because... I trust you to do the right thing. And I don’t want to influence your decision too much but… I’d owe you one, all right? I gotta go, but just… think about it ok? No pressure!

Lucanis: I don’t think… ! *sigh* 

Lucanis: Mierda… I need a cup of coffee after this

// 

Lucanis: The griffon has too much treats…. Has… everyone finally lost their minds… or have I finally lost my mind. 

Spite: You say it like it can’t be both 

Lucanis: Spite. Rhetorical question. We’ve talked about this. 

Neve: Hey Lucanis! Do you mind if I sit down, or am I interrupting something?

Lucanis: Oh I was just… you know what, never mind. Please, Neve, go ahead 

Neve: So Davrin finally caved in 

Lucanis: He… what?

Neve: Honestly, I love that for you. You’ve come so far in your friendship that he’s willing to trust you with his dirty work 

Lucanis: Neve I… I don’t know what you’re talking about

Neve: Of course you don't. But even if you didn't know what I say that I know I still know what you'd know from what I know that he knows 

Lucanis: Neve, please, I haven't had my coffee yet

Neve: Davrin’s been trying to figure out who’s been sneaking Assan extra treats, he knows it’s one of us out here in the courtyard, but out of all the people he’s talked to no one seems to know anything, isn’t that just curious

Lucanis: It’s not the word I’d use but sure 

Neve: Of course, Bel and Lace are as opaque with their intentions as a sheet of glass, and by all reason if it was you he probably wouldn’t have found out in the first place 

Lucanis: I’m glad my talents are getting widely recognized 

Neve: Which really only leaves me, and I can’t deny that I do make for pretty convincing prime suspect for this case

Lucanis: Someone gave snacks to a bird, I hardly think this should be called a case 

Neve: But as sure as he probably is that it’s me, he can’t come accusing me of anything without evidence, because that would make him look irrational, and we can’t have that.

Lucanis: Neve, there is not a single part of this that seems rational to me

Neve: He knows he’s not gonna catch me all by himself, so what can a lone warden do but rally his troupe. He needs eyes out here in the yard, and sure Lace would be pretty handy at the task, but she’d be oh so morally conflicted about it. And even if he managed to convince Bel she would still be pretty useless. Which leaves… you

Lucanis: I wish the only way I had been left, was out of this   

Neve: I just had to keep an eye out for when he’d inevitably come crawling to you. He got the right idea about talking to you when I’m not around, but… he wasn’t exactly discrete in the way he went about it. Sometimes the way you hide something reveals more about the thing you’re hiding than if you never tried to hide it in the first place, you know what I mean?

Lucanis: I don’t think I know what anything means anymore 

Neve: Now he can’t exactly give you a contract, because he’s above that, so he has to try to convince you the comradely way. Which means, right now you are conflicted about what to do

Lucanis: Neve I'm conflicted about what to think 

Neve: Must have felt great for him to finally overcome that hurdle, being able to ask you for help. But… he did take his sweet time with it, guess he had to swallow a lot of pride to get there. Which is… really fortunate for me because it’s given me plenty of time to… indulge, in other things

Lucanis: I feel like I’m not going to like where this is going 

Neve: What was the name of supplier for your fancy coffee? Eligio Mancini? Lives at the upper end of the Treviso east district

Lucanis: Yes that’s… how did you.. 

Neve: Such a great product, or so I’ve been told, I'm not really privy to it. But as it happens I do know a Tevinter noble that is just crazy about the stuff, so naturally I just had to provide them a sample. And what would you know, they loved it. Probably so much that they’d buy out the entire stock… if I gave them the name of the supplier

Lucanis: Neve are you…

Neve: Am I what?

Lucanis: …are you blackmailing me?

Neve: Am I? I’m not playing the board, I’m just pointing out where the pieces are 

Lucanis: Maker help me…

Neve: Oh The Maker can’t save you from me, you know that

Lucanis: That is definitely sacrilege… but also not inaccurate 

Neve: Well, this has been… very informative Lucanis. I gotta go but please… don’t make any decision you will regret later

Lucanis: See you tonight?

Neve: Oh for sure, love you

Lucanis: Love you, bye

[heyfadewalker]

I know that we found out the reason Solas is bald is because he’s ancient, however, I still kind of prefer my personal headcanon of him shaving it all off as a show of grief for the world and people he lost.

I like to think that when Lavellan goes with him into the fade at the end of Veilguard, he slowly starts to let it regrow.

[itsrainingpandas]

Ever since @vonspe released the NPC version of her OC Scipio, I have had a brain worm with him and my dummy gremlin Crow!Rook. So I wrote a thing!

Scipio belongs to Vonspe , I just admire her art and her drawings have given me joy in these here trying times. Hopefully I can return the favor in a small way. ❤️

Pick Your Poison

She was silent, creeping up on him, crouched with a dagger in her hand. He had his back to her and was none the wiser to the danger. Closer, closer, and then…with a fierce grin, Rook lunged for him.

She landed with the hilt of her blade at the small of his back, snickering. “Oh, Scipio,” she tsked, “You’ve gotten soft! You really should pay attention. You're dead now!”

A chuckle rumbled through him as he turned to peer over his shoulder, looking thoroughly unsurprised. “Am I?” 

Rook looked down. Scipio had shifted his arm behind his back in the split second before she had lunged, gripping a needle in his gloved hand. It was pressed against her leathers, and were this a serious scenario, it could slide past her armor and fill her with poison before she got a good stab in. 

Upon seeing this, Rook burst out laughing. “Oh, no! I’m dead!” She stepped back and resheathed her mageknife, delighted to be bested at her own game. “Oh, you got me. This is so tragic. You'll have to break the news to my many admirers.”

Scipio smirked, pleased with himself even before he said, “I'll be sure to let them both know.”

Rook made a face and moved as though she were going to punch his kidneys. He simply swayed out of her way, unperturbed, before regarding her with amusement. Her childish petulance melted as she grinned, looking back and forth between his eyes. They were striking in their color difference- one so dark it was almost black, one staggeringly blue. He seemed to give in to the fondness, poking at her playfully. “And what brings our Rook to this level of the Diamond today?” 

Rook leaned back against the counter that served as a place to get both drinks and poisons, and hopefully never the wrong one of the two. “I'm looking for a specific poison. Or– a friend of mine is looking for it. A poison.”

Scipio’s eyebrow arched in interest. “Anything fun?”

“No. It's the opposite of fun. Academic things.” Rook’s nose crinkled in distaste. She was never a good student, so she couldn't imagine how or why someone could keep researching past the required schooling. Scipio chuckled as if he could see her thoughts; he had known her as a fledgling, so he wouldn't be surprised by her disdain.

“And this poison,” he continued, rolling up his sleeves and tightening the ribbon keeping his long, dark hair back, “Viago didn't want to do it?”

“Between you and me, he's better at antidotes. Mixing poisons is more your specialty.” Her eyes narrowed in an attempt to look dangerous that was not enough to offset her small stature and full head of bright red curls. “But if you tell him I said that, I’ll deny it and put one of your snakes in your boot.” 

“I’m beginning to think you just came here to threaten me.” 

“Me? Never,” Rook hoisted herself up to sit on the counter, pretending not to notice Scipio’s vaguely disapproving look. She spread her arms wide. “Come on, I wanted to see you! I missed you! Didn't you miss me, Tío?” 

He watched her a moment, and she noticed how tired he looked. Though, to be fair, Scipio always looked tired. After careful consideration, he shook his head and chuckled. “Oh, I suppose it is fun to hear Viago yelling again.” Rook laughed, the opposite of his laugh, loud and attention-drawing. 

"Now," Scipio began placing dubiously unmarked vials on the counter, “what poison is your friend looking for?”

Rook blinked as though she had never thought to ask. “I dunno.” She leaned back on the counter to the point where she could have easily rolled backwards off of it and landed on her head. She scanned the room, but it wasn't hard to spot the odd one out in the sea of Crows.  Rook gave a grand, sweeping wave over her head. “Emmrich! Over here!”

The professor appeared moments later, appearing harried by his standards and remarkably put together by anyone else’s. “Apologies, Rook,” he said sweetly, politely, “Manfred is quite fascinated by this place, so I was keeping an eye on him. I had to stop him from chasing one of the crows around…” he gestured to the birds roosted in the ceiling, who indeed seemed to be watching with some perturbation. Rook snickered at the mental picture before composing herself enough for introductions.

She held a hand out towards Emmrich in presentation. “Scipio, this is Professor Emmrich Volkarin. Emmrich,” Rook turned enough to loop an arm around Scipio’s neck, “this is my Tío Scipio.”

Emmrich smiled, brushing a hand back to smooth his hair which was hardly out of place. “Apologies, again. It's a pleasure to meet you, ah…” his eyes darted towards Rook, unsure, “I'm sorry, could you repeat…?”

“Scipio,” the man finished, bowing slightly at the waist. “A pleasure, professore.” 

Rook hopped down from the counter. “What, he can't call you ‘Tío’?”

Scipio kept his eyes on Emmrich as he dropped his hand on top of Rook’s head. “You are on babysitting duty today, I see?”

She grumbled and pushed his arm away. Emmrich pressed a crooked finger to his mouth in an attempt to disguise an amused smile that did not help her mood. “I don't need babysitting!” Rook snapped. “You know, I make a lot of the decisions for our group.”

“That is true,” Emmrich offered amicably, his gaze shifting the significant height difference between the two Crows. 

“Hmmm,” Scipio considered the information before asking Rook, “So why do you come back here and act like a fledgling?”

Emmrich let out a sound of surprise before leaning on the counter, eyes bright with excitement. “I have noticed that she tends to regress when we come to Treviso! It's very interesting,” he pressed his thumb to his bottom lip, “I wonder if it's a response to childhood stressors. Perhaps–” 

“Emmrich!” Rook whined, betrayed. She would have stomped her foot if the idea of “regression” hadn't taken hold on her mind. But the professor received the complaint and stopped his analysis, mumbling apologies while at least having the decency to look sheepish. 

Scipio, however, had no such scruples. He tilted his chin down, conspiring.“If you do take notes, I’d be happy to review them. I always appreciate new material.”

Emmrich chuckled warmly, much too charmed for Rook’s taste. She groaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I regret introducing you two,” she pouted. "Immediately regret it.”

They were now ignoring her completely, it seemed, exclusively focused on each other. “So, professore,” Scipio smiled faintly, “what poison are you looking for?”

“Ah, yes,” he startled as though he had forgotten why he had come, “I was hoping for concentrated magebane. You see, I want to test its effect on bone–”

“It won't corrode it, if that's what you're hoping for.”

“No!” Emmrich looked appalled by the very idea. “No, it was a thought I had. You see, if it could mark the deceased, then it might deter any necromancers who wander too far afield. Necromancy is a distinguished art, of course, but some do not wish to worry about their deceased. If those bodies could marked as unusable–” 

Rook sighed noisily. “All right, well, if you don't need me…” 

Emmrich didn't even pause, continuing to excitedly explain his theories to a thoughtfully listening Scipio. That was her answer, she supposed. 

Rook wandered around until she found Manfred, who was still peering up at the roosting crows in fascination. She wrapped an arm around the boney cut of his shoulders with a sigh. “I think I accidentally set your dad up on a date,” she murmured to the skeleton. Manfred let out a cheerful, gurgling hiss, though she suspected he had no idea what she was going on about. Well, nothing to do about it. Might as well take advantage of having lost her “babysitter.”

“All right, Manfred,” Rook clapped her hands together, “I'll teach you about the birds up there. But first: we’re going to work on you saying the word ‘shit.’”

Manfred squealed cheerfully once more. Just a fun little surprise for Emmrich later as revenge for the regression idea that would do nothing but prove his point.  

[sakharinedragon]

Why is he covered in paint?

Drabble / shortfic

"Rook?" Emmrich's voice sounded as if he was already mentally exhausted before he even started the conversation.

Rook put their book down, looking to the doorway, "Yes?"

"You were spending time with Manfred earlier, if I'm not mistaken." It wasn't really a question.

"Yes?" Rook replied innocently, having an idea what this was about but feigning innocence.

Emmrich massaged the bridge of his nose, "Why is he covered in paint?"

Rook tried to suppress a snicker, "He got a bit too enthusiastic with our project."

Emmrich strained to contain his exasperation, "What project?" he asked, trying his hardest to remain calm.

Rook smiled impishly, got up and walked over to the dresser. "It's not quite dry yet, but here. We made this for you."

Emmrich's entire demeanor changed. "Oh," he managed to croak out, feeling a lump in his throat and a tear in his eye.

[biowaredisasterbisexual]

Bellara Week 2025 - Ficlet Series

Went waaaaaay out of my comfort zone and usual writing for this. So, uh, I hope it’s okay? I don’t even know how I ended up here.

For @datvcompanionweeks’ #bellaraweek2025:

Day Four - Friendship/Romance

You’re eight years old, and playing with the other kids in your clan. Or trying to, anyway. You keep trying to explain a bug that you found. It’s really pretty! And you learned about it from the Keeper! But they say it’s boring. And you’re talking too much. They don’t want to play with you.

You’re seventeen, and the boy you’ve been hoping to impressed is amazed at your magic. You try to explain it to him, and he leaves. So much for that.

You’re twenty-five, and have finally found a purpose. And a group of people to share it with. The forest is alive with mystery, ancient magic and artifacts, secrets. And you all want to uncover and understand them. It’s a new adventure everyday, and everyone joins in! It’s almost like a new clan, but one for people who understand. At least some of the time, anyway. You make friends, people who sit by the fire with you and share supper.

You meet someone who shares your passion, your curiosity. Who you feel understands you. But eventually, as you always are, you’re too much. You work too much. Always rambling. You can’t focus enough. You’re too focused. It doesn’t end the way you’d hoped.

You’re thirty, and the world has shifted under your feet. Not overnight, which you guess is lucky; if you hadn’t been as curious and dedicated as you’d been before about learning the secrets of your people you probably would have been in shock.

But maybe you are in shock anyway. Because you were nervous, coming here. This new group of teammates don’t share your personal passion for the secrets hidden in Arlathan — they care, but not for knowledge’s sake, most of the time — and you know what’s going to happen. You’ll be too excited to share. Be too much, again.

But, and this is where the shock came in, somehow you haven’t been. They ask questions. They listen. Even when they definitely don’t understand all, or even most, of what you’re talking about. You find quiet acceptance of your eccentricities. A mind that can match your own, and challenges you to new heights while keeping you from possibly blowing up the Lighthouse. You find an elf like you, who didn’t always fit in quite right with a clan. Friends who share books and snacks with you. Who support you when life is hard. A sister. A friend that refuses to ever make you face hardship alone.

You can’t wait to see what these relationships look like when you’re forty. Because you know they’ll last that long.

[dread-red-queen]

Rookanis prompt: kiss on the pinky 🥺👉👈

This prompt is so cute XD I enjoyed writing this,

Set before they got together, Rook helps Lucanis with dinner prep and they share a moment when she cuts her pinkie finger while cutting carrots XD

Carrots & Kisses

They were still tiptoeing around eachother, everyone could see it, Neve especially. She had teased Lucanis several times for staring at Rook when he thought she wasn't looking. It was sweet how he watched her, the man was besotted. It was coming up to dinner time and Rook had just wandered into the kitchen looking for a snack.

Lucanis tutted her when she reached for the cookies. "You will spoil dinner," He warned her playfully, she smiled at him and his cheeks warmed, he loved making her smile, it lit up her entire face, he looked away scolding himself he should be keeping his distance, what if Spite hurt her? Won't hurt ROOK! Spite grumbled. Lucanis took a calming breath and froze when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"You ok?, is Spite bothering you?" She asked tenderly, then he felt guilty, she was always looking out for him, and she wasn't afraid of Spite, he frowned she should be afraid. "Stop worrying so much, Spite has never hurt me, when he has taken over. He wont hurt me." He stared at her in disbelief, she was right though Spite had only tried to escape from the Lighthouse, while he had been eager to talk to Rook he had not sought her out. "You can't know that." He steps away from her and goes back to fussing over meal prep. She shouldn't let her guard down, Spite was unpredictable.

She lets out a long sigh and chews her lip in thought. Lucanis was always doing this, he would take one step forward and two steps back. "Do you need any help?" She asks softly, hoping a change in subject would ease the tense air between them. Lucanis pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "You could chop these for me?" He gestures to some carrots. She smiles takes a knife and gets to work, she nudges him playfully with her shoulder and he chuckles.

Neve watched them from her seat and smiled, she got up slowly trying to make as little noise as possible and creeped out of the kitchen, bumping into Davrin. "Hey." Davrin smiles and she grins back at him. "Dont go in there." He raises an eyebrow. "Why?" Neves grins wider. "Rook is in there helping Lucanis with dinner." A look of realisation flickers in the warden's eyes "Oh." She nods and they walk back across the courtyard to tell the others.

They had all noticed the longing looks between Rook and Lucanis, how could they not? Lucanis tried to hide it, but those big, soft brown eyes of his gave him away every time. They had all tried to give them as many moments alone as possible. Gold had exchanged hands, bets placed on how long it would take them to finally give in to the obvious tension between them.

The kitchen was quiet just the sound of chopping until Rook cursed, Lucanis looked up from what he was doing in surprise. "Are you alright?" He asks in concern she lifts her hand and he notices the tiny cut on her pinky finger, he moves without thinking taking her injured hand in his to inspect it. "You should be more careful," He says softly, and then he does something neither of them expects, he lifts her hand to his lips and pulls her pinkie finger into his mouth. She stared at him in complete disbelief, he released it and pressed a gentle kiss to her pinkie, his eyes lifted to meet hers and he froze realising what he had just done.

They stared at eachother, the air thick with something unnamed, her mouth had fallen open her cheeks flushed with a delightful blush, his cheeks were equally red. He could feel the heat of his blush as it spread to the tops of his ears. She smiles reaching for him, her palm settling on his cheek. "Lucanis." She whispers his name and he swollows "Rook I." He looks away avoiding her gaze, why had he done that? He was such an idiot, he was so consumed with his panicked thoughts that he missed her stepping closer.

Then he felt her lips against his own and he stood there, stock still, frozen in surprise, she pulled back and smiled tenderly. "Thank you." She whispers letting her hand fall to her side, he stares at her intensely, he can still feel the warm press of her lips against his own, it had been chaste, sweet, a brief touch of her lips against his own yet he had felt it all the way to his toes.

He stepped forward as if in a trance, she held her breath, the last time he had been this close he had almost kissed her, but he had pulled away at the last second, Neve had walked in and he had panicked, he had avoided her for a week after that. he looked into her eyes as he drew closer trapping her against the kitchen counter. "Rook," he whispered brokenly before he kissed her, really kissed her.

It was like a puzzle piece slotting into place, it was perfect. Warm and full of longing. She sighed kissing him back, he tilted his head deepening it YESSSSSSS Spite purred, Lucanis ignored him, he was kissing Rook, he was actually kissing her. he never thought he would find the courage, to concerned about what Spite might do, and the feelings of not being good enough for her, she deserved more, so much more., but this felt right, like this was meant to be, his doubts fell away like feathers in the wind as he pulled back and watched her eyes flutter open. "Hey." She whispered softly, afraid if she spoke any louder she might shatter the delicate moment between them. "Hey," He whispered just as softly.

The door to the kitchen opened but neither of them noticed, Lucanis was smiling at Rook like she was the only thing he could see in the room, Ballara paused in the doorway noticing how close they were standing to eachother, how Lucanis was looking at Rook with such adoration. How Rook was smiling at him. She froze holding her breath as they leaned into eachother, their eyes falling closed as they kissed once more. "Finally." She pumped her fist excitedly and quickly turned heel and left closing the door softly behind her before they noticed her.

[jenn2d2]

Rook: Who's a good deadly snake? *holding adder* Rook: You are! ~lightly boops noses~ Viago: What in the Maker's name are you doing with my extremely deadly snake? Rook: Hisstopher wanted kisses! Rook: I think he missed me. Rook: Look how happy he is! Hisstopher: Ssssss! ~flicks tongue~ Viago: Did you.. did you name my snake HISSTOPHER?!? Rook: Of course! The other one is Scalizabeth.

[profoundlyfaded]

Waterfront Gossip

A wee ficlet inspired from my EmmRook romance headcanons.

Rating - U

Characters: Rook Ingellvar & Neve Gallus

Pairings: Rook & Emmrich, Neve & Lucanis

—

‘So, you and Emmrich,’ Neve broached with a lilting voice as they stood at the Minrathous waterfront eating fried fish.

Rook turned her head. ‘What do you mean?’

Neve laughed. ‘Come on, Rook, it’s obvious. The way you two just look at each other is enough to tell, so you can’t tell me you are spending all those late evenings giggling over the fundamentals of necromancy.’

‘I already know the fundamentals of necromancy. Learnt it when I was five,’ Rook replied haughtily. ‘It’s more robust debate about the safety of exploring the Fade.’

‘Really, you want me to believe that is a topic worth giggling over?’ Neve’s eyebrow arched highly towards her hairline as she spoke.

‘I suppose it depends on how funny you find early theories on metaphysicality in the Fade,’ Rook conceded. ‘It’s a very niche sense of humour, even among Watchers.’

‘You know it’s okay if you two are coming to care for each other,’ Neve said, ‘having a bit of shelter in the storm...’

‘Like you and Lucanis?’

‘That’s not what we’re discussing here.’

Silence fell between them. Rook nibbled on her fried fish as she gazed out of the lapping waves.

‘I didn’t expect for him to be so kind, gentle,’ Rook said after a moment. ‘Our eyes meet and I forget we’re in the midst of the fight of our lives. And I keep expecting him to tell me I’m too young for this, for him, and that he’s just letting me indulge my curiosity.’

Neve clicked her tongue loudly. ‘Have you seen the way he looks at you? And so what when it comes to age gaps? You’re what thirty--‘ she cocked her head to the side’’--six, seven at most and he’s what--‘

‘Fifty-three,’ Rook interjected. ‘He’s fifteen years old than me.’

‘I thought he was older,’ replied Neve.

Rook laughed. ‘It’s the whole gentlemanly persona, makes one appear older in my view.’ A mischievous smirk crossed her lips. ‘You haven’t seen him without his collar pin.’

The two women dissolved into laughter, and Rook threw her now empty skewer out to sea. She watched it bob on the languid waves, moving away from them towards open sea.

‘It must be serious if Emmrich has let you see him without his collar pin on.’ Neve’s voice dropped to a salacious drawl. ‘Whatever is next, his top button undone? Hair slightly out place?’

Rook bit her lip, and Neve laughed.

‘You have it bad,’ Neve declared. ‘Enjoy it! It’ll all be worth while in the end. Come on, it’s getting late.’

They turned away from the waterfront. ‘Seriously, though,’ said Rook as they walked up the sloped path. ‘You and Lucanis?’

‘Oh hush,’ laughed Neve.