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inquisimer · 22 days ago

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Happy Friday!! 💚👀

How about: the last thing i want is to see you get hurt. Featuring Arlow and Viago?

thank you for the prompt!! it hit really well, which is to say that it got much longer than I intended 😂 but here we go, from the requisite "Viago routinely poisons Rook de Riva" bit to Angst and Feels and Crow Politics 🤌

Arlow de Riva & Viago | 2035 words | @dadrunkwriting - da4 spoilers

Not for the first time, Arlow hesitated outside Viago’s study door. She knew he was within, but her stomach churned with worry and anticipation. She was happy, unbelievably happy, and he had the power to crush that with a single look.

She unclenched her fist and stared down at the ring. Dragon bone, inlaid on a band of intertwined nevarrite and obsidian. Black and purple and gold—the colors of the Crows. But she had always been a Crow; this represented something so much more.

“I can hear you thinking out there. Come in, or go away—do not linger. It’s rude.”

It was so typical, so normal in a way that things had not been for a very long time, it almost erased Arlow’s concerns. Her fingers closed, hiding the ring from view, and she pushed the door open.

Viago had a spread of vials on his desk, and a tray for checking antidotes in the middle of the array. Emil was curled around his shoulders; his tongue flicked out at Arlow in greeting as she shut the door at her back.

“Hello Emil,” she said dryly. “Viago.”

“Come here.” He beckoned her forward with one hand; the other held a pipette filled with a murky brown-green solution. “Perfect timing. I need to test this.”

Arlow eyed the mixture warily. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d laid her up for days with one of his concoctions. But her constitution was better now, and so was his estimation of what was and wasn’t ready to test. Plus, if he knocked her out and the ring fell loose, she wouldn’t have to explain.

She propped herself on the free corner of his desk and opened her mouth. Viago dropped three precise dots of the solution on her tongue and waited, watching expectantly.

“Oh,” she choked, hand coming up to her throat. “That burns.”

Viago quickly scribbled a few notes in his journal. He set the pipette down and cupped her jaw, prying her eyelids back and turning her face toward the torchlight. He hummed, nodding to himself and making a few more quick notes. Arlow’s fist pressed hard against the polished wood of his desk, but the pressure did little for her—the poison might have burned her throat, but it was numbing her extremities now. It hurt, knowing she couldn’t roll her eyes to tell Viago to hurry up with the antidote.

She focused on her breathing. Despite her joking, she didn’t actually want to pass out in Viago’s study—she’d never hear the end of it.

“Okay, now this.” Viago drew a few drops of a yellowish liquid into a fresh pipette—if she had more control of her facial muscles, Arlow would have eyed it warily. It would not be the first time he fed her piss under this guise. But at the moment, she cared more about regaining her faculties, and she didn’t have the control to close her mouth, anyway.

She couldn’t tell how much he dropped onto her tongue, only that when enough of it hit, her nerves started buzzing like an angry beehive. He followed it with a spritz of something clear and vaguely acidic, then handed her a glass of water. She tossed it back, swished, and spit into the bucket on the edge of his desk.

“Well?”

Arlow flexed her fingers, running her tongue around the still-tingling inside of her mouth. “Assuming you wanted instantaneous numbing, I’d say it needs work. Not that I’d be precise or anything, but I definitely would have been able to haphazardly stab someone for at least the half minute you had me sitting here.

And as they both knew, half a minute was more than enough time to kill someone. Viago pursed his lips, nodding and muttering under his breath as he made more notes. “Good, good. Did you need something?”

“Yeah, um.” Arlow licked her lips, letting him think she was still recovering from the poison’s effects. It wouldn’t alter his results that much. But in truth, the sweat on her palms and the shake in her voice had nothing to do with what he’d given her. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she was an adult and this was a choice she was allowed to make. Whatever Viago decided, no matter how much it hurt, would be on him. “I have to tell you something. And also ask a question.”

Her deliberately evasive phrasing drew his shaper attention as he corked one of his vials and set it aside. He folded his arms and raised a brow at her. “Out with it, then.”

Right. She uncurled her fingers and the torchlight caught fetchingly in the metal edges of the band, danced tantalizingly off the angular face of the stone. Viago froze, and she knew he had stopped breathing.

“That is a Dellamorte ring,” he said after a moment. Arlow’s throat constricted; it was both easier, and not, that he recognized it. “The Dellamorte ring, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re not.”

“Why do you have it?”

“Lucanis gave it to me,” Arlow said. “When he asked me to marry him.”

Emil’s tongue flicked out in a hiss; it was the only sound. Arlow pinched the ring between her fingers and held it up. It really was beautiful, and there was strength in both that, and the promise it represented. Barely breathing, she slipped it onto her finger and clenched her fist. “I said yes.”

She forced herself to look directly at Viago as she said it. Not defiance—determination, and respect. Her heart cared about what he thought, but as a Crow she owed her Talon at least this much, and she respected that.

“Of course he did,” Viago finally said. Arlow didn’t visibly relax, but her gut unclenched; he didn’t sound angry. “And of course you did. Mierda.”

His brow furrowed as he studied her, silent, and Arlow deeply regretted not doing this when Teia was around. Teia, at least, always knew what to say, and just said it, right away. And she could read Viago better than anyone—Arlow might suspect what the working of his jaw, or his fingers twitching in their gloves meant, but Teia would know for sure. And would say it, even if Viago wouldn’t.

But this was more than a matter of her personal relationship. Because of who Lucanis was, because of who they were, as Crows, this was a matter of politics. And Teia, dear as she was, was the Talon of another House. This was between Arlow and Viago.

“Are you sure?” Viago’s voice cracked, and he covered for it by stepping forward and taking her hand. His gloves were thick enough that she felt no warmth through the leather; she simply watched as he swiped his thumb over the ring. “I know you have been happy. I know he makes you happy. But he is the First Talon. Tying yourself to him in this way will have consequences. Lethal consequences, if you aren’t careful—and I think we both know you’ve struggled with that in the past.”

Arlow couldn’t help but laugh, soft and melancholy. It was so fitting, and she didn’t even cringe when Viago’s concern sharpened into a glare at her amusement.

“I am sure,” she said, curling her fingers around his and squeezing just once before letting go. “More sure than I’ve been of anything in a long time.”

Viago nodded slowly. “Very well. I—well. I suspect you would do what you wished, regardless of my thoughts. As you always have. I simply do not wish to see you hurt.”

A warmth bled through Arlow and the corners of her mouth ticked up in a slight smile. “It’s just a formality, Viago. If anyone plans to leverage me against Lucanis, they will do it whether I wear his ring or not. And if Lucanis hurts me, he will cut off his own hand before you ever get to him.”

“Good.” Viago huffed. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “You had a question, as well?”

“I rather thought you would ask it for me.” Arlow bit her lip. “I—well. It’s the matter of Houses, and which one I’ll belong to when this is done.”

Viago’s fingers clenched on the edge of the desk. Around his shoulders, Emil hissed, slithering around his neck in a reaction the distress Viago was holding back. Wordlessly, he removed the snake from his collar and deposited him back in his tank. He stayed there, staring down at the fire rune, back turned to the desk, and to Arlow. “That isn’t a question.”

“Cazza, Viago, do you need me to spell it out for you?”

“Yes!” he snapped, whirling around. “If you are asking permission to leave my House for his, then I would hope you have the decency to say it to my face.”

Okay. So maybe she did need to spell it out for him.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” she said softly. She slipped off the desk and walked to his side. “When you made me a de Riva, you saved my life. You made my life. And you made it one worth living. My heart belongs to that history as much as it does to Lucanis, and I am not so quick to cast it aside.” She took a deep breath. “But—there is only one way in which I truly stay a de Riva, and also marry Lucanis.”

Viago’s lips had parted with surprise as she spoke, an unknowable emotion shining in his eyes. Now, he pursed them, as she led him to the question she was actually asking.

“You want me to give you to him,” her murmured. Arlow nodded.

“But I know what that means,” she added hastily. “I know that it is not a choice, or a promise to be made lightly. If I thought for even a moment that it would be a detriment to our house, I would never ask. But—I do not think it will mean anything that you would not already do.”

She swallowed. “But if you’re not willing… I understand. And I will accept your decision, either way.”

“Well, that would be a first,” Viago snorted. He clasped her by the shoulders, and Arlow was surprised by how clear and certain his gaze seemed. She’d never known Viago to make a decision so swiftly. Usually, there were days of agonizing, debating, considering the angles. But not this time. “Arlow. Pajarito, you think I would let you get away? It was my hand that lifted you into this House, and it was my name that you wore out to change the world. And when I gave it to you—“ he swallowed, throat bobbing awkwardly. Arlow covered his hands with her own, eyes shining. It was the most words she’d ever heard Viago string together at once outside of a lecture and she thought she might be able to live on this forever.

“When I gave it to you, I didn’t know, but I was giving it a life beyond poisons, and scheming, and grief. I would not force it on you now, but de Riva is yours as long as you wish to wear it. And though he is hardly worthy, and it is dangerous, if you are asking, then yes. I will find a pair of gloves suitable to give you to him.”

Arlow threw her arms around his neck, lifting herself up onto tip toes, not caring that he was stiff under her for just a bit too long before he wrapped his arms around her torso and buried his face in her hair.

“Thank you,” she said against his chest. “I—thank you. Thank you.”

Viago drew back, his smile genuine, but worried. “Of course,” he said, even though they both knew no such assurance had ever been real. “Have you told Teia?”

Arlow shook her head, and to her surprise Viago threw back his head and laughed. Then he gestured to the door, grinning a bit too smugly for Arlow’s taste.

“Come,” he said. “I want to see her face when she finds out you told me first.”

#my writing #da4 #dragon age #dragon age fanfic #viago de riva #rook de riva #viago & rook #oc: arlow de riva #rookanis #rook x lucanis #arlow x lucanis #arlow & viago #dadwc #veilguard spoilers #not pictured: teia VERY put out that arlow told viago first #but also flipping over the hidden wedding planning board that she's been working on for months

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