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midnightwind · 13 days ago

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WIP Wednesday, I have a treat of Lucanis having to tell Viago that Rook is gone for you all (I shared a partial snippet of this a few days ago but this is a proper 2k or so words now) An excerpt from my fic Clipped Wings~

It felt like a blur, the whole world underwater as he passed through the Crossroads alone. Someone had to tell the Crows. He couldn't find a weak crack in the Fade, or craft a lyrium dagger, and he wasn't allowed to go to Minrathous to hunt Solas down. The flicker of Spite's anger burned in his chest, igniting his lungs with a fury they shared, but it had barely been a day. The others assured him there was still a chance to find her. He could hold a false hope for a few days before they realized it was pointless and let him loose. He could allow them that.

He barely registered stepping out of the mirror into the Diamond. It was busier, almost swarming with Crows working on either cleaning up after Ivenci or preparing to confront Elgar'nan. This had been her plan, after all, a gathering of them all to save the world. A grand showdown for her people to shine in. How she had glowed with the idea of the Crows being able to play heroes. What did it matter now, without her?

Teia spotted him first, a smile jumping to her lips, but it fled quickly when she realized he was alone. The world burned with her absence, a hollow at his side that she had filled for almost a year now. His heart ached. She grabbed Viago's arm, tearing him away from a scattered sea of documents on the table. Viago noticed it instantly, his eyes gliding over Lucanis to where she usually stood with her lopsided grin in greeting. He watched the man's chest hitch with a small, almost invisible twitch. The twin headed snakes of his cane were gripped so tightly in his hand that Lucanis wondered how the jade egg didn't crack.

Teia pushed them both into a side room, the procession silent. There was an agony to be shared, but not in the open. They were Talons and there was still a war to be fought. Better to do this behind closed doors. And maybe she was trying to put off the news that was settling like a stone in the core of her being. His breaths were beginning to waver, a shiver in his shoulders and a burn in his throat.

“Lucanis-” Teia began, a mix of hopeful comfort and pure despair in her voice.

Viago offered no such softness, cold and sharp as he cut her off. “Where is she?” Did the words shake, just a little? “Where is Mirenna?”

It felt like his tongue was made of clay, stuck to the roof of his mouth and thick. “She’s gone.” His voice was hoarse, a rasp that hadn't been present since the Ossuary back in his throat.

It was like he had plunged into the canals as the two words tore through the little room. Everything felt cold and distant, blood rushing through his ears. He was deaf to the world, drifting in the memory of that water, despairing. He barely registered Viago rushing him, the man’s gloved fist smashing into his jaw more like an afterthought. He let the strike carry him to the floor, almost numb to it. Spite thrashed behind his ribs like a bird in a cage, keening. He saw the cane rise up and for a moment he wondered if that familiar pain would be able to dislodge his sorrow. A childhood full of that sharp crack’s memory might be able to return the killer’s focus to him.

But Teia ripped it out of the Fifth Talon’s hand before he could swing. They were yelling, tears beginning to wet her cheeks as she tossed the cane aside. Viago settled for fisting his collar in hand and dragging him to his feet. His back was slammed against the wall, pinned as the man almost snarled. He wondered if he would register a knife slipping between his ribs like this, a sweet bite just to feel anything else.

“How?” Viago hissed.

“We killed Ghilan’nain,” He started, voice flat like he was reading a script. He'd been replaying the events all day, finding every second where he should have done better, been more. “and her death tore open the Fade. We were all thrown back. Mirenna screamed for me.” His voice hitched finally at that. “And then she was gone. Solas had taken her place. He had the dagger. Spite lunged for it. We were thrown back again. The Dread Wolf disappeared and Elgar’nan started a spell. The world burned.” His head thunked back against the wall.

“Is there a chance she’s…” Teia started.

He and Viago both had the same grim expression.

“The others think she's simply trapped in the Fade. They're trying to find her.” He offered blandly.

Viago’s grip tightened, knuckles pressing into his throat. “Why are you here?”

“Someone had to tell-”

He was yanked forward, their faces close now. “No, Lucanis, why are you here and not burying a hundred blades in that false god? Why have you not cut him to pieces and plucked the dagger from his corpse? Why did you come here instead of getting her back?”

Spite surged at the words, all fury and pain. He let the feelings wash over him like a wave. “They said to trust.” He licked his lips. “They said to wait.”

He staggered back into the wall as Viago let him go suddenly. “She told me to trust you.” The words shook this time. “Look how that worked out.”

That was a sharper pain than any knife to the heart could cause. He pulled in a shivering breath. “The others will spend some time trying to find a way to break into a prison made for gods, but the plan otherwise is the same. We’ll need to assault Minrathous to reach Solas and Elgar’nan. The Crows will be ready?”

Viago scoffed, busying himself with retrieving his cane. “Of course.”

“We’ll send a few teams to the city in the meantime, see if we can sneak between the cracks.” Teia offered up, her voice oddly steady. “Was… How’s the team, otherwise?”

That felt like two quick quick stabs to the gut. He closed his eyes. “We lost Neve to Elgar’nan. He might be keeping her alive, but…” He swallowed thickly. “We won’t know until the siege, I suppose.”

No salt and ink. Cold and clever. Sharp words and biting laughs. Spite sounded almost inconsolable.

“And when we reached Ghilan’nain,” Lucanis continued after a breath, “Harding gave her life to give me an opening.”

He could still see her gritting her teeth as the elven monster attacked her, every arrow flying true despite her arms shaking. He could still hear each tentacle strike her, lifting her from her feet before tossing her aside. They hadn’t been able to go back for her body, but Elgar’nan had given her the pyre for them in a way. If only they had been able to retrieve her ashes to send home.

They took. Jam and stone. Dirt and leaves. Sweet grins and tender thoughts.

He barely felt Teia’s consoling hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Lucanis.”

“Which ones are currently being useful?” Viago’s biting voice sounded oddly far away.

“Vi.” Teia almost snarled.

Lucanis huffed briefly, the ghost of a laugh in his lungs. “Emmrich and Bellara have busied themselves with finding every book and tome the Lighthouse has on the Fade. Taash is mourning with their Lords. Davrin is meeting up with the remaining Wardens to discuss how the Blight has been changing since Ghilan’nain’s fall.” And I’m here, unable to do anything.

“The mages are working on it.” Viago was quiet, almost thoughtful before his cane cracked against the floor. “You will wait here, First Talon. I have something they may find useful.”

He was content to lean listlessly against the wall, but Teia guided him into a plush armchair. So he sat morosely in the room instead, the Seventh Talon disappearing a moment later. That was fine, he wasn’t ever truly alone now and she couldn’t offer him the company he so desperately wanted. No one could anymore. Spite was a heavy weight on his chest, pressing down like he was a serpent coiled around his ribs. He rested his face in his hands as he hunched forward in the chair, his breaths labored and shivering. He had never been good with grief.

When his family had been slaughtered, Caterina had given him his Crow training as a distraction and he had thrown himself into that. When he believed Caterina was dead, Rook had given him a contract to focus on. Now Rook was gone and he had nothing to work with. His targets were out of reach, he wasn’t needed in Treviso to prepare the Crows, and he could do nothing to even try to find her. He was simply left to wallow in the agony. What was he supposed to do?

Find Rook! Miss her. Miss the sweet smell. Red berries and jasmine. Storms and knives. We miss her laugh. Her smile. Hair like blood. Skin like sun. Eyes like ocean.

A strangled noise escaped him, his voice broken. “Spite, please.”

Something warm tapped his forehead and he looked up with bleary eyes to see Teia offering him a steaming mug. The smell of coffee filled the room. She gave him a sad smile as he wrapped his hands around the cup, cradling it between his knees as he stared down at the dark liquid. He couldn’t bring himself to actually drink it, but it was almost a small comfort to hold. It was dredging up too many late nights and early mornings lounging on the couches in the dining room with Rook as she tried to make him laugh with a story of a botched job or complained about her latest visit to Viago. Too many memories of talking shop with her, discussing the hilarious rumors about Crows that Taash shared with them, swapping book recommendations. The bitter twinge of sitting in Cafe Pietro when they were still new to knowing each other and making that awful comment about a kiss goodbye. What a cruel joke from the universe.

The coffee went from a searing heat to a mildly scalding warmth in his hands by the time Viago returned. He had a box of finely crafted dark wood clutched in one hand and as he brought it closer it caused Spite to hiss. The familiar itch of blood magic was ever so faintly causing his eyes to itch and he sat bolt upright in his chair to stare at the Fifth Talon. What in the world was in that box? He half expected Viago to thrust it into his hands and dismiss him, but the Talon merely paused a few steps away as if waiting. Lucanis wasn’t sure what the man wanted.

Viago scowled as the silence stretched, his hand gripping his cane so tight they could hear the leather of his gloves squeak. “You’re going to take me to your Lighthouse so I can get my Crow back. Now get up.”

He simply blinked up at his fellow assassin, disbelief plain. “You…” Words failed him for a long minute. “What exactly are you asking me to escort into the Fade?”

“You are escorting me. I am bringing something that can actually find Renn.” Viago hissed, words caustic. “Move, Dellamorte.”

He shook his head, finally shaking his thoughts free. “Viago, you’re needed here, planning. I can make sure Emmrich and Bellara get whatever is in that box.”

“I trusted you with Renn and you lost her. I refuse to trust you with the one thing that could bring her back.” The twin snakes of the cane were suddenly leveled at his face. “So I will say this one last time: move, Dellamorte.”

How was he supposed to argue with that? By all accounts, Viago was right. Silently, he abandoned his untouched coffee on a table and stood slowly. There was an ache in him and Spite was still recoiling at whatever Viago held. But the man was stubborn, it was where Rook had learned it, and he would spend the rest of the day in this backroom uselessly questioning the contents. So instead he led the Talon to the mirror. He waited on the other side of it much like Rook had that fateful day they had met. It was a far less passionate affair between the two Crows this time. Viago did not have any hesitation in his steps, a steel in his gaze that was sharper than any knife either of them held. He had a purpose and all Lucanis had was a path to lead him on. They passed through the little market without a single glance at the queer spirits still minding stalls. The Caretaker only drew a single cautious look over before Viago was settling in the boat after Lucanis.

When they finally passed through the large eluvian leading into the Lighthouse, Lucanis felt like he was a puppet whose strings were slowly being cut one by one. He was so tired. Whatever Viago was bringing was just another false hope, wasn’t it? A desperate ploy to try to stave off the bitter truth that she was gone. But who was he to deny the man one last hope? So he led him up the curved stairway and into the utter chaos that the library had become. Books were strewn everywhere, loose papers scrawled with notes and spilled ink scattered among the tomes. Whatever queer devices that existed in the Lighthouse that were deemed potentially useful had been drug out into the open space, Bellara and Emmrich bringing in their own machines to add to the mess. There were so many empty cups of tea and coffee dotting whatever open space existed near the two mages, a few partially empty plates alongside them. The duo were in the middle of some frantic debate, their hands gesturing madly at half finished diagrams or waving a thick book. They both paused as Viago cleared his throat sharply.

“Well, glad to see there is at least an attempt at finding my Crow.” He half growled, the attempt to remain poised and civil failing at the sheer rage of her absence.

“Fifth Talon,” Emmrich almost stuttered, the note of surprise bright in his voice, “we weren’t expecting such esteemed company. Ah, apologies for the mess-”

“I do not care about the state of your base.” He cut him off bluntly. “Have you made any progress finding Mirenna?”

“Oh, well, yes and no.” Bellara started, digging in a pile of papers. “We have some ideas and there are traces of the specific part of the Fade she’s trapped in lingering. Especially on the island. Since Solas effectively cut off a chunk of the Fade, it looks and behaves differently from the rest of it-”

“So that is a no.” Viago clipped, his cane rapping once on the floor. “I come bearing something that should speed things up, Maker willing.” The box made a quiet clicking sound as he set it on the table, his fingers pressed to the lid. “The only thing more important to me than the contents of this box is Mirenna herself. Do not lose it as casually as you lost her, but if you must destroy it to find her, so be it.”

The Fifth Talon openly admitting how much Rook meant to him almost stunned Lucanis. The man was never so candid. Usually at this point he had locked himself back in the pantry to wait for news of either their success or their blessing for him to leave. This time he quietly collapsed on the couch to watch. The Talon’s barb had made both mages flinch, but they simply waited as the man finally opened the box. A small vial glinted out, silvered wings wrapped around the glass and ruby red liquid shining inside. Spite howled and Lucanis dug his fingers into the plush cushion of the couch. It was a phylactery. It was Rook’s phylactery. Of course one would exist, she was a mage. Of course Viago would have it, she was his mage. Of course.

“I trust between the two of you, the ritual that allows it to track her is understood? Or must I supply that as well?” Viago’s voice was pure ice.

“We will manage.” Emmrich murmured.

“Good.” The Talon took a single step back from the phylactery. “Find her or House de Riva will hunt you to the ends of the world, elven gods be damned.” And then he was turning to leave, Lucanis almost scrambling back to his feet to show him back to Treviso before the end of the cane snapped against his chest. “I can find my own way back. Perhaps you should find a way to be useful here.”

Spite snarled at the words, but he pushed the anger down. “The Caretaker can help, if you do get lost.”

All that earned him was a quiet scoff before Viago disappeared into the shadows of the stairs and was gone.