#illarook

[elvhendis]

Illario x Rook fanart?? it's more likely than you think

[deputyrook]

Absolutely obsessed with how illario tells a lucanis romancing Rook that they chose the wrong dellamorte

SAME oh my god. It’s the fact that it’s a romance specific line that really gets me- it could easily apply to Rooks that aren’t romancing Lucanis, if he had meant “you chose the wrong Dellamorte to assist with your cause, because I’m the better assassin.”

But that’s not what he meant. Illario is specifically referring to Rook choosing the wrong Dellamorte as a romantic partner.

The jealousy he must feel, to be thinking of Rook and Lucanis’ relationship in the middle of their fight is CRAZY. I’m so curious whether he wants Rook because they don’t respond to his flirting, or whether he wants them because Lucanis has them- either way, I don’t see an explanation for this line that doesn’t come down to Illario wanting Rook for himself, and that being part of his frustration at being the “lesser” Dellamorte

[okthisway]

favourite Illario scenes that hurt me so 😔💔

[elliemehl]

learning how to draw them cause I'm obsessed

[zwitter-iconic]

Illarook is such an interesting dynamic to me, especially post-game because you have someone who has been completely idolized vs someone who has been completely villainized. What happens when those two are two sides of the same coin? How does the bitterness between them dictate that relationship?

Illario has endless room for growth as someone who is considered the villain, he can be redeemed.

If Rook lets their darker parts show they'll let everyone down. They'll ruin what people perceive they are. They will be demonized.

How does that manifest between the two? Illario sees only the best of Rook and Rook sees only the worst of him. Yet they are, uniquely, able to understand the converse.

Illario recognizes the angry, hateful parts of Rook. The resentment of being the Hero.

Rook recognizes the deep care and love Illario has for his family, and his fear of loss that led him to nearly destroying them.

[casino-lights]

so illario was in the final battle

and this was supposed to be a drabble, but I cannot be trusted to write Illario and Lidia succinctly. TW for a semi graphic description of wounds - I can't tell if it's not really that bad or if I just think the human body is neat so I'm marking that down anyway. no death or descriptions of the wounds being inflicted, though; this is fully set post-battle. the endgame spoilers are fairly mild though - just the location of the final fight.

if you saw my WIP Wednesday, this is what that snippet was from! I hope you enjoy it as much as these two enjoy arguing with each other. thank you for reading!

The dried blood matting half of Lidia’s bangs down against her split scalp didn’t bother her nearly as much as it bothered Teia. She fussed over her gently, blotting a damp rag against Lidia’s head and tutting like a disappointed mother.

“This is what happens,” she scolded between soft pats. “You always run ahead, and you always draw attention, and you always get yourself hurt.”

Absentmindedly, Lidia replied, “I usually work alone.”

“Yes, and this is why.”

“Mm.” The only sign she felt pain was a series of rapid blinks when Teia pressed against a particularly painful cut.

“If you would stop looking around, I’d be done faster.”

Lidia turned her head back toward Teia. “Is it still bleeding?”

“Not that I can see.”

She rose to her feet and brushed the dust of fallen Minrathous buildings off her thighs. “Then I’ll live.”

Teia gave up quickly. She was no one’s parent, no matter how much she cared. “Suit yourself. But Lidia?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve done immensely well. Not just here - since Lucanis’ return as well. House Dellamorte is lucky to have you.”

She smiled thinly. “We’re all just Crows today, Teia.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Speaking of Lucanis…”

Teia nodded her head in the direction of the raucous cheering and the gathered crowd surrounding a few figures climbing down from the rooftop where the final confrontation had taken place. They both saw the flash of a purple jacket at the same time, and a wave of relief washed over them as they shared a look.

“Vi is back a ways, checking the fallen for ours so we can arrange the funerals,” Teia continued softly. “Since you’re upright, could you see to them as well?”

“Of course. Tell Lucanis not to worry about us and just take care of himself if you get a chance to talk to him.”

Teia nodded, and Lidia turned away. She hugged her cape around herself like a blanket as she snaked her way through what was left of the Minrathous streets, hopping over and ducking under various bits of debris that cluttered the city. She caught a few of her fellow Crows out of the corners of her eyes as she passed - most bloodied, bruised, and limping, but alive - and they all shared reassuring smiles with her once they noticed her. We lived, said their grins. We won, and we lived.

She saw Viago leaning against a mostly-intact building, heaving a deep sigh, and she called out to him. He lifted his eyes to her as she approached, but his lips were pulled down into a scowl.

Quietly, Lidia asked, “Is it that bad?”

“We lost just over twenty,” he answered, voice low and solemn. “Not as many as I expected, but… less than ideal. Most were fledgelings, but there’s a small handful of master assassins.”

She felt a selfish desire to ask anyone I know? but stifled it. “Do you need anything? A hand with the bodies? A cart?”

“A cart,” he agreed with a nod. “Though I don’t know if we could get one to the eluvian with the state of Minrathous. We might have to carry them through on stretchers.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again. “Which means we’d need able-bodied volunteers, a relatively clear path back to the mirror, enough stretchers to make for less back-and-forth, a cart waiting in the Crossroads…”

“Maybe we can ask Lucanis if he knows a clearer route?” Lidia suggested softly.

He blinked, then sighed with relief. “You saw him?”

“Teia and I. He looks alright. Reasonably unharmed.”

He nodded again, more slowly this time. “It's nice to have some good news, at least.”

Lidia looked past Viago, into the building, and saw rows and rows of white linens draped over bodies. A cold, sick feeling gawed at her stomach as she counted them, and she wondered how many more would succumb to their injuries or simply hadn’t yet been found.

Another fear gripped her, too. She scanned the bodies again, making note of the taller ones. From the shoes she could see, none looked more distinctive than the regular steel-tipped Crow boots. Though some were burned beyond recognition. She felt guilty, searching for just one body among the two dozen lying before her, and guiltier still that she was looking for him at all. 

But she hadn’t seen him with the other Crows. He should have been with Teia, or Lucanis, or even here pestering Viago endlessly. She shouldn’t care. He didn’t deserve it. But she asked anyway.

“Viago–”

“I don’t know.”

“I didn’t even ask yet.”

“No, but you have that look on your face.” Viago sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know where Illario is. Teia saw him last.”

Lidia frowned. “She didn’t mention anything to me, and I was just with her.”

He pulled a hand down his face before pausing to smooth down his beard. “I did not see him among the dead, if that’s what you’re asking, but I have no idea where else he would be right now.”

“Well, he isn’t with Teia, and he isn’t with Lucanis, where he was supposed to be.” 

She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a pair of Crows carrying the mangled corpse of one of their fellows into the building. Viago sighed again and raked his fingers back through his hair. 

“Dammit. One of Teia’s fledgelings.”

Lidia looked back at him, horrified. “I thought you told them not to come!”

“We did,” he answered, voice pained and eyes closed. “But you of all people should know that doesn’t stop them from wanting to prove themselves.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, steeling himself to write another name on his list. After a moment of silence and a nod at the two Crows as they left the building, he sighed again and said, “Go home, Lidia. We’ve been sending the ones who can walk back to the Diamond for now to care for the ones who can’t.”

“Teia told me to help you.”

“And you can help me by going home,” Viago snapped. “And tell them to put a cart in the Crossroads. And station some people with it in case we need them to carry stretchers through the streets.”

She frowned, but gave a single nod of understanding before turning away. They were all Crows today. And she knew better than to question an order from a Talon.

She was welcomed by the warmth of Trevisan air once the cool, watery feeling of the eluvian faded. For just a moment, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, drinking in the flurry of scents that always filled the Cantori Diamond. The smells of spices, wine, and smoke wafted up from the casino floor, but the familiar chatter and laughter was replaced by eerie quiet, broken up only by the occasional groan or cry of pain.

Lidia’s eyes darted toward a flash of purple and she called out, stopping Chance in his tracks. He leaned back, peering at her curiously from around the corner, but smiled warmly as she approached. 

“Lidia! You made it back.” He touched her shoulder gently before bowing with a flourish. “Welcome home, my lady.”

She returned the expression as best she could despite her headache and festering worry. “Thank you. The Fifth Talon would like a cart prepared in the Crossroads outside the Minrathous eluvian along with some strong, uninjured Crows who can carry bodies back on stretchers if need be.” 

“It will be done. Any other requests?”

She glanced around, but saw no one else nearby. “I heard some of our wounded came through. Where are they now?”

“Using the card tables as extra beds,” he answered before frowning as he smoothed his moustache. “We’ve already lost three, and one more seems to be on his way out. The healers who stayed are all busy, and everyone else went to Minrathous. It’s… going to get better soon. I’m certain. Your arrival can only herald better tidings.”

Again, Lidia bit her tongue to keep herself from asking if the dead were known to her. Instead, she simply nodded to signal her understanding and left. 

As she descended the many flights of stairs separating the rafters from the casino floor, her brow furrowed as her concern compounded on itself. Every step felt heavier as she ran over the names and faces of her favorite Crows in her mind. Lucanis, Teia, Viago, and Chance were safe. Jacobus stayed behind in Treviso after Lidia begged him to - their argument consisted of shouting and frustrated tears, but ended with several forehead kisses and a warm, loving hug once he finally agreed to stay. But the others? Heir, Dolores, Cazi, Valerian? 

Illario?

She hated herself for worrying about him the most. He had not earned back that space in her head, and yet he’d stolen it again. He occupied her thoughts in various stages of injury, and images of him maimed or charred or exsanguinated flashed through her mind. With everything he put her through, everything he lied about, she knew she should be savoring the idea of him dead somewhere in Minrathous. But it haunted her, the thought of never seeing him again. It ached like a stone with sharp edges lodged in her chest.

I should’ve left Treviso entirely, she thought bitterly as she rounded the corner of the final stairwell.

The floor of the Diamond opened up before her, and she sighed at the state of it. About half of the card tables had wounded Crows perched on them - several with especially nasty-looking injuries - and a corner of the room was sectioned off with makeshift dividers. A few trails of blood - droplets, drag marks, or both - meandered off toward different tables. It would take days to get this place functional again. 

Overlapping voices from various healers and patients filled the room. Most were voices she recognized, and she felt a wave of relief as they registered one by one. And as one of them filtered in, her head turned immediately toward the sound.

“I know, quite heroic,” said Illario with a soft groan. “Maybe someday the heroism will outweigh the stupidity.”

Lidia spotted him on a table, shirtless and wrapped in bandages, with his hair swept over one shoulder and a healer tending to his right side. He moved sluggishly and only when told, but his posture was still straight and his voice was still clear. He looked… decent.

She chided herself again for being so worried. Of course Illario was fine. Of course he made it with only minor injuries. Why wouldn’t he? He always had demonic luck. Why worry about him, Illario the traitor, Illario the liar, Illario the cheater, heartbreaker, manipulator–

“Lidia?”

She looked back at him at the sound of his voice, realizing her fingernails were starting to dig into her palms. She grabbed a stray coin off an empty card table and turned it over a few times in her hand as she made her way toward Illario.

He smiled at her approach, winced as he turned too far, and gave a slightly smaller and surprisingly sheepish grin when she reached his side. “Stay right there,” he said, holding out his unbandaged arm. “That’s always been my good side.”

Lidia rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t possibly say hello, or ask me how I am, or ask after Lucanis, could you? Do you even care?”

“I–” He hissed sharply and cursed as the healer pried something off his skin with a sticky sound. He leaned forward at the same time Lidia did, blocking her view of whatever was removed from him, and flashed another forced half-smile. “Of course I care, but I trust your delightful bluntness. I’m certain you would have told me the second you saw me if he was dead. I’m also certain you would look like you’ve been crying.”

She scowled and crossed her arms, angrily spinning the coin between her thumb and forefinger. “You’re a bastard.”

“I’m not, strictly speaking, but I never did get to know my father as well as I would have liked, so I’ll give you–” He cut himself off with another wince as the healer removed another piece from him. Once more, Lidia leaned forward to look, and once more, Illario intercepted her, this time by reaching for her arm.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, pulling away from him.

He let his hand fall back to the table. “If there’s one thing I can say about you, it’s that you never gave me mixed signals. I always know exactly where I stand. I love this about you - have I mentioned that?”

“You have. A pity I can’t say the same about you.”

Before he could respond, his head surged backwards and he let out a pained cry as the healer unwound one of the bandages on his arm.

“Apologies,” the healer muttered, “but now that the debriding is done, I need to replace these compresses and apply the rest.”

“Sure,” Illario groaned through his teeth. “You’re the expert.”

Lidia took her opportunity and shifted her stance to see the extent of his injuries. She couldn’t stifle a small gasp, which seemed to hurt him more than anything else.

A splotchy pink burn blossomed across most of his right forearm and about half his bicep, and it continued across the corresponding side of his torso. For the briefest of seconds, he turned his head to look at her fully, eyes wide and pleading, as he inadvertently revealed the connecting burn across the right side of his jawline and down his neck. The moment passed, and he lowered his face and sighed quietly.

Raw, red, sticky-looking flesh was visible in a few places, and as the healer set a small bowl on the table to free his hands, Lidia finally saw its contents: a small pile of dead, mottled tissue. How long had Illario been here, having his skin peeled off piece by blistered piece? Most of the burns looked deep enough to go past the pain, but in some places they were angry and crimson, shining as if wet. 

The healer covered them one by one with bandages soaked in a healing solution as Illario tried to be still. “I told you that was my good side,” he muttered, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Lidia tucked the coin into her pocket and hoisted herself up onto the table beside him, legs kicking off the edge. “So… what happened?”

His eyes fell to the uninjured hand he had resting in his lap. “Magefire.” His voice sounded low, unenthusiastic - a far cry from the initial charm he laid on so thickly. “But this lovely gentleman here–” he motioned lightly toward the healer– “has assured me the wounds are not fatal. Just scarring. You’re crushed, I’m sure.”

Her headache throbbed dully, reminding her not to take his bait tonight. Instead, she said, “I’m just surprised you got hit at all. You’ve always been the luckiest bastard in Antiva.”

“Well, this time, I left Antiva.”

“Which you have done before, and you know what I meant anyway, idiot.”

He shrugged with his good arm, still refusing to meet her eyes. “Lucanis and I were cornered, and I stood in front of him. Foolish thing to do, I know. But I suppose I was trying to make up for something he would probably tell me not to worry about anyway. He was fine last time I saw him, if you’re concerned.”

“I’m not. Unless he tripped over something during his victory march, he’s alive and well…” She trailed off as she looked him over again. His right arm injured, mostly on the outside; his right side burnt while the left half of his body remained untouched; only the lower right corner of his jaw and cheek scorched… he shoved Lucanis behind him with his left arm and shielded his eyes with his right.

“Then I’m sure he’ll give me a stern talking-to for trying to protect him in the first place,” Illario said wearily, finally glancing up to her. “Who knows, maybe all I really achieved was making the First Talon look weak in front of the others.”

“Or making yourself look even more pathetic.”

“Which would just be impressive at this rate, no?” He breathed a soft, humorless laugh. “Illario Dellamorte, the Crow who lost all his dignity in record time. They’ll sing about my failures someday.”

As the healer left to attend to another patient, Lidia touched Illario’s leg, the weight of her hand pleasant and warm on his shin. “If nothing else, it was brave.”

He gave an indecisive tilt of his head. “It was also stupid.”

“More than one thing can be true.”

He gave a wan smile. “Lucanis probably would have been fine if he hadn’t been babysitting me in the first place.”

“Knowing him, he fought harder with you next to him.”

He studied her face, his eyes searching hers for a moment. “You’ve blood on you,” he said, nodding toward her hairline. “Your own?”

“I’m alright.”

“That’s not the answer to my question.”

She rolled her eyes. “It is mine, but I’m still alright.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Venatori.”

When she did not continue, he deadpanned, “The picture you’ve painted so far is vivid.”

“Don’t vex me, Illario.”

“Am I not allowed to ask for details? To be concerned for you?”

She glared at him. “Now you’re concerned about me?”

“One concussion makes another more likely,” he reminded her in that insufferably knowing tone of his. “And I would hate for my hard work in facilitating your recovery from that first one to go to waste.”

“Yes, but whose fault was my first concussion?”

Indignantly, he flattened his hand against his chest. “I accept no responsibility for the actions of previous targets.”

“But said previous target would have been asleep if it wasn’t for you playing hero.”

“Must we always revisit that night?”

“You brought it up!” Her head ached as she raised her voice, and she massaged her tender scalp gently as she closed her eyes.

His teasing smirk faded to a soft frown, but he replaced it with a subtle smile before joking, “And here I had hoped you would be kinder to me now that you’ve seen the extent of my injuries.”

“Not a chance. My skin is still crawling from being this close to you,” she answered while making no attempt to move farther away.

He arched a brow smugly. “Well, I suppose, as you said, more than one thing can be true.”

“I am… glad… you made it,” she managed reluctantly. “I was looking for you among our dead.”

“Hoping to see me with my skull split, were you?”

Her hand slid up and his uninjured one met her halfway. They locked gently at his side. “You would deserve it, but… no. I was hoping I wouldn’t see your boots.”

“Oh? And I would have thought you’d only know me by my gloves.”

I would know any part of you, her mind brought forth. She blanketed the thought and tucked it away to be scolded later.

“I suppose I’ll be escorted back to the villa and left there to recover,” Illario mused aloud when she didn’t answer his quip. “I wonder if it’ll be too much to ask for Caterina to let me stay in my own room again. And I’m sure Viago will be just as thrilled as you are that I survived.”

“He’s busy. I’ll take you.”

He sighed fondly - if a touch sadly - and stroked her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “Do you remember the last time you took my care upon yourself? I don’t suppose you’ll be making me pastina this time.”

Lucanis’ wake. She made a hot meal every day and shared it with Illario in silence as they sat in his bed and he stared into the fireplace. At the time, she had no way of knowing that his grief was doubled by guilt and only compounded by her kindness. She did not regret it, not even now, and that frustrated her more than anything else.

She hopped off the table and pulled lightly on his arm. “On your feet, Dellamorte. Come on.”

He swung his legs over the side of the table and winced. “Where are we going?”

“Home. I’m not letting you take up space in the Diamond when others may need it more.”

“I won’t argue with the promise of a more comfortable seat,” he responded with a grimace as he rose to his feet. Looking down at their hands, still entwined between them, he added, “Though we could stop for coffee on the way…”

“The owners of Café Pietra could be lying under rubble in Minrathous right now.”

“...So, no?”

“No.”

She pulled him out the Diamond’s front door and they started the long walk back to Villa Dellamorte. Out of habit, Illario walked at her side so she was safely between him and the buildings. She pretended not to notice, but heat rose in her cheeks all the same.

At a side street, she directed him to turn, and when he gave her that quizzical where are you taking me look, she explained, “We have to stop at the market.” 

“For what?”

“Pastina, idiot,” she said pointedly, as if it should have been obvious.

He smiled and leaned against her, further entangling their arms. “I don’t deserve you, cara mia.”

She glared at him sideways. “No, you don’t. And don’t call me that. Lucanis would be cross with me if I let his brother starve, that’s all this is.”

Neither of them knew if that really was the extent of it. But for once, he neither questioned nor corrected her. 

She held his hand the whole way home, and they sat in silence as they shared a bowl of pastina on his bed. For a night, that could be enough.

[treviso-nights]

mmmmmm and now i'm thinking about the fact that illario's boss fight takes place in an opera house, so even then, in his final challenge for power and control, his efforts are seen as a performance just as his entire career is seen as a performance—a performance and public demonstration of violence, ability, and inherited legacy. he has never been allowed to stop performing, to lose, to fall to his knees, and so when he finally does, caterina is there to tell him to stand up and what that must do to illario when he meets rook's eyes and sees only understanding and pity there??? to want to give up and stop for once in his life only to be told to keep performing in front of the one person he doesn't need to dance for???? devastating

[rookinthecrownest]

no im not thinking about a non-Mercar Altus class shadow dragon rook who's used a persona of 'dumb, vain, pretty, spoiled princess' to get her own family (venatori) to intentionally underestimate her so she can pass information off to the SD's and the interesting dynamic that might have with a certain Dellamorte who's also used his looks to get what he wants and idk where I'm going with this the Illario brainrot is getting real bad someone come help me

[amarmeme]

Ringing the bell like the town crier.

Next chapter up! Illario/Rook and they finally kiss.

Come and get it!!

[juneiper-art]

deep in Illarook hell because of @rookinthecrownest... also seeking dopamine by imagining a dance competition au.. (Pompeiia is Rookie's character and also the outfit design!)

[sparksandblades]

just wanna put this out there so other people can roll it around in their head too (my bad)

for illario fans who have their rook/character have a relationship with illario in the events before the game...

does he show up in the regret prison for your rook? 🫠

[elvhendis]

He insisted.

[deputyrook]

fully in my illarook phase now thanks to you, i am very normal about them

🫡 I’m doing my part!

—

Illario searched Rook’s face with a barely hidden desperation, as though by looking hard enough, he’d be able to find and unearth some hidden agenda.

“You can’t be serious,” he muttered, the edge of his mouth twitching downward.

“I am,” Rook reiterated, with no hint of sarcasm or irony. “I care about you, Illario. And I trust you.”

They were so close to him that he could count their eyelashes one-by-one, and see his conflicted expression reflected in the dark of their pupils. He could smell their unique warm blend of jasmine and something sweet, the scent that had made him first turn his head in their direction the day they’d met. He’d recognize it anywhere.

“Then you’re a fool,” he replied finally, reaching up to touch their face, in spite of himself. With more gentleness than he’d thought himself capable of, he brushed the pad of this thumb over the arch of Rook’s eyebrow.

“Am I?” The eyebrow arched, and he moved his hand to cup Rook’s cheek instead.

“Yes. You know me well enough to know that trust is misplaced,” Illario murmured, “You should know better. I’ll betray you too.”

Rook- damn them— smiled, and made no effort to pull themselves away from his grasp. Perplexingly, infuriatingly, they leaned in even closer and laid a hand flat on his chest. Their touch seemed to burn.

“Until that day, then,” they said, “I’m in your hands.”

Illario couldn’t help but let out a huff of laughter in disbelief, shaking his head with an exasperated glance back at Rook. Their expression remained unchanged, still looking at him with the same serious, genuine look of affection.

Fine then, he thought, with no small amount of irritation. He wasn’t his cousin. He wouldn’t fall on his blade to save Rook from their own stupid mistakes.

“Well. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he murmured into Rook’s ear, before leaning in to press his lips to their throat.

[okthisway]

Illario: This… this was doomed from the start.

[vakariansyndrome]

You Will Break Us (Fanfic WIP)

This is just a little something I'm working on that is a follow up to my one-shot Illario's Little Mouse.

This one will take place right after Rook gets benched by Caterina (Crow backstory). Even though Rook knows Illario would have been a fool to have questioned his grandmother's judgement openly, she is still hurt by his silence.

She wants to leave, and so she gets ready to do so, but Illario... well, he has feelings about that. He's just not great at processing and expressing them.

----

As Rook stuffed her dagger roll into her satchel, the satisfying clink of metal against leather calmed her, if only for a fleeting moment. But it was difficult to ignore the brooding Crow in the room.

“Psh,” she muttered. “Even Lucanis offered to go back to Caterina with me.” Her hands shook despite her efforts to mask how hurt she was.

“When?” Illario cocked his head to the side as his frown deepened. 

“On my way out. He just got back��that’s beside the point,” she snapped, her hold on the bag’s strap suddenly a death grip.

Illario moved to the bar, practically gliding on air. Like always. The bottle clinked against the rim of the glass as he poured. “Where are you even going to go?” he asked, his voice unnervingly even. “What do you have outside of us?”

Rook’s hand stilled mid-move. She turned to face him, and the way her heart ached in that moment made her want to cry. She already knew the answer, but the words rolled off her tongue regardless. 

“Us,” she repeated quietly. “You mean the Crows, or you and me?”

He didn’t answer. Of course. Sipping on his drink, he fixed her in place with an unblinking stare.

Her heart raced, her palms sweaty as she glared at him in disbelief. Was he truly so unwilling to fight for her? Without thinking it through, she stomped over to him and snatched the glass from his hand. The bourbon sloshed and spilled onto her hand as she slammed it onto the bar. 

“You’re a fucking coward,” she growled, turning on her heel before he could muster a response. Not that whatever he said could help them right now. 

Back at the bed, she continued packing with a burning lump in her throat. She stuffed the last bit of her clothes into the bag with a force that matched the onerous churning in her chest. 

But before she could even register what was happening, the bag was gone. She whipped around, watching it slide across the floor as Illario stood in her path. With a clenched jaw, his chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.

Rook's mouth ran dry.

Just another step closer, and her face was firmly grasped in his hand. Nothing about his touch in that moment was kind—it wasn’t supposed to be, and she knew it. His thumb pressed against her cheekbone as he held her gaze.

“You are the coward,” he breathed out. 

The chill in his voice was cutting, and she nearly sobbed at the way it stung so deeply. But it was the pain she saw in his eyes, the way he seemed to be marking her as yet another betrayer of his confidence, of his love, that nearly destroyed her.

There was no resisting the way his mouth fell upon hers, hot and angry, teeth scraping against her bottom lip. When he pulled away, dragging his lips down her throat with a fiery desperation, Rook didn't know if the sting came from his lips, or the fact that this could be the last time. 

But she let him carry on, because Maker knew... she needed this as much, if not more, than he did.

----

A/n: There will be rough sexy times (along with some edits) ahead before Illario (maybe) makes an effort to keep her around. Who knows?! I do. 😈

Thanks for reading! <3

[nonagesimus]

WIP Tuesday

got tagged in WIP Monday by @hightowerqueen!

not sure who hasn't been tagged, so if you haven't and want to share consider this me tagging you, but i'm going to drop some of the post-canon illarook i've been working on

They’d got off lightly, really.

Rose had come back down to ground level in Minrathous with some cracks in her ribs, sure, but with a quick lyrium potion Ashur had palmed to her, she’d been unable to upgrade herself from ‘broken’ to simply ‘bruised’. Someone had led the way through the streets, past field hospitals and people digging out rubble, to a mostly intact bar. There was a courtyard, plenty of their allies were scattered around, plus most of Rose’s team. Not all. Obviously Harding wasn’t there. Taash, too. When Rose has gotten to ground level, when the success of the day had been announced, Taash had come striding over, all shoulders and frown, and Rose had thought she’d been about to get punched.

Instead Taash had hugged her—hard enough to send flares of pain all up the cracked ribs, but that part had seemed unintentional. Then they’d said they had to leave and walked off without another word.

Rose couldn’t blame them for that. She wouldn’t have blamed them if they had punched her.

But the party didn’t feel right. The miasma of exhaustion and relief, that edge of not being able to trust some other shoe might imminently drop, she could see it on everyone but all of them seemed like they could put it aside and for some reason she couldn’t.

So, she’d wandered away from the party. They were in her neighbourhood, actually, though the building she lived in had been turned to rubble when the dragon attacked. But there was a park she knew that had been mildly cleaned up since then, and even with Elgar’nan’s rule there were just a few, calcified-looking spots of blight. She even managed to clear most of that, with the last sputtering sparks of power still in her. Maker, she needed to sleep.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

She looked up to see Illario, all loose limbed insouciance, walking towards her. She’d been surprised to see him, standing next to Viago and Teia when she’d met up with the Crows. Surprised to see him charge into battle alongside them.

“Now, I know why I left the nice little celebration a few blocks back, but why would you?”

“Maybe I’m not in the mood,” Rose said. “What was your reason?”

“Nobody wants to drink with me,” he said, with a lofty sigh. Sat down beside her on the bench, stretched his legs out, propped his elbows on the back rest. “I think they think I might try and poison them all.”

“Can’t imagine why,” she said, drily.

“Even if you’re not in the mood for bad Tevinter wine, I’m sure there’s plenty other ways you could celebrate with someone there, though,” he said, looking over at her.

“Like what?” she asked, baldly, and he said, “Well…” with a carefully arched eyebrow.

“Oh,” she said, laughing despite herself, “You’re flirting with me again.”

His, “Again?” almost sounded offended.

“You stopped for a bit,” she explained. “In the middle of… Everything.”

Around when he’d killed Zara. In hindsight it was clear, that his plan had been falling to pieces; he’d had bigger issues to manage trying and failing to wrangle it back into place. At the time she’d thought he might be mad at her, for not standing up to Lucanis and letting him come into the chantry with them.