#look at bellara's smile

[n0kt3rnal]

[deputyrook]

In Her Absence: Lucanis/Rook/Spite.

A03 link! Female Crow Rook x Lucanis. Lucanis POV.

Takes place when Rook is in the fade prison, because 1) I love angst and am a big softie; and 2) I wanted to try to work out the logistics of what the team did in Rook's absence, and how they managed to reach her.

---

In the four days that Rook’s been gone, the Veilguard has devolved completely into infighting.

Taash wants to know why they can’t just “break into the fade and pull her out.” And no one really wants to hear Emmrich’s overly technical explanation as to why that’s not feasible, least of all Taash, who’s grieving and angry. Davrin keeps saying that it should have been him instead, which isn’t helping, and no one even wants to think about what’s happening to Bellara right now. 

Harding is dead. Bellara is kidnapped by Elgar’nan and Maker knows where. They’re a mess as a group, angry and hurting. And Rook...

Rook’s gone.

Neve is the only person who remotely has their shit still together, and for that at least, Lucanis is thankful. 

Because he absolutely does not have his shit together. Maybe the others can’t tell, since he’s not arguing or yelling or breaking down, but his thoughts are spiralling so badly that he’s barely said a word in three days. All he can think about is Rook.

He loves her. He loves her. And she’s lost somewhere, trapped and alone, and they have no plan whatsoever on how they’re going to get her back. 

He never told her. It’s tearing him up inside. The thought that he might never hear her voice again. Never hear her make some stupid pun, or hear her teasing, or hear her give them all one of her legendary pep talks. Never hear her laugh again-

“Lucanis,” Neve’s voice is firm, dragging him out of his despondency, “You need to focus.” 

How can he possibly focus? “You’re right,” he says instead, voice tight, because Neve is right. Standing around brooding isn’t getting them any closer to getting Rook back. What he needs to do is act- but how?

Solas is a God, and even he couldn’t break out of that prison. This isn’t the kind of problem Lucanis can solve with a dagger. He can’t stab at the prison walls until they crumble away- but Maker knows if that could work, he would stab until his daggers shattered and his body collapsed. 

What is he supposed to do? What can he do? How can he help them, when all he knows how to do is kill things?

No. Spite says to his left, his voice hard and determined, No! We will find Rook. Won’t leave them there. 

Neve puts a hand on his shoulder, and gives it a squeeze. 

“When has Rook ever been content to sit and wait to be rescued?” Neve says, and he lets out a long, even exhale, because it’s exactly what he needs to hear. “I’m worried too. But Rook would chew off her own leg to escape a trap. If there’s a way to get out, she’ll find it. Have some faith in her. In all of us- and in yourself.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice quiet. After a moment, he adds, “…Someone should let Viago and Teia know.”

That, at least, is a burden he can bear. 

But the days stretch into weeks. Elgar’nan seizes control of an already broken Minrathous, and even Neve has a hard time keeping herself together after that one. 

Lucanis is in no place to offer comfort. Without Rook’s leadership and steadfast optimism, the lighthouse has gone dark, leaving them all ships to smash into a rocky coast. He won’t soon forget the way Viago’s eyes widened when he told him what had happened to Rook, nor the look of horror that flashed across his face before his expression settled into stony devastation. 

Strangely, it’s Spite that keeps him from falling apart completely. He refuses to accept that Rook is gone. Every time that Lucanis’ mind whispers to him that this happened because he wasn’t good enough, and that he’ll never see Rook smile at him again- Spite cuts him off with an angry, defiant hiss of NO. 

Rook is strong. Rook is smart! Rook will not allow herself to die in a prison. She would not let you die in prison, either. We will not let her. We will find her. We will find her!

He repeats the words in his own head, holding onto them like a buoy. Right, yeah. She’s good at prison breaks. It’s enough to make it through the day.

Sometimes- although Lucanis would never admit it to the others- he realizes that Spite is the one who has been moving his body,  keeping him working while he’s been stuck in his mind, ruminating and aching with missing her. It’s been Spite that’s forcing him to eat, to bathe, to sleep. Spite is keeping him alive. 

Will not let you do this to us. Rook needs us.

It’s that thought that ultimately gets Lucanis to snap out of his despair. 

It’s not over yet. He agrees, finally. Rook needs us. 

Finally! Spite snaps back.

---

First, they try to make a copy of the dagger. Something that will be able to slice through the fade prison, so that they can cut Rook out of it. That’s how Solas left, after all- by tricking her, and stealing the dagger to cut himself free. 

But a dagger of pure lyrium isn’t exactly easy to replicate. Brilliant as they are, Emmrich and Neve can only do so much. So after days of meticulous work, they end up with a dagger that looks identical to the real thing, but doesn’t actually work. Great.

Next, Emmrich hypothesizes that in order to get to Rook in the fade, they’ll not only need to figure out how to access the fade prison, but also to figure out where the prison actually is, physically within the fade.

It is, apparently, not as simple as yelling out “ROOK? CAN YOU HEAR US?” from the top of the Lighthouse, which has been Taash’s strategy. Spite, too, is ready to start just travelling through the fade, for as long and as far as he needs to until he finds her. Lucanis is doing what he can to support the group, cooking the meals and making sure Emmrich and Neve are able to stay on their feet.

Word gets to them that Solas is in Minrathous, keeping the rebellion alive. The news poisons Lucanis so thoroughly with hate that he nearly can’t stomach it. Spite has been so determined to save Rook that Lucanis almost forgot how it felt when he was really, truly spiteful. 

Hearing Solas is pretending to be a hero in Tevinter, after consigning Rook to take his place in a prison? Yeah. That’ll do it. The things he’d wanted to do to Illario after his betrayal had left him conflicted. He is not remotely conflicted about what he wants to do about Solas.

What they want to do. Spite agrees with him on this one. He hurt our Rook.

Finally, Emmrich and Neve work out a real plan, with the help of the Veil Jumpers. It’s based largely on luck, but it’s something. It’s a sliver of hope. It’s enough to keep them all going.

First, they need to find a spot where the veil is particularly thin, where the fade peaks through the seams of reality. Then, they need to use an artifact of the Veil Jumper’s to do… magical, fade, location-y… stuff. Emmrich actually uses a bit of Rook’s blood for this part, located on some stained clothes that Assan had dug out in her room. 

Blood magic. Ordinarily, Lucanis would be opposed. But no one says a word against it. They are all desperate for this to work. 

The first day they try it, it doesn’t work. They make some adjustments, and try again.

The second day, it doesn’t work. They make some more adjustments, and they try again.

On the fifth day, Spite says it in his ear, voice sharp with excitement.

I can smell her- I can smell Rook!

Lucanis’ heart feels like it’s about to burst from his chest. He’s yelling, “Rook?” into the rift before he can stop himself, but the team’s caught on already that this isn't like the other times they’ve failed to make their plan work. The rift is spitting and spasming sparks of magic, and they can see through it in a way they’d never been able to before. They can see a light in the rift.

Emmrich seems to throw caution entirely to the wind, rolling up his sleeve and plunging his arm into the rift. The energy is wild, unrestrained, and they’re all calling out to Rook, reaching and trying to get to her.

“I’ve- I’ve got her!” Emmrich yells out, and Lucanis swears he can see Rook’s wavy form on the other side of the rift. Like looking through a fishbowl, or the walls of the Ossuary.

He reaches in too and grabs her hand with Emmrich, and they yank. Rook stumbles out, collapsing onto the ground.

“Varric’s dead,” she says, voice hollow and wobbly.

Neve shoots Lucanis a confused, concerned look, but he’s too relieved to care. He’s grabbing at her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace, and his throat feels like it’s closing up on him. Tears prick at his vision. She’s safe. She’s alive, she’s free, and she’s safe. She’s back with them.

They all want to hug her, and make sure she’s actually, really okay. But Lucanis gets to first.

Told you. Told you, told you! Spite repeats, ecstatic, She’s back!

“Are you okay?” He murmurs, pulling back and looking her over critically, trying to see if she’s been hurt or if anything has changed. But no. It’s just her. Like not a day has passed.

Rook nods slowly, and Lucanis smooths a hand down her hair, before cupping her cheek in his hand. All he wants to do is hold her, but he can’t be that selfish and drag her away from the others. Not yet, anyway. 

Pulling back, the others take the moment to rush in, making similar careful assessments and doting over Rook. The last few weeks have been almost unbearably difficult. There’s been little to celebrate. But this is joy again. Hope. With Rook back, not everything is completely fucked.

Davrin pulls her into a crushing hug, and Taash joins in, and they’re all hugging and crying a little. The trip back to the Lighthouse is a blur, with Rook thanking the Veil Jumpers and swearing to them she’ll get Bellara back.

How she can already be so determined, so ready to act, Lucanis will never know. He is, as he has so often found himself, in awe of her ability to forge forward, the light cutting through the swathes of dark that seem to surround them.

Spite is just about ready to try to crawl out of their skin in impatience, but they have work to do first. They all brief Rook on what has happened in her absence, and learn- horrifically- that she’s somehow been brainwashed into believing Varric has been alive, for months, by Solas.

Not for the first time, Lucanis feels anger and spite bubbling in his veins and vows to himself that he will not let Solas get away with hurting Rook. God or not. He finds it hard to fathom why he would mess with her head like that, if he wanted her to succeed in at least stopping Ghilan’nain. It reminds him too much of the mind games that his captors would play on him when he was in the Ossuary, tormenting and confusing him for no other reason than to break him down. Was that what Solas had tried to do to Rook, too? To break her down mentally, so she’d be easier to manipulate and trick?

It seems to take forever, but finally, Lucanis gets to see her alone. She’s lying down when he enters her quarters, her eyes closed, but the words spill out of him before he can even consider leaving her to rest.

“I cannot believe we found you,” he says, voice soft. All of the fear he’s felt for weeks, the doubt and the despair that Spite had helped him just barely keep at bay… the relief, now, is making him lightheaded. 

“I’m a little surprised too, honestly.” It’s a testament to the gravity of the situation that she’s not trying to make light of things. The words aren’t meant as a joke. 

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he admits.

“And I didn’t think I’d ever get out of there,” Rook tells him in turn. It leaves him cold, to think of her there, alone and believing she might never be found. “How do I know if I really did? This could be... more of the fade.”

Lucanis realizes then, that he’s never seen her vulnerable like this before. Emotional, yes, but lost? Frightened? Rook has always been the solid centre of the group. Unmoving, unyielding, steady. Utterly dependable. 

It’s almost surprising that she’s not actually invincible. She’s so consistently been their guiding light. But more than shock, more than anything else-

He wants to protect her. He wants to hold her until her worries melt away, to chase away the horrible memories of the last several weeks and see her smile at him. He wants her to know that he won’t let anything hurt her. He wants to kiss her until she feels safe and warm again. 

So he does. Kneeling down in front of her, holding her hands in his own, Lucanis reassures her she is real. There’s so much he wants to tell her, that he’s been praying he’ll get the chance to say. But now that Rook’s in front of him again, he can’t seem to find the words for everything he’s been feeling.

So he kisses her. So, so gently. And when he keeps kissing her, pressing her back against the chaise as she wraps her arms around his neck? It seems Spite is right there with him, because the wings unfurl right in that moment, curling around them both protectively, like he wants to help shield them from anyone in the world who might try to hurt them.

[felassan]

Looking through the 15 new screenshots from IGN today (number corresponds to IGN's slideshow order):

The elf warrior Rook that we have seen a few times now. Eyebrows look amazing!! from the background I'd guess it's somewhere in Tevinter

Arlathan Forest or Arlathan Crater. look closely; Assan is in the center foreground

Hossberg Wetlands, afflicted by Blight. the top of the stairs is obstructed by a Blight growth; I think we'd have to use a special ability like an exploration ability or similar to clear the obstruction

The Lighthouse Library from a different angle than we have seen before

The Lighthouse Courtyard from above. there's a pathway going round past Davrin's room door - leading to the area 'north east' behind it with some blue lights on it?

A custom Rook looking at the fishtank in the Lighthouse Meditation Room. Check out their hairstyle!!

I think Treviso and the lil figures on the 'dock' look like the occupying Antaam. do you recognize the yellow banner on the tower in the foreground? 🤔

qunari Rook pets/hugs Assan (both of which have been said to be a doable thing in the game). Assan is like 'omg ye right there' and is having the best time :') Check out Rook's horn at the top of the picture - the red part looks like ruby or another red gem. not sure if it's a gem adornment/accessory or a partial horn replacement, but Rook too can have gems on their horns it seems :D Guessing this is 'outside' at the Lighthouse

11. Bellara and Emmrich at the 'group shot' table in the Lighthouse Library. Emmrich has a white/light gray 'speed stripe' in his hair :D some details from this image:

Halla banner in the background. I don't know if it's just me or the stylization, but it looks like it has an uncanny smile hh

drawing of an ominous figure on one of the papers on the table.

12. Rook and Emmrich talking at the Lighthouse. An Emmrich conversation cutscene? maybe the place they are standing is a balcony on a floor that is accessed via the stairs in Emmrich's room? 13. A custom Rook, I think the same one as in image 6. They have freckles and heterochromia. look at the bare part of their right arm - an example of one of the body tattoos 14. one of several cats that we have now seen around the game :) from the background I'd guess this is somewhere in Tevinter 15. the famous tree from the EA Play Live 2020 teaser!! (top gif) this makes me feel so nostalgic for the days when all we could speculate over was the Weird Tree hhh. Weird Tree confirmed, I'm happy to see they're in the final game :')

lastly in the Manfred one at the start of the article you can see some of the UI of the Photo Mode and some of the options it includes.

[blindvogel]

I owe this epiphany and inspiration to @nin-dy-tro and to remembering The Flame Eternal, Emmrich's short story. So what if a coffin is not just a coffin?

~~~

There have been rumbling noises coming from Emmrich’s study for the past few days and while Kamari is curious she also finds herself barred from it by a very adamant Manfred. She doesn’t begrudge Emmrich his privacy or a secret but he’s been acting strange - nervous in a way she hasn’t seen him for a very long time if ever. 

So she is relieved to finally be invited in one evening, fetched by Manfred who clatters off once he delivers her to the door. They are long since past the need to knock but she still gives the door two quick raps before entering. Tonight feels different, special. 

The light in the room is dim, provided only by the flickering flames of the fireplace and a small handful of candles. Kamari’s eyes take a moment to adjust before she sees Emmrich standing by his desk, and only then notices the large shape in the middle of the room. A coffin. 

“Ah. Good evening, my dear.” He takes a few steps towards her, then stops, his fingers twining over and over as if he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. In the dim light she can just make out that his smile is there but a little strained. 

She drifts towards him, curious, confused, until her direct path is blocked by the coffin between them. “What is this about, Emmrich?” Her hand comes to rest on the edge of the open coffin, feeling the cool smooth marble against her fingertips. 

He clears his throat and makes a sweeping gesture, not quite holding her gaze. “I wanted to show you this. What do you think?”

Kamari acquiesces and turns her attention from Emmrich to the coffin. Perhaps this way she can figure out what has put him in such a state. Her fingers continue their exploration along the open lid and find intricate carvings that she can’t fully appreciate in this light but they are hewn into the marble with great precision that could only have come from a fine workshop in the Necropolis. The stone itself is a pearly white, almost glowing in the firelight - and she understands now why he had dimmed any other source. The upholstery on the inside looks soft, and she doesn’t resist the urge for too long to run her palm over it. 

A soft voice in her head whispers that perhaps to anyone else this would be macabre and strange but she has been born and raised in Nevarra, in the Necropolis, and a coffin like this…

Her eyes suddenly focus on the proportions, on the wider than normal width, the way the headboard curves just so. It’s meant for two.

Kamari’s mouth is suddenly dry, her heart beating so fast it could fly out of her chest. She swallows, then looks up to find Emmrich’s eyes fastened to her face, full of warmth and nervous anticipation.

“It’s beautiful, love,” she says, hearing her own voice crack. 

(And Bellara’s, incredulous, in her ear - He proposed with a coffin?)

“So you think you could imagine resting in it one day- with me?” His voice is quiet, hoarse with emotion. She rounds the coffin then so she can reach out for him, take his face gently in both hands. “I would love nothing more.” If there are any other words, they remain unsaid as his arms wrap around her and pull her close, his mouth finds hers in a breathless kiss.

[serensama]

Head over Feet

I had to get a plot bunny out after playing DA:VG before I could refocus on my other story, but now this is done, I have another hundred stories I want to write. God damn it. Written as little vignette type scenes, just too lazy to split up into seperate parts. And yes, I listened to Alanis Morrisette's song whilst writing this.

Read on Ao3 Rook was a clutz. 

The biggest walking disaster he’d ever seen; but it was something that made her so quintessentially Rook, he worried he wouldn’t recognise her if she wasn’t tripping over or teetering over a cliff’s edge. 

Lucanis didn’t know how it happened. 

At first he was underwhelmed. Then concerned- but somehow it became funny. Suddenly, unbeknownst to him, it had become endearing. 

How could her falling- be a reason to fall in love? 

It made no sense. 

Neither did the way she looked at him. 

Like he was a fallen angel and not a rising demon. 

Mierda.

---

Everything about her was a surprise. 

From the moment that she had blasted into the Ossuary and into his life, he had been caught off guard. He had been taught from a young age that surprises and being unprepared resulted in death, so instead of gratitude he offered her suspicion. She took it in stride, her bright smile, clothes and jewellery shone like a beacon of hope he hadn’t dared to have since his imprisonment. 

That hope quickly lost some of its shiny veneer by the third time the woman- Rook- had gotten too close to a ledge, or lost her footing or fell too short from a run up and had to cling on for her life by her fingertips. Still, he gave her the benefit of the doubt, Caterina believed she could get him out of that hell and he knew the First Talon would not take any unnecessary risks if it meant getting him back … and back in line to inherit her title. Perhaps it was the magic of the Ossuary that meddled with Rook’s equilibrium and whatever was sustaining it affected her more than her companion, Bellara. 

When they returned to Treviso he still wished to give her a chance to prove him wrong. What with the change of pressure resurfacing from the depths of the sea and any lingering effects of Venatori magic… but after a week of travelling with their leader, he was certain it was more of a “Rook” thing than anything else. Still, hapless or not, he would not discredit her skills, if she was a contract, it would not be one he would take with confidence. Unless he could guarantee the fight was on a tightrope. Or required her to jump from place to place at great height, perhaps over a volcano. 

---

He had lost count how many times in Minrathous he almost had to swoop down to save her… he debated whether he should have forbidden her from doing anything but walking on the sidewalks whenever they were in Treviso, but decided against saying anything to their sometimes clumsy, but well-meaning leader. It was in Rivain, however, where he had wished that he had listened to his instincts.  

She leapt from rock to rock easily enough, her excitement at being back home clear from her joyous laughter; but he was far too invested in his ongoing verbal spar with Davrin, offering to shove the Grey Warden’s sword and shield where even the darkspawn would not go- when he heard the splash. 

And learned a frightening, little known fact about Rook.  

She did not know how to swim. 

A Lord of Fortune, who fearlessly flitted between cliffs, rocks and buildings like a bird- previously a Tevinter galley slave - could not swim.

This woman.  

He had not expected the fear that overcame him when he rushed to the ledge and found only bubbles and ripples. Her arm reached out to him as she pushed herself up from the water, eyes wide with desperation as she took her last gulp of air before sinking back to the depths of the sea. 

Lucanis had never heard spite scream in his head so loudly, not even in the Ossuary as they were both tortured endlessly. Both he and Davrin had followed her into the water, thankful that she was not yet out of their reach. 

After coughing up an alarming amount of water – she was nearly taken from us!- true to Rook form, she laughed it off. She said something glib and acted like it was no big deal she had almost drowned right in front of them. But it was a big deal. Instead of the scent of the lavender oil she wore, she smelled of saltwater and fear, and Spite did not like that. And for once, Lucanis silently agreed. 

--- He broached the topic with her after the third time he bore witness to her dangling on the roots and vines connecting Harding’s room, slowly pulling herself back onto the shockingly ‘perilous’ path. He understood that whilst their dwelling, courtesy of the Dread Wolf, accommodated their needs and served them well, he was not sure how safe they really were on the floating property. 

That was to say, if one were to fall off the edges (Rook… or perhaps Manfred), he feared that they would continue falling through the Fade with nothing to stop them. Lucanis could picture it clearly, Rook in a perpetual free fall, disappearing and reappearing every so often like some sort of screaming cloud.  “Do you hold such little regard for your life? You are a powerful mage, but it would do you good to be a little more careful, Rook. Maybe look a little closer before you leap,” he said when she ventured into the pantry. Like clockwork- always coming to him last after checking in on everyone. 

“I am careful, but I also have faith and I always need to try. Even if I end up looking stupid or get hurt, at least I tried,” she replied with a shrug, her attention caught by the new sample of cheeses he brought back from the markets. Lucanis clucked his tongue and shook his head, taking in the scent of the slowly cooling coffee in his cup.

“Careful? Careful she says!” he snorted incredulously, “how can you say that when I saw you jump from that third floor balcony a week ago after playing with those light beams- all for the sake of more treasure?”

“-I thought that it was a chance to learn more about Solas, not treasure!” “Or just yesterday when you slipped on Harding’s path and I flew down to catch you? It makes me wonder how you survived all these years without your own personal demon to save you?”

Rook paused and turned her head to survey him with a stunned expression. It quickly morphed into amusement and he could practically taste the sass she was about to deliver. 

“Are you my personal demon now, Lucanis?” Rook saw a flash of Spite at the back of Lucanis’ eyes as he peered at her from over the rim of his cup, taking a long sip of coffee, both question and answer hanging in the air between them.  Personal demon? I like that. Say yes!

“Why are you always so worried?”

“Why aren’t you worried enough?” 

“Falling is okay, you know, because it teaches us how to get back up again, Lucanis. I’m scrappy and used to not being perfect all the time. Maybe you should try it sometime. Fall with me- I’ll help you up, promise.” 

 “You want me to fall… with you?”

“Or for me. I’m good with either.” 

--- After an unexpectedly taxing fight to get rid of the gaatlok around Treviso, their team managed to make it back to the Cantori Diamond in one piece. Taash was nursing a dislocated shoulder from an Antaam who caught them unawares and Rook, with a gash on her head she hastily knitted back together for Emmrich to look at upon their return. He had tried to convince her to take his emergency healing draught he always kept tucked away, however she stubbornly refused “in case there was more trouble coming back through the city”, in case they needed it more than her. 

They were crossing the narrow walkway on the way back to the eluvian when Rook swooned mid-step and plummeted from the great height. He did not recognise the sound of his cry as he dove, catching her mere metres away from the marble floor. His voice echoed throughout the casino, alarming Crow and patron alike into silence. Teia and Viago were the first to collect themselves, smart enough to continue their conversation as if nothing had happened at all. Jacobus and Chance coughed awkwardly into their hands to hide the small smiles upon their faces, not game enough to offend the First Talon’s grandson. 

His reaction did not come as a surprise to those who had spent any time with both of them together, Teia had a running bet as to when they would finally venture into something more than friendship. She was currently in the lead, whereas Viago had already lost, believing his comrade would have already fallen and confessed to the jewel-clad mage. Lucanis however was mortified. Everyone knew his greatest weakness was his family, and with his public emotional outburst followed by his immediate exit through the eluvian with Rook safely in his arms, he all but confirmed that Rook was now part of that family- and probably in even more danger because of it. 

No matter, he would foil any harm that came to her whether it be from impact, or contract. 

---

Their team stumbled through the Eluvian, assuming they would be back in the Lighthouse but found themselves in the Hall of Valor instead. Harding looked up at Rook who had been the first to dart into the magical portal, influencing where they were all sent. “Why did we come here? Wouldn’t it have been better to perhaps have the Caretaker spirit look at it? Maybe it can fix-” “This is Rivaini armour Harding, I only trust my people to fix it!” she quipped, rushing through the tunnels with both arms clutching her loose breastplate to her chest. The dwarf shrugged at Lucanis and ran after their friend, both perplexed as to why she did not wish to go back to their Fade home and change into something instead of running around half naked... though being in Rivain not many people would have batted an eye at seeing an eye full of Rook. Lucanis could feel Spite bristle at the idea and could feel his demonic passenger’s wings ready to pop out at a moment’s notice to shield any prying eyes. Even his own. 

The Crow kept his eyes fixed upon the merchant who had not even noticed his customer’s predicament, just senselessly prattling on about how amazing Rook was during the last time she attended the arena with Taash and Neve, and how he had wished he could have been there to watch them take down a dragon near the coast. 

Lucanis stopped listening and focused on the broken straps that lay fallen on either side of her back. As talented as his... friend... was at the arcane arts, the real magic was in the way that armour had managed to stay on and protect her at all. It was just a leather strap and some scales placed in the most ridiculous places, how it managed to keep her alive with all the sentinels, darkspawn, Venatori, Antaam and dragons after her he would never understand. At least her other Rivaini outfit had a stylish cape. 

“... don’t forget Rook, we’re on our way back to Hossberg, you may want to find something a little more... more? Evka and Antoine said there were more blight cysts to take care of and-” “Yes Mother Harding, I’ll make sure I’m covered.” “Fine, get blighted, see if I care... oh no that was too mean. I don’t mean that, I don’t want anyone to be blighted.” “Relax Harding, I know,” Rook chuckled as the former scout visibly relaxed. “I’ll take that one Mateo, I’ve not seen it before.” 

The two women disappeared into a tunnel and had Lucanis guard the pathway so no one could walk in on the changing mage. When she walked past him to order a repair of her armour, he had to remind Spite to pick up his jaw from the floor. Indigo hued leather from top to toe, plumage around her shoulders to draw in everyone’s gaze to her very exposed decollete, the sash around her waist cinching her deliciously to encourage his eyes to wander down the curve of her hips...  She looked like a Crow. She looked like she belonged with him. 

“Well Lucanis, what do you think? Maybe in another life, I could’ve been a Crow?” she asked, exaggeratingly twirling around until a smirk lifted the corner of his lips. “Why not this one?” he replied. “Are you asking for my last name to become Dellamorte?”

Harding suppressed her giggle and looked up at him, her eyes twinkling expectantly.  “Well... I...” “I guess I could always be a Cantori, Teia has been offering since I met her. Or a De Riva, Viago was quite kind to me when we had dinner the other night-” “When… why… did you have dinner alone with Viago?” “Or maybe I can make a ninth house? The House of Rook!” she chimed happily, ignoring the deadpan stare of the assassin behind her. As well as the dip in the rocks which almost had her  falling down the stairs into the bar below. Lucanis was at her side in an instant, grabbing her by the wrist and tugging her back with practised ease. “Or maybe we’re just getting ahead of ourselves a little. First learn to walk in the shoes of a Crow, before trying to fly, eh Rook?” he grinned, pulling her closer to him. 

Like you, Lucanis. Two birds. Together. Same. 

“Well, I’ve already wriggled into the pants of a Crow today, it shouldn't be too hard to manage the boots.” 

---

“You’re more than what you’re going through and you wear it well.” 

She was breaking him down. Time and again, any walls she found, she broke them. Any doors in her way, magically opened by her whims alone. He had stayed away from her the moment that Spite had shown a special interest in her, convinced himself it was best for both of them... but who was he against the force of nature that was Rook? If Gods themselves took note of her, feared what she could do, what was one mortal man with a knife? He may not be able to kill a cloud-face god, but he may yet temper her.  “This isn't a good idea,” he cautioned himself more than her, unable to fight the pull she had over him any longer.  “Sometimes a bad idea is better,” she purred, one eyebrow cocked.  “You like to walk a little too close to the edge,” he grinned back at her, enjoying the way her cheeks lightly flushed in the dim lighting of his quarters. He had long imagined the pretty way her hair would fan across the pillow or the way her voice would sound crisper as they bounced off the stone walls...  “So do you,” she remarked, lightly skimming her finger over his vest.  “At least I know I’m doing it…” he continued, closing the remaining space between them, his heart pounding in his throat at the sight of her eyes shut and head tilted back to accept him, lips slightly open ready for... but what if she didn’t realise what she was doing? What if he was the only one who again knew that they were walking along the edge, and she didn’t realise the mistake she was making- and he was the only one who could save her? Lucanis pulled away just a breath away from the feel of her mouth on his and turned away from her in panicked shame.

“I need to clear my head, excuse me.”

The Crow let himself steal one more glance of her and felt the keen stab of regret in his gut from the way her shoulders fell in disappointment. Again.   ---

“Neve, in the Fade with Rook and Spite, you were there. I mean not you, but you know what I mean. You helped Rook. Sort of.” “Sort of? Well isn’t that flattering. At least I’m on your mind,” the detective replied, smiling at him. 

“You are. And not just then.” 

“I... oh. Well then.”

He was about to continue when a soft gasp caught his attention, snapping his head toward the sound. 

Rook had slipped on the fallen log-turned-bridge on their way back to the Veil Jumpers’ camp. She landed on her wrist and excused herself, violently pulling away from him and his offer to bandage up her hand. Citing that she was fine and that she could do it. 

‘Everything was fine’, even though she stalked ahead of them, never quite letting him or Neve walk beside her. 

“Let her cool off, Lucanis. She is probably feeling embarrassed by this all,” the ice mage said calmly. 

“I... I simply meant you were on my mind a lot since what happened in Minathous with the dragon. I always think, what if Rook hadn’t chosen to save Treviso and how I would have fared in your situation? I admire your strength and focus.” “I appreciate the sentiment... but I don’t think that’s how Rook took what you said. If I didn’t hear it that way...” 

“How did you take-.... Mierda.” 

Neve looked at him sympathetically. Traversing the crossroads or managing his relationship with the literal demon inside of him proved to be less befuddling than trying to navigate his path toward Rook. 

He did not fail to notice how she had remained quiet throughout the rest of the journey upon her return, nor did he miss the way that she stuck next to the Grey Warden and his gryphon, Assan doing his best to keep him a fair distance away from her.  I can kill the cat bird, Lucanis. And the muscle elf too. Make her listen. Understand.

No, Spite. She is allowed to speak to her friends. 

But she smells of tears and herbs. You hurt her.

She fell Spite, I did not push her or mean to cause her any harm, you know this. I would never.  

You hurt her. Because she fell for you. 

Lucanis allowed himself to slow down and watch her as she fought with herself not to look back at him. Her eyes were glassy and the skin around them a little red. He was not fool enough to believe that the pain from her wrist was enough to make her cry. 

You. It was you, Demon Crow. 

---

She had been calling his name- HIS NAME- when she was tricked into the Fade by that cursed Dread Wolf. 

He called back frantically, but she was already gone. 

The team searched everywhere on that fucking island but could not find her. He didn’t even have time or capacity to properly mourn the loss of Harding, he could only think of Rook being somewhere he couldn��t get to, screaming for his help. 

Spite had taken over more than he cared to admit, the demon doing its best to offer his host, partner, any respite he could offer. It was a boon at the start but he soon his mind reflected within the Fade to create his own personal torture chamber, tailored to his every regret. Everywhere were things that reminded him of Rook and every moment he wasted between them. 

It had been days. And then weeks. Bellara kept a daily count to remind them (him) of everyday they (he) continued to fail her. 

He could not save her, like she had for him. He had started to lose all the hope she had instilled into him, part of him bitter that she had done so at all. Angry at himself for thinking it may have been alright to dream of something more than what had been planned for him, that he could choose her and even a life without the Crows…  

But when the third week passed without hearing her voice, and he feared that maybe he had already begun to forget what it sounded like... Emmrich cried out excitedly and pulled her out, tired and scared. 

When she fell forward into his awaiting arms, he wanted to cry from relief. Grateful and thanking the Maker, he silently promised that she would never fall anywhere, in the Fade or in the physical world- without him there to catch her. 

---

She kept her promise. He helped her kill a god, and she waited for him in her bed with arms wide open, beckoning him to lay beside her. To sleep next to the woman he loved, without any fear, was more than enough reward for him. Saving the world was just a bonus. 

The sound of her breathing, the warmth of her skin against his, the strong and steady beat of her heart pressed against his back as she held him tightly. He didn’t care how battered and bruised he was, nothing felt better than being allowed sanctuary within her embrace. 

He slept deep and well, something he couldn’t remember doing since before his training as a Crow. So it was a pleasant surprise that for the first time since meeting him, Rook had caught him teetering too close to the edge of the bed and snatched him up before he fell on his face. He smiled as she tightened her hold on him, throwing a leg over him playfully, promising that he was safe and to go back to sleep through her own yawns. 

Lucanis was happy. Happy she was the type of person who could trip over air and fall freely, because all that time, she was trying to teach him how to do it himself. To fall back and know that someone was there to catch you. Just in a very different, wonderful, way. 

“It’s still early Luca… stop thinking too much and sleep love,” she murmured into his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his skin before succumbing to her exhaustion once more. 

Luca? That’s new. 

I have been called many things, this one I like, but I have another title I like much more. 

Crow? Personal demon? Demon of Vyrantium? First Talon?

Rook’s. 

[bumblebeesweettea]

Where's Rook? R!Lucanis

Fandom: dragon age Veilguard

Rating: general

Characters: Rook, Lucanis Dellamorte, Solas, Bellara lutare, Davrin, Taash, Emmerich, Neve Gallus, Harding

Relationships: Rook x Lucanis

Genre: Angst

WARNING! This Drabble has serious game spoilers mentioned in it.

Synopsis:

The reactions of romanced Lucanis and the companions to Rooks apparent death.

___

The Fade had become a tempest, its wild magic thrashing violently in a relentless gale. Lucanis felt Spite writhe within his mind, straining against the chaos. “Merida...” he hissed, throwing an arm up as a shield against the cutting wind. As Rook plodded toward the corpse of Ghilan’nain to retrieve the dagger, a chill seeped through Lucanis’s skin. Spite was uneasy; there was something sinister about the Fade’s current swirling frenzy.

A scent permeated the air—mossy earth mingled with the tang of ozone. It wasn’t Ghilan’nain nor their companions, but something else. Someone else. Lucanis started toward Rook, doubt twisting his gut, too tenuous to voice his fears. Battling the wind, his emotions churned, a storm of dread: he needed to warn them, to tell them something was wrong, that losing Rook was unthinkable. Just as his fingertips brushed Rook’s back, a brutal force flung him aside. He’d been through enough battles against mages to recognize a mind blast.

Lucanis rolled, scrambling to keep his footing, head darting as he sought potential threats. Ghilan’nain’s body lay still, the Fade felt has stopped tearing itself asunder, but Rook—Rook was gone.

“Rook?” Lucanis called. Frantic eyes scanned the shadows, desperation edging his tone, “Rook?!” No. No, please. Not Rook. Anyone but them. Panic unfurled cold and merciless from his gut, clawing up his spine, breath shallow and quick like a cornered animal. ‘Control yourself, you damn fool.’ He forced his legs to move, shaky steps around the crater that claimed Harding’s broken form. Maker... Harding... ‘Mourn later when you're safe. Find Rook first,’ he ordered himself.

“Professor! Professor, where did they go?” Bellara’s voice pierced through, frantic, yet it barely registered. Spite surged, scratching at his consciousness, but Lucanis was too shattered to restrain him. “Where are they?! WHERE ARE THEY?!” Spite roared, the creature's wings thrashing in agitated fury. Lucanis could feel the demon’s raw fear and bewilderment. Neither of them could stand the loss of Rook. Finally, with trembling resolve, he turned to his remaining companions.

“Emmerich, where did Rook go?” he demanded, his voice strained but steady. Emmerich, the Mortalitasi, a beacon of calm amid chaos, met his gaze with a gentleness that sparked a corrosive mix of anger, shame, and helplessness within Lucanis. It was the look Emmerich often gave those in distress to put them at ease. But Spite hissed, impatient and vexed. He didn't wish to be coddled.

"I don’t know, dear boy,” Emmerich replied, a furrow knitting his brow. “There was such a torrent of Fade and magic, and now it’s vanished. I can’t sense—ah!” The older mage abruptly fell silent, a smile creeping across his face, and Lucanis turned to follow his gaze. The blue blade of the Lyrium dagger shimmered, briefly unburdening Lucanis of his dread. There they were. They’d only been temporarily misplaced. Relief uncoiled in him, limbs heavy with anticipation as he took tentative steps toward the emerging rift, yearning to welcome Rook back.

But it wasn’t his beloved who emerged.

“Smells like moss and air before lightening. Old and dangerous,” Spite rumbled. It mirrored the strange scent they’d perceived earlier. The figure materializing before them was the one from the lighthouse memories: the Dread Wolf, Fen'harel. Lucanis’s instincts bristled, eyes narrowing as he regarded the new intruder with a cold fury. He had come alone, stepping from the rift like a challenge made flesh.

"Where’s Rook?” Lucanis demanded, his voice sharpened with menace. If this man had harmed Rook, Lucanis would escort him to the afterlife alongside Ghilan’nain. Solas considered the beleaguered adventurers, his gaze serene and distant.

“They are where they need to be,” Solas replied.

“What does that mean? Where are they?” Lucanis spat, a dagger sliding from his belt, intentions bare, in his grip. Solas cast him a look—a mingling of chiding and pity—that stoked Lucanis’s ire further.

“They have played their part here. Now they take my place in the prison so that I may complete what I began,” Solas said, calm and unyielding. “I’m sorry, but their sacrifice was necessary.”

Sacrifice. Prison. The words ricocheted in Lucanis’s mind, taunting him with visions of the Ossuary. Of the torment, pain and relentless fear. Was Rook trapped in such a hell? Suffering in isolation? Or, were they...? Spite, consumed by rage and confusion, surged forth. Lucanis’s body lunged forward, wings unfurled, dagger poised. Strong arms wrapped around him, yanking him back.

“Spite, no!” Davrin’s voice was urgent in his ear.

“Give. Them. Back!” Spite howled, thrashing against Davrin’s hold, desperation unrestrained. “Give. Them. Back. To us!” Lucanis felt his elbow connect with Davrin’s face, yet the warden held fast, tightening his grip.

“Spite, please!” Davrin implored, “you’re going to get Lucanis killed.” Another pair of arms encircled them both. Taash joined them, silent but Lucanis could feel the tremble in Taash's embrace.

“Taash...” he and Spite whispered in unison. Lucanis wasn’t alone in his grief; he wasn’t the only one who had lost someone they loved. And mere moments ago.

Solas watches the scene unfold, his expression a mask of enigmatic neutrality, yet there’s a flicker in his eyes—perhaps pity, or guilt, or a fusion of both. He raises the Lyrium blade, “I am sorry, though I know you won’t believe it. A victory like this, pitted against gods, demands its toll of suffering. Stay in the lighthouse, let yourself grieve, and ready yourself for the world that awaits. Your task is complete. Thank you for everything you’ve achieved.”

With a fluid motion, he slices the air, a shimmering rent into the fade, and slips away through it. Spite, seeing his quarry vanish, flares with renewed defiance, but Davrin and Taash’s grips are unyielding. Bellara races to them, her arms encircling Taash’s waist, her cheek pressed against the sturdy bulk of the Qunari. She doesn’t anchor Lucanis and Spite, but she steadies Taash, holding them together through sheer force of will. Neve, not given to embraces, steps to Lucanis’ side, her fingers curling around his forearm with a firm, chilling grip—a deliberate touch grounding him to reality tinged with ice magic. It gave Lucanis an anchor for his mind.

“Spite,” Emmerich murmurs softly, placing himself before Lucanis, “it will be OK, you need to let Lucanis out now.” Emmerich’s voice, the pressure from the arms around him, and Neve’s cold grip were a tether to the present. The storm within him subsides. The fierce battle for control ends, leaving behind a chasm of grief. His mind drifts to Lace Harding, her laughter a memory, and to Rook, whose absence leaves a gaping wound in his heart.

His shoulders sag, the weight of loss more crushing than any foe. “Rook,” he whispers, the name a prayer and a lament. Dellamorte’s do not kneel, but Lucanis would be lying if he said his knees didn't buckle dangerously. Bellara’s eyes meet his, understanding and sorrow mirrored in their depths. She releases Taash, stepping forward to clasp Lucanis’ hand, her warmth an offering.

“We’ll find a way,” she vows, voice steady despite the tremor of uncertainty beneath. She had tears in her eye and it was apparent she was barely holding on herself. “For Rook, for all of us.”

Davrin nods, a grim resolve settling in “We’ve faced darkness before,” he says, “and we’re still here.” Taash grunts in agreement, their presence a silent pillar of strength. Neve’s grip tightens momentarily, a silent promise of solidarity.

Emmerich nods, as calm as ever, though like everyone else there was a slight tremble in his fingertips. “We’ll mourn today. And tomorrow we will rise. For Harding, for Rook. And if Rook can be found. Then we will find them.”

[someshakespearequote]

Okay, I don't want to give airtime to assholes, but let's unpack this a little.

On the left, for the sexy way things used to be, we have:

Concept art for a Qunari woman, which was shown next to a Qunari guy wearing about as little. This didn't look like how Qunari looked in DAO! Also, this isn't actually a character! I understand that the guys making this video would prefer that women be objects of their desire rather than actual people in any capacity, but this was just an example piece!

Art for Morrigan looking like Little Red Riding Hood -- again, not actually how she looked in the game.

Leliana with a ridiculous glow-up because this is how she looked in the Urn of Sacred Ashes trailer, not in the actual game.

Isabela, okay, you got me, this one is actually an in-game asset, except that no, do not cite the DA2 ladies to me, witch. I was there when they were written. I am old enough to remember when DA2 shipped, and the spiritual ancestors of this asshole posted comments on messageboards saying that DA2 had no attractive romanceable women, because Bethany was your sister, Merrill had elven features, and Isabela was, according to these sad incels, "too exotic." I remember this because I remember saying, "If the dirty-talking sexually liberated rogue with sun-kissed skin and a lip piercing who runs around with no pants is not up to your standards, your standards are bad."

Meanwhile, on the right, for the apparent current non-sexiness, we have:

Morrigan, who a) looks great, to the point where some people are saying she should look older (not me -- give Morrigan the Cate Blanchett/Rachel Weisz "inexplicably hotter as she gets older" treatment, you go, girl); b) isn't a romance option this time; and c) is actually an in-game asset, unlike Little Red Concept Art over on the left.

Neve, using concept art that was meant to show the costume and not the attitude. Because when you see Neve in game sashaying up to you after freezing bad guys, she looks great, and when I saw the bit of her in the lighthouse with her scarf untied and her blouse unbuttoned, I legitimately forgot what the conversation was about. (And perish angry, ableist haters. People with prostheses get to be sexy, too.)

Taash, looking great. We still don't know what's going on with the whole gender deal there, but as someone who was lucky enough to take one random college elective course the same quarter that half of the varsity women's volleyball team decided to do so, if your spectrum for finding a woman hot does not include women who are tall and have muscles, then that's a you problem, not a them problem.

One random chargen Qunari, which, whatever.

Notes about people being trans, which, as with the ableism, perish angry. Trans women are women. And if Taash ends up being non-binary or some other non-cis-woman option, and that is what turns you off and not the muscles, then again, that's a you problem, not a them problem, and those of us who can like boobs even when they're on someone who isn't a cis woman will be over here with Ruby Rose and Demi Lovato.

Oddly not present on the horribly unsexy right:

Bellara, who is adorkable and also giving Neve a run for her money at "most distracting collarbones in the Lighthouse."

Harding, whose smile lights up the room in the scenes we've seen so far and who was called out by fans as someone they wanted back as a romance option after people saw her in DAI, which was before her glow-up.

Like, I understand that the ideal right thing to do is to tell these jerks that the companions of Veilguard are deep and fully realized characters, and judging them just based on which ones you wanna bang is asshole behavior... but this is a Dragon Age game. It is, as the devs once joked, a dating sim with a small "save the world" minigame you do between scenes. And by those standards, the women of Veilguard (either including Taash, or and also Taash, depending on how that goes) look fantastic. I don't know who I'm gonna romance yet, because I fall for a character more while I'm doing quests with them and getting to know them, but this is a squad with many flavors of gorgeous. Sorry it has character art that includes, you know, character and not the creepy sex doll look of one of those Steam games that includes disclaimers about everyone being of legal age and none of the girls being actually related to you.

It's not a them problem, assholes. It's a you problem.

[nerd-fandom-drabbles]

A Special Kind of Stupid pt. 2

Description: Bellara vibe-checks Lucanis while they prepare the evening meal. Part 2 to this piece.

842 words

Characters: Lucanis, Bellara, and Spite

Pairings: Lucanis x femme Rook looms heavily but is unseen

Genre: Friendship <333333

Content warnings: Pining, cuteness, fluff

WARNING: This may contain some very, very light spoilers for Veilguard pre-release gameplay footage.

As usual, this was written before the game's release.

That evening, Lucanis had cleaned up quickly in preparation for another long supper preparation session with Bellara. They stood in the dimming light of the sunset-stained kitchen surrounded by cold baskets of shrimp, oysters, and fish; laughing and recounting the day's battles.

After a few minutes of chopping fish and deveining shrimp for the evening dish - a seafood paella - Bellara started shifting awkwardly. They had spent enough time together by now for Lucanis to know there was something on her mind, but he didn't pry. He figured she'd get to it when she was ready.

“So. A little birdie told me you've been flirting with Rook.”

He nearly chopped off his fingertip, “Ah!” Dammit, Neve.

“Don't freak out! I just wanted to ask... about your intentions,” Bellara's tone was kind but her eyes were piercing, “She's under a lot of pressure, and there's a lot going on. So.”

“You're worried I'll hurt her.”

“Obviously, you'll hurt her,” Spite chimed in nonchalantly, “Or get her killed.”

“I just don't know what kind of man you are... romantically. You're a great friend,” Bellara started, “But, some guys are great as friends and terrible as lovers, you know?”

“Yes, I'm aware." His cousin's many questionable dalliances came to mind immediately. He shook his head to clear it of the past, “My interest in her is genuine.”

“What do you like about her?” She stopped her chopping, watching him closely.

He thought for a few moments, and then sighed deeply, “Everything.”

“Wow. That's heavy.”

“I tend to be intense about these things.”

“No kidding?” She cocked her head and smiled, “I guess I can see that. You're reserved. Intentional.”

Have to be with a demon in your head, he thought.

But the truth was that even before Spite complicated his life, he had been the same way. Always nursing some painful, tortured little crush. He never acted on them. He wouldn't have dreamt of it. And even if he had, he was certain that they wouldn't have reciprocated. The notion was almost absurd. He was a weapon. And weapons didn't take lovers.

Still, he wanted to tell her more. About how terrified he had been when he first noticed he was developing feelings for Rook. The endless nights he'd spent pining or trying to distract himself from pining, only to then be tormented by Spite about the pining. The eventual, slow acceptance of his feelings. Or the fact that, even now, he had no idea what he was doing or why it was that Rook seemed to reciprocate... despite everything.

Rook was a distraction and a curse, but of the very best kind. And the truth was that though he fought desperately to keep his feet on the ground, his heart had threatened other plans.

There were truly so, so many things he wanted to tell his friend about how he felt, but he couldn't find the right words. Nor the courage.

“Are you going to tell her what I've told you?” He asked, after a moment.

“Oh no! I would never interfere. And I'm not, like, compiling a dossier. Just looking out for two of my favorite people.”

“Aw.”

“Disgusting,” Spite snarled.

“Can I hug you?” Bellara asked suddenly, placing down her knife.

He looked down at his bloodied apron, “I'm going to get fish guts all over you.”

“He says, as if I'm not already covered in fish guts,” she raised an eyebrow.

He let out a little chuckle and set down his knife. Once he did, she basically threw herself at him, enveloping him in a huge, warm hug. It was an unusual display of affection for him. He could probably count on one hand the number of times he'd been on the receiving end of a hug from a friend.

“You're alright, Crow,” she murmured into his chest. After a few moments she pulled away, giving him a little tap on the shoulder. “Just take care of our girl, okay?”

He nodded warmly and she turned her attention back to her chopping board.

Lucanis was no stranger to the camaraderie that emerged between Crows. Relying on others to have your back in battle or to provide good intelligence by necessity resulted in a form of closeness. But there was something sweet, gentle, and intimate about his new friendships within the Veilguard. They were different types of people, he supposed. Ones that tended to be emotionally open in a way that made him comfortable expressing and doing things that he wouldn't normally. And in exchange, he found himself feeling full and satisfied in a way he didn't usually feel.

His warm feelings were accompanied by a rush of protectiveness. If anything were to happen to any of these people, he would run rampant and wash the streets red with blood.

“So, what are you going to name your kids? I'm thinking...”

He threw his head back and groaned, as Bellara burst into a powerful bout of laughter.

“Kidding. Kidding,” she giggled, “I'd be a great auntie though, and you know it.”

[firstknightvulion]

During all the previews, someone mentioned that Bellara wishes there could be a guide to romance. So, my theory of her being the girlfailure romance came true.

But, it made me think. She can’t find any guides. What does she turn to? Novels. Trashy, smutty, romance novels. Varric’s specifically.

Rook is sitting in the main room in the Lighthouse. Burrito in hand. A content smile on his face.

Suddenly, Bellara appears. Hands on her hips and a suggestive smile on her face. Rook stops mid chew.

Bellara: *seductively* So, you’ve finally arrived.

Rook: *looks side to side, food still in his mouth* I’ve been here.

Bellara’s eyes bulge and she quickly turns around. The sound of pages being rapidly turned can be heard. Rook leans to side to catch a glimpse of what she’s doing but she turns back around before he can see.

Bellara: *seductively* So, I’ve finally found you.

Before Rook can respond, Bellara’s hand shoots out, smacking the headrest behind his head. Her face comes closer to his. Her seductive mask slips, cheeks beginning to flush.

Bellara: I-I think you know…um, us, uh, between us. There’s a push-shit! I meant pull! There’s a pull between us!

Rook sits silently, staring. Bellara begins to turn even redder and forehead begins to sweat. She backs up slightly and spins around, her back to Rook. Once again the sound of pages being rapidly flipped fills the room.

Bellara: He was supposed to respond! What should I say next?! That one? No, that’s too strong. What about…oooooh, that one I’m saving for later.

Rook: Is that the latest Hard in Hightown?

Bellara jumps three feet in the air as Rook steps next to her. When she lands, the book in her hands is quickly placed behind her back.

Bellara: I am looking for romantic guidance.

Rook: And you’re using Varric’s smut?

Bellara: *bringing the book in front of her* It’s all I had.

Rook: *chuckling* We’re you that desperate?

Bellara: *hiding her mouth behind the book* I’m…trying to get this right.

Rook: *smiling* Well, you got my attention. And I would like to…get this right too. With you.

Bellara: Really?

Rook: Yeah. Just, let’s not depend on Varric.

Meanwhile, elsewhere…

Varric: *Brow furrowing* Someone’s talking mad shit…

[catyo90]

Romance Scenes I Imagine for Veilguard Companions

Davrin: Outside Rook sees him with his griffin Assan, training it and nurturing it, As they speak he reveals how he found and/or tamed her. Rook asks if how big Assan will get and plays fetch with her. Inbetween throws Rook and Davrin flirt with each other and the last throw causes Assan to jump on Davrin while Rook laughs and helps him up, with a small pause inbetween.

Taash: Like other qunari, trains hard and in need of practice asks Rook to join her for a sparing match, here the player may decide to let her win and go easy on her, or the opposite. Who ever loses laughs it off and the winner comments how cute the loser looks when they laugh, after the loser gets up and says they should do this again sometime. The winner hates to see them leave but loves watching them go.

Harding: In the nearby lounge, Rook asks about her past with the Inquisition, She tells how she was there in the final fight against Corypheus and how Solas was good/bad. (Depends on Inquistors view). She then shows them all the corresponding letters between her and the past companions, with some hidden mentions of past relationships when Rook asks if she ever was with anyone else. She claims that its a tale for another time. After that Rook asks to keep her company while she writes responses, where Harding smiles.

Lucanis: Rook finds him in the Library (early morning or late night.) overlooking old contracts on multiple mages and others in need of a quick end. He sits at a desk with a cup of coffee and kettle. Rook asks if he ever regrets taking a life, (answers depends on class) where he explains that contracts are like a game of Wicked Grace, some cheat the deck and win, others play honest and lose. He tries to change the subject, he seems tired where he sips his coffee and offers Rook a cup to enjoy with him.

Bellara: In the wave of a sudden inspiration to create, Rook finds her tinkering with fade magic, where a small minor explosion of colorful smoke surrounds the room, Bellara walks through now covered in rainbow hue, she snorts and laughs as she pulls Rook into the room showing a new update to her gauntlet. Rook impressed and scare-roused from her intrigue offers any help, (all classes as well get blasted with another cloud of color.) Bellara laughs at Rook and wipes away the stains on their face before punching Rooks arm laughing again at their wacky experiments and conclusion.

Emmerich: In the study Rook walks in on him using magic on Manfred, who makes puns about the situation and after noticing you gets distracted causing the spell to cause Manfred to fall into a pile of bones, Emmerich, slightly annoyed and now has to deal with putting him back together properly, basically volunteers you to help each time you pick up a bone, Manfred jokes claiming its in the wrong spot. While this happens Emmerich gets to know you better and says how your not entirely hopeless as Manfred cackles laughing with a arm around saying if he wants your attention he needs to be nicer.

Neve: Rook sees her in the main chamber of the base, smoking on her pipe with her hair down reading a particular book, Hard in Hightown. She claims how the way Varric writes is quite good but romanticized as the true art of finding the culprit is scientific, not emotional. (LIke Sherlock Holmes) How the art of deduction can change the life of everyone, but it can be messy at times as well. Where we see her cross her protetic leg under her other. She is unsure whether to show it or not. After all the incident was not light on the mind. Rook eases her mind in telling her that she doesn't have to talk about it until she is ready.

[hyperions-light]

Round 2 of Veilguard (Watcher first, Crow second), going to note the little details I love (SPOILERS):

- When my rogue Rook is jogging I can hear the sound of the arrows in their quiver clinking against each other

- When you take Harding to practice her stone powers, after she moves the second one she raises her hands up in victory. Cute!!!

-The companion outfits!! They’re so detailed! The embroidery on Harding’s shirt, the intricacy of Bellara’s sleeves!! How elegantly Neve’s clothes are cut and draped! The little crow skulls on Lucanis’ buttons and fasteners!!

- The way the light glances off of Bellara’s earring. The hairs at the back of her neck that aren’t caught up in her bun

- The expressions!! They’re so good! The way Bellara’s brow wrinkles in the middle of her forehead under her Vallaslin; how she blinks rapidly when she’s talking about Cyrian (Bioware why can’t I hug her ;-;). How Neve smiles at you! Ahhhhh! Dare you not to fall for Lucanis when he looks at Harding all soft after he makes her coffee and she hates it!!!

- The way the grocery list/cooking rotation paper on the wall in the kitchen changes throughout the game

- Little notes everywhere where your companions write to each other and the people they care about! Harding’s letters to her mother! THE BOOK CLUB!

- The little references to the other games everywhere! Joining chalice, Aura’s letter, Blackwall’s commendation, Malcolm Hawke mention in Weisshaupt! Finding Thom’s little rocking griffon! Arainai’s Talon! The thing that made the Harvester in Golems of Amgarrak! The dog named Ostagar! The Arishok refusing to split from the Qun! Heir in the Diamond!

- Elgar’nan thinks Lusacan used to be bigger and Ghilan’nain still cares for her halla

-the whole Necropolis but ESPECIALLY the gardens

-the candlehops!

-How when you pet the cats the rumble feature activates on the controller because they’re purring

- THE MINRATHOUS CAT CAFE <3

- The vendor in the market in Antiva who tells you the story of how she killed her husband if you return there repeatedly

-the two novice Crows on the balcony who complain about how hard it is to correctly throw the crow graffiti thing

- when you tell those two lovers to escape antiva they show up in the necropolis

- the watchers are sooooo put out that they missed the undead dragon lol

- the necropolis moves! And if you return there sometimes it’ll spawn new rooms and you can go in them!

- there are tabletop games in Thedas and Hezenkoss was super into them

- Emmrich keeps Hezenkoss’ skull in his room to talk to lol

- How Rook is so— sometimes unexpectedly— wise and caring, so thoughtful and considerate! I love them!

- The way the choir crescendos and then cuts out right before Solas says ‘Vhenan’!!! AHHHHHHH

- The way he bends in on himself and clutches at the dagger when Mythal is talking to him; the way he says her name

- ‘I don’t know how to feel’ ‘I do. I know exactly how to feel.’ ‘Just don’t leave.’ ‘Never.’ ;;;;;;;;;;-;;;;;;;;;; FUCK!!! You can’t just say that that way!!!

More soon…

[baejax-the-great]

One Last Drink

“Well, here we are old friend.”

Varric takes one cup out of his pack, then another. He plonks each down on the creepy green stone he supposes he’ll be seeing a lot more of in the coming days and pours in some brandy from his flask.

He raises his cup aloft and says, “I always wanted to have one last drink with you.”

This is a lie. But then Varric is a liar. Hawke would forgive him for it.

He didn’t want to have one last drink with Hawke—he wanted a hundred more drinks with Hawke, a thousand. He wanted to sit around with her in their old age with creaky knees and white hair drinking mead and shouting over the table because their ears were both shot. He wanted to slide into old age listening to her sass all those heroes that have followed in her footsteps. He wanted to see her wielding a cane in a bar fight.

But this—this is what he has.

He taps the rim of his cup to Hawke's. The brandy goes down burning.

“You know, I somehow doubt drinking in the Fade will make it any better,” he says. “Seems like the place you’d probably want to be sober for.”

His ears strain. Was that a whisper somewhere? The Fade is weird. Maybe he’ll get a response. What would Hawke say, anyway?

Isn’t the end of the world a good enough occasion for you?

Something like that. Light tone of voice, half twisted smile at the end, she’d clink her cup to his and take a swig, maybe point out that if the Fade is now leaking into everywhere, then anywhere is as good a place to sit and drink with a friend.

“This new generation,” he says, “They’re something. They grew up hungry for a fight. Fearless. They saw the sky explode as kids. They’ve known something was wrong their entire lives. But then, I guess you also were forged in the crucible of apocalyptic disaster.”

Lothering wasn’t that bad.

This she’d say with an artful quirk of her eyebrow before letting her smile take over her face.

Varric fills his cup again. He’s played this game before, become the author of who Hawke would be if she was still anyone. He can hear her voice in his head so clearly, but for years he’s had that creeping doubt that her voice is actually just his. It’s been ten years after all.

He doesn’t know why he thought the Fade might do something nice for once. Solas always talked about those friendly spirits, but it looks like one can’t be assed to channel Hawke for Varric.

“These Veil Jumpers—out of their minds. You know they come here on purpose? Reminds me of you and all those damn caves you dragged us into, except the caves didn’t shift around while we weren’t paying attention. Similar number of demons, though.”

Not by the time I got done with them.

“They told me that right here, right where we are? That’s a fixed point. A landmark.”

“Creepy, isn’t it?” Bellara had said when Varric stopped in his tracks on seeing the statue. “She always seems to be pointed toward an exit, though, so we’re always on the lookout for her. We call her Macabre Martha.”

I’ve been called worse and you know it. You wrote all those names down in your book—you know them better than I do. Not to mention the atrocious name my own mother gave me.

Varric pats the foot of the statue next to him.

“Should I tell them who you are?”

That question he has not been able to answer for her. He looks up the silent statue, Hawke, caught in the moment a spider’s claw pierced her chest, her mouth open, her eyes wide in horror, both woman and spider leg petrified together.

He somehow thought in this place, in this warped reality, if he summoned her up in his mind, maybe she’d still be here. Maybe she’d speak to him. Maybe he could get her to look less scared.

This isn't how she'd want anyone to remember her.

“Never thought I’d see a statue of you worse than the one we put down by the docks.”

Varric pushes himself to his feet. He puts a hand on her arm as if to comfort her in the last frozen moment of her life. He thinks maybe this time the stone will crumble under his hands and reveal her, still fighting, still able to be saved, still ready with a joke.

This? Minor flesh wound. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been impaled.

It’s just stone under his hand. Stone, and half his heart stuck in this awful place for the rest of time.

He picks up Hawke’s cup and drinks that, too. He places the half-full flask at her feet in case she ever gets thirsty.  

“So long, old friend.” He gives her one last squeeze on the arm, then shuffles off in the direction of her terrified expression. The next generation of adventurers awaits, and Varric isn’t so quick these days.

The susurrations of the Fade are all that answers him, but he still calls her voice to mind. So long, Varric.

[himluv]

Oops. My hand slipped. Here's more Lucanis and Spite.

Under the cut, because, well. Spoilers.

In the weeks since escaping the Ossuary, Lucanis had hardly slept. Partly to keep Spite from taking over his body, but also to avoid the dreams. He'd spent enough time in that prison, he didn't need to relive it in his sleep. So, he was awake to hear the dining hall door open and the pad of bare feet across the stone floor.

Rook. Spite said.

It was impossible to tell the hour in the Fade, but Lucanis knew everyone else was bunked down for the night. Even Bellara had eventually quieted down after tinkering with her archive for hours after dinner.

It was late.

Too late for Rook to be scrounging in the kitchen.

With a sigh, Lucanis stood from his cot and went to investigate. Sure enough, when he stepped out into the dining hall, he found Rook standing before the fireplace, a half-eaten piece of jerky in one hand. She stared into the flames, so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't heard his door swing open.

Lucanis watched her for a moment, indulging in the sight without fear of being caught. Mierda, she was gorgeous. The firelight gleamed in her violet-tinged eyes, her auburn hair shining in the flicker of flames. Not for the first time, Lucanis felt the urge to run his fingers through her hair, wondered what it might smell like if he buried his face into it.

Campfire and berries. Smoky sweet.

At that, Lucanis cleared his throat, rousing everyone from their various thoughts.

Rook startled, then gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

He gave her wry look. "I never sleep."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Never?"

He shrugged and leaned one shoulder against the fireplace. "Not if I can help it."

She frowned at him. "Lucanis—"

"But," he continued, ignoring her disapproval. "You should definitely be sleeping."

She glared at him, a promise that they would talk about his insomnia at some point, then sighed. "I was asleep," she said. She ran a hand through her hair, a movement Lucanis could not look away from.

"Bad dreams?" He asked.

She nodded, her gaze back on the fire. "I keep seeing Minrathous." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, as if admitting it would conjure the memory right there in the dining hall. "And Neve," she added.

"Neve?"

She nodded, opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of whatever she was going to say. "It's nothing," she said. "A stupid, persistent dream."

"Rook—"

"It's fine, Lucanis." She glanced at him, gave him a half-hearted little smile that still managed to make his heart clench. "I'm fine."

In that moment, the distance between them felt wrong. Rook was hurting and everything in Lucanis wanted to comfort her. She was obviously not fine, but then, neither was he. What comfort could he possibly provide?

Broken, Spite whispered.

She must have read his silence as acceptance or, Maker forbid, dismissal, because she shook her head and sighed.

"Good night, Lucanis."

He frowned, knowing he should say something. Do something. He just could not figure out what. This was the longest they'd been alone together since their almost-kiss, and Lucanis was no closer to knowing what to do about his burgeoning feelings than he'd been then.

Coward, said Spite.

"Rook," he called as she reached the door.

The room was darker that far from the fire, and he could just make out the gleam of her elven eyes as she looked back at him.

"You take good care of this team," he said. "Just... Don't forget you're a part of it, too."

She stood there, watching him for a long moment, then nodded. "Thanks, Lucanis."

And then she was gone, back out into the courtyard and hopefully to her quarters to sleep. Lucanis was, again, alone with too many thoughts.

Smooth, Spite said.

Well, too many thoughts and an opinionated demon. That was as alone as Lucanis could get anymore.

He sighed and rubbed his face. "Coffee," he said. Coffee could fix anything.

Not anything. Not you. Broken.

"Perhaps," Lucanis said as he set to preparing a cup. "But, at least I will have coffee."

Spite growled, then mumbled, smells bad anyway.

"You're a terrible liar."

Spite roared and gnashed his teeth, then settled as Lucanis went through the familiar ritual of brewing coffee. Besides the bath, watching coffee brew was the best time to think. And he had plenty he needed to think about.

This demon, for one. Despite being surrounded by talented mages, not one seemed to understand his possession, let alone how to undo it. They told him that non-mage possessions were rare, but possible, so not so strange after all. What was strange was that, according to his new friends, he didn't seem all that possessed.

By all accounts, Lucanis should be dead, his body morphed and twisted to the demon's will. But, here they were, demon and man together in his body, neither of them in complete control.

The other experiments in the Ossuary all succumbed to their demons, becoming the abominations one would expect. But not Lucanis, even after a year of torture and torment.

Zara, Spite hissed.

Fury boiled up in Lucanis as Spite tried to take control. It was a now familiar feeling. A twinge of pain in the crook of his neck, a gathering tension at the base of his skull. If Spite kept pushing, eventually that fury would pound behind Lucanis's eyes, an incessant demand for control.

Now was not the time.

"We will find her," he said, voice soft and sure. He poured the fresh coffee into his preferred cup, a gift from Rook. "And when we do—"

Kill. KILL!

Lucanis sipped and hummed his pleasure, both at the taste and at the thought of sinking his dagger into that Venatori witch's heart.

Yessssssss. Soon!

On this, at least, he and the demon agreed. Zara's painful death could not come soon enough. Rook might be an uncomfortable question mark in his life, but his vengeance against Zara?

That was a guarantee.

With that comforting thought, and Spite temporarily appeased, Lucanis took his cup back to his cot and settled in to imagine all the ways he would hurt Zara Renata before he killed her.

[felassan]

As I understand it you’re probs going with Lucanis for a romance on your first run!! What in particular drew you to him as your first romance? (This is also free permission to gush about him from what little we know!)

hello! ◕‿◕ ooh hhh this is such a fun question, thanku (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

soo for this I'm stuck between Lucanis, Taash, Davrin, Bellara and Neve HHH. (which is a fantastic problem to have tbc /pos). aa they are all so 😳😳..

for Lucanis, what I like about him is the character he displayed in TN. in his short story he was really cool and interesting. he's badass - who can't love a dude who makes evil magisters shit themselves in fear just by the mention of his name - but he also has a soft heart.

Lucanis stared ahead, focused and intense. He was the kind of man you couldn’t look away from—until he looked at you. --- Lucanis exhaled through his nose. “If someone wants to pay me top coin to kill a bunch of racist blood mages—who have it coming—I’m not going to complain.” --- The word quit sparked some life in the Wigmaker’s blank expression. “So, the crow thinks he can best the dragon?” “The crow,” Lucanis mocked, “knows it.” --- “Death is my calling”

like... ok sir 😳

but he's also really funny, in that dry or wry blunt sort of way.

The mage was coming to. His unfocused eyes took stock of his situation. “I won’t talk,” he spat. “Even if you torture me.” “I’m too busy to torture you,” Lucanis said, and ran him through with his sword. --- “So, the Wigmaker.” Illario wiggled his fingers ominously. “Tell me about him.” “He’s weird,” Lucanis replied bluntly.  --- Don’t think about it. Lucanis took a deep breath and flung himself off the roof. --- Lucanis thought about securing the entrance—leaving it unlocked could raise suspicion—but chose not to in case Illario decided to work tonight.  --- “Eight marks the final kill,” Illario said, coming to stand next to him. He dusted off his palms. “Do you still recite that old nursery rhyme? The one Caterina made us memorize during training?” Lucanis moved to retrieve his throwing knives. “What can I say? It’s catchy.” --- Illario rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. The Venatori already have your name. If they learn your face—” “I’ll grow a beard.” --- Ambrose threw down the matted mess. “Lucanis Dellamorte, I presume?” “Sì,” Lucanis answered, knowing even a single syllable of a foreign language would disgust the Wigmaker. It had the desired effect—Ambrose recoiled as if he’d stepped in urine. “Is this your handiwork?” “Sì.” The mage’s jaw pulsed. “You think you can come into my Imperium and act as judge and executioner?” Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, but Ambrose anticipated his answer. “Don’t say, ‘Sì!’” That earned a genuine smile from Lucanis. “Normally, there’s no judgment—only a contract. But for you, Ambrose, I made an exception.” --- While hunting his mark, Lucanis had opened the wrong door and walked into an orgy. Getting out of that had been interesting. --- That’s it. Lucanis smiled encouragingly. Good little demons. 

😭😭 lmao pls

what sent me over the edge into wanting to romance territory though is some of the things we learned about him, or the way he was described ig, during the DA:TV marketing era: "lacks social skills", loves coffee, "the sole dumpster fire of the crew" written specifically by Mary Kirby to be a "bisexual disaster of a human", that he's short and has a mullet. what can i say ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

how about you? :D is there a character in particular that you plan to romance during your first playthrough? ^^

[thewardenisonthecase]

Rest Easy

Lucanis Dellamorte x Grey Warden!Rook

Read on AO3

Summary: Rook can't sleep. Lucanis finds a way to help.

A/N: Technically a sequel to 'Of Nightmares and Sleepless Nights' but can be read on its own.

word count: 692

The sound of soft steps against the kitchen’s tiles alerted him that she was there. Before, the noise would have driven him into defense mode, but now, he welcomed it.

Lucanis laid in his bed, the book on his hand almost forgotten as he began to think of her. Their relationship was still new, if somewhat uncertain. There had been no grand gestures, like the ones Bellara liked to read. No, their relationship began with an offer of paella and Rook’s favorite drink. It was the least Lucanis could do, after all she had done for him and he knew it wasn’t enough. 

He didn't think he could ever be enough, even if Rook told him otherwise. 

Before he could dwell even more on those thoughts, the door of the pantry slowly opened and he sat on the bed, closing the book. 

“Nightmares again?” 

She nodded. “Same as usual. Archdemons and never ending darkspawn.” She yawned and sat next to him on the bed. 

Her long, brown hair fell down her shoulders. He brushed some of it to the side, placing it behind her ear, giving him a better look at the dark circles underneath her eyes. She covered her mouth as she yawned again. 

“Rook” he said, gently brushing his thumb against her cheek as she turned her face to him “When was the last time you slept?” 

Tired eyes met his. “Didn’t I tell you to call me by my actual name?” She gave him a half smirk. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

She sighed and shrugged. “A few days ago? I don’t remember.” 

“That’s not good, you know that.” 

“Says the man who never sleeps.” 

“Ah, but I am not the one leading the team.” He smirked.

“And I’m not the one who has to land a blow against a god.” The two chuckled and Rook put her head on his shoulder. “I just don’t know what to do. Nothing helps - reading, drinking milk, counting sheep. Nothing.” 

“Hmm…” He hummed, thinking on what he could do to help. An idea crossed his mind but he felt unsure about it. Was it too early in their relationship to suggest that? 

“Do it.” Spite, who stood near the door, said. Lucanis tried to ignore him but the demon continued. “It’ll be good. For you. For her.” Spite got closer to him. “Come on.” 

Lucanis sighed heavily. 

“What’s wrong?” Rook asked, lifting her head. 

“Nothing, I-” he breathed deeply, as he cut himself and said “Would you rather sleep here. With me?” 

Rook’s eyes slightly widened. “Lucanis, I- are you sure?” 

The question did not surprise him. For the longest time, the two had struggled with physical touch, and only now were they getting more comfortable. It began with feathery touches, a hand on a shoulder, fingers brushing against each other as they walked side by side. 

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t sure.” 

She smirked and shook her head. “I’m much bigger than you, will I even fit on your bed? Won’t you be uncomfortable?” 

“With you by my side? Never.” 

A blush graced Rook’s cheeks as she breathed out “Okay.” 

He smiled and the two began trying to arrange themselves into a comfortable position. They shifted around until finally settling on Rook laying on top of Lucanis, her head and hand on his chest, listening to his heart beat. 

Lucanis settled one arm around her back, while the other held up the book he was reading. 

“Are you sure this is comfortable for you?” She said, looking up at him. “I mean, I almost feel like I’m crushing you.” 

“Dawn.” He said her name, a name she had only confided to him, in a hushed, soft tone. “Everything is fine. Rest easy. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

With that, she closed her eyes and not too long after, she drifted off to sleep, feeling his hand slowly rubbing her back. A pair of wings sprouted from Lucanis’s back as he settled his book down, his other arm came down to embrace her. Spite’s wings encircled around them as Lucanis rested his chin atop her ahead and fell asleep. 

[cosmiccrushes]

A Choice Made

Lucanis x Rook || 2k words

Summary: Lucanis finds Rook drowning her sorrows at the bottom of a bottle as she struggles to come to terms with the consequences of her choice to help Minrathous or Treviso

i'm also on ao3 <3

***

Lucanis plops the heavy pot of stew down in the center of the dining table. His team filters in around him, like clockwork. Meal times in the Lighthouse have become an easy routine for them all. Bowls clatter, dishes are passed around, and finally Lucanis takes his own seat. Observing the group, Lucanis registers that one head of curls is missing. 

“Where's Rook?” He asks the group at large. 

Some glance at Rook's empty chair, several of them shrug. 

It's Bellara who speaks up. “I found a note earlier. Rook said she was going out for a drink.” 

Lucanis’ brow furrows with concern. “Alone?” 

Bellara lifts a shoulder. “I guess. The note didn't say, but we're all here aren't we?” She looks around the table at their companions. 

“I don’t like this.” Davrin's mouth is set in a hard line. The Grey Warden, always the pragmatic protector. “None of us should be going off alone, but especially Rook. The Gods must have a massive target on her back.” 

Lucanis is in very strong agreement. “Did the note say where she was going for drinks?” He directs his question at Bellara. Bellara shakes her head, her smile tight and apologetic. 

Lucanis’ chair scrapes back from the table as he stands. “I will go find her.” 

Emmrich’s hand flutters on top of the table in agitation. “But how? She could’ve gone anywhere.” 

Lucanis’ gaze briefly locks with Neve’s. “She could’ve. But she didn’t.” Neve responds with the smallest nod of her head. A shared, silent knowledge passing between them of how Rook has struggled since Minrathous. Since Neve began rejoining the group- at least for meals. 

Davrin stands as well. “I’ll accompany you.” 

“No,” Lucanis says, too sharp. Davrin raises an eyebrow at him. “I know where she’ll be and I don’t think she’ll be all that grateful for company.”

Davrin squints at him, one fist flexing. Then relents, drops back into his chair, pulling a steaming bowl of stew towards him. “All right. But at least tell us where you’re going in case you don’t come back.” 

Lucanis looks to Neve again. She stares impassively at the food in front of her. “Dock Town,” Lucnais answers Davrin’s request.   

***

The streets of Dock Town glint with Venatori steel. The cultists prowl everywhere. Lucanis’ stomach twists as he passes through a square, Shadow Dragons swing from ropes. This could have been Treviso. That could have been Rook. He quickens his pace. 

The Cobbled Swan’s warmth spills onto the street as he approaches. Music and conversation rise up to greet him. He weaves his way through the tavern, shouldering past drunken patrons who get in his way. His eyes peeled for red hair. He finds her. Tucked into a corner, pint glasses fanned out around her. She rests her head on folded arms atop the wooden table, her back to him. Tension releases that Lucanis did not even realize his body was holding.

“Rook?” He eases into a seat beside her, briefly thinking of a time they sat just like this, sharing a cup of coffee in a different city.

She turns her head towards him, not lifting it from her arms. “Luc,” she says in greeting. The smell of whiskey hangs heavy on her breath. 

Lucanis glances at all the empty flagons. “How much have you had?” 

A noncommittal gesture moves through her shoulders. “A few.” 

Lucanis itches to reach out and snatch the half full cup in front of her away. But it’s not his place to tell her what to do- or how to nurse her grief. “Have you eaten anything?” 

“Ever in my life? Sure.” He inclines his head at her sardonic tone. She sighs. “No, Lucanis. I haven’t eaten anything tonight.” 

“This won’t fix anything, you know,” Lucanis says softly. 

“Really?” Rook looks at him with mock surprise. “And here I thought I’d cracked the code to curing bad decisions!” 

“It’s dangerous to be out on your own.” Rook rolls her eyes at him and he grits his teeth. “What was your plan? Get so drunk you couldn’t find your way back to the eluvian? Stumble your way into a Venatori trap?” He can’t keep the anger from coloring his words. 

Rook finally picks her head up off the table. “My plan?” Her words slur. “Oh, my plan was most certainly to drown my woes in booze and then-” Her signature mischievous smirk. “I thought I’d see about stumbling my way into that handsome bartender’s bed.” She points over her shoulder at a man pouring drinks for patrons. “I thought that sounded like a far more enjoyable trip to make. And not even a single Venatori involved.” 

Lucanis’ throat squeezes. He feels Spite’s jeering laughter skittering across his mind. If Rook wanted to distract herself, relieve her pain with pleasure- that was her choice. Lucanis didn’t get a say in who she took to bed.

Yet he couldn’t hold his tongue- or his jealousy- enough not to say, “If you need a distraction, I could help.” 

She smiles coyly at him. “Are you offering your bed, Luc?” Mierda. The intimate way she shortened his name shot straight through him. A familiar, frustrating yearning. Spite laughed harder. No. No, Lucanis was not offering that. Could not offer that. 

“I was thinking more along the lines of a game of Wicked Grace. Or perhaps a friendly duel.”

She huffs. “Your plan would involve swords. I think mine is better.” 

His fingers twitch against the table. If he has to watch her walk out of here with someone else…

Selfish, so selfish, Spite hums. 

Lucanis does his best to ignore the demon. 

Won’t take what you want…won’t let her have what she’d like. 

Lucanis looks away. Shut up, demon. 

Spite is delighted. Let me talk to her! I could help her. I could give her the distraction she seeks.

Lucanis brings a fist down, rattling the drinkware and startling Rook, who looks at him with the most sober eyes he’s seen from her tonight. 

“Forgive me.” 

“Spite?” She asks knowingly.  

“I have it handled.” 

She nods, eyes already skating back to the bartender. 

Lucanis braces himself. “You deserve a night off, Rook. And you deserve whatever joy you can find.” He nods towards the bartender, “If that’s it, then take it.” The words are ash in his mouth. “But eventually, you need to talk about what happened. You cannot avoid it- and Neve- forever.” 

“Talk about what happened…” Rook says faintly, staring at the bartender for so long that Lucanis thinks her decision for the night has already been made. Then she says, in a tone so miserable he has to stop himself from reaching out to take her hand, “What happened is that I made a choice. And that choice cost people, my people, their lives.”

She takes an angry swill from her mug. Lucanis is silent. It seems a dam on her words has broken and they pour out of her now. “I chose not to go to my own people, Luc. How could I do that? Neve is never going to forgive me- and why should she? I betrayed the Shadow Dragons trust.”

Slow and patient, Lucanis nods. “You chose to come with me to save Treviso. Innocent people lived because of you.” 

“And what of the innocent people of Minrathous who did not live? What of my fellow Shadow Dragons, slain by the Venatori?” 

Lucanis suspects this is not a rhetorical question as her eyes bore into him. That she seeks an absolution no one can give her. “You had to make an impossible choice-” A distressed shake of her head. “So- why did you make the one you did, Rook?”

He can see the tears she is fighting hard to hold back. “I thought they would win,” she whispers. Lucanis cannot stop himself from reaching out now, cupping his hand around hers where it rests on the table. She looks down at their joined hands. “I didn’t think for one second the Shadow Dragons would fall. I didn’t think-” She looks back up at him, a rare softness to her that Lucanis aches to wrap up and protect. 

“I know,” Lucanis squeezes her hand, silent permission to say what she needs to say. 

“I thought I could do more good in Treviso, prevent more deaths. The Shadow Dragons, they are accustomed to moving as one, coordinating. But the Crows,” She watches him, something of an apology in her eyes. “The Crows operate alone in the shadows so often.” Another squeeze of his hand around hers. “I feared they wouldn’t stand a chance trying to protect the citizens and fight off a dragon.” 

“Rook,” Lucanis dips his head to hold her gaze. “It is not a crime to have faith in your people. To help those you think will need it most.” 

A tear finally breaches the rim of her eye. Lucanis sweeps it away with his thumb. Immediately dropping his hand away to join his other clasped around hers. 

“But I was wrong,” her voice hardens. “The Shadow Dragons did fall. And I wasn’t there.” She pulls her hand away from his, draining the rest of her cup. She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth and sways in her seat. 

“An impossible choice, with irreversible consequences,” Lucanis offers solemnly. “But we will rebuild and retake Minrathous.” It’s a contract he speaks between them. 

“We?” The single word on her lips sends a thrill through Lucanis. 

“You chose to help my people. I will repay that debt to yours.” Lucanis vows. 

She focuses on him, reaches out a finger to tap his chest. “You would do that?” 

“You are not alone, Rook.” 

Sadness bends the curve of her mouth. “It feels like it sometimes. Everyone is looking to me to make decisions. The team. Varric. I feel like I’m one footstep away from leading everyone off of a cliff.” 

“If you are the one leading, I would gladly go over the ledge.” Lucanis bites down on his tongue, afraid he’s revealed too much in his desire to provide her comfort. Worth it when the sound of laughter falls from her lips. “I only mean to say,” Lucanis goes on. “That you are a good leader, Rook. And all good leaders must make the best of impossible choices.” 

“Thank you, Lucanis.” She smiles. “Well then,” She stands abruptly on wobbling feet. Lucanis rises beside her, anxiety coursing through him that she’s decided to proposition the bartender after all, that this is farewell for the evening. 

She takes a step, stumbling. “Oh!” In her drunken surprise, she throws out a hand to steady herself against his chest as she trips. He moves with an assassin’s instinct, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Her hand presses flat against his heart, which he’s sure must be racing.

“Are you sure you don’t have any bad decisions in you tonight?” There’s a challenge in her eyes.  

Mierda. He releases her, steps back, his hand lingering at her waist. “You’re drunk,” he says gently. 

“And you’re possessed by a demon. We all have our issues.” 

He fights down a smile, unwilling to encourage her. Drops his forehead to hers, his restraint slipping for just a moment. But he lets go of her waist, motioning to the tavern’s exit. “Can I interest you in an evening stroll instead?”

“Will it end with Venatori filth on the end of my blade? Surely that’s one bad decision you can allow.” 

Her words still slush together and an unsteadiness vibrates her frame. A vision of her facing off against Venatori cultists in a darkened alley, reflexes slowed from drink floods through him. “When it comes to you, they’re all bad decisions,” he replies gruffly, turning to lead them from the bar. 

She matches his stride on shaky legs, grips his bicep as she ducks under a server hoisting a drink laden tray over their heads. Mutters a curse when she staggers against him, the liquor in her blood proving to greatly impair her agility. Lucanis sighs, wrapping an arm back around her, tucking her in against his side as he pushes through the crowded bar. She closes her fingers around a fistful of his jacket, her knuckles pressing into his abdomen. When they cross the threshold to the street outside, she does not let go. Neither does he. 

They walk, pressed together, all the way back to the eluvian.