#picture lucanis sighing in the back

[ndostairlyrium]

"We saw you from across the bar and we really dig. Your grave. The grave we are going to dig for you. Well, actually- we aren't the ones digging it, the spirits are gonna do it, but still. It will be an elegant funeral, with white cyclamens, and choir, maybe with a small reception at the end. But it's your funeral! Because we're going to ki-"

"Rook, I think she got it."

[cheerysmores]

Unfinished business

Pairing: Lucanis X Shadow Dragon Rook (named: Phyrra Mercar).

Word count: 3K

Summary: Post game. Some thoughts on what would happen if someone took a Crow contract out on Rook. Will most likely be added to a longer fic later.

***

If there was any amount of gold Lucanis could pay to not speak to his cousin tonight, he’d gladly part with it. He’d found a perfumed note slipped between a dozen missives from the other Talons. The five words were enough to make his stomach turn. 

Urgent business. Usual place. - Illario 

He crumples it again, fixing his stare to Treviso’s darkening horizon from his perch on the Villa’s roof. It was his favourite spot as a boy, one hidden by an ivy-strewn chimney where he could rub the bruises from his Grandmother’s cane or his own clumsiness. They both could

It’s been months since they’ve talked. He wishes it were longer, but there are only so many contracts he can throw at Illario to get him out of the city. There are longer, more incomprehensible jobs that would probably have him away permanently, but he can’t quite bring himself to waste Caterina’s training on those. His cousin is still a good assassin. It doesn’t change the fact that Lucanis would rather eat his own knife collection than have another conversation with him.

Spite flickers from tile to tile out of the corner of his eye, grumbling and restless. The demon had become insufferably impatient when Phyrra’s scent finally left his bedsheets. He’d chastise him more if he hadn’t been the same the second she’d left the city again. 

He rolls the parchments between his fingers. He wants her here, needs to talk to her. He’d kill any number of people for a working Eluvian so he could pull her back and spill his spiralling thoughts into the curve of her neck… then pointedly ask if the other Shadow Dragons had guilted her into rebuilding Minrathos brick by brick. 

He pictures her next to him, eyes bright, hair ignited with colour from the last stripes of sunlight painting the roof. She’d put her head on his shoulder, gently jab him in the side and say something along the lines of ‘If he tries anything, I’ll politely remind him that all the grease in his hair makes it especially flammable.’ 

He almost smiles. If anything the next conversation should at least liven up the next letter he pens.

***

The scent of cinnamon and old coffee greets him as he enters the kitchen. Before, it had always been their place to decompress, mainly because of the easy access to pastries and alcohol. Illario sits at the small table next to an open bottle. He’s as primped as ever, coat pressed, hair styled, lips dark from the wine. Only his slightly crooked nose ruins his carefully sculpted image–  a reminder of when they finally had it out at Caterina’s birthday party. It started as needle sharp words over dinner and ended with the least graceful brawl two Crows had ever been a part of. He’s not sure what stung more, his Grandmother’s icy stare as Viago pulled them apart or her short remarks on his sloppy form.

Spite lurches from the darkness. His anger is a bitter taste in the air as he glares at his cousin. “Finally. Let me finish this.”

Illario refills his glass. “Lucanis, I wasn’t sure you’d actually come.”

The way he stretches out his name makes his skin crawl. “I half expected to find your body down here with a thank you note stabbed through it,” he answers, firmly shutting the door behind him.

Illario’s smile doesn’t falter. “Disappointed?”

“Do you really want the answer to that question?”

A low muffled groan suddenly bleeds through the cellar door behind Illario. He leans back and kicks it until whoever is in there stops.

Lucanis runs a hand down his face. “Don’t bring work back here if you’re not prepared to clean the floor yourself.”

“It’s just some unfinished business. Don’t worry about that for now.” Illario pushes the second chair out from under the table. He sighs when Lucanis remains standing. “You’re always so humourless when you have to sleep alone. Convince Rook to leave Minrathos already and save the rest of the Talons a headache.”

Spite slinks forward, lips pulled back into a snarl. "You got to punch him. It’s my turn. Mine."

Lucanis shoots the demon a harder stare. “Not yet.”

“You never let me.” 

“I said no.”

Illario raises a thick eyebrow. “Oh sorry, I should have asked. Am I talking to you or him right now?”

“When he’s talking, you’ll know.” He’s fairly sure he’s the only man on Thedas that can confirm exactly how vivid a demon’s imagination can get. Spite had spent more than one evening painting an extremely colourful picture of all the ways he could tear out his cousin’s heart instead of letting Lucanis sleep.

“Well I’m fairly certain it was the demon who tried to stab me,” Illario says.

“The first time.”

“Yes. The dozen or so times at the Opera were very necessary after I was already on my knees. You could have–”

“Illario.” Lucanis interrupts sharply. “If there’s a point to this meeting, get to it faster.”

“Fine.” He produces a small package from his coat and pushes it  across the table. “I have a gift for you.” He takes a longer drink of wine as Lucanis takes it. It’s some deep Orlesian red by the smell. Far too expensive for everyday business.

He gestures to the bottle. “I’m assuming there’s an occasion.”

“Of course.” Illario raises his cup in a crude toast. “Celebrating your loss of virginity before ascending to First Talon. I’d say tell me everything but I’m assuming it’s a fairly brief account.”

Lucanis lets the sound of tearing paper fill the heavy silence. Two years ago he might have laughed at that, maybe even stolen his own bottle from Caterina’s finer collection. Back when it would have truly just been the two of them.

Spite eyes the package, nose wrinkling.

He finds a dagger nestled inside. It’s well-made but unassuming, one a thousand hidden up the sleeves of Crows across the continent. He can tell it was cleaned in a hurry, the surface smeared with a thin sheen of crimson and something darker–  a cheap poison he surmises. The good ones don’t leave a stain. His fingers stop as he touches the serrated edge. He knows the pattern. He’d traced the exact scar over Phyrra’s shoulder the last time she’d come to his bed. She hadn’t seen who’d attacked her, just heard their screams as she quickly shoved them from Minrathos’ city walls. 

Spite inhales. “Smells like. Deathroot. Iron.” His sharp eyes narrow, snapping to Illario again. “Rook.”

Lucanis’ fist tightens over the handle. “Who was it?”

“One of the lower houses. None of the Talons would ever accept that contract– at least for now.” Another whimper comes through the cellar door. Illario kicks it harder. “I’m holding onto the name until I know you’re not going to do something stupid.”

The bite of Spite’s rage prickles under his skin. He can feel the demon’s words digging into his own tongue, desperate to be spat. 

‘Burn them. Burn them all to the ground.’

Illario puts down his glass and crosses the room. “You must know this won’t be the last time.”

“She made a lot of enemies. We both did. And the Houses can give up as many Crows as they can afford to lose.”

“Those contracts are not going to come from anywhere but Antiva.”

Lucanis doesn’t look up from the knife. “You cannot be sure of that.”

The words hang in the air, bitter as they are foolish. Illario leans back on the table, exhaling loudly when he doesn’t continue. “Fine, if you need an evil face to say the words, I’ll oblige you. What exactly do you think will happen when Caterina dies?”

“I’d want to see her body before I’d believe it.”

Illario huffs out a small laugh. There’s no warmth to it. “You have the title but she still holds the power with an incredibly tight leash. When she finally lets go, do you truly believe that the Houses’ hatred of me is enough to accept an abomination as First Talon? I might be banished to the shadows but it’s all the better for hearing things people are only brave enough to whisper in such dark corners.”

Lucanis closes his eyes. It’s not a conversation he needs now, never one he needs to have with Illario. He knows the knife’s edge he walks, a thousand Crows pecking at every step. They’ll kiss the ring in front of the Talons but he’s seen the way their eyes search for breaks in his expression for the demon to push through. He’s just one rung above the traitor in front of him. Neither would be standing here without the bloody weight of their surname to throw around.

“They can come after me themselves then,” Lucanis retorts.

“Oh come on. You know that isn’t the logical move. The Eight Houses still support you so any civil war would be over before it began. Even before Caterina named you, everyone knew you would be chosen, so plans were already being formed about ways to usurp. Except then, you didn’t have such a glaring weakness to aim for.”

The moaning behind the door pitches to a discordant wail. Spite continues to stare at the side of Illario’s face, shaking with hate.

"He hurt us. He hurt Rook. Let me finish it. LET ME."

Lucanis pushes down harder as the demon gnashes against his restraint. It’s relentless now, a hurricane clawing at a door that he’s holding closed with his bare hands. 

“Call her weak when she’s in the room and see how long you last,” he says. He can still see the burn scars from her staff stretching like rough plaster above Illario’s collar. Leaving his face unharmed was her own kindness.

Illario rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say weak. I said weakness. I’m certain Rook could fight off a small army of Crows if she needed to. It doesn’t mean they won’t stop or that she won’t slip up. I’m not the only one that knows she can’t swim.” The noise behind the door grows louder, mixing with Spite’s growling until Illario’s words are barely audible. “And what happens after that, cousin? We saw what happened when I killed Zara instead of you. How much worse is it going to be when something happens to her? See how long all those alliances last when you finally lose control and one of the other houses has the chance to take everything.”

Spite hisses next to him. ‘LET ME. FINISH THIS.’

Lucanis’ chest burns as Spite pulls harder. “I'm not going to let that happen.”

“Not even when they send you her body so neatly wrapped in the cape you gifted her?” Illario folds his arms, words softly measured. “Or maybe they’d stretch it out and you’d get her back piece by piece–”

The knife leaves Lucanis’ hand before he can finish. It sails past his face and slams into the cellar door with a thunderous crack. Everything falls silent. Spite stays still, watching with wide eyes as Lucanis forces his breathing back into a regular rhythm. It takes all his remaining strength not to punch Illario again when he smirks, the words point proven painted there like rouge. 

Lucanis looks away. He’s better than this. He should be better than this. Illario had been a pickaxe to the cracks of his patience for decades now and he can count on one hand the number of times it had actually snapped. The times his cousin was right.

He can still feel the wounds in his mind from Spite tearing through and lunging at Illario– his first taste of becoming a true abomination. It had taken every fiber of his control and the sting of blood magic to halt the knife. Even after he’d left Treviso he could still feel Spite’s teeth digging in, desperate for the revenge they were both owed. 

After beating him to a bruised mess, Illario was a matter he could mostly hold Spite’s back on. But if something happened to Phyrra…

Something colder curls around his heart. He’d already lost her once. It was a miracle that the kitchen in the Lighthouse was still standing after he’d finally let the cocktail of anger and guilt pull him under. He’d woken to bloody fingers, a mosaic of broken glass and the terrified stares of his remaining companions. It was a lie to blame Spite, another to ignore the fact that the demon is as much a part of him as each breath now. Lucanis can see the scars reflected on his face, his own anger bleeding into those sharp glowing eyes. They were forced together like oil and water, constantly fighting to see who would end up on top. It’s different now. Their alliance opened something between them, Spite twisting into every muscle until the lines where Lucanis ended and he began blurred into nothing. 

They’d both kill for her. Maker forbid the next person who tempted them.

Illario tugs the dagger out of the door. “What was it Caterina always said? ‘Feelings make you weak. Make you sloppy.’ She beat that into both of us and yet still favoured you for that heart of yours.” He flips the blade in the air and catches it in his other hand. “Forever doing Caterina’s bidding, even when you hated it. You never even wanted the title, always said that death was your only calling.”

Lucanis eyes the blade in Illario’s hand. “Plans change. People change.”

“I didn’t change and you're a fool if you think I did.” Illario takes a step forward, regarding himself in the knife’s reflection. “That’s why I made my plan. Antiva would be safe, I’d have what I wanted, you’d have gotten the end you thought you deserved.” He closes his eyes, frowning. “Fucking Zara.” 

Lucanis stays quiet, his gaze not leaving the weapon as Illario tilts it forward. 

“I’m not sorry for what I did. If you’re waiting for an apology then you might as well kill me now. This is how Crow business is done.” He runs his thumb along the metal, dark eyes boring into Lucanis’. “You’ll always be a better assassin than me. But I’d be the better Talon.”

Lucanis walks forward until the tip of the blade is pressed against his chest. “Then you should have used your own knife.” 

One thrust is all it would take to put him down. Whether or not Illario could push hard enough before Lucanis smashes his face into a wall is another matter entirely— one he isn’t sure his cousin is willing to bet his currently unbroken teeth on.

A long cold moment passes before Illario sighs and tosses the blade onto the table. “It would be easier to count the Crows who don’t want me dead so I’d like to avoid infighting as much as you. Either get Rook here or end it, right now we’re both just waiting for this fragile peace to shatter.”

Spite circles him again.  “Why not now? His back is turned.” He turns to Lucanis when he doesn’t answer, his form shaking with impatience. “We hate him. He made us like this.”

Lucanis ignores him. Maker knows it would be so much easier to hate his cousin, to ship him off on a glorified suicide mission like everyone, even Phyrra, expects him to. He just… can’t. Every time he considers it, the memory of them walking in tandem behind their parents’ urns swims to the surface. From then on, it was them against the world, two little boys facing the iron of their Grandmother’s stare and shouldering the endless weight of her expectations.

That little boy became the man that wanted Lucanis dead. Exactly as he was trained to. He’d heard whispers long before he was dragged to the Ossuary: House Dellamorte, a family tree with so many withered branches it’s amazing it hasn’t snapped under the weight of the rot inside. He’ll be damned before he uproots it entirely.

“If you hear anything else, I want to know,” Lucanis finally murmurs. He jerks his head towards the cellar when the muffled whining starts again. “And deal with whatever that is already.”

Illario strides to the door, fingers poised on the handle. “It’s another gift actually. As it turns out, Rook didn’t quite finish the job and I happened to find said Crow crawling back to Antiva.” His smile sharpens a little. “I may have told that particular House that you’d be more forgiving if they let you clean up.”

Spite is off Illario in an instant, staring through the door like a bloodhound zoned in on wounded prey.

Lucanis calmly takes off his jacket and plucks the knife from the table. He remembers the size of the scar ruining her back, the surrounding bouquet of broken veins where the poison had burned through. A target placed there because she chose to love him.

Illario watches him pull open the door, chin resting in his upturned palm. “It’s almost a mercy I suppose. You’re usually so efficient.”

“Yes, I am,” Lucanis quietly affirms. Spectral wings burst from his back, feathers curling forward like scythe-blades. The whimpering ceases entirely as he steps into the darkness, eyes flashing a brilliant violet. “He isn’t.”

***

Bonus Phyrra

[sorrelchestnut]

Birds on a Wire, Lucanis/f!Rook, 2/?

Part One.

The next morning she is awake before him, as has become usual the last few months.  Lucanis sleeps well these days, now that he no longer fears what his body will do once unattended.  Her troubles with the dreaming world have no such simple solutions.  Lucanis makes a mental note to confer with Emmrich the next time they meet, and goes looking for his wayward lover.

He finds her in the courtyard, debriefing with the Caretaker.  "-need tending," she's saying.  "They all think they're real now and start wilting if they don't get watered.  And Bellara will be back from Arlathan in a couple days, can you make sure she eats and sleeps at regular intervals?  She's pretty good about it if you remind her."

"Of course, Dweller.  I will see to it."

"Thanks, mate.  I know things have been quiet but if you have any problems in the Crossroads send a message through the Treviso eluvian.  We'll be back in a flash to see it handled."

"Of course, Dweller.  Safe travels."

"We'll certainly do our best.  Hullo, pet," she says, turning with a smile as he approaches on her right.  "You all packed?"

"The essentials, at least," he confirms, hefting his duffel.  "What about you, is that all you're taking with you?"

Rook shoulders her own much smaller rucksack and grins at him.  "Not much to take, you know me.  Couple spare daggers and a change of clothes and I'm all set."

Clothes that are just as stained and tattered as the set she's currently wearing, unfortunately.  The past months have not been kind to anyone's belongings but…  Lucanis pictures his grandmother's face and winces. "We could both use a refresh of our wardrobe," he says diplomatically.  "We'll have to visit my old tailor, if he's still in business."

She only shrugs.  Someone told Lucanis once that Rivainis like to wear their wealth; clearly no one saw fit to inform Rook.  "Your coin, dove.  You ready to go?"

"At your lead, signora."

If someone told him six months ago that he would grow accustomed to traveling halfway across the continent in the blink of an eye, Lucanis would have laughed in their face.  But he thought the same thing when he first took a life, and with enough repetition that grew to hold all the intrigue of yesterday's lunch.  Today he steps through the eluvian at Rook's heels and into the cool, damp air of an Antivan winter, and thinks only with irritation that it looks as if it's going to rain.

Rook's clearly thinking the same.  "Oh, look at that sky.  Might have a storm on our hands."

Ugh.  "You're not wrong," he's forced to agree, eyeing the sky with disfavor.  "If we don't hurry we're going to get caught in it."

"Oh, you think?"

He turns the skeptical look on her.  She's practically bouncing on her heels, giddy as a child.  "You cannot be serious."

"Do you know how long it's been since I've even seen a storm?  In Minrathous it's a light drizzle four hours a day like clockwork, and the Crossroads are mildly sunny night and fuckin' day."

Yes, and Lucanis loves it.  He'd go back right now if he could.  "Have you ever tried to run rooftops in a downpour?"

"I've boarded ships in a hurricane, love, still think they're cracker."  She laughs at the expression on his face.  "Can't help it, I just love loud weather."

"Thunderbolts and lighting!" Spite agrees.

It's Spite's nature to be argumentative, and if he can suck up to Rook in doing so then all the better.  But Lucanis thought better of her.  "You are a very strange person.  There is nothing enjoyable about wet clothing."

She laughs again and slings an arm around his shoulders.  "Aww, poor grumpy Lucanis.  C'mon, Spite, let's go before his highness gets his feet wet."

There is a fledgling waiting for them at the canal docks, though Lucanis did not take the time to send his grandmother a reply.  She must have set the boy to wait as soon as she sent the letter, as if to remind Lucanis that it is beneath the First Talon to procure his own gondola.  He tucks his sigh behind his teeth.

"Your name?"

"Marco, monsignor."

Lucanis doesn't recognize him, but then, he doesn't know most of the fledglings in Treviso these days.  Caterina kept herself busy during the occupation, pulling in all manner of disaffected youths with dreams of being freedom fighters.  He wonders wearily how many of them will survive the brutal reality of a Crow's apprenticeship without the numbing salve of patriotic fervor to fuel their ambitions.  There will be a great many failures over the next few years, is his estimate, and as always, those few who succeed will be forced to cut their matriculation from the throats of their less fortunate brethren.  And Lucanis will have to be the one to order it done.

(didn't want this. never wanted THIS)

"Good to meet you.  Are you to take us to the villa?"

"Yes, monsignor."  His gaze roams unsubtly around the empty dock.  "And will, ah, your luggage be traveling separately?"

"Most people just call me Rook, lad."

Under other circumstances Lucanis might enjoy the fledgling's wide-eyed look of panic.  "Signora- Monsignora, I did not mean-"

"Ignore her, Marco," Lucanis instructs with a sigh.  "We're ready to depart when you are."

Rook gives the white-faced boy a clap on the shoulder and jumps into the waiting gondola, sure-footed as a cat.  Lucanis follows her more circumspectly, dropping his duffel at her feet.  "Play nice with the children, cara."

"I'm always nice."

"I know of several who would disagree."

"Yeah, but how many of them are still alive to say so?"

"Ah, the 'leave no witnesses' approach.  Very Antivan."

"Learned from the best."

Lucanis soon falls silent as the gondola progresses through the canals, his capacity for banter exhausted by the presence of their witness, but Rook nobly takes up the banner of conversation with some convoluted story of a failed treasure hunt involving three pirate ships and a dragon.  Lucanis listens and makes noises at all the right intervals, but his attention is fixed on their surroundings as they pass.

(enemy territory)

It's not like this for normal people, Lucanis thinks.  Neve is justifiably cautious taking a stroll around Docktown's meaner streets, but she watches the crowds, looking for a common thug or paid mercenary to try their luck.  Harding keeps an eye on her purse and Taash shoulders through crowds like a ship cuts the water, but neither of them move through the world as if death could come at any minute.  Even Rook, who handles her blade with a particular familiar flourish that Lucanis has very carefully not questioned how she might have been taught, doesn't share his reflexive, ceaseless paranoia any time they go somewhere he hasn't personally vetted.  He wouldn't wish that fear on his worst enemy - but neither would he want her denied of any tool that might keep her safe.

(WE will keep her safe!)

That's what Lucanis's mother thought, and his father, and all his aunts and uncles.  Thirty years ago, House Dellamorte numbered in the dozens: five children, four spouses, eight grandchildren, countless body servants and retainers.  Of those, only Lucanis remains.  And he dares to imagine Rook beside him in this pit of vipers?

(blood and brine.  storm and steel!)

True.  Rook has survived worse things than any the Antivan Crows can offer, that's to be sure.  Even now, her laugh comes easy, her haphazard tale flowing like good wine - but her gaze is watchful, flitting from the rooftops behind Lucanis to the streets ahead and back again.  And underneath the fold of her tattered traveling cloak, her hand rests casually near the hilt of her sword.  Perhaps it will be enough.

Part Three

[possessiveandobsessive]

The Spirit of Determination

Nyra "Rook" Thorne is somehow responsible for the fate of all of Thedas. If she's going to pull it off, she's going to need a hell of a lot of determination. Lucky for her, she knows a guy and his demon who can help her out with that.

Part 2: Guilt is a Painful Poison

Rook had just made it to the bottom of the first set of stairs into the library and was preparing to head down the second when a voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Where are you going, Rook? Are you going alone?”

That voice, that damn voice. Smooth as velvet, with a deep rumbling tone that she could feel down in her core.

She closed her eyes. Of course it’s him. It’s always him. Rook turned to face Lucanis, who stood by the round table in the center of the space. This table was the one the team gathered around to discuss their upcoming plans of action, and Lucanis was standing directly behind the chair Rook normally sat in. He had his hands placed lightly on the back of her chair, and she couldn’t help but picture him doing this while she sat in it. She yearned to have someone who would always stand protectively behind her when she let her guard down, so that she actually could let her guard down. Now was not the time for those types of girlish fantasies, however. Rook was a Grey Warden, a soldier who stood between darkness and the people of Thedas. She wasn’t some damsel that needed protection or saving, no matter how badly she sometimes wished she could be. With that thought in her mind, she answered Lucanis.

 “I’m headed to Dock Town. Morrigan wants to meet me to discuss some things before we face the gods. I’ll be fine going alone. It’ll be a quick jaunt to The Cobbled Swan, there shouldn’t be any huge dangers that I can’t handle on my own.” 

Rook put on her best “I’m tough, I don’t need anyone” face as she said this. If he insisted on accompanying her, she wouldn’t be able to say no to him. She should go into a meeting like this with Morrigan clear-headed and focused, and she had trouble being either of those things with the handsome Crow around. Of course, he couldn’t back off and make it easy for her.

“Danger finds you every time you leave this Lighthouse, Rook. You should have back-up. Give me a moment to grab my blades and I’ll come with you.”

She opened her mouth to turn him down and assure him that she would be just fine, when Lucanis cut her off.

“Don’t argue with me Rook, you know damn well that if anyone on this team heard you were planning to go alone, they’d insist at least one other person go with you. Harding and Neve would insist on two people accompanying you. I’m coming along, or I’m telling the others that you’re planning on going alone to Minrathous. Your choice.”

Rook’s green eyes narrowed at him for a moment before she sighed and threw herself down onto the small loveseat that Harding and Neve normally occupied for their meetings. This man is going to be the death of me, she thought to herself. She wasn’t nearly as upset about that as she wanted to be.

“Fine, you win. Hurry up though, Morrigan made it sound like it could be somewhat urgent. You know, world ending type stuff.” 

She said this last part lightly in an attempt to mask her growing anxiety about it. Rook was definitely concerned. Morrigan wasn’t one to exaggerate when it was important, and she had never requested Rook’s audience in such a pressing manner before. She knows something we don’t, and I don’t think I’m going to like it. A frown twisted her mouth again, and she was unable to school her expression back to a neutral one before Lucanis caught it. His brow furrowed as a twin frown appeared on his own face. He gave her that concerned look he got on his face when she seemed unhappy or worried. Instead of commenting further though, Lucanis simply gave her a nod in response and turned quickly on his heel to fetch his gear.

Rook watched his figure retreat and exit the main room before letting herself crumple a bit. Her shoulders sagged and she let out a frustrated sigh. She was too weak to refuse him anything, especially when she wanted him at her side pretty much constantly. Those warm brown eyes made her brain slow as all of her rational thoughts flew out the window. She wanted nothing more than for him to hold her to his chest so she could just sit and listen to the strong, steady beat of his heart. But she couldn’t allow herself those luxuries, nor could she afford to be distracted by her girlish affections for such a vital member of her team. Control Nyra. That’s always been your weak point. Control your emotions, don’t let them control you. Blindly following your heart is what has gotten you into your biggest messes. What happened at Weisshaupt can never be allowed to happen again. Your lack of focus and reactionary nature is what caused the Grey Wardens to go into battle without their First Warden at the helm.

Rook could still feel the phantom pain in her hand from the force that she had struck  First Warden Jowin down with that day. He had been a massive prick, but she had made a decision that had huge consequences for all of the Grey Wardens. And she had done so out of wild rage and frustration, not conscious thought. That wasn’t the kind of thing good leaders did. Varric never would have handled it that way. Her mentor would have talked the First Warden down and gotten him to cooperate willingly. He definitely wouldn’t have struck down his superior so hard his knuckles nearly broke.

“You chose wrong, Varric.” Rook whispered to herself quietly in the silence of the Lighthouse rotunda. “I’m not cut out to lead this team. I’m not fit to be the one holding the fate of Thedas.”

Rook heard someone clear their throat in front of her, and her eyes snapped up to meet Lucanis’s. Eyes wide, she opened and closed her mouth for a moment. How long has he been there?? The thought made her heart rate pick up. Had he heard her voice her doubts? That was not a good look for the supposed leader of the Veilguard. Luckily for her, Lucanis said nothing about her whispered comments to herself, and instead gestured towards the stairs behind her.

“Ready to go, Rook?” he asked, watching her closely but not with any hint of judgement. He was wearing his fighting leathers now, and had at least 4 blades strapped to his person. Rook knew that he absolutely had more hidden from view.

“Yeah, let’s get moving. If the world really is ending sooner than expected, we don’t have time to waste.”

With that, Rook got to her feet and held her chin up high as she purposefully strode down the stairs to the Eluvian room. Lucanis moved silently behind her, the only indication of his presence and proximity was the small hairs on the back of her neck prickling. Now focused and with the dutiful mind of a soldier once again, Rook led the way through the large mirror. Out of the frying pan, and into the fire, she and her silent companion ventured forth.

 *   *   *   *

The Crossroads were as calm and quiet as always, the only sound to be heard was a faint whisper on the wind coming from The Tree a few yards in front of them. Rook wasn’t actually sure what The Tree actually was or if it had a proper name. She had taken to calling it “The Tree” simply because it had one golden “trunk” that opened into golden branch looking pieces that formed a hollow sphere. Inside the branches was what appeared to be pure, swirling energy of The Fade. At the base, there stood three ancient, fossilized elvhen people with distressed expressions. Rook had never heard The Tree whispering before, that part was new to her. Cautiously, she took slow measured steps towards it until she could finally make out words. 

“You will have new subjects, in recompense. Whatever you wish.”

“Rook’s favorite Spite demon and its host. Wouldn’t it be so fitting if I gave him real wings to match his true demonic nature?He could be a masterpiece…”

“Inspired sister, consider it done.”

Rook ground her teeth so hard she thought they might shatter in her mouth. Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, she thought, Those bastards. Rage coursed through her veins, hot as molten lava. They planned to hurt Lucanis, because of her. All because she had been far too obvious in her fondness for the man. Another person with a target because of her.

“I’d like to see her try.”

Rook heard his voice behind her, and then a more twisted, growling version spoke up.

“We will make her regret. She will die by Our hand. Soon”

The last word of Spite’s declaration was a violent hiss. When Rook turned to look at Lucanis behind her, his eyes had already returned to their warm, brown color. His expression however, was equally as murderous as she imagined it had been when Spite had spoken through him. 

“If she touches you, death will be the least of her concerns.” Rook spit the words from behind her still-gritted teeth. She wasn’t sure what her face looked like at that moment, but whatever emotion her expression held seemed to shock Lucanis a bit. Pink tinged the tops of his cheekbones and he cut his gaze to the side before chuckling lightly. 

“The gods are wrong to underestimate you Rook. With a fire like that in your eyes, you could bring dragons to heel.” Lucanis met her eyes again after these words, and now she was the one uncertain of what she saw in his piercing gaze.

She smiled ruefully in response. “I’m pretty sure Taash would disagree, but thank you Lucanis.”

The two of them then began the trip to the mirror that was connected to the one in the Shadow Dragon’s, now destroyed, base of operations. Neither of them spoke, but the silence was comfortable rather than awkward. Lucanis’s presence had a calming effect on her when she was out on missions, a fact she had momentarily forgotten in her lovesick panic earlier. It was good that he came with her, she felt more centered now than she had all day. The Caretaker’s boat finally pulled up to the dock they needed and Rook clambered out first with Lucanis close behind. They made their way across the small island to the Dock Town Eluvian. Stepping inside, Rook tried her best to prepare mentally for whatever Morrigan was going to tell her. Upon reaching the correct clearing, she and Lucanis stepped through the giant, rippling mirror. 

 One thing most people didn’t realize was that travelling via Eluvian took some serious getting used to. It still made Rook’s stomach flip every time she exited on the other side. Both sets of boots crunched as they came in contact with the rubble and debris covered floor on the other side of the portal. Lucanis seemed to read her mind, because before she could spiral into her pit of blame and self-hatred at the sight, he spoke firmly to her back.

“It isn’t your fault Rook. It was an impossible choice, and not many people have the nerve to even have made it at all. You aren’t to blame for every tragedy the gods have caused, and beating yourself up doesn’t bring the dead back to life.”

Curse him for being kind AND correct. Rook wanted to scowl at him, but she knew he was right. It didn’t help anyone to continue to blame herself every time something went wrong or someone got hurt. Knowing that he spoke the truth didn’t make it any easier to swallow though. She wasn’t sure the wounds those decisions left her with would ever completely fade. Scars were permanent reminders of the past. They were undeniable evidence of both victories, and losses. Instead of responding, Rook just nodded her head and continued forward into the ruined city. She had somewhere to be.

Rook made an effort to keep her eyes averted from the weeks-old bodies that had been left hanging on the Venatori’s makeshift execution stands. It wasn’t easy, they littered every street corner and filled the squares. Even if she could avoid seeing them, their presence was undeniable and unavoidable. The bodies of innocent citizens filled the air with the sickeningly sweet, rotting, scent of decomposition. Bile filled her mouth as Rook swatted flies from her face. The flies in Dock Town were another indicator of the atrocities the city had undergone. The insects swarmed the corpses, giving the impression of black clouds hanging low in the streets. Their irritating buzzing became a drone in the background of every thought and spoken word. Rook truly hated every second she spent on these ruined streets, and that made her feel even worse. She had the audacity to hate the aftermath of the devastation that had befallen Minrathous because she had defended Treviso instead. Grimacing from the sting of those thoughts paired with the foul sights and smells, Rook forced her legs to continue moving as she numbly made her way to The Cobbled Swan. 

Lucanis could clearly see that Rook was deeply upset and disturbed, and he hated that she had to be here. Though, the fact that she blamed herself was something he hated even more. She carries too much and relies on others too little. Then again, he thought darkly, I am guilty of the same things and I hate it when she points it out. With that thought in mind, he said nothing about her mood shift and simply followed her towards their destination. He knew the weight of guilt, and was familiar with the way it seemed to curl around one’s very soul. It wasn’t an easy thing to let go of. 

After about a 10 minute walk, Rook and Lucanis reached the tavern. Rook let out a sigh of relief at the excuse to get off the streets and hurried up the stairs to get inside. She could see Morrigan waiting for her at a table off to the side, and turned to Lucanis. 

“Could you wait here while I speak to her? She asked for me and I’m not sure what she wants to say is meant for an audience.” Rook felt bad for making him stand across the room while she met with Morrigan, but she had the feeling that this was going to be a conversation meant to be had with her alone.

Lucanis bobbed his head in the affirmative and said, “It’s not a problem Rook. I’ll wait near the door. Spite wants to people-watch anyway.” He rolled his eyes with the last part of his statement and Rook couldn’t help but laugh a little. Spite’s curiosity and non-understanding of human behavior was one of her favorite things to witness these days. Well, outside of Lucanis cooking with sleeves rolled up and a serene look on his face. That was her favorite thing.

“Thanks Lucanis.” Rook spoke in a relieved tone before turning and walking towards Morrigan’s still form at the last table. Just as she was coming up behind the witch, Morrigan began speaking.

“Thank you for coming quickly, Rook. It is best that the things I am about to say are spoken before the last part of your battle begins.”

Rook swallowed down her nerves and took the seat opposite of Morrigan. Rook’s vibrant eyes were suddenly alight with a fire she felt deep in her soul. Time to get serious. “Alright Morrigan, what do you know, and how much time do we actually have left?”

Part 3 here!

Part 1 here!

DATV Masterlist here

[woundedsoul12]

From our discord writing prompt- Illario and Lucanis post game banter. This also mentions my M!Shadowdragon!Rook and his brother.

I have been writing for the Mercar Trio for awhile and I adore them. I have finally established enough of Rook's story in the Closer series to move on with this

Lucanis sighed as he placed his hand on the door of Illario's study. Once, he almost lived in this wing of the Dellamorte Estate. He and his cousin had been more like brothers, and he longed more than anything to go back to that time. 

He hoped, for his sake, that Rook was right about their plan. 

“Cousin!” Illario was just a little too enthusiastic to see him as he draped across his chair with his feet over the armrest. He looked the picture of perfect ease, though Lucanis could see how his eyes flashed about the room. 

Wants an exit. Just in case.  

He ignored Spite's low growl beside him. The demon had promised to behave. For Rook. But Lucanis kept his hold on his control tight just in case. 

“Illario. You seem well,” he nodded as he took a seat across from his cousin. He wanted to appear non threatening. Friendly maybe. 

You do a bad job. 

Ok so maybe his hand hovering next to the daggers at his thigh was a bit too obvious. 

“Oh come now,” Illario chuckled as he swirled a glass of Antivan Brandy. “I'm sure you didn't come here just to explain pleasantries, cousin.” 

Lucanis hated that knowing look. How Illario could always read him so easily. Could even finish his sentences sometimes. 

“Actually I came to discuss the wedding,” Lucanis began. To his cousin's credit, he simply smiled at the topic. 

“Ah yes. The impending nuptials between Thedas’ most eligible bachelor, and his assassin abomination-” 

Blood and ash. Let Spite have him. 

Lucanis’ hands clenched at Illario's words, but he kept his breathing even. Both to keep Spite calm and himself. 

“Yes, my wedding to Rook,” he just agreed as he didn't want the tension. But he couldn't avoid allowing one dig at his cousin. “And with one Dellamorte wed, the other houses will be curious when our- fallen member will also be settling down.” 

Illario choked on his drink, though cleared his throat and regained his composure. 

“I'm sure the other houses are lining up to take that role,” he chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. “But I'm not interested. In marriage or any sort of arrangement.” 

“Actually,” Lucanis couldn't help but smile as he saw Spite bouncing with glee. Delivering this news was going to be the best part of his day, he decided. “The other houses have turned down all negotiations. From both myself and Caterina.” 

Illario jumped to his feet, face shocked at his cousin's words. Being rejected was a new concept. He was Illario Dellamorte. Men craved him and women pined for him. How dare they- 

“That is why Rook has a plan.” Lucanis was enjoying this way too much. He was reminded of when they were younger. When they would torment each other across the estate. Always in trouble but always having each other's backs. Illario would come to realize this really was what was best for him, in time. 

“I don't want to hear of any plans,” the man spat as he made a dramatic show of slamming his glass on the table beside him. “Whatever you and Rook have cooked up, leave me out of it-”

“Caterina has agreed.” The words were quietly spoken, and the color immediately drained from Illario's face. “She has already made the necessary arrangements with the Viper. You will meet your intended at the wedding. So please, try to behave.” 

A mix of emotions flitted across Illario's face. But he finally settled on a sneer as he placed his hands on his hips. 

“You could at least tell me her name,” he grumbled. 

“His name is Brick. And he is Rook's brother,” Lucanis stated as he stood to leave. He had enough of his cousin's company for one afternoon. And Spite was in way too good of a mood as he watched Illario sink back into the chair. 

Illario ran a frustrated hand through his hair as the door closed behind Lucanis. This was almost as bad as his fall from grace. He was trapped with no choice but to accept the proposal. He would have to cooperate. He wouldn't cross Caterina again, and he wanted to remain in the good graces of House Dellamorte and the other Crows. 

“Mierda!” He took his frustrations out as he threw his drink against the wall. The glass shattered, and he huffed as he racked his brain for ideas. 

But suddenly, it came to him in a flash. 

“I will just have to make him want to break it off,” he mused with a devious grin. Yes, that could work. They would have to accept if this Brick rejected him. 

Brick, what kind of dumb Minrathous name was this? Hopefully he was as unappealing as his name, because Illario hated admitting how lonely his bed had been lately. 

“It will all work out,” he reassured himself. He would just have to make himself unlikable, which seemed to be his specialty lately. 

Now, to set his plan in motion. 

[lgvalenzuela]

They appeared sometimes around the Lighthouse, violets. Rook would just laugh and put them in little vases or maybe teacups. Yet he would catch him sometimes looking at them with an uncharacteristic melancholy.

That day (Night? Hard to tell it was always sunny in the Lighthouse) he wasn't sleeping, as usual. He just needed to open the door to get the smell of a good Antivan coffee, that was freshly done at the kitchen table. Rook was sitting at the table, with a book, but he wasn't reading, he was just staring at a little violet he was fiddling with his fingers.

Lucanis took the coffee and inhaled the aroma before taking a sip, for a tea lover Rook was remarkably good at making a good cup of coffee. He approached the kitchen counters, may as well repay the gesture by making something he knew Rook would like, even if that something was tea.

He placed the cup of tea next to Rook and sat down to enjoy his own drink. Rook chuckled:

“You didn't have to” he said, with a smile

“But you did?” he asked

“I figured, since you were probably going to be awake anyway”

He leaned back on his hand, trying not to look tired, but it had been a while since he last slept. If anyone could tell that, it was Lucanis.

He was impossible to figure out that Rook. Ever since he broke him out of the Ossuary he could see it, behind the charming smile and the pleasant dialogue. Rook did not like him. Or more accurately he probably didn't like the Crows. He would catch glimpses of truth sometimes hidden on what Rook would say, maybe it was typical Warden righteousness. But it felt different than his squabbling with Davrin.

And yet some days, he would just open the pantry door to find a coffee made just for him. He was used to seeing Rook being uniquely empathetic. He read the words of prisoners on the Ossuary, he promised they would be remembered. He watched him give money to every beggar they met and pet every animal they saw. Lend a hand to every person who asked and smile at every misfortune.

He did that for them he was sure, so he would appear like a beacon they could turn to. He certainly was that for him…

And yet there he was, tiredly looking at a violet:

“Where should I put this?” Rook sighed

“You always save them, the violets”

“Might as well, they appear because of me”

“Do they?”

“Are you trying to get information out of me, Lucanis?”

“Only if you're willing to share”

“How nice of you…” he fiddled with the teacup “They make me think of when things were simpler, do you have things like that?”

“I…try to…”

His eyes wandered over the coffee again, when he would open the door and find one made just for him, how distinct the aroma was when Rook was the one who made it, he could've sworn it tasted differently than anything before. How during his sleepless days he would study the wyvern tooth dagger he got him, picturing that little kid he once was, with a smile that somebody took into consideration what he wanted.

He thought about the way his voice sounded when he would hum to himself, or his little laugh when he would joke to himself almost.

“They make me think of Ferelden, the flowers, a little garden my mother had in the Alienage”

“Tue… sometimes I forget…”

“Yeah, people usually do, until it's convenient to remember my mother is an elf. That's why I try to make a point to remind people, I'm not human even if I look the part.

I moved out of the Alianage when I was still young though, the only Cousland left besides my uncle so…” he rubbed his eyes “Do you remember…in the Café…when we talked about family expectations”

Lucanis nodded

“I think…I understood you…a little bit more after that. Do they expect you to…No, that's a stupid question. Of course they expect you to…as a heir”

“Are you talking about carrying the family name?”

“You understood that quickly, didn't you?

It was…complicated…back home things are not as bad for elves back home…well not as much since the Hero of Ferelden.

But they're not as good as to expect a noble woman to…”

He thought about it for a moment, looking deeply into Lucanis' eyes. Oh how beautiful his green eyes looked with the lights of the fireplace flickering in them. As he meditated on how much he wanted Lucanis to know. He looked away, but he continued:

“There was one…”

“A noble woman”

“Yes” he drank a bit of his tea, looking down “Violet, her name was incidentally

Good girl, was willing to get married, have a couple of kids, the whole thing…and one day I walked into the room and asked her to leave…”

Lucanis fiddled slightly with his fingers, looking over at Rook. Why was he telling him this? Of all people? Or maybe he had already told the others. But what if he was the first one? Why was he putting this trust in him after…?

But why not listen? After everything he had done, even if nothing was specifically to save Lucanis. He had done so anyway and how little was to just offer a listening ear after all of that?

“Why did you…” he contained himself, thinking carefully “Why did you tell her to leave Rook?”

“... because I'm selfish…because I knew she didn't love me and I didn't love her…”

The tears came so seamlessly even Rook was a little surprised when he noted he had started crying. He tried to wipe his tears but they wouldn't stop:

“Shit, I didn't…” he buried his face in his arms “I just…I wanted it so badly for someone to see me…I wanted someone to want me as I am…

And I know I will never find that person but maybe I wanted to keep the illusion…”

Lucanis extended his hand to him, but stood frozen in place, unable to really reach him, touch him.

How comforting was the illusion that he could ever be that person for Rook. That he would see him the ways he saw him. But Lucanis couldn't be that person.

He didn't know if he lost the ability to be comforting long ago, or during that year in the Ossuary but whatever it was, he retracted his hand.

“You carry all of this besides the weight of the world?”

That got a little laugh out of Rook, he turned to him with a slight smile:

“I don't even know why I'm telling you this”

“Neither do I, but I'm…here to listen, if that's what you need”

“You also make really good tea for someone who scoffed at me finding out what my favorite drink is”

“It's just water with some leafs in it”

“Careful Crow, or I'll start putting ice in your coffee”

“You wouldn't dare”

“I'd watch out, Neve’s always close and she doesn't get much sleep either”

“I think she has enough murdering her own coffee”

And there was that big smile, the one that made you feel like every problem would melt away.

Maybe one day he’d be able to figure him out, maybe take a piece of the burdens he carried. Today wasn't that day, but maybe…someday…

Writing Challenge

Alright now that I was both sincere and pedantic(warned y’all I’m almost always both) here’s your writing challenge for the day. Don’t forget there’s no time limit to these, if you find it in a month I’ll still reblog it. I’ll take pretty much any BW fic not just DA. Reblog, tag, or link me!! My ask box is always open as are my DM’s! Without further ado:

I want flirty dialogue without physical touch OR flirty touch without dialogue.

OR OR

If romance like that isn’t your thing I want angst. Give me the longing. Give me the hurt/comfort. I yearn for yearning. Emotional distress???? I love that shit. I’m leaving this one wide open. Bonus points if you manage both categories. Look for mine later.

[telafel]

I actually love the idea of Bellara walking out of a book discussion with Lucanis, absolutely bursting at the seams to go talk to Neve about it and she's like "No Neve, you don't understand. He picked out the /slow burn/ romance... the one with all the yearning, light touches, and subtle glances." And Neve just sighs. (Maybe even the whole book club gets in on it eventually, just something to try to alleviate the weird vibes.)

The post-pantry stuff gets even funnier when you consider that Lucanis sends Rook a missive about doing the Zara stuff with Emmrich instead of any other form of communication. They've been dancing around each other for DAYS making everything and everyone awkward, then Lucanis ropes Davrin into giving Rook his message. Davrin who at this point respects Lucanis enough to not get involved or say anything (which he was planning on doing before to save for just the right time for maximum impact), has been staying in his lane as much as possible, ends up cornered by Bellara (picture her cicada blocking him in the corner) trying to get information on if the awkward tension is FINALLY going to stop. (Davrin didn't even look at the message.)

post inner-demons and everyone is just eyeing each other because the tension is gone and Lucanis and Rook were making doe eyes at each other after coming back from Minrathous. Everyone wants to know because what the heck they just met up with Teia and Viago and were gone for only 20 minutes max, whoever was third-wheeling (even though they're not there for the quest i like to think they're at least physically around still) is like 'they spaced out for a bit and it was awkward and then they were fawning over one another?? I wish I knew.' Then Emmrich announces with the seriousness of the grave that Lucanis has reached out about a beloved dessert recipe and is slated to make dinner. The gossip crew (mostly Bellara) loses their mind.

I imagine the night with dinner and dessert everyone is just as giddy that the tension has abated as Rook and Lucanis are for finally locking in their Whatever It Is. It is purely a coincidence that everyone leaves after dessert fairly quickly to give them both some alone time together (even though Bellara reaaaally wants to eavesdrop on them. For research purposes for her writing of course.)

#Like Teia is walking away from that meeting absolutely confident that Rook and Lucanis are together#eventually they are both capable of aknowledging feelings but baby steps yk#also hi nice meeting you and doing an excited yell!!

Teia believes they are together, Viago says it's ridiculous, Lucanis has never fallen for anyone in his life ( especially wouldn't for a non-Crow Rook, and especially not with HIS protege if Crow!Rook.) The argument that follows has their ever-evolving situationship on the rocks until the night Lucanis confronts Illario and she sees him and Rook sneak out of the party. Viago never lives it down.

when you don't romance Lucanis he opens up about his anxiety of making dessert for Neve, so like, does a romanced Lucanis open up like that with another companion