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datvtranscripts · 5 months ago

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In Peace, Vigilance Pt. 1

First Warden Jowin

Signs and Portents Masterpost Previous: Maevaris Tilani

Rook enters the Cobbled Swan and is greeted by the First Warden.

First Warden: I am Jowin Glastrum, First Warden and Supreme Commander of Weisshaupt. I received word of your team's request for Grey Warden assistance after an incursion of the blight at D'Meta's Crossing.

Origin Dependent Dialogue:

Grey Warden [1]

Antivan Crow [2]

Lord of Fortune [3]

Mourn Watch [4]

Shadow Dragon [5]

Veil Jumper [6]

1 - Grey Warden First Warden: Explain yourself, Warden, and bear in mind that the Order remembers your past recklessness.

Dialogue options:

Affable: Of course, ser. [7]

Sarcastic: Funny you should say that… [8]

Stoic: I saved those villagers! [9]

7 - Affable: Of course, ser. Rook: Sure, I disobeyed orders. I acted on my own choices, without authority. I admit it. But I took an oath to defend people from the blight. I uphold that oath any way I can. First Warden: Your report, Warden. [10]

8 - Sarcastic: Funny you should say that… Rook: My past… right. When I disobeyed orders and dropped a building on a darkspawn horde. I see you haven't forgotten. First Warden: Your report, Junior Warden. [10]

9 - Stoic: I saved those villagers! Rook: Many lives would've been lost if not for my recklessness. First Warden: You destroyed a building. Rook: To seal off a darkspawn tunnel to the surface. First Warden: In defiance of orders. Rook: Those orders were wrong. Ser. First Warden: Your report, Junior Warden. [10]

10 - Scene continues.

Rook: I was part of a team trying to stop an elven mage named Solas from destroying the Veil. When we disrupted his ritual, something escaped from the Fade, and I clearly sensed the corruption of the blight.

First Warden: From this mage, Solas?

Rook: No, ser. Solas opposes the blight. He's actually an elven god, Fen'Harel. The Dread Wolf. [15]

2 - Antivan Crow First Warden: I looked into you. An upstart assassin whose grandstanding against the Antaam attracted too much attention. Sounds brazen, even for an Antivan Crow.

Dialogue options:

Affable: I had to save those people. Rook: Do you know what the Antaam do to prisoners? Those people needed saving and I didn't have time to ask for permission.

Sarcastic: Thanks! Rook: I'll take that as a compliment.

Stoic: Should’ve told me the plan. Rook: I saw a perfect opportunity to ambush the Antaam. Rook: If the Talons wanted me to stick to their plan, they should've told me about it.

First Warden: So, I'm interested in hearing how an Antivan killer-for-hire unleashed the blight. [11]

3 - Lord of Fortune First Warden: Treasure hunters are common as flies, but I've never met one ostracized for killing a Rivaini noble. Your Lords of Fortune leaders apparently didn't appreciate the subsequent political attention.

Dialogue options:

Affable: The man was corrupt. Rook: The man cut a secret deal with the Venatori. He was about to hand them a dangerous relic. I couldn't let that happen. The reports you received from Rivaini diplomats probably left that part out.

Sarcastic: Oh. Maybe I shouldn’t have? Rook: Right. I should've considered the political nightmare before all else. Just let the man unleash an ancient evil and kill my crew.

Stoic: He deserved it. Rook: That rich man deserved what he got. Think what you will, but I don't have to defend my actions to you.

First Warden: Fine. I've little time to waste on the unruly antics of treasure hunters. Tell me how you unleashed the blight. [11]

4 - Mourn Watch First Warden: How does a Mourn Watcher come to be involved with the blight in Arlathan? And not just any Watcher, but a controversial figure after what you pulled during that undead rebellion.

Dialogue options:

Affable: I can explain. Rook: I stopped that rebellion my way to protect the living. Didn't make me popular, but surely a Grey Warden sworn to defend others would understand.

Sarcastic: My past? Controversial? Rook: Right. Talk to the people I saved. They don't call my actions controversial. Some traditional Watchers called my actions "casual destruction of the dead," but they weren't there.

Stoic: Is this relevant? Rook: My decisions regarding our noble dead are hardly relevant here.

Mage Rook: First Warden: Very well. Then I'd like to hear how a Nevarran necromancer unleashed the blight. [11]

Non-Mage Rook: First Warden: Very well. Then tell me how a Nevarran necromancer-apologist unleashed the blight. [11]

5 - Shadow Dragon First Warden: You're a Shadow Dragon, I hear. A criminal organization of Tevinter insurgents. I was not surprised to learn that you are wanted for numerous offences, including theft, murder, and wanton destruction of property.

Dialogue options:

Affable: Criminal? Probably. Rook: When laws are written by the corrupt, it makes criminals of all who fight back.

Sarcastic: Some Wardens are Criminals. Rook: I hear the Grey Wardens take in criminals. Thieves, murderers, and… oh, probably vandals, too. I'd wager I'm in good company.

Stoic: I wrecked a slaver ring. Rook: Theft? You mean rescuing enslaved people. Murder? You mean the Venatori cultists who enslaved those people. First Warden: And destruction of property? Rook: Just felt like it.

First Warden: Fine. All I want to know is how a Minrathous crook unleashed the blight. [11]

6 - Veil Jumper First Warden: I looked into you. An adventurous Veil Jumper best known for discovering, then losing, an invaluable map. I'd imagine that caused a certain resentment among your Veil Jumper superiors.

Dialogue options:

Affable: I saved lives. Rook: The expedition was in trouble. I knew going back to help my fellow Jumpers likely meant losing that map. I wanted that ancient knowledge, but I wouldn't risk lives for it.

Sarcastic: Probably for the best. Rook: It's probably for the best, despite what some senior Veil Jumpers think. What we encountered in those ruins almost killed us all.

Stoic: You’re here about the blight. Rook: That's Veil Jumper business. You're here to talk about Grey Warden business. The blight.

First Warden: Explain to me how a Veil Jumper poking around in elven ruins unleashed the blight. [11]

11 - Scene continues.

Dialogue options:

Affable: Let me explain. [12]

Sarcastic: “Unleashed?” [13]

Stoic: I saved the world from Solas. [14]

12 - Affable: Let me explain. Rook: We've been tracking a mage named Solas. He's actually several thousand years old. In elven mythology, he's known as Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf, god of lies. First Warden: That is a number of titles. Rook: Well, Fen'Harel is elven for "Dread Wolf," so that only counts as one. But yeah, you're not wrong. Anyway, he wanted to tear down the Veil and restore the ancient elven empire. We stopped his ritual. [15]

13 - Sarcastic: “Unleashed?” Rook: I think "unleashed" is a little strong. It was an unfortunate side effect. First Warden: The blight was a side effect? Rook: Yes, of stopping the Dread Wolf, elven god of lies, from destroying the Veil. We did stop him, by the way. You're welcome. [15]

14 - Stoic: I saved the world from Solas. Rook: I was stopping an elven god from bringing down the Veil and destroying the world. First Warden: An elven god? Rook: Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf. He goes by Solas. He's got a lot of names. [15]

15 - Scene continues.

First Warden: I did not come here to listen to fairy tales. I am here because of the blight.

Dialogue options:

Affable: This is all one problem. [16]

Sarcastic: Hang on, it gets worse. [17]

Stoic: This is real. [18]

16 - Affable: This is all one problem. Rook: Right, but it all ties together! See, when we disrupted the ritual, Solas got trapped in the Fade. But two of the elven gods got out. Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain, we think. And they're blighted.

17 - Sarcastic: Hang on, it gets worse. Rook: We haven't even gotten to the real fairy-tale parts yet. When we stopped Solas, two elven gods escaped from where he'd imprisoned them. Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain. And they're not just evil. They're blighted.

18 - Stoic: This is real. Rook: It's no fairy tale. When we stopped Solas, something got out. According to the Veil Jumpers, it was the elven gods Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain. And they're not just evil. They're blighted.

19 - Scene continues.

First Warden: Why would elven gods be blighted?

Rook: The ancient elven gods used the blight. That's why Solas imprisoned them. The point is that the gods are making the blight worse. D'Meta's Crossing was just the start. That's why we need the Grey Wardens.

First Warden: I suspected more politicking from the remnants of the Inquisition. I see now that I was wrong.

Rook: I'm really glad to hear that.

First Warden: It is clear that whatever you did to unleash the blight has corrupted your already-weak mind.

Rook: Okay, wait.

First Warden: You will be taken to Weisshaupt and placed under heavy guard until the danger you caused by unleashing the blight passes.

Dialogue options:

Stoic: Think again. [20]

Afraid: Please listen to me! [21]

Angry: Just listen, you idiot! [22]

20 - Stoic: Think again. Rook: That's not gonna happen. First Warden: I assure you, it will. Rook: We don't have time to fight. I need Grey Wardens marching with me, not at me. That's the only way we have a chance to stop the gods and the blight.

21 - Afraid: Please listen to me! Rook: No, please, you can't do that. First Warden: I assure you, I can. Rook: I don't know how much time we have! The gods are doing something with the blight—we need to stop them!

22 - Angry: Just listen, you idiot! Rook: Are you kidding me? First Warden: I assure you, I am deadly serious.

Grey Warden Rook: We don't have time to play "Who's the Greyest Warden"!

Non-Grey Warden Rook: I don't have time to sit here and stroke your—ego.

Rook: You need to shut up and listen! The threat is real. The gods are coming, and they're bringing the blight with them.

23 - Scene continues.

First Warden: Let me tell you something about the blight. It is evil, it is implacable, and above all, it is predictable. The blight has not changed in over a thousand years. The Grey Wardens will defeat it, as they always do.

Grey Warden Rook: First Warden: And we will do so without a disgraced junior Warden causing needless confusion.

Non-Grey Warden Rook: First Warden: And we will do so without you causing confusion with your deranged conspiracy theories.

First Warden: I suggest you come along quietly.

Their conversation is suddenly interrupted.

Dorian: Adamant Fortress. 9:41 Dragon. The Grey Wardens attempted to raise an army of demons. Hardly the models of good judgment yourselves, are you?

First Warden: Everyone knows Warden-Commander Clarel acted alone at Adamant Fortress.

Dorian: Acted alone, you say? Imagine if everyone were to see the letter I discovered where you authorize her actions. I wonder how that might complicate the narrative.

First Warden: Are you prepared to risk the security of the Grey Wardens for this deluded boy?

First Warden: Are you prepared to risk the security of the Grey Wardens for this deluded girl?

First Warden: Are you prepared to risk the security of the Grey Wardens over this?

Dorian: You may be surprised to learn that I care very little about the security of the Grey Wardens.

First Warden: Stay away from the blight, and do not pester the Grey Wardens with any more of your nonsense.

the First Warden leaves.

Dorian: He seems upset. Was it something I said?

Dialogue options:

Affable: Thanks for the assist. [24]

Sarcastic: You just blackmailed him! [25]

Stoic: Who are you? [26]

Shadow Dragon: Magister Pavus? [27]

24 - Affable: Thanks for the assist. Rook: That was close. Wasn't looking forward to being dragged off to a Grey Warden dungeon. Who should I be thanking for the assist? Dorian: Magister Dorian Pavus. At your service. [28]

25 - Sarcastic: You just blackmailed him! Rook: You have blackmail material on the leader of the Grey Wardens just lying around? Dorian: Of course not. Where would I obtain something like that? Rook: Oh, you were bluffing. That's actually scarier. Dorian: Magister Dorian Pavus. At your service. [28]

26 - Stoic: Who are you?

Grey Warden Rook: Rook: Who are you? How do you know about Adamant? And Clarel? Dorian: I was there.

Non-Grey Warden Rook: Rook: Who are you? Why do you have dirt on the Grey Wardens? Dorian: I was at Adamant.

Dorian: Magister Dorian Pavus. At your service. [28]

27 - Shadow Dragon: Magister Pavus? Rook: Magister Pavus? Your timing is impeccable. Dorian: A flawless entrance, I'd say. Rook: Thanks for the rescue. I don't think I could've survived a Grey Warden prison. [28]

28 - Scene continues.

Dorian: A mutual friend thought you might require some support.

Rook: Maevaris Tilani? Of the Shadow Dragons?

Dorian: The very same.

29 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: You’re a Shadow Dragon agent? [30]

Sarcastic: I think we made an enemy. [31]

Stoic: The First Warden’s a problem. [32]

Afraid: I need the First Warden. [33]

30 - Investigate: You’re a Shadow Dragon agent?

Shadow Dragon Rook: Rook: I've heard other Shadows talk about you, but your relation to us was never entirely clear to me. You one of us? Or just a powerful ally? Dorian: Ah, that depends on your point of view. Perhaps you've heard of the Lucerni? Rook: Lightbringers. A political faction pushing for change in Tevinter. Dorian: Started by Maevaris and I, yes. After she was framed for treason, the faction was dissolved. Ostensibly. Maevaris Tilani is not a woman who surrenders easily. She just took the Lucerni underground. Rook: Oh. Bring the light. Dorian: She protected me. Kept my name spotless so I could remain in the Magisterium as her eyes and ears. So! One of you? Or just an ally? Which do you think? [Back to 29]

Non-Shadow Dragon Rook: Rook: What's your relation to the Shadow Dragons? Dorian: About a decade ago, Maevaris and I started a political faction called the Lucerni. We were going to change Tevinter for the better. Everyone would recognize the common sense benefits of our approach and we'd all live happily ever after. Rook: I take it that… didn't happen? Dorian: Maevaris was framed, kicked out of the Magisterium, and the Lucerni were dissolved. So she took the movement underground. Rook: The Shadow Dragons. Dorian: Since I still haunt the Magisterium, that makes me the Shadow Dragons' man on the inside. [Back to 29]

31 - Sarcastic: I think we made an enemy. Rook: I think we made an enemy of the First Warden today. Well, more you than me. He just thinks I'm a dangerous idiot. Dorian: (Scoffs) Enemy. I've ignored greater men. [34]

32 - Stoic: The First Warden’s a problem. Rook: The First Warden's a problem. If he won't help, I need him to stay out of my way. Dorian: I'm sure he'll show up again, like an ulcer. For now, pay him no mind. [34]

33 - Afraid: I need the First Warden. Rook: So now what? The First Warden tried to have me locked up. I need the Wardens on my side! Dorian: (Scoffs) Jowin Glastrum is not the Order. He's more politician than Warden. [34]

34 - Scene continues.

Dorian: No Grey Warden worth the name sits in a Minrathous lounge, sipping wine. You need the Wardens? Look for the ones out there fighting the blight. In the meantime, the Shadow Dragons will keep a close watch on the Venatori. Good luck. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon.

The scene fades, and one of Varric’s narratives cuts in.

Varric: Only the Veil stood between us and a world of blighted darkness. But on this side, the gods could only tap a trickle. They had to turn that trickle into a flood. They sure could've used Solas's dagger to rip open the Fade… But some foolish mortal had taken it. So, they'd have to create a dagger of their own. Drowning the world in blight was just a matter of time.

Next: A Familiar Dagger

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #datv #dragon age veilguard #dragon age the veilguard transcripts #dragon age the veilguard dialogue #dragon age veilguard transcripts #dragon age dialogue #dragon age transcripts #dragon age veilguard dialogue #datv transcripts #dav dialogue #dav transcripts #datv dialogue #datv spoilers #long post #in peace vigilance #very long post #longer than anything i think i've ever posted lol

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tkwritesdumbassassins · 3 months ago

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Shameless Self-promo Sunday

Thank you to the lovely @rookinthecrownest for the tag 💕

The idea: We make a post and show off, what cool stuff we created over the past week. Art, Screenshots, writing (anything from a questionnaire about your OC to the 100K epos...) anything we do is worth to be seen and to be promoted. And by tagging people, commenting, and reblogging, we share the love and boost ourselve's and other's confidence. No matter what form you choose, whether you reblog your initial post, or create a new one with teasers, you decide!

Let's see, what did I do for this week? Well, thanks to a great and much needed vacation, I wrote a LOT for Caveat's next chapter, and knocked out some of the more troubling scenes beating me up. I still haven't finished the chapter I intended to finish *insert it's over 9000 meme here* (but hey! I wrote things! Small miracles.)

Good news is: I managed to knock out the entire beginning! I am SUPER excited at how this is coming along. Although, keep in mind it may need some editing haha

I no-pressure tag @hedwigoprah, @redhairedmuses, @dell-amor-te @novarunestone @ttrevelyan @poetikat @hannahmationstudios @jammerific and anyone who wants to show off

Happy Sunday and Easter for those who celebrate! 💐🌸

And please enjoy the snippet!

The man who sat opposite of Nonna wasn't exactly what Isotta would imagine when she had been informed at breakfast a Crow would be coming to visit. Not like the fanciful (and often blood-stained) stories the other children would spin about the infamous guild's assassins. Sure, he wore fancy dark clothes made of imported silks with silver crow skulls as cuff links and polished black boots, but beyond those, he seemed...typical. Normal, if not painfully so. Just another face amongst many in an evening crowd.

His wavy dark brown hair had been cut short and slicked back in typical Antivan fashion. He had recently shaved—she could smell the thick and cloying aftershave from the other side of the room. Even his nails were smooth and well-maintained as he set his tea cup down, folding them politely in front of him. However, Isotta spied something dark on his left ring finger before it disappeared out of view: a black and gold ring molded to look like a corvid skull intertwined with that of a glittering red-eyed snake.

The domestica behind Isotta quietly announced her presence, and then immediately departed. The door to the salottino shutting behind her with a click that sounded louder than a death knell.

It was the stranger who moved first with poise and precision. Pale eyes—the exact shade as her own she realized—pinned her where she stood, Not unlike the butterflies presented behind glass that her father used to collect. The same ones that had been consumed by flames not three months ago.

Three months since her mother and It had burned with them.

Isotta's chest constricted, but the hands hiding behind her back balled into fists. Her thumbnails pressed against skin so tight she wondered briefly about the possibility of the skin breaking. Yet she did not avert her gaze for her great-grandfather used to say, "A drake does not shy away from a wyvern."

"My condolences for your own loss, messere," Nonna consoled, bringing the man's attention back to her, and finally, Isotta felt safe to let out the breath she had been holding. She blinked rapidly to offset the sudden dryness in her eyes before switching to the other person in the room: her grandmother.

Dolores Belmonte was a woman barely in her fifties, and already her carefully styled pale hair had adopted the sheen of woven silver. Up until this exact moment, they had passed like ships in the night with most of Isotta's interactions being her grandmother's requests projected through her domestica's mouth. The grief too great an abyss to find a way across let alone share words. "Do not take it too hard, signorina,"Ada had once said, escorting her to the extravagant yet soulless room that had been prepared for her. "Your mother's loss has affected us all. Some more than others."

Now, they were in the same room together, and the tension descended heavier than any theater curtain in an opera house. It surrounded Isotta, thick and choking, as Nonna set aside her plate of crumbs. Her words had carried no true sincerity within them for they were an expected formality as hollow as her mother's empty urn that sat on the mantle. In fact, they carried a chipped yet still sharp edge to them. Isotta didn't have to add two and two together to realize she had walked into the cindering aftermath of a scathing argument. Her grandmother's face was drawn so tight to the point of her lips becoming nonexistent.

And yet, a single black manicured nail tapped against her porcelain cup as Nonna expanded: "Losing not only your children but your wife as well—"

The Crow said nothing, only sipping from his tea again. His only real acknowledgment of the sympathy a slight incline of his head. The man's ethereal eyes flicked her way again, and Isotta resisted the urge to shudder. She had looked into the literal eyes of madness, and yet an unnamed cold fear coiled itself around her throat, nearly choking her when he looked over—no, inspected—her. "How old is she?"

"I'm twelve," Isotta interjected, already not liking the man. Not when a sneaking suspicion wormed itself into her mind. She ignored Nonna's withering stare as she jutted out her chin in quiet defiance. "…Ser," she tactfully added, remembering her spoon-taught manners at the last minute.

But the Crow remained unmoved, unoffended. In fact, a corner of his lip ticked up before he sipped from his cup. "I see she's got spirit. That's good."

"A trait she shares with her late mother," Nonna remarked quietly, a subtle note of fondness flavoring her words before she shut it down again. Propriety and custom demanded for it after all. She smoothed out imaginary wrinkles in her sable shawl as she murmured, "Maker rest her soul."

She then straightened, beckoning for Isotta to come closer. Which she did, coming to a stop just shy of the small coffee table, its wood having recently been polished to the point she could see her drawn reflection. "This is Nicolò of House de Riva. He has come all the way from Salle to give his…" Her eyes flicked then, and a scathing fire enveloped them as they landed on the man. "Respects."

Isotta's lips pursed, but obediently responded with a respectable curtsy. "You are my father," she remarked upon straightening.

A break in his carefully crafted façade showed muted surprise. "And just like her mother: sharp, too. But yes, I am." His mask slipped back as he folded his hands together and leaned forward, pale eyes narrowing. "And do you know why I'm also here?"

"Now?" Nonna suddenly hissed, hands gripping her cup so tight, Isotta was sure she would shatter it. "You wish to do this now? The girl has lost not only her mother but the only home she's ever known has burned—"

A dangerous glance cut her off, and Nonna sat back in her chair, although her face had a sharpness to it that could cut glass.

"I am taking her home," Nicolò replied coolly. "To Salle." He cocked his head, those eyes becoming icy daggers as they narrowed. "Should I remind you of the details to our agreement again?"

"No," came the curt reply as she raised her cup. "You do not."

#shameless self promo #shameless self promotion sunday #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #my writing #rook de riva #oc: isotta de riva

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rookinthecrownest · 3 months ago

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How about “I’ve been meaning to ask you something” from the DA:TV request list? Characters are your choice

Hi! Thanks for the prompt! I'm using Illario and Pompeiia for this one :)

----

The streets of Treviso are quiet this late into the morning. Even the bar owners who don’t open until the eleventh bell have sent their stuporous patrons home. It’s quiet save for the swishing of a half-full bottle of Antivan red as it passes between two dark figures perched rather precariously on the edge of a rooftop overlooking the financial district.

Pompeiia takes the bottle in her hand, the glass still warm from where Illario had held it moments earlier. After a long swig, she begins to build up the courage to ask the question that has been nagging at the back of her mind since they started drinking on the rooftop all those hours ago. The full effects of the wine are tempered by the bread and cheese that lay in a small wicker basket between the two of them – they both knew better than to drink on an empty stomach, evidently. Still, her thoughts come slow and unfocused, as she sways to and fro just the slightest bit.

“I-Illario …” She starts, slurring the end of his name. Pompeiia chokes down a hiccup.

At that, Illario takes the bottle from her hand with a grin, “I think that’s enough wine for you, tonight”

He’s quick to replace the bottle with a small piece of focaccia from the basket.

Ever the gentleman.

“I…” she begins, before looking at the piece of fluffy bread now sitting in her palms. She takes a small bite and forms her words in her mind carefully, as if she were untangling the chains of two bracelets she had clumsily left too close together in her jewelry box. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something…” she says, around a mouthful of focaccia.

He pauses, mid-swig, and slowly lowers the bottle to his side. “You’ve asked me quite a few ‘somethings’ tonight already, my dear Pompeiia” Illario leans back on his hands and stares up at the black velvet sky outstretched above them. He leans his cheek against his shoulder, and peers at her with those striking blue-grey eyes from unfairly long eyelashes. “When do I get to ask you something?”

Whether the flush on her cheeks is from the alcohol, the sultry tone of his voice, or the stupid grin on his face she isn’t sure. She’s not certain she cares in this moment.

Pompeiia bravely barrels ahead, despite herself. “Why did you get my mother’s necklace back for me?”

From the way he straightens, Illario clearly wasn’t expecting that to come up tonight. The grin fades and his brows fall low.

Ignoring the effects of the wine, she painfully recalls the moment she sold her last remaining possession from Tevinter to help pay her room and board for the next few months. When she slid its golden chain into the jeweller’s calloused hand, there was a distinct feeling of losing some small, forgotten part of herself she had never examined too closely. Like a piece of her soul was covered in barbs to protect itself from the world, and from her.

Pompeiia couldn’t say she remembered anything of her mother. She had died shortly after Pompeiia was born, leaving her alone with a father and brother who never looked her way and more questions than answers.

Would she have loved me?

One day, she had come back from another round of unsuccessful job interviews, dejected and ready to bury herself in another bottle of cheap wine. All of a sudden, the familiar glint of a brilliant sapphire caught her eye. She blinked slowly, and her heart dropped in her chest. Pompeiia was ready to dismiss it as a trick of a light – it was impossible. But there it was, laid out perfectly on her small vanity desk.

It was undoubtedly her mother’s necklace, but what was it doing back in her room? She held it so tightly in her hands, afraid if she let go it would wink out of existence. Tears were streaming down her cheeks before she could think to stop them.

Pompeiia snaps herself out of the memory.

Illario brings his legs from dangling over the edge of the rooftop to sit criss-cross. He leans side-ways until his shoulder is touching hers. Pompeiia’s blush deepens and her heart thuds uncomfortably against the confines of her chest.

“No particular reason” he answers, then leans away. Just a moment too soon, she thinks.

“But the man you sold it to – Giovanni – he’s well known for giving the worst rates for pawning off fine jewelry. The locals avoid him like the plague”

Pompeiia, emboldened by the wine, nudges his shoulder with her own.

“Don’t lie, Dellamorte” she giggles, “You’re hoping to loot it off my dead body yourself one day, aren’t you?”

Illario snorts, “Well, it does look better on me”

Pompeiia gasps, and playfully smacks his arm, “Bastardo”

His brows raise at the insult, “Your Antivan accent is getting better, I see.”

“Gracias, I have a terrible teacher.”

“Idiota” Illario gives her a playful shove to the side, but the wine made him forget his strength. Pompeiia topples to the side and lands on her back in a burst of giggles. Illario laughs and joins her, lying on his back and staring up at the sky.

“Ask me something” Pompeiia says, after the sound of their laughter has carried off into the morning breeze.

Illario is quiet for a moment.

Pompeiia cranes her neck to the side and rests her hands on her stomach. For the first time since she’s known him, Pompeiia is met with nothing but sincerity in his eyes. His face seems more relaxed – and it’s not from the wine. For once, it doesn’t look like he’s trying to be anything other than Illario.

“Would you do this … again? With me?”

Pompeiia grins.

“Only if you’re paying”

#asks #kabsey #veilguard prompts #illario dellamorte #illario x oc #oc: pompeiia agrippina oranius #for context #pompeiia is an ex-spy with the shadow dragons #she relocates to antiva after the events of DATV because she wants to start fresh #in a new country #away from her Venatori family #excuse literally everything about this #because i haven't writtena nything in a long time #im so rusty its not even funny

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katkrisis · 4 months ago

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Beneath Bonds and Blades

Chapter Three: Funeral Arrangements

“Are you alright?” She asked carefully. “I mean, all things considered…”

“I missed so much while I was in the Ossuary,” he said as he gave a small shake of his head. “I didn’t have much hope of ever getting out, or seeing my family again… But to escape, only to have Caterina taken from us before I could see her one last time…”

Summary:

After plans to stop the Dread Wolf from tearing down the Veil go sideways, Antivan Crow Rook De Riva meets Lucanis Dellamorte, the Demon of Vyrantium, for the first time and requests his help to fight the gods that threaten to destroy their world. Rook quickly learns that underneath the stories of the contracts and assassinations is something else entirely.

“Beneath Bonds and Blades” is a retelling of Rook and Lucanis’s romance from the game Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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Rook was surprised that Lucanis had asked for her help in planning Caterina’s funeral. He was worried that Spite might act up and wanted Rook there to help in case he did. Rook agreed to go, though she wasn’t sure how much help she could be if something did occur. However, ever since Caterina’s death, she had wanted to find a way to help him and Teia. She felt like she was unable to comfort them and hoped that by her being there, it would help. Even if only a little bit.

Teia was the only one Rook knew who could call the First Talon “Nonna” and walk away in one piece; she hadn’t even heard Lucanis refer to her as anything other than “Caterina” or “Grandmother”. Teia had grown up on the streets before she joined the Antivan Crows and had no other family. While she was not related to Caterina by blood like Lucanis and Illario, Rook knew she cared for the older woman immensely. She had to be hurting just as much as they were.

“Good, you're here!” Teia exclaimed in relief when she noticed Rook and Lucanis walking around the balcony at the Cantori Diamond.

“Thank you for making the arrangements, Teia,” Lucanis said with a small, forced smile.

"For Caterina? How could I not?” Teia’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’m so sorry, Lucanis, this must be such a blow.”

Rook watched as Lucanis gave a small nod of his head but said nothing in return.

“Rook, thank you for coming with him. I need one Dellamorte to plan this,” Teia said in frustration as put her hands on her hips and motioned her head to Illario on her right. “The other one has been completely useless.”

Illario sighed, exchanging a quick look with Lucanis and fidgeting with his hands. “I’m sorry, Teia. This has all just been… Too much.”

“Illario… What happened?” Lucanis asked his cousin.

“What do you mean?”

“Caterina.” Rook could hear the slight vexation in Lucanis’s voice. “How…? How did the Venatori get to her? When? Where? In the estate? In the city? How did they get past our people? What did they use? Poison? Blades? I need to know.”

It had only been a couple of weeks since Lucanis had come back and Rook wondered how much sleep he had lost since then replaying things in his head. She had assumed it had happened at the casino, given the state of it when they returned and that that’s where she had last seen Caterina. She also vaguely recalled Teia’s anger about how they had gotten Caterina in her home. Had she been taken from the casino and murdered somewhere else?

“Cousin, stop. You can’t dwell on this. It will drive you mad.”

“I’m not dwelling. Zara killed the First Talon. I have to know how if I’m going to stop her.”

“I told you. I’m handling it.” Illario’s voice was more tense than it had been and the look of grief on his face seemed to waver. Rook frowned. It only seemed right that Lucanis would want to know. Why was Illario being so dismissive?

“Boys! Enough of this! We have other things to discuss.” Teia scolded.

“My apologies, Andarateia.” Illario kept his eyes on Lucanis for a brief second longer before he looked away. Teia shook her head and muttered something under her breath.

Rook cleared her throat quietly and awkwardly. “Anyway… What did you need help with, Teia? Whatever it is, all you need to do is ask.”

“You're always such a dear. You certainly didn't learn that from Viago. I hope these two are paying attention.” Teia smiled sweetly and reached out to gently touch Rook's arm. Rook smiled in return, placing her opposite hand over Teia's and giving it a small squeeze.

When she looked back at Lucanis, he was looking down at their hands and his jaw looked tense. Seconds after, as if he could feel her eyes on him, his gaze raised to meet hers then swiftly looked at Teia instead.

“Teia, don't flirt with my…” he stopped himself, like was trying not to fumble his words, before he quickly continued. “Colleague.”

Rook’s eyebrows raised and she stared at Lucanis, who now seemed to be purposefully avoiding her gaze. She thought she heard Illario let out a small snort but he lifted his hand and rubbed the back of his fingers under his nose, like he was trying to cover up a smile.

“Colleague” was a strange choice, she thought. Was he hesitant to call her a “teammate” because he was a higher rank? Or was it because he was fulfilling a contract and she was the client? They hadn’t known each other long, so maybe he didn’t feel comfortable calling her a “friend”. And… Why did she care what he thought of her? She didn’t, she told herself, but then why was she overthinking something so small? They were, more or less, colleagues.

Rook could feel Teia’s hand slide out from under hers to wrap her arm around Rook’s waist. Her attention quickly went back to Teia as she was pulled against the Talon’s side, the sheathed knives at their hips clicking dully together.

“Jealous?” Teia asked with an almost wicked smile. She must have gotten some reaction out of Lucanis that Rook missed because she quickly dropped arm from around Rook’s waist. “Fine, to business, then. There’s a lot to plan. But first, I need the ashes.”

“Ashes?” Illario asked in confusion when Teia nudged him with her elbow after he didn’t respond.

Teia rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Maker help us. Yes, the ashes! Caterina’s ashes. From the cremation?”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. I’ll get them to you right away.” Illario placed a hand on his chest and gave a bow of his head, taking a few steps backwards before he turned to leave the room. Rook watched his back disappear out of the corner of her eye. Something about his whole demeanor seemed off but people grieved in different ways and Rook didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

Lucanis sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Rook’s fingers flexed at her sides. She wanted to reach out and touch his arm or his shoulder. Something to let him know that she was there. But she decided against it.

“Come,” Teia said and began heading the opposite way Illario had gone, “I’ll get us some drinks and we can make the arrangements.”

~*~

A short time later, Teia had left Lucanis and Rook in a room on their own after a member of House Cantori interrupted to say there was an issue with the Crystal Grace bouquets she had ordered. They sat on opposite ends of a small couch. In front of them was a dark wood table with a coffee cup for Lucanis, a decanter of wine, and two glasses for Teia and Rook. Their arrangements for Caterina’s funeral were scattered in between.

Some of the decorative items with the Dellamorte sigil that had been used at Lucanis’s wake a year ago were going to be reused. It must have been strange for him to see the things from his own funeral. They had already seen the heavy black velveteen fabric covering the windows and mirrors of the casino when they arrived and Teia had confirmed that the same had also been done at Villa Dellamorte – a custom common in Antiva to prevent any wandering souls from losing their way.

Teia had been right. Illario had been of little help. Beyond that, nothing else had been dealt with. Rook leafed through the paperwork that Illario had provided. The death certificate and registration were there… Yet that was it for documentation. The lack of a coroner’s report wasn’t unusual, they were Crows and assassinations among them were hardly looked into further regardless of how they died, but there was nothing from the crematory. She had been under the impression that Illario had already retrieved Caterina’s remains and that they had been brought to Villa Dellamorte. Had she been wrong? Was he picking them up now?

That wasn’t the only thing that was bothering her. The place and cause of death listed on the death certificate were too vague. If Caterina had been assassinated and found by Illario, she thought that the exact location and cause would have been noted. Given how Illario had been refusing to divulge any of the information to Lucanis earlier, her suspicions were only growing stronger.

Rook chewed on her bottom lip as she stared at the papers, reading them over and over again like something might change to soothe her sense of unease. She briefly considered mentioning her worries to Lucanis or Teia, only she also didn’t want to cause them any additional undue stress.

Lucanis leaned forward with his elbows pressed into his knees and his hands folded loosely together in front of him. He hung his head and let out a long, tired sigh. Since the day they met he always seemed drained. Dark rings around his eyes were a constant feature, like he never got enough sleep. For the first few days, she assumed it was because of everything that had happened to him at the Ossuary, followed by the death of Caterina. She knew Spite didn’t help either. It had been weeks now and he never seemed to improve. She was worried. He had mentioned before he didn’t sleep much but was he sleeping at all?

“Are you alright?” She asked carefully as she lowered the papers. “I mean, all things considered…”

“It didn’t seem like Illario and Caterina were close. Were you…?”

He lifted his head and straightened his back but didn’t meet her gaze. “When I was young, House Velardo started a war against my family in an attempt to gain the seat of First Talon. Only Caterina, Illario, and I survived, so we ended up in her care earlier than we expected. She was harsh with us growing up but she was the only family we had. It was hard to be close to her. Even for me. And… I was her favorite. ”

“I’m sorry,” Rook said sympathetically and placed the documents she’d been holding onto the table. “I can’t imagine how you must feel.”

Lucanis’s eyebrow raised. “Death among the Crows is not uncommon. You’ve never lost anyone?”

“I don’t remember my parents, they died when I was a baby. I don’t…” She hesitated. This wasn't about her. “House De Riva is my family, I guess. Or the closest thing I can relate to. Even then, Viago and Teia are the only people I… have a bond with. Beyond friendship.” She was reluctant to call them family. While House De Riva was the closest thing to family that she had, could she really call them that? She cared for Teia deeply, and she supposed she cared about Viago as well. Was that enough? She didn’t know. Could you be a family if you weren’t related by blood?

“What about Varric? Were you not close with him?”

Rook frowned. “Varric?” “Neve and Harding told me what happened,” Lucanis spoke slowly, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “When he tried to stop Solas.”

Rook watched as Lucanis rubbed the palm of one hand with his thumb from the other in a self-soothing gesture. She could see his lips moving, like he was talking, but all Rook could hear was her own heartbeat and a loud ringing in her ears. A sharp, throbbing pain pulsed behind her eyes and she looked away from him while pinching the bridge of her nose.

Her memory from the ritual site was a haze of noise and bright lights. It was normal, she thought, after sustaining a hit to the head. Rook remembered Solas and Varric struggling with the dagger. How could she not? She remembered crouching over Varric after he tumbled down the stairs. The dagger in his chest. The blood… But Varric was alive. He was recovering in the infirmary. What was Lucanis implying? That Varric was dying? No, Varric was stronger than that. Varric would survive this.

“Rook…?” She finally heard him say and she could see his gloved hand pressed into the couch next to her when she pushed her hair back away from her face. “Is everything alright?”

She glanced up at him and he was looking at her for the first time since Teia had left the room. His sadness had faded into concern and a pang of guilt flooded over her. She sat up straight, tucking her hair over her shoulder and glancing at her glass on the table.

“Sorry, I think I’ve maybe had too much wine…” she said with a small smile and he pulled his hand back. “Is there anything else I can do? Not for the funeral. For you.”

“You being here helps,” Lucanis’s voice was quiet and he watched her for a moment longer before he leaned forward to grab his cup off the table. “Thank you, Rook.”

“Of course. I just want you to know you don’t have to deal with this alone.”

Lucanis opened his mouth like he was about to say something then took a sip of his coffee instead. Silence settled around them again and Rook’s leg began to bounce anxiously. She needed a distraction, something to keep her from thinking about –

“You’ve surprised me,” Lucanis’ voice cut through the air. “I always thought that if I ever got out of the Ossuary, people would be alarmed because of Spite. But you treat me no differently than you treat the rest of the team.”

Rook pressed her lips together in thought. She hadn’t been alarmed by Spite, though she would be lying if she said she hadn’t been concerned. Mages were sparse within the Antivan Crows and she hadn’t met many, let alone an abomination. However, over the last couple of weeks that Lucanis had been at the Lighthouse, Rook hadn’t seen or heard anything since his first day that would even indicate that he was possessed. If anything had happened, Lucanis kept it well under wraps.

“I was worried at first,” Rook admitted. “About Spite, I mean. I didn’t expect “the Demon of Vyrantium” to have an actual demon. I haven’t dealt with an abomination before either. I’d only ever heard stories and those normally don’t end well. Then I thought… if anyone could handle it, it was you.”

Lucanis made a small noise in the back of his throat in disagreement.

“I’d heard so much about you and your contracts when I was a fledgling. I admired you,” she continued. “Then we met and I realized the idea I had of Lucanis Dellamorte wasn’t really you. That Lucanis was exactly what the Crows want us to be – an unfeeling knife in the dark. But you are so much more than what they say you are... And you are more than what you’re going through.”

He had raised his coffee to take another sip but paused and lowered it. Rook wasn’t sure if it was because of what she had said or if maybe he was listening to something Spite was saying. She shifted on the couch, moving to sit a little closer to Lucanis and angled her knees in his direction, but still kept a comfortable distance between them.

“For what it’s worth, I like Lucanis far more than “The Demon of Vyrantium”.”

He turned his head toward her and their eyes finally met. She could tell by the way his eyebrows met in the middle and the downward curve of his lips that he was hurting. He didn’t keep her gaze long before he blinked a few times and looked away from her.

“Rook, I–”

The sound of the door opening interrupted Lucanis and they both looked up to see Teia walk back into the room.

“I think we’ve gotten what we need for the day,” Teia said, looking between Lucanis and Rook, sitting closer together than they had been when she left. A dark eyebrow raised as her eyes met Rook’s, but Rook gave a quick shake of her head and Teia simply stepped aside instead of making a remark. “Come, I’ll walk you out.”

“Our house owes you for all this,” Lucanis said as he followed Teia out of the room.

“Caterina was family,” Teia replied with a mournful smile. “Can you imagine what she’d say if she saw us all like this?”

“She’d be furious. Especially at Illario.” Lucanis let out a breath, like a small laugh cut short. “As usual.”

“I barely know him and I can already see him being a thorn in Caterina’s side,” Rook said.

“Oh, he is,” Lucanis agreed with a nod. “I’ve lost count of the times I’ve had to pull him out of the fire on the job.”

“Illario can be a handful, but this… The only time I’ve seen him like this was when Lucanis died.”

Rook remembered the letter Teia had sent her about a year ago mentioning Lucanis’s wake and Viago’s struggles with a drunk Illario. She glanced at Lucanis. His expression remained stoic but she noticed his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. She wondered if he felt some guilt over what had happened when he was pronounced dead.

“He’s been careless at times, but never when his own life was on the line,” Lucanis said.

“You’re worrying, aren’t you?” Teia asked light heartedly. “What will people say if they hear “The Demon of Vyrantium” has a big soft heart?”

Lucanis’s expression twisted into one of mild annoyance and Rook cleared her throat to cover up a laugh that threatened to escape.

“I’ll have someone keep an eye on him for you,” Teia continued. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

Rook shot a quick glance at Teia. Again, she considered bringing up her reservations about Illario, but decided against it. She had no proof, only a gut feeling. Maybe Viago’s general distrust of people had rubbed off on her more than she had realized.

“Thank you, Teia. We should get back to the Lighthouse. If I’m not there, Harding may take it upon herself to make dinner tonight.” Lucanis turned his back and began heading toward the stairs that led up to the eluvian.

Teia grabbed Rook’s arm to stop her before she could follow Lucanis and Rook turned to look at her. “What?”

“What happened after I left? Are you two…?” Teia kept her voice low, her dark eyes darting to the corner that Lucanis had disappeared behind before looking back to Rook and wiggling her eyebrows.

“No,” Rook hissed in embarrassment. “Andraste’s tits, Teia. He’s just, you know… Upset about Caterina. I’m only trying to help.”

“Right…” Teia drew out the word and let go of Rook’s arm. “And I was “only” trying to help solve a murder investigation when I broke into Viago’s room at the Verdant Isle gathering. Two things can be true at once.”

Rook huffed. “That’s not… We’re not having his discussion. He’s a member of my team, alright?”

“A member of your team? I thought he was a “colleague”,” Teia teased.

“I–” Rook stopped when she heard Lucanis call her name. “I need to go. I’ll see you later.”

Teia laughed. “You could do worse than the grandson of the First Talon.”

“And you could do better than Viago!” Rook shot back over her shoulder as she walked away to join Lucanis around the corner at the eluvian.

#rookanis #lucanis dellamorte #rook #rook de riva #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #dragon age the veilguard fanfic #dragon age the veilguard fanfiction #beneath bonds and blades

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teamtakagi · 3 months ago

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Shameless Self-promotion Saturday - SSS

@booksncatsworld tagged me! Thank you!

Lightly tagging @wardentabriis , @a-mumbling-nerd , @paragondreams , and @fellamorte if you'd like to do it.

Rules: We make a post and show off, what cool stuff we created over the past week. Art, Screenshots, writing (anything from a questionnaire about your OC to the 100K epos...) anything we do is worth to be seen and to be promoted.And by tagging people, commenting, and reblogging, we share the love and boost ourselve's and other's confidence. No matter what form you choose, whether you reblog your initial post, or create a new one with teasers, you decide!

To be honest, this week was a struggle to get anything done and I felt pretty burnt out. But I'm proud of my "Don't Tell Mom" prompt since I wrote it in about 10 minutes between the mini-mes' constant demands for my attention.

Prompt originally from here by @antivan-sprig .

Everyone in Rook's Roost will have read it already, but I'm re-posting it on my blog.

While on their way back to Weisshaupt from another mission, Jerran and Moss were asked by a noble to rescue his beloved child Priscilla from a nearby abandoned mansion. Apparently Priscilla had escaped during the night and ran off.

It seemed like the typical request, so Jerran and Moss accepted, especially since the noble offered an ample reward.

Once in the mansion, Jerran and Moss quickly realized that the place contained upset spirits that attacked them on sight, and Priscilla was no child:

Jerran heard the squealing before he saw it. “You’ve got to be shitting me."

There, crouched in the attic's corner, was a large nug, dressed in a lacy dress that cost more than Jerran and Moss’ paychecks combined. A dainty crown rested on the bald animal’s head. It bared its teeth, growling at the two Wardens.

It bit them several times as they tried to pick it up; Moss finally ripped off part of his mage’s robes and wrapped the screaming animal in it as they fought off the disturbed spirits.

After the nug gave away their position several times, Jerran had had enough. He won’t elaborate what happened, but he claims that Priscilla learned how to fly.

The noble was displeased that the spirits had killed his beloved child, but he still gave the battered Wardens half of the payment that he promised.

Moss and Jerran mutually agreed to never tell their Commander about the Nug incident.

#teamtakagi #jerran thorne #writing #dragonage rook #dragon age veilguard #ask game

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linposter · 3 months ago

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Nameless Rook 🩸 - Kiss Roulette pt. 3

The last paaart ✨️ Last but not least, thank you @knowlsey for this request.

Find the original prompts here.

Response to pt1.

Response to pt2.

40. An Impulsive Kiss

It really wasn't the time. He knows now really isn't the time. In fact, this may actually be the single worst time in the entire world to be distracted by your partner kicking ass in your jacket. But here Lucanis is about 100 meters and 1000 darkspawn away from the most important mark of his life. And there Rook is, summoning yet another lightning storm above their head, reducing the hoards to ash. In his jacket.

Why they decided this was the battle to debut it, he doesn't know. When and where they got that jacket from, he also doesn't know. But, did they know just how damn good they looked wearing it? Lucanis is certain they don't, but he was more than willing to take on the job of clearing that up.

When the path finally clears, they waste no time pushing forward into yet another courtyard of demons and darkspawn. Again, storm clouds gather above them as Rook jumps from on high down into the middle of the battle. Ice bursts forth from their impact, freezing the few enemies left standing after the unrelenting lightning strikes, making them easy pickings for the rest of the team.

In that damned jacket.

It's not long before the path is cleared and the trio set forward again. Rook reaches for the slip door to another alley, but before they can, an arm wraps around their bicep, spinning them around. Another warm hand cups their neck with familiar grace as they are pulled forward, and their lips set upon by anothers'.

Lucanis' kiss is hurried, and rough, and needy. And that's a first for Rook, who stands shellshocked in his grasp. Hesistantly, they close their eyes, and they respond, their own hand resting on the Crows chest as he desperately tries to impart... something through this onslaught of kisses.

When Lucanis finally pulls back, he's short of breath. Potentially, the most out of breath he's been this entire ordeal. Yet, the look he levels Rook with gives them the impression that he's not done. Maybe he'll, in melodramtic Antivan fashion, profess his love before it's too late. Or confess to a secret that he couldn't bear to die with.

What he does instead is pat their cheek twice and, in a venomous tone that sounds eeriely like Viago, tells them, "If you die today, I'll kill you." Before pushing his way past them and through the door.

For a second, just one small second, for the first time in almost 10 years, Rooks head goes quiet as all 3 conscious entities inside them try to process what just happened. Yearning catches on quick, the loudest Rook's heard them since they first started a relationship with the Crow. Then, further adding to the surprise, Vengeance pipes up too. It demands a repayment, both Spirits wailing in their head to go kiss him back. They clutch their head, thumping their forehead to the cold stone of the ruined building around them in some weak attempt to quiet their raging emotions.

"Harding. Go make sure Lucanis doesn't die in there." They ask their equally stunned companion, still stood jaw agape at the open slip door.

"Uh... right.... Oh! Right! Uh- will you be okay?" She asks, bow already drawn tight, ready to rush in and aid their friend.

"I'll catch up. Just go."

The dwarf speeds past them, her battle cries fading into the distance, leaving Rook to.... whatever this was. They lean against the wall and slide to the ground, pulling Lucanis' jacket from their shoulders. They bundle it into their lap, bury their face in the fabric, and scream until either their throat or lungs give out first. Coffee and leather fill their sense as they inhale again, fingers gripping the fabric tighter.

Now, really wasn't the time. It was most certainly the worst time in the world to feel like tearing your partners jacket to shreds with your bare hands and teeth in some love-addled haze. But Rook was nothing if not a master in redirection, and with teeth bared, rushed through the slip door to follow their companions - Maker help the poor Gods who stood in their way now.

#dragon age #oc #datv #dragon age veilguard #nameless rook #lucanis dellamorte #rookanis #redcrow #final battle

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bubblecat-co · 3 months ago

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Rook Codex pt. 5: Aria de Riva

You can find full list of prompts here

Thank you to @teamtakagi and @tiravi for the prompts!!

7. Something written by a character from a previous game about Rook

Letter from Zevran to Warden-Commander Adahla Mahariel

My Dear,

I just had a very interesting meeting in Rivain today with a very interesting person. I will be back in Ferelden before you know it but I believe I should share with you who Isabela wanted me to meet so badly. It was an Antivan Crow but not just any crow no. Ash’anne Aria, my niece, people call her Rook nowadays. A nickname she said that she got from Varric, that inquisition Agent the Inquisitor spoke about hunting that other inquisition agent. She’s no longer known by people as Ash’anne Aria Ariania-Lavellan instead she is Aria De Riva, Vesa would be upset at the dropping of the elven name.

Isn’t this a turn of events? That elven girl that the inquisitor had spoken about is my niece and she is leading the group set to stop the gods. I also learned that her parents are no longer alive. They died some time after the blight ended, likely killed by the crows for being associated with me. They died because of my actions. I do not regret them but I carry the blame all the same. It was a nice meeting, I’m glad to know she’s alive and turned into a force to be reckoned with. Maybe after all this you can meet her, I think you’ll like her. She is a lot like me in some ways and if I’m not mistaken you like me very much, yes? She even found a warden of her own.

I checked in with the children as well, Tanhel enjoys the Spirits that hang around, Isabela says he made friends with a spirit of Compassion. Faylen has apparently been spending time at the hall of Valor as well. Isabela won't allow her to fight but she watches and became a big fan of ‘Rook’ and even said she spoke to her once, wait till I tell her. Elen, he's mopy. He wants to go home and ‘Fight the evil’ Isabela has also continued his training to be a rogue, he was eager To show me. He's rusty but he'll get better.

I also checked in with Hawke’s boys. They are well. Tanhel and Malcolm are getting along. It's hard to find one without the other nearby. Eddy has been keeping busy with some local kids. So tell Hawke that there is nothing to worry about!

I will return shortly, Morrigan is allowing me to have a brief access to her Eluvians to check up on the kids. If this was twenty years ago, she would scoff at the request, oh how our Morrigan has grown. I suppose we all have, no? I plan on staying for a couple days just to be with the children. I wish you were here; they seem to miss you more than they missed me, but I will be back by your side in no time.

Yours Always,

Z. M.

28. Propaganda for or against Rook

An Article found in the Tevinter News Sheet, the writer is anonymous.

Rook is a danger to Tevinter!

We all have seen this Elf running around causing a ruckus in the streets of Dock Town. Not much is known about them, but everyone calls them Rook. They are a danger to Miniatous! Shedding blood on the streets, destroying pots and wooden scaffolding. Stealing from citizens! Working with the threads! They must be stopped!

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #crow rook #rook #aria de riva #dragon age rook #ash'anne aria de riva #rook de riva #antivan crows #writing prompt

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haedia · 3 months ago

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OC meme

I was tagged by @zwitter-iconic and @larkinna for this and since I have two Rooks that I love dearly, I'm going to do this twice (and tag them both for both, sorry) for both of them. This one is for Nera Aldwir, the cousin of my canon Rook Kiore.

As for tagging, Iunno. If this looks fun, feel free to count it as me tagging you. And please tag me back so I can go read it. c:

I do like these a bunch, even if I don't always get around to doing them myself (thanks to energy levels, usually).

GENERAL

Name: Nera Aldwir

Alias(es): Less of an alias and more of a pet name: Stella Advena/"Wandering Star" (the term of endearment that Elek gives them eventually)

Gender: She's kind of apathetic about it but if pressed, will probably say female.

Pronouns: Usually she/her. Nera would be find with they/them as well

Age: 36 at the time of VG

Place of birth: Somewhere in the Green Dales

Spoken languages: Elvehn, Trade/Common, Somewhat conversationally fluent in: Tevene and Antivan; passably understands Navarran, Orlesian, and Rivaini but can't converse in it.

Sexual orientation: Mostly attracted to men

Occupation: For the Veil Jumpers: Artifact acquisition/retrieval abroad: meaning she and a handful of others are sent out across Northern Thedas at requests for help with elven technology and other magical bullshit. When she's in Arlathan, she operates in part as an archivist, both in record keeping and in artifact care. But she's very good at the retrieval and care of artifacts in transit so she's often sent out and spends a lot of time traveling to and from Arlathan.

FAVOURITE

Color: She has two favorite colors: Rich red violet, like the ones in the edges of sunsets before the deep of the night sky bleeds in and the bright, fresh turquoise of the shallows on a white sand beach.

Entertainment: Nera spends a lot of time traveling and meets a lot of people. She's developed a love of storytelling and trading tales. It's another form of currency on the roads of Thedas, anyway.

Pastime: Okay, so. Her favorite thing to do while in a sufficiently large enough city (the size of the place matters for reasons that would take more space to explain), is to visit a tavern, enjoy some drink, and then take a like-minded participant to bed with her. This is how both her relation/situationships with Elek and Illario begin, btw.

Food: Nera's not picky about food. She'd also find it hard to pick a favorite. She has favorites for every region she spends time in. For Antiva, she's partial to almost any pasta type with pesto. For Tevinter, if she can catch a street fair, with a wide variety of spiced, grilled, and fried foods available, she'd be in heaven. The more intense the flavors, the better, generally.

Drink: Much to Illario's annoyance, Nera's favorite alcoholic drinks are Tevene cocktails. For non-alcoholic beverages, though, Nera really likes teas of all kinds. She also loves the tropical flavors of drinks that can be found in Rivain -- both alcoholic and not.

Books: Nera is a voracious reader. She likes almost all genres she can get her hands on. Though her favorites are historical nonfiction and erotic serials/novels.

HAVE THEY

Passed university: So, Nera's a special case in the Veil Jumpers. Being an archivist means she was sent to have formal schooling by the organization. She could read and do math when she arrived in Arlathan but she was very skilled at memory recall and that made her a candidate for becoming an archivist. It's not the same as going to a formal university situation like an educated noble or something but she did, effectively, get schooling on par with something like that.

Had sex: Yes.

Had Sex in Public: Yes.

Gotten tattoos: Nera has a few tattoos

Gotten piercings: Yep! On her ears, yes. Maybe other places later. Haven't decided yet.

Had a broken heart: When she was in her teens, yes. But she's much less inclined to fall for people in ways like that later.

Been in love: Yes.

ARE THEY

A cuddler: She can be. It's not a requirement but given the right person and setting, she enjoys it immensely

Scared easily: Nah. She doesn't exactly have nerves of steel but she's not easily bothered

Jealous easily: Jealousy kind of confuses Nera. She doesn't really operate that way. So long as the relationship she's in has a good foundation and boundaries, she's mostly unbothered by her partner's interests beyond her.

Trustworthy: Generally, Nera isn't one to lie and trick people unprovoked. Similar to her cousin Kiore, if you're not a jackass then she's probably won't have a reason to be duplicitous to you.

FAMILY

Sibling(s): Nera is the oldest of three. The other two are several years younger than her. At the time of writing, I don't have as much of them planned out. But Nera takes on a bit of a mother role in her family more broadly. Between the different aunts and uncles across the clans (part are in the Aldwir clan, the rest are in other Green Dales clans), there are a lot of younger cousins. Before Nera left for the Veil Jumpers, she was more involved with them than Kiore was (Kiore was more involved with clan herding than with familial things)

Parents: Nera's father was one of the clan's hunters and doubles as a butcher and cook, especially as he gets older. He was injured on a hunt and so he has a bad knee and can't participate in hunts as much. When needed, he'll help teach younger elves how to use their weapons and how to track prey. He's also the brother of Kiore's father and they have a similar temperament. Nera's mother is one of the clan's textile artisans: she participates in all stages of fiber work: gathering, carding, spinning, dyeing, and weaving the fiber. I don't yet know all about them but both of her parents are on the quiet side.

Children: Nera ends up married to Illario at some point after VG and they have at least three children. The first is a daughter who ends up being a mage. The other two, I haven't decided yet. It's also entirely possible that one of the other two children is actually Elek's. (Nera, Illario, and Elek are all onboard with this arrangement and know it's a possibility but they don't care to know for sure either way)

Pets: Unofficially, Kiore's family cat, Fritter, is also partially Nera's pet as well. When he's present with both of them, he generally doesn't have a preference between the two. But as for pets that are specifically Nera's? Well, much later on, when all settled into domestic life, Nera's family ends up with a cat of their own. A black cat with green eyes that is currently unnamed. But his favorite thing to do is to sleep on Illario when he decides to nap on the couch.

#tag game #oc tag game #oc meme #haedia's rookery #nera aldwir #rook aldwir #dragon age #dragon age veilguard #nera x illario #nera x elek #nera x illario x elek #fritter the cat

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definitelyallergictohalla · 8 months ago

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Hey, you know that fic I mentioned I wanted to write? The Illario POV? Here's the first chapter. >:3c

Edit 11/27/2024: Now you can read the chapter below, too! I will likely continue to do this each chapter (per request from a friend of mine), but maybe a few days after I post on Ao3 so I receive more traffic there.

Relationships: Lucanis Dellamorte/Neve Gallus/Rook, one sided Illario Dellamorte/Neve Gallus, Illario Dellamorte/Original Female Character(s), mentioned Female Lavellan/Solas

Characters: Illario Dellamorte, Neve Gallus, Original Female Character(s), Tarquin (Dragon Age), Rook (Dragon Age), Lucanis Dellamorte

Additional Tags: redemption arc, Illario POV, Antivan Crows, Shadow Dragons, Clan Lavellan - Freeform, Pining, Jealousy, Minrathous/Treviso Choice - Treviso Saved (Dragon Age), Shadow Dragon Rook (Dragon Age)

Summary: Illario Dellamorte, traitor Crow, is tasked to help Neve Gallus with a job after the fall of Elgar'nan. He doesn't expect what comes next. (A redemption arc of sorts for Illario, post Veilguard.)

Notes: I like it when the Antivan Crows are morally grey. Also, fuck Caterina (she's not currently super relevant to the story but she haunts it... despite being alive)???

Some notes on my world state that should be seen:

Rook is a Shadow Dragon, as well as a Qunari Mage; leans blue/purple in personality

Treviso saved

Illario spared and not in jail

Harding died during the fight with Ghilin'nain

Neve was kidnapped by Elgar'nan but survived

Solas was given the chance at redemption and (warrior) Lavellan went with him

Clan Lavellan survived the battle of Wycome

Inquisition was disbanded

Tags will update on Ao3 as I go!

Chapter 1: One Job Illario Dellamorte, known traitor of the Antivan Crows, was not a coward.

That being said, as he walked the bustling streets of Dock Town with a duo of Shadow Dragons in tow, Illario had to admit that he was getting a bit sick of attempting to win his back his family’s favor. Sure, he was thankful that he wasn’t shoved into a prison cell – or worse – after the stunt he pulled… Yet when getting back home to Treviso post such a dangerous fight for the fate of the world, the man had not expected to be pulled aside by Viago a few weeks later to be sent back the damned city he could have died in.

He should have expected it. Viago had mentioned that the job about ‘helping him see what he did was wrong’. The idea stunk of Rook, the bastard Qunari who seemed to have successfully wooed his cousin, despite the latter being an abomination. It frustrated Illario to see Lucanis cling as the first person who helped him out of the Ossuary, but it wasn’t his place to comment, at least not anymore.

Despite this, Illario was fully intending to make best use of his new situation, turning his attention to the pair of rebels behind him.

“So,” he began, noting the direction all three were heading “What’s the job today?”

One of them - Tarquin, the man – acknowledged the question with the furrow of his eyebrows. Even shorter than Lucanis and sporting similar hair and beard, Tarquin did not share Illario’s cousin’s good-natured yet-haunted personality. Illario had met him at the Archon’s palace, but it didn’t take him long to discover that the Shadow Dragon was sarcastic, as well as often rude.

“I take it that you don’t remember the letter?” Tarquin snarked.

Illario rolled his eyes, flinging the vitriol back at the other man. “I didn’t read a letter. Viago did, if I had to guess.”

The other Shadow Dragon – a Dalish elf named Ethena – glanced over to Tarquin while grimacing. “You know, I didn’t get a letter either,” she muttered at him as she scratched the back of her head, messing up her cropped copper hair even further.

“I know that, I was planning on filling you in as we went,” Tarquin replied as they made it to the edge of the docks. “I’ve heard you’re resourceful like that.”

Illario bit back a retort about how he was plenty resourceful due to Crow training, but a look of annoyance skewed his facial features anyway. “An agenda would be nice. And maybe a drink while we’re at it.”

“Good thing we’re already stopping at the Cobbled Swan,” Ethena mentioned causally. “Since we’re meeting our client there.”

Tarquin nodded as gestured in the direction of a large pub, not far from where they had stopped walking to talk. “Drinks aren’t on the agenda, by the way.”

The trio continued onto their path and walked into the dimly lit pub. It was neater than what Illario was expecting, but still dirtier than anything he saw in Treviso; occasionally he’d see seagulls attempt to pop in through the front door and windows, only to be beaten back with a broom by an elderly elven man.

Eventually, they wandered to the back of the main of the pub, greeted by who Illario could assume was either the owner of the establishment. The man was dressed in the closest you could get to fine attire this section of Minrathous; nothing overly showy to be considered a target, but the man’s dark green out was tailored to his tall, slim build. The details of a business man, however, starkly contrasted his shaved, military hairstyle and the faded scar that ran down the left side of his face.

Regardless, the man smiled warmly at Illario and the Shadow Dragons next to him. “Ah, I assume you are the help the detective suggested to hire?”

Tarquin came forward and waved an envelope, sealed by teal-colored wax. “Is she in storage room?” he inquired.

“Indeed, please feel free to go back there yourselves, I trust that a savior of Minrathous would have fine taste in company.”

Ah, mierda. Of course, he was working with Neve Gallus on this job.

Illario had met her initially when Lucanis was freed from the Ossuary, then during the siege on the Archon’s palace. Gallus has been briefly fucked up, eyes red from the blight magic Elgar’nan had used to control her mind. Then poof, the moment the elven god died, she was back in nearly top shape, free from having to go to the Wardens for whatever help they could offer. Of course, she still looked exhausted, nearly collapsing onto of Rook several times as he helped her move to get checked out by a healer.

And now, as she walked out of the storage closet towards her comrades and her client, her prosthetic leg clicking on the stone like it was a stiletto heel, Illario couldn’t help but to notice how different she felt from the battle three weeks ago. A sense of swagger and confidence as she set her strides.

Sexy.

A few moments passed, and the owner of the Swan let the four of them talk amongst themselves.

“Glad to see you all here,” Gallus greeted. Then the detective arched an eyebrow at Illario. “Interesting choice for Viago and Rook to send you, though”.

Illario bowed a mock bow. “Anything for family, ma’am.”

Gallus shook her head, clearly unimpressed. She turned to Ethena. “Do you have any extra paper, per chance? I ran out.

Ethena groaned loudly in response as Gallus smiled, perhaps slightly sheepishly.

“I was in a rush this morning,” the detective insisted, and although elven woman clearly didn’t buy it, she tore out a few pages of a fancy leather-bound journal regardless.

“You owe me a new journal,” Ethena muttered, sounding pained.

“Sure thing. I always give back what is owed.”

Over the next hour, while in the back of the storage unit surrounded by Gallus’ notes, Illario and Ethena were filled in on the job; the owner of the Cobbled Swan, last week, had found the dead, mutilated body of one of his bartenders, an elderly Dwarven man who had worked there for years. Gallus had since picked up a few leads (the Venatori were involved, of course), but needed a team in case of any violent altercations.

“Will Illario’s former allegiance cause any trouble?” Tarquin asked when there was a pause in the detective’s words.

Gallus glanced at Illario coldly at the Antivan. “I think he knows what’s at stake if he messes up or causes any issues.” She turned away to carefully organize her papers into a pile. “Besides, I trust-”

“Rook’s judgement?” Tarquin suggested. He rolled his eyes as Gallus continued to shuffle papers around, not answering. “Not sure that’s a wise decision for Dock Town.”

Illario couldn’t help but to laugh internally as the attention turned to Rook. He was a hard topic for the Shadow Dragons, too, maybe because of the first attack on Dock Town that the Qunari had ignored in favor of helping Treviso. Perhaps he could use that information to leverage things.

“When do we start?” Illario inquired. “I could use some practice with my knives.”

“Tomorrow at sunrise,” Gallus answered, back still turned. “I need to ask a shopkeep nearby if he has heard any noises, and he’s only around during the weekly fish market.” She then spun around to face him. “Hope you can keep up.”

Illario feigned hurt. “You wound me, Gallus, and you don’t even have a knife in your hand.” He placed a hand over his heart for exaggeration.

That got a smirk out of her.

Later, the four of them wandered out of the storage room of the Swan and into the streets of a darkening Dock Town. Confirming their plans to go to the market tomorrow, they all split ways to their other obligations, except for Illario, who needed to find a room to rent.

The Antivan man strolled casually past the many criminals and vagabonds on the side of the street. This was going to be an easy job, and he’d back home to Treviso in a few days.

Perfect.

#texts de la creme #illario dellamorte #dragon age: the veilguard #da:v spoilers #fanfiction #Dust or a Second Chance

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a-gay-bloodmage · 6 months ago

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Hello my good friend!!! I have several asks for the Rook Codex Writing Prompts!!! Specially for Omri! Prompt numbers 12, 16, and 30 please! :D

Thank you so much for the ask!! So many Omri thoughts lately... Blaming you for at least fifty percent of those! Evil woman!!

These are slightly lengthy, so I'm putting my answers under a Read More :D

12. Rook’s daily schedule

- Wake up at five. - Lie in bed for one hundred breaths. - Get up and get dressed. - Reorganize the bed into folded blankets. - Count to one hundred in Antivan while washing face and combing hair. - Brush teeth. - Take morning dosages. - Drink water! Stop forgetting. - Brush teeth again. - Braid hair. - Wait to be called upon. - Do as they ask. - Midday: Brush teeth again if possible. - Respond to all calls for assistance. - Eat dinner with the others. - Offer to help with anything that needs tending to around the Lighthouse. - Read in the parlor with Bellara / Neve / Emmrich for a while. - Retire. - Brush teeth. - Take evening dosages. - Drink water? - Count to one hundred in Antivan while washing face and combing hair. - Brush teeth again. - Re-make the bed. - Go to sleep.

— The schedule of Omri "Rook" de Riva. Translated from Antivan. Found amongst a pile of mismatched blankets in his bedroom next to several empty vials of various types of poisons.

16. Letter from Rook to their love interest

Investigatore,

I looked into the poison you sent. It did not react to any silver, but it did start to bubble when I dropped it into some blood—I humbly request that you ask me not where I obtained the blood, only that you kiss the wound better when I see you again. I've narrowed it down to two different types, both that I know through his experimentations. I can try to recreate it if you'd like, cara. Perhaps the resources of Minrathous would be better equipped for such endeavors? Ah, I jest. Or do I? It all depends on your reply, investigatore.

The Crossroads grow cold without you. I know it has been but two weeks since we parted, and your business carries you far, but is a man not permitted to mourn? Kiss this letter here, amore mio, and it will be as if our lips have touched. I promise that I have washed the poison from my lips before pressing them to the parchment. Stay out of trouble until I lay eyes upon you again.

- O

— A letter found on the desk of Detective Neve Gallus. The letter smells faintly of acid and has a dark, nude lipstick print pressed onto the second paragraph.

30. A note / letter that Rook never sent

Bambina,

How are you? Are you well? I think about you often. I hope you are not thinking of me. That would be terribly sad, to still be thinking about old Omri after all these years. I suppose that makes me terribly sad, because I am always thinking about you and about the person you helped me to become. Perhaps I am becoming that person again now that I have been tangled up in this group dedicated to keeping the Veil as it was. What do you think of all of this? I'm sure a smart girl, an elf, like yourself would have plenty to say. You would probably know far more than I do. And you are such a quick learner! You always have been.

I miss our outings. Did you ever get a contract to go to the opera after I lost you? Are you free now, free to go to the opera any time you want? I would like that for you. The last opera I attended was over six months ago. Miserable! Terribly miserable, to go so long without a show! It was the second of a trio. I hope that I will live through all of this in order to see the third. Would it not be a shame to die before I get to see the proper ending? I worry about silly things like that quite often, to tell you the truth. Now, without you to look out for, I worry about dying over the silliest things. I used to want to live for proper reasons, like keeping you safe. Keeping the world safe means so little. There are better people than I to worry themselves with such trivial things.

I restate: I hope that, wherever you are, I am far from your mind. Live free, bambina. Get back safe.

Omri of House (obscured)

— A letter wrestled from a wisp at the edge of the Lighthouse. Translated from Antivan.

#original content #asks #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #da rook #omri de riva #neve x rook #I love Omri so muuuuuuuch #Thank you QoAM for publicly fueling my brainrot #He's such a fuckin sweetie and I love him so much #and yes the Bambina in question is Sherry de Riva (QoAM's Crow!Rook uwu)

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halla-hunts-the-wolf · 9 months ago

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WIP Progress <3

Thank you for tagging me, @galadrieljones! I don't have much in the works, but I have been exploring how the former Inquisitor and his long-distance paramour would finally tie the knot! Pavellan wedding fic <3:

---

The peonies were the wrong shade. Their deep magenta would clash with the delicate pink flowers embroidered in Dorian’s suit. He had sent the outfit ahead, with an entire carriage of his belongings. The former Inquisitor had dared to peek at his betrothed’s attire. In the dead of night, he’d unwrapped the rich fabric that protected the outfit and gasped at the image it conjured: Dorian standing at the altar, dressed in soft fabric mirroring Orlais’ spring flowers. The conservatories in Orlais were one of the nation’s crowning achievements. Yet, not a single blossom on the morn of their wedding could hold a candle to Dorian Pavus, not when he was adorned in such a way, stepping away from the intricate buckles and robes of the Imperium to represent Mahvir’s wild and down-to-earth upbringing.

“Mahvir?” Josephine snapped her fan in front of his face, revealing a curtain of sapphire blue and shimmering gold, “Were you listening?”

“The peonies,” he explained as his amber eyes flickered from the fan before him to the vases that adorned every round table in the dining hall. “They’re the wrong shade. They were meant to be pastel. ‘Like painting with watercolor.’” Dorian had requested as much in his last letter, and Mahvir had requisitioned the best florist in Val Royeaux to bring his love’s vision to life. However, the flowers had arrived behind schedule; this was the first time he had seen them in the light of day.

“Ah.” Josephine pursed her lips. Her hair fell in waves around her face, framing her Antivan features. She’d taken time from managing her family’s affairs to stay with him at the Chateau, preparing the summer rental for a wedding that would host not only the couples’ nearest and dearest but also the Southern Divine. “So they are.”

“It’s fine. There’s not enough time to request changes. That would be rather shallow of me, anyway. Dozens of floral arrangements would go to waste. We’ll make do with this.”

“Dearest,” Josephine’s free hand squeezed his arm just above the start of his prosthetic. “You’re forgetting to breathe.”

Mahvir took a deep breath, allowing air to fill his lungs before slowly releasing it, along with the tension settling in his shoulders, leaving a dull ache behind. “I’m so sorry, Josephine. You’ve been a saint, helping me plan and coordinate. Now isn’t the time to lose my nerves, but I haven’t seen Dorian in months, and I want everything to be perfect for this. For us.”

---

I'll tag some of my more active mutuals (I see and appreciate you)! @raeannabelle, @what-wait-why, @phoomwhoosh!

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #wip wednesday #wip whenever #dorian pavus #josephine montilyet #mahvir lavellan #pavellan

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shivunin · 1 year ago

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aaaaand one for Elowen :3 something written by one of the advisors about your OC?

happy writing friend <3

Thank you again for sending all of these in! I've been rather more the tortoise than the hare with them, but we got here in the end c: Thanks, friend!

(Codex Prompts)

A Missive to the Deep Roads

(991 Words | No Warnings)

A letter tucked into a leather belt pouch. The paper was once fine and creamy, but now dirt smudges the surface and there are large splotches of blood on one corner. It is addressed to the Warden-Commander and reads:

My dear Arianwen,

I do hope that this letter finds you well. This thing you have undertaken is a dangerous task indeed, though I do have my doubts that even an army of ogres could keep you from doing what you’ve set your mind to.

No doubt you have heard about our troubles here on the surface. Surely you must have heard tales about the sky splitting open, no matter how deep you have delved in the Deep Roads. If matters were any less dire, I might say that it amuses me to think of you being safer below than we are above for once. As matters are very dire indeed, I will instead say only that we need your help.

I know what you will say, and I know better than most what I am asking of you. The Inquisition is not the sort of organization you might be inclined to trust. For good reason, I suppose. The Chantry has not been the friend to you that it should have been. We both know this to be true.

Our networks, our might, and the faith of those who have pledged themselves to us will not sway you. Let me instead tell you of our Inquisitor and what she has already done.

Several weeks ago, there was an assassination attempt on your favorite king. Many such attempts have been made before, plenty of them averted by your personal intervention, but this one involved an especially troublesome faction of mages from Tevinter. The Inquisitor sent our people to intervene—and just in time, too, it would seem. To hear him tell it, he was all but frozen solid before our people intervened. I have requested a contingent remain nearby in case there is any more trouble.

There are many victims of this war between mage and templar, no shortage of bloodshed. Even so, Lavellan has reached out her hand to the refugees and the downtrodden at every turn. I have watched her haul children from the muck of a ruined street with her own two hands. I have seen her hunt for supplies for the same families even when she was ill or out of sorts. I have seen her clear the roads for people to move freely again. It is not so light a thing, as you very well know, for people to be able to escape when they are besieged.

I have known Elowen to sit alone on the hills, the better to watch the pale hares move through the brush. I have watched the wild wolves heed to her call as if listening to a dear friend. I know that she would leave us for the wilderness and the roads if she could. I know that she stays because she feels there is no other choice—rather like somebody else I once knew well, if you will forgive the comparison.

A teller of tales I may yet be, but I have related only the truth here. You already knew how dire our battles have been. Know, too, that the Inquisition follows one who leads with neither iron fist nor hope of recompense. Know that the woman we follow is worthy of the title in many ways beyond naming.

Know that Thedas—that Ferelden—still needs you, just as it did all those years ago. If ever there was a time to take up the banner of the Wardens and lead those who remain to a worthy cause, it is now.

If you will not come, Warden-Commander—and I hold no real expectations that you will—perhaps you will consider committing what resources you can to the fight in the world above. I cannot overstate how much that help is needed.

Do give my regards to your Antivan beau. I would say that I hope to see the both of you very soon, but I hold no such expectations. Instead, I will say only that I will look for word from you, in whatever form it might come.

Your friend, then and now,

Leliana

A letter, wrapped in several layers of oiled leather and otherwise untouched by the elements:

Leliana,

You’ve always been good with stories. I’ll give you that.

I’m too busy to come myself. You know that. However great a mess the surface is right now, I cannot spare a single blade for your fight. I have more pressing things to turn them against at the moment.

I wish you all the luck I can spare. I’ll throw in a few tokens for good measure, though I am sure you can find better on your own. You always were clever like that.

You are my friend. It has been many years since I have said so, but it is no less true now than it was then. Be well, Leliana. You are greater than your words, however many of them you insist on tossing in my direction.

The enclosed is for your Inquisitor. If even half of what you’ve said about her is actually true, I don’t mind her having it.

Zevran says hello.

—Wen

P.S. I did not say hello. I said that you will either have a grand tale to tell, Bard, or you will find yourself on the other end of a rather sharp knife. For your sake, I hope that it is the former and not the latter. How dreadfully dull it would be to leave all of this grandeur behind to attend a funeral and seek vengeance. You have no idea how often our adventures are interrupted to do silly things like that.

Do take care of yourself. There is something here from me as well—have a glass by the fire and think of your good friends, yes?

—Z

#prompt response #ask response #shivunin scrivening #elowen lavellan #arianwen tabris #zev over here like 'hand me the letter do you have no manners' lol

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katkrisis · 1 month ago

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Beneath Bonds and Blades

Chapter Eleven: Iron and Chocolate

“Iron,” Spite said in a strangely musical way as Lucanis turned away from the Crow who’d rescued him. “...And chocolate.”

Summary:

“Beneath Bonds and Blades” is an expanded retelling of Rook and Lucanis’s romance from the game Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

All Chapters | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Read on AO3

Content Warning: Blood and character injury. Mentions of past abuse.

Lucanis sat hunched forward on the edge of his cot while sharpening one of his knives. He tried to focus on the rhythmic sound of the metal scraping against the whetstone instead of Spite’s pacing up and down the length of the pantry. Before the Ossuary, caring for his blades served as a distraction and would easily calm him in times of stress. It wasn’t long after he settled into the Lighthouse that he learned it no longer worked the way it used to. He blamed Spite for that. Ignoring the demon was difficult when his mind was already scattered. Still, old habits die hard and when it was late there wasn’t much for him to do.

“Illario–”

“Stop.”

“He deserves to–”

“Not now.”

Lucanis was furious but, unlike Spite, he didn’t want to kill Illario. Not the man he’d grown up next to. Not the man who was the closest thing he had to a brother. Caterina was gone. Illario was the only family he had left. He couldn’t lose him. Not now. But Illario killed Zara. He took away his vengeance. It should have been his blade in her heart. She called him “amatus”, a Tevinter term for “beloved”. He betrayed him. After everything they had been through together and everything Lucanis had done for him. Now he was questioning Illario's actions since he’d been captured in Tevinter by the Venatori. How far deep did his betrayal run?

Spite snarled loudly and quickly crouched next to Lucanis. When Spite wasn’t in control, Lucanis could see him as easily as he could see anyone else. The demon was identical to him in appearance, only in shades of purple and black, and his expressions and movements were often more exaggerated.

“If Rook hadn’t–”

“I told you not to talk about it,” Lucanis said sharply and finally took his eyes off his knife to stare angrily into Spite’s eerie, glowing eyes. Spite glared back at him for a long moment before he groaned loudly and rose to his feet to return to his pacing.

Spite had taken advantage of Lucanis’s anger and attacked Illario when they sought out Zara in Treviso a few days prior. Lucanis had begged Rook to get Illario out of there but before she could do anything, Illario had pacified the demon. With blood magic. He’d felt disoriented and confused as he stared up at his cousin until he had been replaced by Rook’s back. He’d never heard her voice so dark and furious before. Lucanis had seen her angry on more than one occasion but this was something else. When she pushed him, Lucanis feared she would hurt Illario. He was thankful that she did nothing more than stand between them.

It wasn’t long after Illario left that he could sense Spite’s anger return. He could feel the migraine throbbing behind his eyes, the tenseness of his muscles, the tingling in his fingertips, and the demon’s voice crawling up his throat. He did his best to distance himself from Rook, afraid that Spite might turn on her too, but she was persistent. When he stepped out into the cool rain, he’d hoped that it would help calm himself and Spite. It didn’t.

When they first met, Rook had seemed wary of Spite. However, she quickly became more comfortable with the demon. Like Taash, she wasn’t afraid to talk back to him and would stand her ground when he acted up. It made him feel a little more at ease knowing that if Spite did get out of control, Rook would do her best to make sure nothing would happen.

Being conscious while Spite was in control was frustrating. It was harder to fight him off and he could barely make sense of what was happening around him. It was almost like being in a bubble. His senses were dull; everything was blurred and hushed. When Rook grabbed his arm to stop Spite, he could barely feel her grip through his coat despite knowing it was there.

He tried to regain control. He didn’t want Spite to hurt her. The most he was able to do was get the indigo blur in his vision to fade, just a little, allowing him to see Rook more clearly. He remembered the way her icy-blue eyes stared into his, narrow and sharp like a knife. He remembered the crease between her eyebrows as she argued with Spite. He remembered her tongue sweeping across her bottom lip quickly before she pressed her lips together into a thin, tight line and then…

Lucanis heard Spite’s startled voice though not spoken aloud through him. “Warm. Soft. Chocolate.”

Lucanis wasn’t sure when he had stopped sharpening his blade or when Spite had settled. His fingers were still curled around the hilt of the knife but now his thumb was lightly pressed to his bottom lip. His room had fallen silent without the sound of metal against stone or Spite’s irritating pacing and complaining. The light of the candles reflected off the blade as he lowered it and he stared down at his distorted reflection.

He barely recognized himself anymore. His hair was longer now, shaggier, and he had a full beard for the first time in his life. He looked like he had aged more than a year during his time in the Ossuary. His eyes were made darker now with the circles beneath them only there was a light in them that he hadn’t seen in months. Maybe years. Lucanis clicked his tongue in frustration and lowered the knife back to the stone.

Rook’s arrival at the Ossuary had not been his first attempt at escape. He’d tried many times with the aid of Spite but they’d always be stopped by Zara’s wretched blood magic or the Venatori without fail. The commotion Rook and Neve had caused outside his cell that day distracted the Venatori long enough for him to finally rid himself of his guards. It had been easier than he had been expecting and it made him immediately suspicious.

“One of her tricks!”

When Lucanis turned he thought it was finally over. Death had finally come. There could be no other explanation for the beautiful woman that stood before him. His spirit was in the Fade and she was there to guide him to his next destination. Perhaps it was Andraste herself, though instead of being armored in moonlight, she wore the leathers and feathered accessories of a Crow as a familiar comfort for him. The pale ears that peaked out from her long, jet black hair gave him pause. Andraste was not supposed to be an elf… Though ten years ago, many thought the Inquisitor to be Andraste's Herald and she had been Dalish. Perhaps the Chantry had been wrong.

She introduced herself as Rook, a De Riva Crow. As much as he was in awe of her, he was suspicious. Viago had never mentioned a “Rook” before. Why was she here? How had she found him? Instead of being in the afterlife, maybe this was one of Zara’s cruel tricks. Something to give him a sense of calm, of hope, before she took it all away again.

“No,” Spite had said in delight once he had gotten close enough to inspect her. “Not Venatori! Maybe a trick. Maybe not who she says. Not a mage. Like the other. But real. Smells like… Iron. Like Lucanis. And something else… ”

Lucanis learned quickly that Rook was a skilled rogue despite being a bit overconfident and reckless at times. Something in the way she moved didn’t seem like House De Riva though. He couldn’t place which House it reminded him of. Had she received training with another House? He couldn’t see a tattoo marking which House she belonged to. Was he right to assume that she was not a Crow?

After they took down Calivan, Rook had been hunched over with the palms of her hands on her knees and her fingers still clutching her blades. She tried to catch her breath before she raised her head to look up at him. She was flushed from fighting and she had a dark spatter of blood against the pink of her cheek.

“We got your target,” she said in a breathy laugh and smiled at him. Her silvery eyes, lined with black shone with pride. The back of her hand rubbed the blood on her cheek and smeared it up by her jaw. His heart had drummed against his chest and he remembered little else of their conversation.

“Iron,” Spite said in a strangely musical way as Lucanis turned away from the Crow who’d rescued him. “...And chocolate.”

They returned to Treviso only to find out that Caterina had been killed by Venatori sent by Zara after his escape. The anger and despair he had felt when his parents were killed began to resurface and he could sense Spite’s delight, waiting for the perfect moment for him to use those emotions to his advantage, but Lucanis turned away from the group to close his eyes and breathe. Not here. Not now.

Once he’d confirmed that Caterina had accepted a contract for him and that Rook was who she said she was, he followed her and Neve to the Crossroads and a place called the Lighthouse. His eyes always itched when he encountered magic but he had never thought what it would feel like in the Fade. It was worse, which he should have expected, yet he managed to push through. He’d found a pantry behind the kitchen that he decided to settle down in. It had only one entrance, a door at one end that could be easily watched or blocked, so he set up a small cot at the opposite end. The room was also far from the others, which he hoped would keep Spite from being able to seek them out.

When he’d settled, Rook knocked on the door to check-in on him. At one point, she reached out and brushed her fingers gently against the back of his wrist. It had startled him, not just because it was the first touch he’d felt since leaving the Ossuary, but because of how light the touch had been. Like a caress. It sent goosebumps up his arms in a way he’d never felt before. After she left, he’d sat on his cot rubbing his wrist until the sensation went away.

Lucanis had received word sometime later from Illario about Zara’s whereabouts. Illario wanted to meet at their usual spot in Treviso and Lucanis asked Rook if she would like to join him on a trip back home. Her eyes had lit up enthusiastically despite the smile she tried to fight back when she agreed. When they arrived, she allowed him to lead her through the market so he could do some shopping for the team. She asked him questions in an attempt to get to know him, though it was clear she was doing her best not to push him. He was thankful for that. There were things he still wasn’t ready to discuss. Not even with Illario, despite his attempts when he returned to Treviso the first time and some of the subsequent letters he had received.

They met with Illario at Café Pietra and Lucanis quickly surmised that the information Illario had been given was likely a sham in order to get them on a wild goose chase to find Zara. It was strange that Illario didn’t see it and he was frustrated when Lucanis suggested that there may be Venatori that had snuck into the Crow ranks. That being said, it wasn’t unlike Illario to react dramatically at times and with Caterina dead under his watch, he was probably acting on his emotions rather than facts.

After Illario left, Rook asked Lucanis what he thought a first kiss might taste like, since he had told her Andoral’s Breath was like a kiss goodbye. He’d never kissed anyone before, not romantically at least, so he said the first thing that came to his mind. “Honey and lavender cream. Sweet, intriguing…”

Spite let out a bark of laughter. It had been a description from a book Lucanis had read, and he felt ridiculous for saying it later, but there was something off about Rook after that. She would only look at him in short glances, usually with her head down. It wasn’t until he noticed the tips of her ears turning pink that he realized what was happening.

Not long after, Lucanis was in the Anderfels with Rook to recruit a Grey Warden to assist with the blight the gods were creating. The camp they had found had been consumed with blight and he’d knelt down next to a dying fire pit. The sound of falling pebbles from the cliff above them caught their attention. Rook patted his shoulder in a reassuring way before dragging her hand across his back as she walked around him and Lucanis froze. He still wasn’t used to being touched in a friendly way and each time Rook did so, he didn’t know how to react. She did it to everyone, these little fleeting touches to arms and shoulders to show her support without needing words. She did it the least with him.

“You wish she would. More. A little longer. Every time.”

It was clear that Rook was attracted to the Grey Warden, Davrin. Lucanis was about the same height as Rook and Davrin, who was all muscle, towered over them both. His voice was a deep rumble and the first time Davrin spoke, Lucanis caught the way Rook’s breath hitched a little and her ears twitched. A feeling of anger that Lucanis couldn’t place made his muscles tense and he could hear Spite cackling.

While they were in the Anderfels, the gods sent dragons to attack Treviso and Minrathous. Lucanis couldn’t help the ache in his chest that he felt for Neve. He’d been hesitant to work with a Tevinter mage but she had helped in his escape from the Ossuary and she wasn’t Venatori. In fact, she hated Venatori almost as much as he did. She’d also been helpful in helping him gather information about both Zara and Spite and with researching ways to rid himself of the demon. When she left the team to help her city, the Lighthouse began to feel bigger, especially at night. Neve often worked late and he’d keep her company as a distraction. He understood why she left. If Treviso had fallen to the dragon he would have done the same, yet the emptiness remained. Even so, he felt reluctant to call a mage his friend.

He could tell the attack had bothered Rook as well. In the days that followed she became quieter and judging from the dark bags under her eyes, Lucanis knew she wasn��t getting enough sleep either. He’d found her sitting in the Lighthouse’s courtyard a couple of times outside the dining hall, usually with a book in her lap, while her eyes stared blankly in the direction of Neve’s room. He was grateful that Rook had helped in Treviso but he could tell the consequences of her decision weighed on her.

It was around that time that Lucanis began to really see that Rook wasn’t what he expected of an Antivan Crow. She cared about her team and their wellbeing. He was beginning to lose count of the number of times she had put herself in danger in order to help one of her teammates, only to laugh it off later. She always did her best to make sure everyone felt included and continued to check in with Neve in Minrathous, despite the obvious tension between the two of them.

When Rook took the dagger from him at Weisshaupt, she seemed determined to do something stupid that would likely get her killed. A strange mix of anger and panic had filled him. If Rook died, Viago would be furious. The gods could tear the dagger easily from her cold, lifeless hand before anyone could reach her. It would be harder to fulfill Caterina’s final contract. He would fail Caterina. He would fail the Crows. He would fail Rook.

Lucanis had been perched on a ledge, ready to make his move once on Ghilan’nain once the Archdemon was dead, when Rook was injured. He’d heard a shout from Davrin beneath the dying roar of the Archdemon and pulled his eyes away from Ghilan’nain, intending to only shoot a quick glance in the direction of the Grey Warden. However, a flash of dark purple and black flying through the air caught his attention and Spite’s voice threatened to escape but Lucanis swallowed it down hard.

“She’s fine,” Lucanis muttered to his demon after taking a breath, his eyes flickering between Rook and Ghilan’nain as Rook began to pull herself up to her feet. The fingers of Lucanis’s right hand flexed impatiently while Davrin raised his sword.

Davrin’s sword plunged into the Archdemon and Rook shouted for Lucanis, hurling the lyrium dagger toward him. Lucanis was quick, grabbing the dagger from the air before throwing himself off the ledge, trusting that Spite’s wings would catch him and push him forward. Everything happened so quickly that he still wasn’t sure exactly what had gone wrong. He’d aimed the dagger but it had somehow hit Ghilan’nain’s mask at a wrong angle, causing the blade’s momentum to throw him off balance. He landed hard on his knee next to Rook and when he looked at Ghilan’nain, she was still standing.

He missed.

A wave of emotions washed over him – fear, panic, anger. His arms were stiff and his hands were trembling. Spite’s voice clawed at his throat. His vision became blurred. How could he miss? He needed to try again. He needed to stop her. He needed to –

“It’s too late!” Rook’s voice cut through his thoughts like she could read his mind and he whipped his head around to look at her. Her hand was pressed over her left hip and her eyebrows were gathered together in a mixture of pain and frustration. “We need to get back to the eluvian!”

When they got through the eluvian and into the Crossroads, he distanced himself from the others. He found a quiet area next to the stairs that led up to the eluvian and paced back and forth, wringing his gloved hands together. He tried to focus on keeping his breath deep and slow. He needed to calm down, he needed Spite to calm down, but they were angry.

“We. Need. To go. Back!”

“We can’t,” Lucanis hissed back through gritted teeth. “We go back now, we die.”

He struggled with accepting the fact that Ghilan’nain was still alive because he had missed. He missed his target. He never missed. Spite was still trying to take advantage of his outrage and wanted control. Ghilan’nain had done so much damage… to Weisshaupt, to Treviso, to Rook… He needed to try again. Whatever it took, he would not miss a second time.

As his adrenaline began to slow and he became more relaxed, Lucanis became aware of a sharp stinging pain in his right hand. When he flexed his fingers, he realized his palm felt wet and sticky inside his glove. He turned his hand over and he could see the thick leather of his glove had been cut across the palm. The dagger must have slipped. Damn it.

“ Smells like… Iron. Sweet and metallic.”

“Yeah,” Lucanis agreed in a low breath.

“Not you.”

Lucanis’s eyebrows gathered. If Spite wasn’t talking about him, then who was he talking about? They were surrounded by injured Grey Wardens but it wasn’t like him to comment about strangers like that. He turned to follow Spite’s gaze over his shoulder. Rook was sitting on a large rock, leaning back on one hand and holding onto Emmrich’s shoulder with the other. The necromancer was knelt in front of her, Rook’s belt by his knee, and his hands were on her side. He knew Rook had been hurt but he didn’t think that Spite would be able to smell the blood from where they stood if it had been superficial. His feet started to move before he could think about it.

Being close to Emmrich while he tried to heal Rook with his magic made the itch behind Lucanis’s eyes worse but he’d gotten used to ignoring it. He just needed to focus. When he reached Rook, blood was still coming up between Emmrich’s fingers, though not as quickly as he was expecting. There was an empty healing potion bottle on the ground between Rook and Emmrich, which would explain the slowed bleeding, but it should have at least stopped by now and Emmrich shared his concerns.

Some time ago, Lucanis had met a young scholar by the name of Drayden while on one of his contracts. They had been stabbed and in order to inspect the wound further, Lucanis had checked their wound with his fingers to make sure there had been nothing vital injured and that there were no spasms or arterial ejections. He could do it again for Rook.

When he pressed his fingers into her wound, her scream made his skin crawl and his blood go cold. It didn’t take long for him to sense that nothing major had been damaged and he was able to quickly remove his fingers. When he looked up at her, Rook was paler than she had been before, almost white, and she was dazed.

“You’re alright,” he had said softly to her though he wasn’t sure she heard him. He raised his hand unconsciously to touch her cheek but the blood dripping down his fingers made him pull it back and curl into a fist instead. “Everything will be okay.”

He looked over his shoulder and called for Taash, his voice hoarse and rougher than he meant for it to be. They needed to get her back to the Lighthouse so Emmrich could get to work in a safer, cleaner environment. When he turned his head back, Rook was slumped over onto Emmrich’s shoulder.

He swore his heart stopped.

He didn’t remember much of what happened after that. Everything was a blur of noise and movement. The next thing he could recall was standing next to the door in the infirmary back at the Lighthouse watching Emmrich heal Rook after Harding and Taash had left. The way Emmrich’s hands glowed an unnatural green made Lucanis uncomfortable. He’d seen Emmrich heal others with magic before and knew that Rook trusted him but it didn’t make him feel any better. The magic thrumming throughout the confined room made the itch behind his eyes painful and his body restless. In most cases he would have left and returned to his room. Maybe if it had been Illario he would push through and stay for his cousin. Why did he stay for Rook? Was it because he felt guilty about what happened?

That had to be it. He stayed because of the guilt. She had saved him, helped him escape from Zara and Calivan and the torture he had endured for a year, and how had he repaid her? He was “The Demon of Vyrantium”, one of the most famed Antivan Crows in history. What good was he if he couldn’t complete a contract? If he couldn’t protect a fellow Crow? He held his gloves in his hands and twisted them anxiously without taking his eyes off Rook. He didn’t want to look at his hands.

Seeing blood was nothing new to him. Lucanis had seen more than enough of it in his line of work; it was more often than not caused by his own hand after all. However, when he saw Rook’s blood – dark red against her blue sash, smeared bright over her pale skin, covering Emmrich’s weathered hands – that was the first time he felt ill at the sight. Lucanis had tried to wipe his hands clean with shaking fingers but blood, both his and hers, had settled around his fingernails and in the creases of his hands. After he wrapped the gash on his right hand, he kept his arms crossed so he wouldn’t have to be reminded of what he had done. She was quiet now but when he closed his eyes he could still hear her scream.

Emmrich insisted Rook would be fine and that Lucanis should let him treat his hand and get some rest but he refused to move from his seat next to her bedside. The hours ticked by slowly. His eyes rarely left her chest, watching it rise and fall slowly and steadily. Spite would fuss over Rook, complain about boredom, then fuss some more. It was odd that Spite, a demon, seemed almost… worried.

“Rook dreams of Wisdom. Of Pride. He taunts. She listens. Insults. But listens.”

Lucanis wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Bellara entered the infirmary. She’d brought him a cup of coffee and he was thankful. Other than himself, Bellara was the only one at the Lighthouse who could brew an actual decent cup of coffee. His eyes were beginning to feel heavy and with Spite’s current temperament he knew the demon would be all too excited to take over if given the chance. Bellara stood next to him fidgeting awkwardly and only after he lowered the cup and let out a long sigh did he finally cast a glance in her direction.

“You have a question.”

“I, well, it’s not so much a question as a concern,” Bellara said quickly. “It’s been hours and you haven’t left. I can stay with Rook if you need to clean up. You might feel better with a change of clothes.” When Lucanis raised an eyebrow, Bellara stuttered. “I– It’s not that you need to, but if you want to. I don’t mind staying for a bit. I’ll come get you if she wakes up. I mean, she will wake up, just if she wakes up while you’re–”

“I’m fine, Bellara,” Lucanis forced a small smile for her benefit. “Thank you.”

Bellara turned like she was going to leave the room but stopped short and turned back toward Lucanis again. “Why are you… No, sorry. Never mind. It’s none of my business.”

Lucanis was silent, listening to Bellara shift back and forth undecidedly not far from him for a moment or two but kept his eyes focused on Rook’s hand, like it might move at any moment. Just when Bellara was about to say something else, he spoke in a low, hoarse voice. “I couldn’t complete my contract. I didn’t take out Ghilan’nain. This is the least I can do.”

“Lucanis–”

“I talked to her at the library in Weisshaupt. When she took the Dread Wolf’s dagger from me. She was so…”

“Determined.”

“... Insistent on making sure we got Ghilan’nain, even if it was at the cost of her life. What if she had died and I had missed then? Her sacrifice would have been for nothing.” Lucanis closed his eyes momentarily. He could hear Ghilan’nain’s angered screech in his ears.

“But she didn’t. Die, I mean.”

“No,” Lucanis agreed, “But I…”

“Failed. The contract. Rook.”

He felt a small, gentle hand on his arm and his hands tightened around his coffee. Bellara had knelt next to him and Lucanis reluctantly took his eyes off Rook to look at her. For a brief minute he thought the look in her eye was pity but when she spoke, he realized it was empathy.

“We’re fighting gods. My gods. This isn’t one of your usual targets. I don’t think Rook will blame you for what happened. I don’t.”

Lucanis tore his eyes away from Bellara to look at Rook again. “She should. Failing a contract is punishable by death.”

“You haven’t failed. It isn’t finished yet. Besides, I don’t think Rook would want that.”

Lucanis gave a small, slow nod in response. He knew that it wouldn’t be what Rook would want but it didn’t matter.

He wasn’t sure when Bellara left. Eventually his cup emptied and he placed it on the table next to Rook’s bed. The constant, irritating itching behind his eyes suddenly intensified and was quickly followed by a piercing migraine. Emmrich’s room wasn’t far from the infirmary but if he was using his magic, it wouldn’t hurt like this. He bowed his head with one elbow resting on the arm of his chair as he reached up to press his fingers to his temple.

“What…?” Rook’s voice was rough and his head snapped up. Her head was turned away from him and she seemed disoriented.

“Rook?” He said, just loud enough to get her attention but hopefully not startle her. When she turned her head to him, Lucanis thought he saw something in Rook's eyes. They were bright red, like they were bloodshot, and the veins around them were raised. Her eyes fluttered quickly and they were back to their usual pale shade. The itch behind his eyes faded back to normal.

Lucanis’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. The same thing had happened once before. They had gone to Treviso to plan Caterina’s funeral. He’d tried to talk to her about what had happened with Varric but she got a blank look in her eyes, like she was somewhere else, and her eyes looked similarly irritated. When he brought it up to Neve later, she told him the same thing happened when she and Harding had tried to talk to her about Varric’s death when they first arrived at the Lighthouse. It was definitely blood magic. Neve had a feeling Solas had something to do with it. She and Bellara had both tried to find ways to break the Dread Wolf’s bond with Rook but to no avail.

When he heard her say his name, all thoughts of Solas and blood magic vanished. Rook tried to push herself up and Lucanis moved quickly to help her, sitting on the very edge of her bed and offering her a cup of water Emmrich had left. She’d been kind to him, kinder than she should have been given the circumstances, and she smiled at him. It was a small smile, soft and tired, but enough for him to notice. He failed his contract and here she was, bandaged and bruised, smiling at him.

“I’m just happy you didn’t get killed out there,” Rook said to him. Lucanis scoffed. She was happy he didn’t get killed, when she was the one in the infirmary? He pushed himself up off the edge of her bed, fully prepared to leave, when he felt her bare hand wrap around his wrist, firm but gentle, to stop him. It made him freeze. It wasn’t unlike Rook to offer a kind touch when others were upset but this was different. She wasn’t trying to comfort him. She was asking him to stay.

He sat back down and Rook began to fix his bandage. Lucanis couldn’t help but watch how she lectured him with the bridge of her nose wrinkling in frustration and her eyes glowering at him from under her long dark eyelashes. He could remember Illario reprimanding him, usually in annoyance, but the way Rook did it was different; there was more tenderness behind it. It was almost like she was scolding a small child.

“You need an elfroot salve,” she said and Lucanis let out a small grunt in response. He’d had worse. “If you get an infection, Viago… I’ll be upset.”

Her eyes didn’t raise to meet his and Lucanis did his best not to move his hand and kept his expression steady, despite his heart thudding against his chest. Rook cared about her team, of course she would be upset, but there was something in the tone of her voice that made him think it was something more than that.

“Rook is careful,” Spite had whispered over Lucanis’s shoulder as he watched Rook. “Not like ebony and bronze. Hard against flesh. Stinging. Correcting to protect. She knows. She has felt it. Not to protect. To correct. To create.”

After Rook tied the gauze together against the back of his hand and let go, he reached for her again without thinking and laced their fingers together. He’d never noticed how long and slender her fingers were compared to his. He knew she was pale but she seemed even more so against his tanned skin. His fingers moved on their own, gently caressing the back of her hand. When her fingers slid against his skin they were rougher than he expected them to be. When he thought about it, it made sense. She was a Crow too. He knew what a Crow’s hands went through.

He felt oddly at peace in that moment for the first time in years. If Spite spoke, Lucanis couldn’t hear him. Everything that had been lingering in the shadows of his mind faded away – his childhood, the Ossuary, all of it. There was a warmth that settled in his chest that was nostalgic somehow. He wondered if this is what it felt like to be loved. Not that Rook loved him, not in that sense, but the care she showed him was different. He was safe here with Rook in a way he’d never been with Caterina or Illario.

A sudden realization came to him. He’d told himself the reason he didn’t want Rook to die at Weisshaupt was because she had saved him and he’d been unable to repay her. Then he’d been unable to kill Ghilan’nain after she’d been hurt by the god’s Archdemon. That was why he’d watched over her, why he was here now… but he’d been wrong. He wanted to protect her. Not just because he felt like he owed her or because she was his client and they had a contract. He cared for her like she was… family? No, that wasn’t the right word. She was a friend.

He pulled his hand from hers and the sense of warmth that had filled him vanished faster than he’d anticipated. This needed to stop now. Before she got hurt. He couldn’t look at her as he gathered belongings. He could feel her eyes on his back but she did not stop him again. This time she did not ask him to stay. She let him go.

Rook never once blamed him for missing Ghilan’nain. While she was doing her best to support everyone after the fall of Weisshaupt, she always seemed to find a little extra time for him. She would bring him coffee when she thought he needed one and he would take small sips until she was gone before making himself a fresh batch. She was trying, for him, so he didn’t have the heart to tell her that her coffee was somehow worse than Neve’s. At dinner, she would always make sure to place a glass of water next to his coffee when she sat down. If he didn’t drink it, she would wordlessly nudge it toward him when the others weren’t looking.

There had been times where he began to reconsider keeping her at a distance. Whenever they spoke, he could hear the hesitation and caution in her voice. He knew Rook was trying to be respectful and never pushed him to converse more than what was necessary but she was still persistent in her own ways. If she was gone for a few days, she would slip a note under his door before she left to let him know where she was going and when she would be back. Stepping into his room to find those notes always made his chest ache in a strange way, like there was a hole in place of warmth he’d felt when he held her hand in his. The notes often had little drawings of a rook chess piece in the corner by her signature. Sometimes she’d include a smiley face or what he assumed was supposed to be a crow. It was childish but made him smile.

It was when he had begun to keep these small notes in the drawer next to the wyvern dagger she’d given him that Lucanis realized he missed her when she was gone. He’d find himself sitting in the library to read during the day instead of in the pantry, waiting to hear her voice echo up the stairs. When she did eventually come back he never had to go find her, she would always find a way to get to him first. Sometimes if she went to Treviso without him, she would bring him back a small bag of Andoral’s Breath and leave it outside his door wrapped with a purple satin bow.

Lucanis asked Rook to join him when Viago found Zara. At the time, he’d told himself it was because she was a Crow and she wanted to help, not because he wanted her there. She’d been on an outing with Emmrich to the Memorial Gardens at the Grand Necropolis so he’d left her a note on her door that simply said “Viago sent word. LD.”.

Rook found him in the dining hall. He’d sharpened some of his knives to prepare for Zara and to try and calm his nerves, just as he was doing now, but it hadn’t worked. Against his better judgement he had decided to take out his frustrations on the wood table. Spite announced Rook’s arrival before she opened one of the large double doors and let the light flood into the room. Lucanis couldn’t look at her.

For the first few days after Weisshaupt, Rook had walked with a slight limp, likely because she was still sore on her left side. It seemed to be better unless she had a long day, then the limp returned. She had been out with Emmrich most of that day and Lucanis could hear in the way her leather boots fell against the stone floors that she ached. He knew she was trying to hide it, to fight past it and pretend things were normal. Lucanis felt his jaw clench as he threw one of his small blades into the table once. Ghilan’nain nearly killed Rook and still lived. Because of him. The second blade he threw hit the table shortly after the first.

He was unsurprised when Rook agreed to help. What surprised him was how close she got for the first time in what must have been weeks. She moved to stand next to him, leaning her backside against the edge of the table and placing her hand close to his on the table’s surface. She wasn’t close enough to touch him but close enough that he froze.

“Smells like… Iron. And Chocolate,” Spite hummed from the opposite side of Rook. Even though Lucanis kept his eyes on the table, he could feel Spite’s eyes on him and he knew his demon had that irritating smirk spread across his face.

“We just need to get this done,” Lucanis said. He needed to focus. He couldn’t let Zara get away, not after Ghilan’nain. He would feel his blade against her flesh before she could take anything else away from him. She’d already taken his freedom and Caterina, he would not allow her to take Illario or… Lucanis’s eyes flickered to Rook’s hand and his fingers tensed against the table. “I’m not losing anyone else.”

He still couldn’t understand why she had kissed him at the Chantry. He could remember how her eyes darted around in a way to avoid looking at him after she had pulled away. Her face had been flushed despite the chill in the air and her dark, wet hair clung to her cheeks and neck. His eyes had fallen to her lips, watching as they moved silently for a second before she began to sputter out an apology in a way that seemed so unlike her but he wasn’t really listening. Her kiss had been quick but it was enough to break his resolution.

Lucanis grabbed her face and kissed her again. It wasn’t the same as when she had done it and he wasn’t sure why. He was pretty sure he had moved too quickly. His teeth had hit hers and their noses were pressed together uncomfortably. However, once Rook changed the angle of her chin and slid her arms up over his shoulders, something between them clicked.

He’d never been like his cousin. Flirting and seducing women seemed to come so easily to Illario while it had never been something Lucanis wanted or searched for in the same way. Years ago, he’d realized he’d developed feelings for Viago and had sent him a knife but nothing had ever come of it. Even then, he’d just wanted to spend time with Viago, nothing more, and it had been the same with Rook. When did it change?

He could remember how he’d felt in the infirmary when their fingers had slid together. There was a warmth then that he could feel now. When Rook’s arms tightened around his shoulders and she pressed her chest against his, that warmth grew. Lucanis felt like his hands were in an awkward place, still holding her face, but he didn’t know what to do with them. He’d barely heard the small hum Rook made when a loud crack of thunder broke his thoughts and he pushed her away.

This had to stop. Getting closer would only end up hurting her. Zara was no longer a threat but there were still too many that loomed over them. He could lose control of Spite, they could lose their battle with the gods, and he could no longer trust Illario. Staying away was the right thing to do. If Rook got hurt because of him, if he lost Rook…

Lucanis had dropped his guard and made a mistake. He would involve her in his future problems with Illario as little as possible. He’d try to find some work to distract himself. He’d talk to Neve and figure out a way to separate himself from Spite. If he could just focus on what needed to be done, he would not make another mistake, he would not fail again. If by some miracle everything worked out in their favor, if they could walk away from all this in one piece, then maybe he and Rook could…

Spite let out an irritated sigh. “Rook’s stubborn.”

Lucanis dropped the whetstone he’d been using beside him and reached for the dagger’s sheath. “I’ll find a way to apologize to her. After that, I’ll do what I need to finish our contract. Nothing more.”

“You won’t.”

“I will,” Lucanis snapped back as he shoved the blade into its sheath.

“Okay. Rook won’t.”

Lucanis cursed under his breath as he stood to put his supplies away. When he opened the drawer next to his bed, the wyvern dagger Rook had gifted him and her notes slid into view and he hesitated.

“Lucanis knows. I’m right,” Spite continued in his annoying, sing-songy voice. “Rook is determined. Like you were. Still are. But Lucanis’s determination is… different now.”

Lucanis tried to ignore Spite and closed the drawer quickly with a slam, causing the candle and coffee cup on top to wobble. He grabbed his travelling pack from beneath his cot instead and shoved the whetstone and dagger into one of the pockets.

Spite hummed deeply from somewhere close behind his ear. “But you want now. Something else. Rook. But why? How do you. Want. A person?”

Lucanis whirled around. “I don’t–”

“Lucanis hasn’t wanted before. Not like this. Determined. Still. But for her. To stay away. To protect. To get closer. To touch–”

“Getting close to her is a bad idea,” Lucanis said as he shouldered Spite out of the way to grab his empty coffee cup off the top of the small side table.

“Why? Zara is dead. Thanks to him.” Even without looking at Spite, Lucanis knew from the way he mentioned his cousin that his demon’s lip was curled. “She can’t. Hurt anyone. To hurt us.”

“Did you forget we’re fighting gods?” Lucanis asked in exasperation. “And what about Illario? What about you?”

Spite’s expression twisted into an angry, aggravated sneer. “I… Won’t hurt. Rook.”

Lucanis let out an irritated snort. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Rook protects. You. Us. Rook is not a threat.”

“Why should I trust a demon?”

“You can’t trust a demon. Trust me.”

Lucanis let out a frustrated sigh and turned to make his way down to the opposite end of the pantry. When his hand touched the door handle, Spite spoke again and Lucanis paused.

“Rook helps. But you refuse. To listen. To see.”

Lucanis left his room without another word.

Author's Note: Lucanis POV! I hope I’m doing him justice. This chapter was very long but thank you so much if you got through it!

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