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arduousflame · 7 days ago

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Grounding

A quiet whimper seeped through the closed door, sharp and raw. Rook froze mid-step. She had been on her way to check on Bellara, worried about how the elf was coping with her brother’s second death. But the sound sent her heart racing.

The Archive. Her first thought was that it had gone rogue. Without a second’s hesitation, Rook flung the door open, panic surging in her chest—only to find Bellara crumpled on the floor, head in her hands, her shoulders trembling.

“Bell!” Rook dropped to her knees, sliding across the floor to reach her. She pulled Bellara into her arms, not waiting for permission.

Bellara gasped, trying to push her away. “I’m fine! I’m—Rook, I’m fine! Please—just—” But the broken words collapsed into full sobs, fresh tears streaking her cheeks. The kohl she meticulously applied every morning ran in dark rivulets down her face, smudging as she wiped at her eyes with shaking hands.

“You’re not fine, Bell,” Rook said softly, refusing to let go. “And that’s okay. I’m here. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Bellara sagged against her, her resistance melting as grief took over. The sobs wracked her body, silent at first, then building in intensity as the barriers she had so carefully erected crumbled. “It’s just— I miss him, Rook! He was gone, and I found peace. And— and then I could hope again. Just for it all to end like that?”

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. Rook remembered the others had been wanting to train in the open center of the Lighthouse. Some were eager to release pent-up energy.

The door burst open, Davrin storming in, sword drawn, his sharp gaze scanning for danger. Lucanis was right behind him, hand hovering over his dagger, his expression tense and ready.

They froze.

Bellara was still weeping, curled into Rook’s arms like a child. And Rook, though trying her best to stay composed, was visibly struggling herself. Her lips moved as she whispered soothing words, her hand gently stroking the back of Bellara’s neck in slow, calming motions.

Rook turned her head toward the men. She shook her head at them, tightening her hold on Bellara and motioning sharply toward the door.

Lucanis immediately stepped back, understanding without a word. He glanced at Davrin, who hesitated, his grip on his sword loosening.

“Later,” Lucanis murmured, tapping the Warden on the shoulder. “Let’s give them space.”

Davrin’s jaw tightened, about to protest, but he nodded and sheathed his weapon. As he followed Lucanis out, Rook mouthed a silent thank you before turning her full attention back to Bellara. He bowed his head in reply. There was no need to explain grief to him.

The room grew quiet again as the door clicked shut, leaving only the sound of Bellara’s soft sobbing and Rook’s voice.

“It’s okay,” Rook murmured. “Let it go, Bell. Let it all out.”

And Bellara did, clinging to Rook as though she were the only thing anchoring her to the ground in the floating building in the Fade.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed—long enough for her legs to cramp from sitting on the floor, folded together like they were. Rook’s chin rested atop Bellara’s head, her hands still moving in steady, soothing patterns up and down the elf’s back. Gradually, Bellara’s sobs shifted to quiet sniffles, then to soft, uneven breaths. Finally, she fell silent, her body relaxing against Rook’s.

A gentle knock broke the stillness, and the door creaked open to reveal Harding poking her head inside. “Hey, Bellara… I’ve got some tea ready. Think you’re up for drinking a bit?”

Bellara stirred, slowly pulling herself out of Rook’s embrace. She wiped hastily at her reddened, tear-streaked face, as though trying to erase the evidence of her pain.

“Lace… Yes, please,” she rasped, her voice rough and barely audible.

“Good. Here you go.” Harding stepped into the room, carrying a mug of steaming tea. She placed it firmly into Bellara’s hands, as if daring her to refuse. “Lucanis is making some soup too. It’ll be ready soon if you feel up for it later.”

As Bellara sipped the tea, Harding prattled on, her cheerful voice filling the room. Rook stretched her legs out in front of her, grimacing slightly at the ache. She leaned back on her palms and offered Harding a tired but grateful smile.

“Let’s get some fresh air, huh? Or as much air this place allows.” Harding suggested brightly, her sharp eyes flicking between the two women. “I’ve got some plants that need tending to. You could keep me company, Bell, maybe take a nap under the canopy? The greenery might do you some good.”

Harding reached for Bellara’s hand, her own smaller fingers curling firmly around the elf’s. With a playful tug, she tried to haul Bellara to her feet. The height difference made the effort almost comical—Harding was easily half Bellara’s size. Apparently even in the floating Lighthouse in the Fade, some laws of physics still applied.

Rook leaned in with a gentle push to Bellara’s back. “Go on,” she said encouragingly.

That small nudge was enough to tip the balance—literally. Bellara staggered upright, swaying slightly as Harding’s determined pull and Rook’s push sent her teetering. The two of them wobbled unsteadily for a moment, the dwarf’s stout frame nearly toppling under Bellara’s height.

“Easy there,” Harding quipped, planting her feet with a mock-serious frown. “Not all of us are built for giant-tree-sized elves.”

A faint, reluctant chuckle escaped Bellara, and Rook couldn’t help but smile herself at the sound. It was small, but it was a start. Rook knew it would take longer than tonight to heal the hurt Cyrian had left behind. Or the hurt any other of them carried.

Still, she could only be proud of this rag tag team they formed.

“Come on, then,” Harding said, already leading the way with Bellara in tow. “The plants are waiting, and so is the supposedly fresh air. You’ve got to let yourself breathe sometime, you know. Remind me to never ask metaphysical questions again to Emmrich. I have dealt with enough mind-shattering discoveries lately to last me the rest of my lifetime”

Rook stayed seated for a moment longer, watching the two women leave the room, before she dragged herself of the floor to follow. She could hear Harding continue on: “Oh, did I tell you about the dream I had last night? It was so weird..”

The sight of Bellara leaning just slightly on Harding, her steps slow but steady, gave Rook a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they’d all find their footing again.

She followed them from a distance, back to the dining hall. The smells of Lucanis’ cooking greeted them in the courtyard. The hall was almost empty, just Davrin witling and sulking on the couch next to the fireplace, and Lucanis at the stove. The warden jumped up when Bellara and Harding walked in.

Rook looked in from the edges of the room, seeing how Harding and Davrin now tutted about the elf. Lucanis offered her a bowl of soup, before grabbing more for Harding and Davrin. Bellara’d be fine now.

Quietly, Rook turned and slipped away, heading back to Bellara’s room. It was in disarray, she had noticed when she had first walked in, papers scattered haphazardly across the desk and floor, a scarf thrown over the back of a chair, and books left open where Bellara had been writing earlier.

Rolling up her sleeves, Rook set about tidying the space. She gathered the papers into neat piles, folded the scarf with care, and closed the books, stacking them neatly on the desk. The rhythmic, methodical movements gave her mind a reprieve.

When she finally stepped back and looked around the now-tidied room, she allowed herself a small smile. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“How is it going?” Lucanis leaned casually against the doorframe, though his eyes followed her every move around the empty room. When had he walked in? She must have been busier longer than she thought.

“Bell’s in good hands now,” Rook replied without looking up, her hands busy tidying the haphazard stacks of papers in Bellara’s room. “Emmrich and Harding brewed her a calming tea. After a nap, she should be feeling a bit better.”

She kept her tone matter-of-fact, focusing on the task at hand. It was easier than thinking too much.

Lucanis must have stepped closer without her noticing —again, damn, she was losing her edge. Viago would skin her if he ever found out—because suddenly, his hands were gently taking the papers from hers. He placed them back on the desk and then, before she could react, took hold of her hands. His grip was firm but gentle, his thumbs tracing slow circles against her wrists.

“Bellara will be okay,” he said softly, his voice as steady as his gaze. “It might take time, but she’s hewn from strong wood, that one.” He paused, his dark eyes searching hers, unwavering. “I wasn’t talking about Bellara, though. I was asking about you.”

The question hung in the air between them, weighty and unavoidable. Rook opened her mouth to deflect, but the way his gaze held her—gentle but unrelenting—made the words catch in her throat. She forced a small, tight smile.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, her voice lacking conviction.

Lucanis tugged on her hands, just enough to draw her attention fully to him. “Try again.”

The quiet insistence in his voice disarmed her. She hesitated, the silence between them stretching. She could feel his thumbs still moving in slow, soothing circles, grounding her. It made the cracks in her armor impossible to ignore.

Her resolve faltered, and finally, she exhaled, the sound shaky and uneven. “I’m three breaths away from panicking and breaking down,” she admitted, her voice trembling as the words tumbled out. Her eyes filled with unshed tears, her carefully constructed walls crumbling under the weight of her confession. “i have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to be doing or how I’m going to get everyone out of this, in one piece. We’re up against gods, who fight even dirtier than Crows. None of this was something I was —am ready for. Fuck, Caterina might have given you an impossible contract. I don’t know what the hell Viago was thinking when he drew up mine.”

Lucanis didn’t let go. Instead, his hands tightened around hers, anchoring her. “There it is,” he murmured. His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the relief and understanding in his tone.

Her breath hitched, and she tried to pull away, instinctively retreating back into herself, but he held firm. “Rook,” he said. “You don’t have to hold it all together. Hold all of us together. On your own. We’re here, querida. ”

A tear slipped down her cheek, then another, until she could no longer fight the flood. She looked down, her shoulders trembling as the sob she’d been holding in broke free.

Lucanis stepped closer, closing the space between them. He let go of her hands only to wrap his arms around her, pulling her into a steady, unyielding embrace. Rook tensed at first, unused to the comfort — to be this close to him— but the warmth and strength of his hold slowly unraveled her resistance.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against her hair. “It’s okay. You’ve carried enough.”

And for the first time in what felt like ages, Rook let herself lean into someone else.

He held her close for what felt like an age, his warmth slowly easing the tension in her own limbs.

When he finally let go, he held her at an arm’s width away.

“Now, your turn to go sleep,” he said as he turned her around, giving her a slight shove out of the room when she started to protest.

I’ll wake you in a few hours. You still remember the drills your trainers taught you?” Rook nodded, “How could I forget, why?”

His smile was warm. “We’ll run some drills then, together. It’ll help clear your mind. Now, off to bed.”

#dragon age the veilguard #dragon age veilguard #bellara lutare #lucanis dellamorte #oc: gwynn de riva #datv #davrin #lace harding #rookanis #if rook is the local therapist #she has the right to break down every so often as well #ok?#And the others? They are dealing with world shattering changes #let them freak out a bit

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