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skitskatdacat63 · 1 year ago

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Fernando Alonso & His Relationship With Cards

I'm sure we're all familar with the cards on the back of Fernando's Vegas GP helmet by now, but did you know his relationship with cards goes a lot deeper?

I. Magic Tricks

You've probably seen or heard someone at least mention Fernando's propensity for card tricks. As far as I can tell he was doing them(publically) as far back as 2003 all the way to as recently as 2018. Even once performing a card trick, with a condom and a teddy bear(!??!?!??!!), in front of Valentino Rossi who said "How was that possible?"(x)

But how did this start? According to James Allen, "Fernando admits to having been heavily influenced by his grandfather, a mercurial figure, who taught him magic and card tricks, still one of his passions away from the race track."(x) And I'm not sure the validity of this one, because I couldn't find an actual source, but apparently he once said: "My parents are responsible for the two things I like doing most - driving and magic tricks. They bought me my first go-kart and a magician's kit."

In several interviews he described it as his hobby off track, and that he loved learning new tricks and surprising others in the garage with them! So clearly cards are pretty important to him both as a hobby but also to who he is as a person since they've been with him just as long as racing has.

II. Card Symbolism in His Helmets

This is the reason I originally made this post, but I thought I should also explain the origins of his card fascination first. As I said, we probably all remember the cards on the back of his helmet in Vegas, but did you know that wasn't the first time he had cards on the back of his helmet?

From 2008-2013, he used to have a pair of cards on the back of his helmets. The symbolisms of the cards themselves as well as the evolution of their design is really fascinating to me! Even more so with the recent development of the card choice in 2023.

Fernando said he wanted to reference his two titles in some way on the back of his helmet and after his friend sent him several ideas, he decided on having two cards(an ace of clubs and an ace of hearts, sometimes pictured with 05 and 06 on them as well), saying: "I picked the cloverleaf [the ace of clubs - Ed] to give me luck, but the only pity is that it doesn't have four leaves!"(X)

2008.

Here's the very first appearance of the cards! They're displayed flat, with the 05 and 06 clearly visible

2009.

Very similar to 2008, but with a slightly different design, and they're maybe a bit more straight with less shadow?

2010.

This is the first major change! I was sad they didn't have the years on them anymore, but then I realized they're sparkly to match with his signature lightning bolts on the top of the helmet!!

2011.

Honestly I'm still somewhat unsure if this is the actual 2011 helmet? It's pretty difficult to find clear photos of the back of helmets from older seasons. It's easiest to find them on replica sites or auction sites so I'm not 100%? But anyways, I like that this has the championship years on the underside of the cards

2012.

This is when I started getting weirdly emotional about the helmets. Do you see how they've progressed from being a centerpoint to being curled up and sad at the bottom of the helmet? Not listing the year anymore??

2013.

Same thoughts as 2012. And after this season, they cease to exist (just like his ferrari chair in the garage, WOAH CALLBACK), until cards make a reeappearance in his Vegas helmet, albeit in a different form

2013 Monaco(Honorable Mention):

For some reason 2013 helmets were easier to find proper pictures of, so I happened to witness this absolute beauty. The creativity of this helmet genuinely blows me away??? Wanting to keep the card motif, but making sure to incorporate it into the rest of the puzzle piece design?? Mwah! There was another special 2013 helmet but they didn't change the cards at all so I really applaud this one

2023 Las Vegas(The Return of The King):

The magnificent return! But look! The cards are different cards! Instead of being two aces, it's now an ace of hearts, a four of hearts(his driver number of course!) and, the, now iconic, representation of himself as a Joker. I literally could not believe my eyes when this helmet was released and I saw the Joker card, what a fucking silly old man....I really wonder if he felt nostalgic having cards on his helmet again or if he didn't think about it all and was just like, "ah cards because Vegas!!!"

III. Why Does This Matter?

*The rest of the post was factual, this is moreso my personal thoughts on the symbolism of the cards/designs

This post spawned from me recently watching the 2010 Bahrain gp and noticing "hey wait a minute...are those CARDS ON THE BACK OF HIS HELMET!?" It's a really tiny detail that's unfortunately covered up by the HANS device pretty much whenever he's wearing the helmet, so it's really difficult to spot! But I became fascinated with the fact that he had cards on his helmet before that recent helmet, and now here we are!

There's something to me about how the design of the cards evolves over the course of six seasons from the cards being front and center to being smaller, more folded up and closer to the bottom of the helmet. As I said, the 2012-2013 ones genuinely made me depressed because it feels, symbolically, like his hopes for getting another Ace are becoming more and more unlikely and falling away until they eventually fall falt and fade away entirely after 2013 and disappear for basically a decade.

But when they return? They're not the same cards! Instead of representing Fernando's championships, they now represent him as a person, displaying his driver number and his persona of being a Joker!! Though I do think it's interesting he happened to keep the Ace of Hearts, even though he talked more about the Ace of Clubs before. I'm not sure it's actually this deep in reality, but I like to think that it's him not letting his championships(and the lack thereof) define him, but rather letting who he is as a person shine and be the centerpoint instead! But on a sadder note, as @suzuki-ecstar said to me, maybe the Aces aren't there anymore because he's lost all hope for a chance at a third Ace entirely :(

#yes its finals week and im up to my eyes in coursework but instead decided to spend like 5 hours researching and writing this post #nah bcs i actually genuinely put more work into this then I think I have all semester dsfjdskjg #that thing about him using a condom and teddy bear in a magic trick genuinely had me crying with laugher. actual tears rolling down my face #<- HOW!?!? WHAT WAS THE TRICK?? its literally inconceivable to me what he did. oh if only there were pics UGH #anyways!! this post was a lot of fun to make!! i really really love the symbolism and design of helmets so this was a rly fun project #and i also went down a lot of rabbitholes while make this and saw many very weird articles from yore #i feel like i make an equal amnt of deranged posts abt seb and nando but i dont know why nando is gifted w all my well researched projects #<- i.e. chair post. that was the same level of research as this one but at least this one i could find actual sources about....#idk theres smth about the extremely long history of nando's history that evokes research posts like this KLAJSLSKDJ #theres just so much that i dont think I ever really see people discussing! so i must create.#haha what was that joke tag i wanted to make abt my researched posts? I think:#normal posts that catie normally makes in a normal fashion #<- one day ill go back and actually tag posts w that. bcs the amtn of research compared to my actual schoolwork is so unwell #fernando alonso #fa14 #f1 #formula 1 #catie.rambling.txt #we do a little bit of f1

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rookinthecrownest · 8 days ago

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Bedtime Stories For a Demon, Night 5: The Shoes That Were Danced To Pieces (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

The streets of Treviso are eerily silent tonight. As if the city itself has become the quiet before the storm.

Madeleina Mercar and Lucanis Dellamorte weave in and out of abandoned buildings and leap between rooftops, two shifting black dots in a dark landscape. They move quickly, and with purpose.

Earlier that night, a letter had come through from Viago.

One of his Crows had captured a Venatori spy, caught lurking about the Drowned District. The unlucky cultist was dragged into the den of the Fifth Talon, and like one of Viago’s snakes, had been milked for every last drop of usefulness they could provide.

“How’d they get him to talk?” Madeleina asked, as she scanned the contents of Viago’s missive by flickering candlelight. “I can’t imagine the Venatori spill their secrets easily”

“Viago has his ways.”

Why did he have to name his truth serum Pillow Talk.

“… Let’s just say he can be very persuasive”

Madeleina looked up from the letter and quirked an eyebrow. She was clearly expecting more details, but when he remained silent, she dropped it.

“The specifics don’t matter” Lucanis gently pried the letter from her hands and set it on the nearby table. “What matters is we have a location. Viago has his Crows watching the Venatori. We’ll move when you’re ready”

She grinned, “No time like the present – let’s go”

We’ll make her pay, for everything she did to you. Side by side. I swear it.

Her words hang in front of him like a beacon lighting the path to the Chantry. When he turns them over in his head again, the undercurrents of Spite’s glee reverberate through his body. It sends a shiver down his spine.

Her Heart. On Our Knife. Rook’s lightning. At Our backs. A cackle echoes in his head. The Witch. Dies today.

Tonight, he would have his revenge. For himself. For Spite. And for Caterina.

For a moment, he’s back to the Ossuary. His hands and legs chained down to the stone slab beneath him. He remembers the chafing of the metal cuffs around his wrists and ankles, the skin red and raw. Remembers the hunger. The fear. He was too tired to struggle against the bindings. His objective shifted from escape to survive soon after arriving.

“From flying vermin to malicious spirit. That’s quite the promotion, isn’t it, Master Dellamorte?” Zara pinched his cheek with a long, slender finger. It took every ounce of discipline he had not to recoil at her cold touch. Her full, red lips pulled back in a sneer. He could smell her sickly-sweet perfume as she leaned in. It turned his empty stomach.

“Well, then. Let’s make a real Demon out of you, hm?”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Madeleina calls over her shoulder, pulling him out of the past. She is already half-way up the ladder to the overhang above them when she realizes Lucanis isn’t following. Pausing on the rungs, she cranes her neck to look back at him, “Facing Zara, I mean”

He lifts his gaze to meet hers. Tries to keep maintain eye contact instead of staring elsewhere.

“I lost a year of my life to that Venatori Witch” He begins, before climbing up himself. “I owe her for that”

They both reach the overhang and squeeze out of a broken window on the top floor of the warehouse. The two land soundlessly on the side-roof jutting from just below the window sill. Just one more rooftop until they reach the Chantry.

As Lucanis follows Rook’s careful steps, he remembers his dissatisfaction at traversing the rooftops in Vyrantium a year ago. The harsh slopes and rounded clay tiles made a poor foothold even for his perfectly cobbled boots. But the rooftops of Treviso are flatter, the inclines less harsh, and made of interlocking shingles rather than layered tiles. Very friendly for a Crow looking to sneak around. All of Treviso, with its dark, narrow streets, high vantage points, and closely connected rooftops, was practically designed for them. A Crow’s nest made a city.

Madeleina jumps down from the side-roof and onto a balcony overlooking the Chantry courtyard. He watches her come to rigid halt a few steps ahead of him. He can just barely make out another figure in the darkness.

Illario?

Lucanis wastes no time jumping down to the balcony, coming to stand beside Madeleina. She’s close enough now he can feel the tension coiling around her body. Her mouth is set into a hard line, and her eyes fixate on Illario.

So, she was just as thrown off by his appearance at the Chantry as he was. Good. He can get right to the point without preamble.

“Illario - what are you doing here?” Lucanis asks, his voice low.

Illario smiles widely as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m coming with you, of course. No arguments”

Mierda.

“This is my job” Lucanis says firmly, his hands clenching into fists at his side.

“This is Crow business” Illario corrects him. He feels a muscle in his jaw tick.

“How did you even know we’d be here?” If the contents of Viago’s letter were anything to go by, only he and Madeleina should be privy to this information. From the corner of his eye, he can see the weariness settle more firmly onto her features. She folds her arms over her chest and frowns deeply.

Illario seems to notice the shift in her demeanour. He ignores Lucanis’ question and turns to address her instead. He plasters on an insincere, charming smile. The same one Lucanis has seen him use to seduce countless targets. From the way Madeleina’s brows draw further down, he surmises it has the opposite effect on her. Good.

“Rook” He all but purrs her moniker, and for a brief moment Lucanis is thankful Illario doesn’t know her real name. The tone of his voice sets both him and Spite on edge. “Always a pleasure. Touring the city with my cousin?” He pauses to gesture to Lucanis with a sultry grin. “You must allow me to show you the sights”

Madeleina’s voice is stern, almost biting, when she answers, “Lucanis told you not to come”.

He is silently grateful she’s not encouraging Illario. Even more grateful, a small part of him thinks, that his cousin’s attempts at flirting backfire so spectacularly. He can count on one hand the number of times that’s happened. Once Illario realizes his usual approach won’t do him any credit with Madeleina, his face settles into a more neural expression – a little too quickly.

Lucanis decides to interject before he can get a word in edgewise, “This isn’t your type of job, cousin.” He means to needle him about his earlier attempt at Madeleina. He’s not sure whether that’s more him or Spite. “There’s no one you can charm here. Only fanatics. All you can do is get yourself killed”

His words land with the desired effect, if only for a moment. There’s a brief flicker of annoyance in his eyes that only someone who has spent many years with Illario would be able to pick up. It’s gone as soon as it came, now replaced by a challenging stare.

“You think I’m not good enough” He doesn’t phrase it as a question.

“Are you?” Lucanis retorts, tilting his head, throwing the challenge right back at him.

Illario’s nostrils flare. There is concession, but not defeat in his eyes. He settles for a placating smile, but Lucanis has a sinking feeling in his gut that whatever is going on with his cousin will not pass so easily. Perhaps it’s the overly saccharine way he concedes or perhaps it’s the uncharacteristically light tone in his voice given the subject matter. He bows his head, “Fine, have it your way cousin.”

Before Illario turns to leave, he lets out a bitter chuckle. “You always know best, after all”. And without another word, he disappears into the night.

He shakes his head. There’s no time to worry about Illario’s antics right now. Lucanis Dellamorte has a target. And he always collects.

You find her and cut her heart out, Lucanis.

“Let’s go, Zara’s waiting”

Lucanis doesn’t wait for Madeleina to catch up before he starts making for the Chantry courtyard.

She follows him soundlessly, like a shadow.

~*~

“Amatu- “

A sickening crack as Zara’s neck is snapped by Illario, who dropped down from the ceiling just a moment earlier.

She doesn’t have time to think about the implication of what she just heard. Zara’s final words are pushed to the back of her mind as an anguished cry escapes her companion’s lips.

“No! Mine!” Lucanis and Spites voices meld together, all rage and hurt and betrayal, reverberating through the Chantry in a familiar discordant symphony. His purple and black wings unfurl. A high-pitched whistling fills the Chantry, like the firing of an Antaam canon. Then, Illario is sent flying back by a blast of magical energy shooting out of Lucanis. Madeleina is knocked back a few steps from the sheer force of it.

A second later, Lucanis – or rather Spite controlling Lucanis’ body, is on Illario. The dagger in his hand comes down, ready to kill his cousin. A scream tears through his chest as Illario resists, his arms the only thing between him and the dagger’s edge. Lucanis’ face is a twisted mask of hurt and anguish. When he speaks next, his voice is strained. There’s more of him than Spite, like he’s fighting the demon to even get the words out.

“Get. Illario … Out!” He cries over his shoulder, eyes burning like bright, purple sapphires. His arm inches the dagger closer and closer to Illario’s neck, acting of its own accord.

“What? No – “

I won’t leave you here alone.

She winces and stumbles closer. Another pained yell reverberates through the chantry.

“Rook!” His eyes are pleading. He’s losing the struggle against Spite’s rage, and fast. The dagger is almost touching Illario’s neck now, just about to draw blood, “I can’t –! “

“That’s enough!” Shouts Illario, and he does something that Madeleina can’t see from where she’s standing. But she can sense it. Even smell it.

Blood magic.

A plume of red erupts from Illario’s chest. It slams into Lucanis, knocking him back onto his forearms. The heady scent of iron and blood and sulphur fills the air. She can taste a metallic tang on her tongue.

Illario pulls himself to stand and puts his hand out in front of him like he’s commanding a dog to sit. The sight of it turns her stomach.

“Relent” Lucanis’ head swivels, she can see the whites of his eyes as they roll back. “Somniare”. He falls unconscious and his head hits the stone floor with a crack.

Madeleina is behind him not a moment later, cradling his head in her hands. She breathes a sigh of relief when she can’t feel any blood pooling in his hair.

“Lucanis? Lucanis wake up” she whispers, shaking him by the shoulders. When he doesn’t stir, she looks up at Illario, eyes burning with rage. “Venhedis. What the fuck did you do to him, Illario?” She snarls.

“Nothing” Illario says, straightening to his full height. “I don’t know what happened any more than you”

Liar.

“You have to get him out of here” Illario points to Lucanis, still unconscious in her arms. When he turns towards the door, Madeleina calls after him. She has about a million questions swarming her thoughts like wasps kicked from their nest.

“Illario, don’t you dare lea-!”

“Rook. Keep him away from Treviso. From the Crows” His voice is low and even. Too calm, for what he just did. “He’s a danger to the family”.

She stares in disbelief as Illario Dellamorte disappears from the Chantry. He leaves Lucanis and Madeleina alone in the basement chamber. Well, sort of. Madeleina is not Emmrich, and she doesn’t count the dead bodies of several Venatori and Zara Renata as company.

“Shit”

She wished, more than anything, she had prodded Emmrich’s brain about a healing spell rather than learning to summon wisps.

Wait.

Wisps.

Using what remained of her magic, she called forth a bouncing ball of familiar blue-green light from the Fade. It’s light chittering filled the silence of the Chantry as it floated in front of her face, bouncing on an invisible air current.

“Find Viago de Riva. Bring him here. Can you do that?” The Wisp zips around her head, before phasing through the far wall. She prays it understands the command. There’s nothing she can do except wait for help. She won’t leave him alone. Not here.

She shakes him gently by the shoulders again, “Come on Lucanis, wake up. Please, wake up”.

The faint smell of blood and sulphur still lingers on him.

Blood magic. She was still grappling with the fact that Illario had used blood magic to control Spite. To control Lucanis. How? Why?

Madeleina bites her lip. Her fingers curl softly against the fine, dark leather of Lucanis’ armor. Zara’s final words come rushing back and hit her like a tidal wave.

Amatus.

She was about to say Amatus.

Dread settles in her chest as she comes to a chilling realization.

Illario Dellamorte and Zara Renata were lovers.

Venhedis.

Illario had to be the one who sold Lucanis out. There was no other explanation that made sense.

The longer she thinks about it, the faster the pieces start clicking together like the whirring gears on one of Bellara’s machines. There were a million little things about Illario’s behaviour that never sat right with her. When looked at separately, they were never overtly suspicious. But taken together, they paint quite a damning picture.

Each fact clicks neatly into place with the one that comes after it, like a line of collapsing tin soldiers.

Illario avoided coming down to the Ossuary with them, and the same night, Caterina was killed. He tried to throw Lucanis off Zara’s trail by convincing him that she was back in Minrathous. His strange behaviour at Caterina’s funeral. His knowledge of where they’d be tonight. Killing Zara just before she revealed who sold Lucanis out. And most damning of all, the fact that he could control Spite with Blood magic.

She bites her lip.

Kaffas. How am I supposed to tell him the last member of his family sold him out.

Lucanis still isn’t waking.

Madeleina watches the soft rise and fall of his chest, worried that if she looks away for even a moment, he might stop breathing.

“Please wake up” Her voice hitches.

His head is resting on her knees. She’s afraid to move him. Afraid to leave. She has to trust the Wisp she sent after Viago will bring help soon. She’s also furious that his own home is no longer safe for him. Not while as Illario is running around with the ability to control Lucanis and Spite with Blood magic.

She brushes a stray lock of hair from his cheek and tucks it behind his ear. Let’s her fingers drift across his skin, her touch feather-light, for a brief moment before pulling away. Madeleina isn’t used to seeing him like this. He rarely sleeps at the Lighthouse. She would know, given all the nights she stays awake with him telling stories. She tries, at the cost of her own sleep, to make his long, waking hours less lonely. Madeleina wonders if he’s dreaming of better days. Prays he’s not stuck in some terrible nightmare, lest it fuel Spite’s wrath. The last thing anyone needed tonight was for the demon to claw his way to the surface again and wreak havoc in the streets looking for Illario.

She sighs, and stares aimlessly at the arched ceiling of the Chantry basement.

It was going to be a long night for both of them.

~*~

Lucanis Dellamorte has forgotten what a good night’s sleep feels like.

Only, this didn’t feel like sleep. It felt like stasis. Paralysis. Even Spite didn’t stir.

He did not dream, he did not feel. There was only crushing, oppressive darkness in every direction. Like he had been dropped to the bottom of a black ocean.

Lucanis regains movement in his fingertips first. Then his toes. And then, he can move his legs – but only a little. They pedal back and forth a few times as he tests out his strength. A groan escapes his lips. His lips feel dry, and his mouth is thick with the taste of cotton. His eyelids are leaden weights that are slow to lift.

Once he can blink away the tears clouding his vision, the familiar roof of his pantry bedroom comes into focus.

Back at the Lighthouse.

“… Mmmh…” he groans again. As some of his strength returns to him, he’s able to push himself upright. His head is throbbing something fierce. “…Mierda…” He hisses, when his mouth can finally form words.

A moment later, he hears something shift beside him. His head snaps to the side, and he’s ready to pull the hidden dagger he keeps under his pillow. But Lucanis settles, lets the tension uncoil from his body, when he sees Madeleina Mercar asleep in a chair next to his cot.

She has her knees pulled up tight to her chest, her head resting atop her folded arms. Madeleina’s face is curtained by a mass of brown curls. Her head slowly lifts, and her eyes flutter open.

“Madeleina” All Lucanis can do is whisper her name because he’s tired, everything hurts, and he can’t think straight.

She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and yawns. “Lucanis” Her voice is low, husky. “You’re awake”

He wonders how long she’s been sitting in that chair. She’s still wearing her mage’s overcoat, the same armour she wore when they confronted Zara. Black leather with a gold trim – a serpent in the middle of her chest. All sharp angles and harsh lines, in the Tevinter fashion. It was a stark contrast to the roundness of her cheeks, the fullness of her lips and the softness of her curls.

Lucanis swings his legs over the side of the bed and leans on his forearms. Flashes of their confrontation with Zara play on a loop in his mind.

Illario killing Zara. The terror of losing control to Spite. The way he came tearing through his mental barrier and took over so quickly it gave him whiplash, while Lucanis sunk into the recesses of his mind. A passenger in his own body. Illario’s neck beneath his blade. Begging Madeleina to get Illario out of there. Fear in her wide eyes. And then, overwhelming, oppressive darkness.

He remembers rage. So. Much. Rage.

He almost killed Illario. What if he lost control again? What if he hurt someone else?

What if he hurt her?

At the thought of hurting Madeleina, the demon ripples underneath his skin, and prods the edges of his consciousness.

Smells like thunderstorms and blood. Spite hisses. Sulphur and ash and iron. She’s never. Right. Anymore.

And who’s fault is that, he wonders bitterly.

She’s looking at him. Her gaze is soft. Always too soft. Even when he failed to take down Ghilan’nain at Weishaupt. There’s never blame, or anger, or judgement. She always has some way to justify being kind to him, even if he thinks he doesn’t deserve it.

Search as he may for something else, he only ever finds patience. Peace. Understanding. And that’s terrifying to him, because he’s never known that before. Caterina loved him… in her way. But he knew the back of her cane as well as he knew a comforting hand.

“I …” Lucanis starts, but the words die on his tongue, reeled back into his mind until he can form them into a proper sentence. Madeleina tilts her head and rests her cheek on her arm. Her legs pull in just a little closer to her body.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you”

She blinks slowly. “What do you mean?”

“There… there aren’t words enough to apologize” He answers, his voice low, but even. Just barely. She looks confused at the apology, her brows drawing together. “I never wanted you to see me like that”

A quiet settles between them. Madeleina looks thoughtful.

Her knees slide down the chair and there’s a soft thud when her boots land on the stone floor.

“And yet I’m still here”

He could swear his heart stops in his chest. Lucanis doesn’t know what he expected her to say. Anything but that. He hangs his head, rather pathetically, if he’s being honest with himself.

Why? He wants to ask, but his lips won’t move, held together by some invisible seal.

What could he, an abomination, offer her except for problems and pain and misery? What could he, an assassin, give her anything but death?

She. Won’t. Hurt us. Spite whispers. He said that the first day they met too. Hers was the first kind voice, kind eyes he’d seen in a year. Spite didn’t forget that either.

“I …”

“Hey” She whispers quietly, before he feels her fingers gently lifting his chin. As soft as he’d imagined. Warm and comforting like he’d hoped. Her jade green eyes still have a habit of making the rest of the world disappear. “Lucanis, there’s nothing to apologize for. Really”

There is. There’s so much to apologize for.

I failed to kill your God. I could’ve killed you. I’m no good. We’re no good.

His thoughts whir about themselves, twisting and morphing together into new things he wants to say, new things he feels he should apologize for. New reasons why what he desperately wants – this thing they’ve been dancing around, is a bad idea.

When she pulls away, he wants, more than anything, to reach out and place her hand back on his face. To keep that warmth there just a little bit longer. Linger in the softness rarely afforded to someone like him.

“Listen” She folds her hands in her lap, “We have a few hours before the rest of the team will be up. I think… I think there’s a story you should hear”

“Madeleina, we have to talk- “

“About Illario, I know. We will. Tomorrow”

He wants to argue but knows it’s pointless with her. She only has to look at him a certain way and the resistance will die on his tongue. Lucanis runs a hand down his face, and sighs.

"Fine. But first, coffee”

~*~

Sometime later, the pair find themselves in front of the fireplace once more. There’s fresh coffee, and some leftover dessert from two nights ago – Nevarran Hazelnut Torte, a recipe from Emmrich’s late mother. It had become a fast favourite around the Lighthouse, to the Professor’s delight.

Madeleina’s cake is untouched. It was very unusual for her, given how voracious her sweet tooth is. Lucanis has watched her put away a dozen churros like they were grains of rice. Where does it all go?

He’s not used to seeing her in armour around the Lighthouse either. The large overcoat dwarfs her and makes her look smaller than she really is. It’s never that apparent in the heat of battle since they’re usually trying their best not to die from the monster-du-jour. He briefly wonders if she’s overheating in it, being this close to the warmth of the fireplace.

“So, what tale will you tell tonight – uhh … this morning” He quickly corrects himself. One can never be certain about the time in the Fade. Sometimes, when he thinks it’s close to dawn, he can hear waves crashing in the distance.

“Have you ever heard the Orlesian tale of The Shoes that Were Danced to Pieces?”

“I haven’t” Lucanis swirls his coffee a few times before taking a sip. “But I assume I’m about to”

“Mmm” She hums, with a slight frown. “Indeed”

There’s something different about the way she’s starting tonight’s tale. He can’t quite put his finger on it. So, he lets her continue without interruption, hoping to glean the reason through the course of her story.

Her hands alight with blue flame, she sweeps her forearm across the air like she’s swatting a fly. In her wake, twelve figures spring to life, each one more beautiful than the last. The women are dressed in classic Orlesian ballet attire, and each has a thin, delicate band across their forehead.

“Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a King and his twelve Princesses” The figure of the King appears, perched on a floating throne above his daughters. The King’s face is weathered by time, and even though he is an illusion, there is a deep sorrow in his eyes.

The King disappears and twelve beds, arranged in concentric circles appear. Each princess appears next to one of the beds.

“All the Princesses sleep together in one room. And each night, the King bolts the door shut”

“Strange thing to do” he remarks, between bites of Torte. “Even for an Orlesian” Lucanis snickers.

“Stranger still is the reason” Madeleina continues. She waves a hand through the illusion, and it disappears, now replaced by the King. He’s holding a pair of ballet shoes, which have been completely worn through.

“Every night, the King seals the girls in their room. And every morning, their brand-new dancing shoes are discovered to be worn through from dancing. No one, not even his wisest scholars or most sensible hunters could figure out how. So, the King puts out a proclamation” She raises her hand, and the figure of the King stands from his throne, holding the worn-out shoe in an outstretched hand. “’Whoever discovers the secret of my daughter’s dancing shoes, may marry one and take my place as King when I die’”

The figure of the King disappears, and in his place, is a young man in an intricately woven doublet. His fine hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. A bejeweled rapier rests in its hilt by his hip.

“A young prince from a neighbouring kingdom is the first to take up the challenge. And so, he is sealed in the antechamber of the Princesses’ rooms, that he may observe their comings and goings at night.”

The young prince lies down on a small cot that has appeared next to him. “But the prince travelled a great distance to arrive at the Kingdom, and his eyelids grew heavy with sleep.” The prince closes his eyes and drifts off into a peaceful slumber. “He doesn’t see where the Princesses go. But sure enough, the next morning, their shoes are full of holes in the soles” The Princesses parade their shoes in a circle around the young prince, almost as if to taunt him.

“On his second night, the same thing happens. The prince cannot stay awake, and the Princesses dance the night away”

The prince falls asleep again, but this time, he disappears.

“On the third night, the young prince vanishes – as if he had never been there in the first place”

Now that has his attention. Lucanis raises an eyebrow at the empty cot floating in front of him.

“Curious” he mumbles, taking another sip of coffee.

She waves several other figures, all of different statures and heights and builds. Elves, dwarves, humans. Warriors and rogues and princes.

“Each potential suitor who takes up the King’s challenge meets the same fate. On the third night, they always disappear without a trace” Each figure winks out of existence, one by one.

“One day, an older, retired sailor from Rivain hears of the King’s challenge while passing through Orlais. He also hears that every previous suitor has disappeared after three nights. But he’s not worried”

With a flourish, a middle-aged man with a tall, well-built stature appears. His face is handsome, but scarred from battle. He’s dressed in humble traveller’s clothes and carries a mage’s stave on his back.

“He’s either very brave, or very stupid”

Madeleina just smiles and winks. “Or, he has help that the other suitors didn’t have”

An amorphous, shifting ball of light appears next to the Rivaini man. “The man was a mage. A tidemaker in the Rivaini navy. His mother was a Seer. Although usually only female mages undergo the training necessary to be able to communicate and bond with spirits, the man had a great talent for magic from a young age. His mother would never let him become possessed by one, like she could, but she taught him enough to be able to commune with them and ask their guidance”

The man walks through the air, with the ball of light bouncing along beside him.

“’Ho there, Spirit-Friend’ he said. ‘I should very much like to unravel the mystery of these Princesses and their dancing shoes. What wisdom can you offer me?’”

The Spirit whirs around the sailor-mage, “’Take not the wine the eldest Princess will offer you before bed. Pretend to be in a deep slumber. Then, under cover of dark, steal after the Twelve to discover what lies beneath the castle’”

If he wasn’t intrigued before, he certainly was now.

The spirit is waved away. The old sailor, armed with this new knowledge, presents himself to the figure of the King, hovering above him.

“The King welcomes the sailor, and just as he did with the other suitors, locks him in with the Princesses”

Madeleina brings the Princesses into view again.

“The oldest princess, Delphine, does exactly as the Spirit said she would. She offers the sailor a glass of wine.”

The figure of Delphine, wine goblet in hand, indeed offers the sailor a drink. But just as the spirit told him to, he refuses, by shaking his head and pretending to go to sleep. He lies down on the same cot the first prince used. The figures of the princesses surround his cot, rather ominously. Lucanis is convinced they’re going to murder him on the spot.

“’He refused the wine! What shall we do?’ cried the second oldest sister, Marie.” The sailor doesn’t stir in his cot. “‘He’s quite asleep, Marie – let’s just go. He cannot follow’ says the eldest. ‘Perhaps he will take the wine tomorrow night’”

One by one, the sisters form a circle around an ornate stone circle, floating beneath them. And like the princesses, one by one, the stones on the circle lift in the air, and a winding staircase opens into the floor.

“The princesses had a secret doorway in the castle. A doorway to another world – or so they thought, at least” Madeleina frowns, and as the princesses disappear down the staircase, the figure of the sailor, creeping behind them, comes back into view. He is glowing black, instead of blue.

“The sailor was clever. He used magic to wrap himself in a cloak of night so as to blend into the shadows. He followed the youngest sister, Charlotte, down the enchanted stairway.” The figure of the sailor walks slowly behind the youngest sister – a beautiful young woman with long, plaited hair and a simpler gown than her sisters.

As the figures continued down the staircase, Charlotte stops. “’Sisters- I know not why, but I fear something terrible will befall us tonight’, says the youngest sister. The other sister’s pause, and it’s the oldest who speaks next. ‘Oh, you goose, you are always frightened. Come, let us enjoy ourselves tonight’”

The figures continue down the endless stairway. The sailor, eager to see what lies at the end, gets a little too close to the figure of Charlotte. His boot catches the end of her dress.

“’Oh! Something pulled at my dress!’ cries the youngest sister, but the others do not heed her. ‘Goose, you have merely stepped on a nail. Come now’” Madeleina puppets the figure of Delphine to wave the other sisters down.

Everything disappears for a moment, while Madeleina regains her strength with a sip of coffee and a nibble of the Hazelnut Torte.

After she’s thoroughly cracked all her knuckles, her hands resume their work. She conjures into existence, the scene of a brilliant underground cavern. A castle within a castle. There is an eerie lake separating the princesses from their destination. Eleven longboats, similar to the one the Caretaker ferries them through the Crossroads with, appear at the lakeside.

The figures at the helm of the longboats is what intrigues him. Lucanis’ eyes widen as he realizes the eleven longboats are steered by the headless figures of the previous suitors.

“Mierda” He whispers, leaning back in his chair. “I didn’t know the Orlesians to be so… macabre”

Madeleina shrugs, “Surprising, right? When I first heard this story, I thought was from Nevarra, honestly”

She makes each princess file into a longboat. Charlotte takes her place beside Delphine in the first one. The headless body of the prince begins rowing them to the other side. The other longboats depart soon after. The figure of the sailor wastes no time sneaking onto one of the other longboats, so as not to tip the weight.

“As he rides with the princesses, the sailor has a sneaking suspicion that he is meant to helm the twelfth longboat. He is thankful for the spirits help, and thankful to have his head on his shoulders”

They arrive at the castle. Madeleina decorates the boughs of trees lining the path with leaves of silver and gold.

“The sailor knew he would need some kind of proof to bring to the King, so he snaps a twig from one of the trees and tucks it in his pocket” He watches the figure do so at Madeleina’s command.

She waves several instruments – trumpets, drums, harps, and more, into existence. They float in the air, above the princesses, and they each take their positions with a respective headless suitor. Except the last princess, Charlotte, who begins to dance on her own. They pirouette and twirl about, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“How did they find this strange castle in the first place?” Lucanis would usually never interrupt a story, especially not one as intriguing as this, but he had to know.

Madeleina gives a sad smile and erases all the figures with a flourish of her hand.

Soon, the figure of Delphine returns, and she is sitting alone on her bed, with her dancing shoes in her hands.

“’Woe is me’ she cried once. ‘I should like to dance with my sisters forever. Alas we are all to be married.’” Delphine lies on her bed and her shoes lay on her chest. “’We shall be scattered to the farthest reaches of the continent to find the most handsome matches. I would do anything to dance with my sisters for a while longer’”

“Ahh….” Lucanis nods. He can see where this is going.

“Yeah” Madeleina frowns. “Something heard her plea. Something that had been trapped in the castle for a long time, watching and waiting for the right time to strike.”

She raises a hand and forms a demon he could only surmise is Desire personified. It has large, bare breasts, barely covered by dangling jewels and chains. Narrow waist, wide hips. Everything about the demon was made to entice. Even its horns added a certain appeal.

He can feel Spite rolling his eyes in the back of his mind. He doesn't like Desire either.

“’Do not despair my child, for I have a way for you and your sisters to remain together, forever’ the Desire demon says to Delphine. ‘And should your father bring any suitors, take their heads and present them to me. I will make sure they never leave this castle. You and your sisters may dance your nights away in my domain. All you need to do is wear the shoes I will gift you every night’”

The desire demon gestures with her hand and twelve pairs of shoes, arranged neatly in a line, and glowing an eerie pink light, appear beside her.

“Delphine agrees, of course. She tells her sisters of the shoes and her plan. The dancing shoes were the key to unlocking the secret castle. Every night they would go and dance the night away. And every time a suitor would come, on the third night, they would behead him and drag his body down the winding staircase.”

A gruesome scene of the eldest princess hacking off the head of the younger prince from the start of the tale begins to play out in front of him. Red light spatters on the princess, before they all fade out.

He’s rubbing his beard absent-mindedly, completely engrossed in the tale now. He’s forgotten about his coffee, and his cake. Every pause stretches into an infinity. Spite is also eager to know how this one ends, and he claws at the backs of Lucanis’ eyelids impatiently.

Madeleina once again conjures the image of the underground castle. The princesses are dancing with their headless suitors, and their ballet shoes are glowing pink now.

“The sailor knows there is dark magic at work here, and he needs to stop it” The figure of the sailor moves soundlessly between the dancing couples. “He follows the trail of magic to the demon’s lair inside the castle”

A room filled with jewels and gold and all manner of treasures appears in front of Lucanis. The desire demon lounges on a settee, adorning herself in riches. She is propping her elbow on the head of a handsome elf. The fifth suitor, he remembers.

“The demon, true to its nature, offers to make any desire of the sailor’s come true” The demon begins sauntering towards the figure of the sailor, all swaying hips. Sailor draws his stave and starts preparing for a battle.

“’I want for nothing you can give me, demon’” The sailor replies. "'Save your head'"

A great battle of magic erupts between the two. They lob arcane missiles and bolts and fireballs at each other, until the Sailor summons the tides of the nearby lake to his side.

“The sailor overwhelms the demon with his power, and she perishes. Almost immediately, the spell over the underground castle starts to fade” The bodies of the dead suitors drop to the ground.

Next, the sailor is standing with the princesses, who all look like they’ve woken up from a dream.

“’What happened?’ asked Marie.” Madeleina has the sailor walk closer to her. He puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “’You were beset by a demon. Fear not, for I have slain it. But let this be a lesson. Put not your faith in whispers of promises too good to be true, my ladies.’”

With that, the sailor bows to the princesses and begins walking away.

“’But sir!’ The youngest calls after him, ‘Won’t you take a reward? Surely our father would give one of us to you in marriage and make you king?’”

The figure of the sailor smiles and twirls the silver branch he plucked from one of the trees.

“’It is reward enough to slay the demon that haunts this palace and learn the secret of your dancing shoes. I never came here to be king’”

Madeleina waves the figures away.

“The sailor continues on his journey across the continent, and Delphine makes peace with parting from her sisters by making the most of what time they have left”

With a final flourish, she has the figures of the twelve princesses pirouette around Lucanis’ chair. They disappear one by one soon after.

“The end”

Lucanis rubs the back of his neck, “That was … something” He says quietly. “I think I need more coffee”

Madeleina nods and stretches out her limbs. “And I think I’m in desperate need of a nap”

Lucanis stands and gathers their uneaten cake on a single plate, as well as their half-empty coffee cups. “Go on, I’m awake. I’ll clean this up. You should sleep”

There’s something in her eyes that makes him feel there’s more she wants to say but can’t bring herself to form the words.

Somewhere, deep in his chest, he knows exactly what it is she’s trying to tell him. Tried to tell him through her story.

But he’s not ready to face that particular truth yet.

There’s someone else’s lips he needs to hear it from. He shudders to think of seeing her wretched corpse again. Not ready for the feelings it’s going to bring up, nor the question he has to ask.

He knows, deep down, that Madeleina pieced it together already.

Lucanis just prays he has the strength to face it when the time comes.

#lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #lucanis x mercar #rookanis #viago de riva #fanfiction #illario dellamorte #fic: bedtime stories for a demon #oc: madeleina mercar #dragon age veilguard #datv #datv spoilers #shiet guys this one took an uncharacteriscally long time to write #hopefully it turned out ok #enjoy a little bit of jealous illario #fun fact the 12 dancing princesses is my fave barbie movie and writing an extremely fucked up version of it was super fun

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