#varric fanfiction

[girlwithadragonheart]

A Court of Crows and Rooks

Rook x Lucanis

Requested by @cirillabelle

Summary: What happens when the First Talon of the Crows requests you by name for a job? All eyes are on you and the Demon of Vyrantium as you take to the floor of a Trevisian Masquerade.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Assassination, creepy man

A/N: This was so fun to write! I hope you enjoy <3

DATV Masterlist

The note arrived with the scent of lavender and the heavy, unmistakable wax seal of the First Talon. You didn’t touch it at first. It sat there on the table, pristine and foreboding, as if opening it might unleash something you can’t take back. The address was what unsettled you most. Not “Veilguard Operative.” Not “Agent.” Just your name.

Rook De Riva.

It was signed in the slightly shaky, swooped script that you knew was Caterina’s handwriting.

You had sent for Teia as soon as it had arrived, needing the moral support before you could even open it.

“Congratulations,” Teia says, leaning over your shoulder with that sharp grin of hers. “The First Talon doesn’t call for just anyone. You got her attention.”

You scoff, pushing the note toward her. “If it’s so special, you read it. This is clearly a job for a Talon, not… me.”

“Don’t be a coward,” she teases, snatching it up before you can protest. Her eyes flick across the elegant Antivan script. “Well, well. Looks like you’re going to a masquerade.”

Your stomach twists. “A what?”

“A masquerade. You know, dancing, intrigue, a den of vipers dressed in silk and lace.” Teia folds the letter neatly and presses it back into your hands. “And you’ll need to dress the part.”

You glance down at your worn leathers, the daggers strapped securely to your thighs. “This is the part.”

“Not this time,” Teia says, already calling for an attendant. “You’re going to look stunning. “Deadly, but stunning.”

--------------------------

The mirror feels like an enemy, but you can’t tear your eyes away.

The gown Teia had commissioned fit like a second skin, the dark blue silk pooling around your feet like shadows. When it caught the light, the fabric sparkled like stars at midnight, just enough to look expensive without being gaudy. The dress was skin tight with a deep V cut to accentuate your chest and curves. There was a high slit, nearly up to your hip on one side. The hem was embroidered with silver vines, adding a touch of elegance you’ve never thought to claim.

The mask, silver filigree laced with Sapphires, hid enough of your face to make you feel anonymous, though it left plenty of room for scrutiny.

You don’t recognize yourself, staring in the mirror. Your lips have been colored with a seductive burgundy, making them look fuller than you thought possible.

“That’s the point,” Teia says, grinning as she adjusts the mask on your face. “They’ll never see you coming.”

When you step into the main room where the others wait, silence falls. Teia’s grin widens as she steps back to admire her work. Viago gives an approving nod, already slipping into his own role for the mission.

Lucanis is the last to react.

He stands near the door, and for a long moment, he just looks at you, his expression unreadable.

“You are not going alone,” he says finally, breaking the silence.

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“I’m going with you.” His voice is steady, leaving no room for argument. “For your protection.”

“I don’t need--”

“Yes. You do.” He steps closer, towering, but not intimidating. There’s something resolute in his tone, something that makes you pause. “I won’t let you walk into that room full of snakes alone.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that.

-----------------------

The ballroom is overwhelming the moment you step inside.

Golden chandeliers hang high above, casting a warm glow over the sea of silk and satin. The air is thick with perfume and intrigue, every masked figure playing a part in a grand, dangerous game.

You glance up, seeing Lucanis crouched in the rafters in his leathers. He gives you a subtle nod, and you tear your eyes away, trying not to draw attention as you head inside. Head high, don’t let them smell your fear.

A dance begins soon after your arrival, the music shifting to a lively rhythm. Teia and Viago have already melted into the crowd, leaving you feeling exposed.

Your eyes scan the room slowly, your hands folded delicately in front of your midsection as you gaze at the onlookers. Many sets of eyes are on you; you can feel the weight of them as you walk. Men and women rake their eyes over your form, some practically drooling.

A heavy-set magister with a leering smile---appears before you. His gaze lingers a little too long on your figure as he extends a hand.

“My dear, may I have this dance?”

Your stomach twists, but you force a smile, placing your hand in his. “Of course.”

The dance is a careful game. You keep your movements precise, your steps measured, all while his hand slides lower than it should and his grip tightens.

“So,” he says, his tone dripping with false charm, “you must be new to this sort of thing.”

“I get by,” you reply coolly, resisting the urge to yank his hand away.

He chuckles, leaning in closer. “Perhaps we could---”

Before he can finish, a shadow looms behind you.

Lucanis, now dressed in formal attire with a sleek black mask, steps in smoothly, his hand covering his heart as he bows slightly. “My apologies, I couldn’t help but notice your beauty among these dogs. May I have this dance, my Lady?”

The magister hesitates, his gaze flicking to Lucanis before he forces a tight smile. “Of course.”

You let out a quiet breath as Lucanis guides you away, his hand steady against your back. “I had it handled,” you mutter, though your heart is still racing.

You take a moment to study the crow---his dark Antivan suit tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders and thin waist. His mask is simpler than yours, a sleek black piece that lets his brown eyes show through. Lucanis glances down at you, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. “You shouldn't have to.”

The music slows, and the couples around you draw closer together. Lucanis doesn’t let go, his hand still firm at your waist. His other hand takes yours, his touch warmer than you expect.

“You’re blending in better than I thought,” he murmurs, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You smirk faintly. “Part of the job, right?” Your gaze holds his, but your smirk falters. “Lucanis, you look…” Your voice trails off.

“Clean!” Spite hisses through his teeth.

You can’t help the slight laugh that bubbles from your chest, tight with anxiousness. “Nice,” you say. “Handsome.”

His lips twitch in the ghost of a smile, but his eyes remain sharp, scanning the room even as you move together in time with the music. His focus is unshakable, though his grip on you doesn’t waver.

“You’re staring,” you tease lightly, trying to break the tension.

“I’m watching,” he corrects, his tone steady but quieter now.

You move as one, each step drawing you closer to the center of the room. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you keep your face neutral, aware of the eyes watching you. As the song draws to a close, Lucanis dips you low. The motion is fluid, practiced, but as he holds you there, his grip tightens just slightly.

You’re close enough to feel his breath against your lips, his chocolate eyes locked on yours. For a moment, the rest of the room falls away.

Then he pulls you upright, the spell broken as quickly as it was cast. “Focus,” he says gruffly, releasing your hand.

You exhale slowly, forcing yourself to steady your breathing. “I am focused.”

Lucanis doesn’t reply, but the faintest flicker of a smile crosses his face before he steps back, the mission pulling him away once more.

It isn’t over yet, but your breath catches as you watch Lucanis slip into the crowd. For a man so popular, he disappears like smoke, weaving through the throng of silk and secrets with a grace you hadn’t quite been able to appreciate until now.

Your heart still pounds, the echo of his lips leaving your skin warm and your mind foggy. Shaking it off, you glance around, searching for Teia or Viago. They’re somewhere in this sea of masks, playing their parts as flawlessly as always. You envy their ease.

Lucanis’s words echo in your mind. Focus.

Easier said than done.

By the time the next dance begins, you’ve managed to slip into a rhythm. The first few exchanges were tense---too tense---but now you move with calculated grace, careful to keep your face neutral and your voice light. The target is watching you again, his lecherous gaze sweeping over you as you pass by.

You force yourself to smile, to keep your movements slow and deliberate. If he thinks you’re easy prey, all the better. A pretty, oblivious smile and doe eyes was all it took to entrap a man like him.

“Careful,” a familiar voice murmurs in your ear, and you nearly jump.

Lucanis is at your side again, his broad frame cutting an imposing figure even in formal attire. He doesn’t look at you, his eyes scanning the crowd, but his presence is a relief you hadn’t realized you needed.

“I thought you were blending in,” you say quietly, keeping your voice steady as you turn slightly toward him.

His lips twitch in the barest hint of amusement. “You’re drawing too much attention.”

You arch a brow. “Isn’t that the point?”

His eyes rove over you, following the dips and curves of your skin and exposed flesh. “Not all of it is friendly.”

You glance past him, noticing a pair of masked figures watching you from across the room. Their posture is relaxed, but there’s something about the way their heads tilt toward each other, their whispers concealed behind their masks, that sets you on edge.

Lucanis follows your gaze, his expression hardening. “Stay close.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, his hand brushing yours as he steps closer. The touch is light, barely there, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

When the music shifts again, Lucanis offers his hand. His posture is formal, the gesture deliberate, as if daring you to challenge him.

You hesitate for only a moment before placing your hand in his. His grip is firm but careful, his touch steady as he leads you onto the floor.

The eyes of the room are on you, everyone else dancing branching out to give you space. You can feel it, but Lucanis’s focus never wavers. He’s calm, confident, and entirely unbothered by the attention.

The music kicks up, and he spins you, pulling your back to his chest, one hand splayed over your stomach, the other guiding you by the hand. The steps are simple at first, the kind you’ve practiced a dozen times in training. But Lucanis moves with an elegance that makes it feel effortless, guiding you with a confidence that’s hard to ignore.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you murmur, your voice just loud enough for him to hear.

“I’m full of surprises,” he replies, his voice smooth and low, his beard tickling your ear as he speaks right into it.

A second later, you’re spinning away from him, his grip on your hand warm and firm as it pulls you back, clutching you close. His touch is like fire, burning through your skin straight to your soul. You let out a breath, trying to keep up with his steps.

“You’re good at this,” you admit reluctantly, your hand covering his on your stomach.

He doesn’t reply right away, but you can feel his eyes studying you intently. “You’re better than you think.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and for a moment, you falter. His grip tightens, steadying you before you can fumble.

“Focus,” he says softly, the word almost teasing now.

You roll your eyes, but a quiet laugh escapes you. “I am focused.”

-------------------------------

The target watches you from the edge of the room, his expression unreadable behind his mask. You’re acutely aware of his gaze, of the way he lingers a little too long, as if trying to decide whether to approach again.

Lucanis notices too. His hand shifts slightly, his fingers brushing against the small of your back in a subtle but protective gesture. He leans down to your ear, murmuring so only you can hear. “Get him to the balcony. This ends soon.”

You nodded subtly, and Lucanis disappeared into the crowd again. Immediately, you missed his warmth. The absence of Lucanis felt like stepping into shadow after basking in sunlight. Without him at your side, the weight of the room seemed to press in on you. You let out a steadying breath, forcing yourself to relax into the role you needed to play.

The target was still watching, his gaze lingering on you like a spider waiting for its web to tremble. You met his stare with a coy tilt of your head, your lips curving into a faint, inviting smile. Slowly, you began to weave through the crowd, your steps deliberate, drawing him in like a moth to flame.

He took the bait. His hulking form detached from the edge of the ballroom, his movements smooth but predatory. The mask obscured his features, but his posture screamed arrogance. He thought he’d won already.

You led him toward the open doors leading to the balcony, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you stepped outside. The space was quieter, the music and chatter from inside muffled. Stars sparkled overhead, their light glinting off the silver trim of your gown.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” he began, his voice thick and dripping with false charm, “you’ve captured the attention of the entire room tonight.”

You turned to face him, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “And yours, it seems.”

“Of course.” He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing the soft glow of the lanterns. “A beauty like you doesn’t go unnoticed. Though I must admit, I’ve been curious about who you truly are beneath that mask.”

His hand reached for it, but you stepped back with a playful laugh, keeping the distance just enough to leave him wanting. “Now, where would the fun be if I gave away all my secrets?”

He chuckled, but there was an edge to it, a hunger. “Perhaps I can persuade you.”

The air shifted, the predatory undertone in his voice setting your teeth on edge. You glanced toward the shadows near the balcony’s edge where you knew Lucanis would be watching. The target was close now, too close. His hand grazed your arm, and your pulse quickened---not with fear, but with the need to act.

“You’re quite bold,” you said, your voice light but firm as you stepped back again, toward the railing. “And here I thought Tevinter men were supposed to be more subtle with their charms.”

The target smirked, following you like a hound to prey. “We are, but I’ve always found boldness more… rewarding.”

His hands grabbed your hips, sliding lower as he pulled you into him. You hummed, your hands splaying out over the railing behind you. The cool stone was solid beneath your palm, grounding you. 

“And what is to be your reward tonight?” You asked coyly. 

He smirked. “Oh, my dear. The reward is you.” He leaned in, flashing his teeth in a predatory smile. Your hand slipped to the dagger hidden on your thigh. As he went for your neck with his lips, you went for his with the blade. Your touch was light with your free hand, tilting your head as though to allow him access. Before he could taste your flesh, your dagger sunk into his skin. 

Blood splattered across your cheeks, matching the darkness of your painted lips. The magister tried to cry out, but gurgled as blood filled his throat. You stepped out from under him, watching his body tumble over the side of the balcony.

“Ta ta, darling. So sorry, I must’ve slipped. A shame you couldn’t catch me.” You smirked, hearing a dull thud from the ground below.

A hand started to slip around your waist, and you turned, pinning them to the wall with a dagger to their throat. Lucanis’s lips upturned. You pulled the blade away, sheathing it back under your dress.

“That was exquisite, Rook,” Lucanis said. “For all of Viago’s complaining, he was right about one thing.” His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you close to mutter in your ear. “You make a wonderful Crow.” He pulled back to look at you.

“Lucanis, you’re staring again,” you flushed from head to toe under his gaze.

“Perhaps I’m simply watching. It’s hard not to with such a beautiful woman before me,” his lips turned up, chocolate eyes appraising you.

“Who knew the Demon of Vyrantium was a flirt,” you teased.

“Ah, no, you seem to have mistaken me for Illario.”

“Just shut up and kiss me.” Your hand fists in the collar of his formal sirt, pulling him toward you.

Your lips meet, and Lucanis pulls you close, one hand on the small of your back, the other gripping your hip. You hear the music swell inside, fireworks going up into the air and exploding, bathing the gardens below in warm light. Lucanis leans over you, bending you backward, your hands gripping his shoulders as he holds you up.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Let me know if you want to be on the Lucanis tag list!

Have a good day/night!

[fanfoolishness]

Spite's Sight

but what if Spite could sense that Solas is manipulating Rook about Varric, but doesn't know how to explain it? He could sense the blood magic from Illario, but Solas is a masterclass mage, able to cover his tracks. What if Spite tried his best, but couldn't explain what he sensed?

-

"Rook. Smells wrong. Like not Rook."

"Spite, that is very rude. I apologize, Rook."

"No, he's not wrong, I mean, we were just in the swamp..."

-

"Twisted. Doesn't see. Not. Right!"

"Hello there, Spite."

"Forgive us. He says these strange things at times."

-

"Isn't. There. Not. There!"

"I wish I knew what he meant. He sounds so upset when he says things like that."

"Sigh... Spite always sounds upset."

-

Lucanis's logbook, 6

mirror MIRRORmemberings red ribbons drip drip splash empty echoes empty room ssssspeaking a dirty TRICK

-

And when Rook realizes, when they learn what's been done to them...

"He was never there. You knew, didn't you, Spite?"

"Wrong words. Couldn't say. Trying!"

"I... I did not understand. I am so sorry, Rook."

"Thank you, Lucanis... thank you, Spite."

[lostinthewiind]

Be Still, My Beating Heart

Varric Tethras - Dragon Age

Genre: Fluff + Smut

Rating: 18+

➤ 10 years after the Inquisition's victory against Corypheus, Varric is older, wiser, and greyer—and you're still as in love with him as you were 10 years ago.

Lately, it could be hard to recognize the passage of time. 10 years ago, a hole was ripped in the veil and threatened to end life as you knew it. Now, a hole has been ripped in the veil, threatening to end life as you know it. Cassandra had once rattled off some quote about those who didn't learn from history being doomed to repeat it.

That certainly fit.

In the grand scheme of things, life hadn't seemed to have changed much in the past 10 years. When he stepped into the room, however, the passage of time hit you like a ton of bricks. His once shorter, red hair was much longer and greyer now. His five-O'clock shadow was now a neatly trimmed, salt and pepper beard. There were two scars slicing through his right eyebrow. But most noticeable of all, his eyes had lost some of their light.

This was not the same Varric you had parted ways with 10 years ago, and yet your heart thrummed steadily against your ribcage just the same when you locked eyes.

"Maker, you're just as beautiful as the day I last laid eyes on you." Varric's voice was rough but quiet in your ear as you trailed kisses up and down his neck, arms draped loosely over his shoulders.

That morning, Solas was on a mission it tear down the veil. Tomorrow, Solas would still be on a mission to tear down the veil. But for that evening—for a measly 8 or so hours—it was just you and Varric, locked away in a shabby room in some inn, catching up on lost time.

You hummed softly before sitting back in Varric's lap, fingertips lightly ghosting over his exposed chest. "We have to stop meeting like this." You slid your hands up his chest and neck slowly until you were cupping his face. "The end of the world does not a romantic time make."

"After this, I'm done. I'm done saving the world," Varric said. He waited for you to lean down and kiss him once before continuing. "Once we deal with Solas, we're turning tail and finding somewhere quiet and peaceful."

You smiled softly. "And who is this 'we'?"

"You and me, doll. Who else?"

Your eyes flickered over to the corner of the room, where Varric's crossbow was resting against the wall. Varric let out a warm laugh.

"I'm smart enough to know when I'm the other woman." You adjusted your hips and felt Varric harden beneath you. An involuntary gasp passed through your lips as Varric sucked in a sharp breath.

"There's no 'other woman'." Varric gripped your hips hard and pressed himself up into you again, eliciting the same reaction from you both. "It's just you. It's always been just you."

You chuckled as you pressed you lips to Varric's, the kiss quickly deepening into something more hungry and needy. "You really expect me to believe there's been no one else in 10 years?" you whispered into his mouth.

Varric's warm tongue licked along your bottom lip before catching it between his teeth. "Doll, you know I like to talk a big game, so what I'm about to say next should prove to you I'm telling the truth." He buried his face in your neck and began sucking on the sensitive flesh there. All the while, his hips bucked upwards to meet yours, desperately seeking friction. "All we've done is make out a little and grind like teenagers and I'm seconds away from cumming. Trust me when I say, there's been no one else."

"Seconds away?" You gave an experimental roll on your hips. "Really?"

Varric let out a strained groan. "Fuck, doll, I'm serious. Don't-" His words were suddenly cut off by a choked grunt, and as his hips thrust upward, he bit down hard on your shoulder. "Fuck," he panted as he kissed the spot where he had left bitemarks in your skin. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

You, on the other hand, were the opposite of sorry. "Don't apologize," you told him. That warmth from your core had spread like wildfire to your entire being. "That was hot."

Varric chuckled under his breath. "I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but there's nothing hot about an old man's premature ... ending."

"Varric." You grabbed his hand and stuffed it down your pants, guiding his fingers over your soaked underwear. "That was really fucking hot."

Varric's eyes widened when he realized you weren't just trying to staunch the bleeding of his ego. "Oh, you weren't kidding. This is because of me?"

You nodded, unable to form words as his fingers prodded at your aching clit. When Varric's sheepish smile turned to a devilish smirk, you knew you were in trouble.

"I'm the luckiest man in all of Thedas." Varric pushed your underwear to the side and gathered some of the wetness on his fingers before pushing inside you. "And tonight I'm going show you just how grateful I am for that."

You threw your head back at the sudden but pleasurable intrusion. Cursing under your breath, you began to gently lift yourself up and down on Varric's thick fingers. The angle was slightly awkward due to still being seated in his lap, but no amount of discomfort could ever possibly overcome the ecstasy you were enveloped in.

"Varric," you moaned.

Oh, how he had longed to hear his name drip from your lips like honey again. There were many times where he had sworn that if he could just spend one last night with you, he could die a happy man. Now that he had you though, dying was the last thing he intended to do—not when he had just gotten you back.

You weren't sure when you had closed your eyes, but when you opened them again, Varric was staring up at you with a level of adoration you had never seen before. Finally, the light in his eyes had returned.

Calloused thumb moving to circle your clit, he smiled wide—a smile of pure, unabashed joy. "I can't believe you're really here. You're here and you're mine again." He pressed harder, the look in his eyes screaming for you to come undone for him. "I missed you every second of every day."

That tight coil inside you that had sat neglected for a decade had finally been brought back to life, and now it was ready to snap. "Varric." You planted your hands on his chest and pushed, trying to prevent the inevitable. "I'm gonna ... stop, please. You're gonna make me-"

"You're so breathtaking like this." Varric held you firmly in place, ignoring your pleas. "I could cum again just from watching you squirm and listening to you moan."

Sure enough, when you looked down, Varric was hard again. His erection was pressing firmly against the wet spot on his pants where he had already ejaculated.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "And there you were trying to make me feel sorry for you, old man."

"This is the effect you have on me," he said. "Now be a good girl and cum on my fingers so I can make love to you properly."

Thumb grinding hard into your clit, Varric's fingers curled tightly inside of you until you were seeing stars. Eyes rolled back, the muscles in your legs gave way as you climaxed and you sunk down all the way to the knuckles of Varric's hand.

After a few seconds, Varric pulled his hand out of your pants and gave your ass a gentle pat. "Up we go." He encouraged you to stand up on your wobbly legs and take your pants off. "Steady there."

As soon as you had disrobed from the waist down and Varric had pulled himself free from his pants, he hurriedly pulled you back down into his lap. Before moving any further, however, he decided to slow things down a bit.

"I want to savour this moment." His cock twitched against you and he pulled you closer for a kiss. "Maker, what I would give to stay in this shitty room with you for the rest of my life."

"Alas, someone has to save the world." You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging ever-so-slightly. "Again."

Varric hummed in agreement before pressing a kiss to the column of your throat. Deftly, his hands worked away at the buttons on your shirt. "I need to feel every inch of you pressed up against me," he explained as he helped you out of the rest of your clothes. Once his shirt was off as well and the two of you were completely nude, he pulled you flush against his chest and kissed you again.

Unable to deny yourself any longer, you began to fidget, slowly but surely lining Varric up with your entrance. Varric didn't stop you, and once his tip was prodding at that warm, wet hole he had dreamt about for a whole decade, he wasn't able to deny himself.

"Be gentle with me," he breathed into your mouth. "Slow and steady."

"Slow and steady," you repeated as you lowered yourself down inch by inch.

Varric's death grip on your thighs was enough for you to tell he was already dangerously close to finishing again. You had no room to judge though—not that you ever would—because you were teetering on that precipice just the same.

Once you had steadied yourself, you began to move. Immediately, Varric pushed you back down, nails digging into the soft flesh of your legs. "Not yet, doll," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Fuck, you feel so good. Too good. Maker spare me, you're too good for me."

"Please," you begged. That fire was raging inside of you once more, yearning to be extinguished. "Just a little. I promise I'll go slow."

"I don't want it to end. Not yet." His hands moved to cup your ass. Maintaining complete control, he guided your every movement. The feeling of his cock dragging along your walls caused you both to moan, one of euphoria and one of desperation.

One single stroke had left you both panting, foreheads pressed together as the two of you worked to maintain your composure just a little longer. Eyes closed, you sighed happily when you felt Varric's lips against yours.

"I promise next time will be less pathetic." He smirked against your lips. "Next time I'll make love to you like you deserve."

You shook your head, unable to picture sex better than this. This was what you were sure everyone craved—what people waited their whole lives for and some never achieved. Every nerve in your body was electrified—every touch lingering and leaving you wanting more.

"No," you told him. With that, you began to ride him properly—fear of finishing too fast be damned. "This is perfect."

"Maker's breath!" he cried out. Realizing that you truly didn't care if it all ended just as fast as it had started, he met your enthusiasm halfway and helped you bounce up and down on him. When he came not long after, he came moaning your name.

You weren't far behind, and as your second orgasm ripped through you, you clung to Varric and pressed into him as hard as you could.

"I missed you too," you returned the sentiment after replaying the entire interaction over again in your head. The mixture of Varric's hand running up and down your back and the sweat cooling sent shivers through your body.

"Well, better or not, there will be a next time. And it won't be after a decade apart." He held you close and pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses to every inch of skin he could reach. "I'm not done with you yet—not now, not ever."

[ashcashyy]

lol I’ve been pumping out so much content this past week 💀

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories For a Demon: The Day The World Disappeared, Part II (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

Rook is trapped in the Fade, and is determined to get out. But Solas' Prison has more than one trick up its sleeve.

Word count: ~ 4200

Veilguard endgame spoilers ahead

“You died”

A simple truth leaves her lips, as Madeleina Mercar looks upon the body of her fallen friend. And now that it has been spoken, it cannot be hidden behind a memory or become unknown so as to ease a troubled conscience. It is a truth, as much as the sky is blue and snow falls in winter.

In shifting hues of grey the scene at the ritual site is recreated in a tableau of death and despair. Two old friends, in their own right.

Solas stabbing Varric with his Lyrium dagger. Varric’s choked gasp as the blade pierces his chest, and blood fills his lungs. Bianca drops from his grip and slides down the steps, followed by her owner shortly after. She watches herself stand over his body. His dead body. Hears him call her name one last time, before his eyes close forever.

Madeleina’s lips quiver as her vision grows blurry with tears, threatening to spill like a waterfall. She clutches her chest, as if it could keep her heart from sinking any lower. This crushing loss she tried so desperately to ignore so she could keep going, could not be ignored anymore. Would not be relegated to the tricks of the mind any longer.

Varric comes to stand next to Madeleina and regards his lifeless body with her. He gives her a small, sad smile.

“Yeah. Sorry about that, kid”

She clutches the fabric of her overcoat tightly, and a strangled sob escapes her lips. Madeleina quickly wipes the tears away with the back of a gloved hand and stifles a sniffle.

“I … I’m so sorry Varric” Madeleina whispers.

Varric does not seem confused by her apology.

“For what” Varric says. He pointedly asks her for clarification, because he already knows what she’s trying to do, and he won’t have it.

“For not saving you” Madeleina answers, her voice shaky and uneven and struggling to even form the words.

Varric clicks his tongue and shakes his head. She watches carefully as the dwarf walks a few paces, then slowly turns to face her again.

“Shit, didn’t you learn anything from this place?” He sounds more surprised, or exasperated, than disappointed. As if the lesson was beating her over the head with a stick and she had kept her eyes and ears closed the entire time. He points to his chest with his thumb to emphasis the point, “I made the choice. To try to talk to him. To try to reach him, even knowing the risks. Because he was my friend. My decision. My sacrifice. And you don’t get to take that from me”

“But – “

“You know better than anyone, Rook, that every story has an ending” Varric quickly interjects. He gives her a knowing smile. “This one just came a little earlier than I’d planned. Come on. Walk with me, kid”

Varric jerks his head to the side and begins walking through the remnants of the ritual site. Madeleina can do nothing but follow silently, her thoughts and feelings twisting around each other to become some Gordian knot – impossible to parse out, and just as confusing.

She follows him through the main path and beyond the statues of the Evanuris, rising towards the sky, ascending like the Gods they were. Or, pretended to be, at least.

“How am I supposed to lead this team without you, Varric? I can’t do this alone. It feels like all I do is make things worse” Madeleina says. Visions of Minrathous drowned in Blight, Venatori taking control of the Magisterium, and a Dragon decimating the city replay in her mind. She’ll never know if saving Treviso was the right call in the long run. What the world might have looked like if she chose differently. And that terrifies her still.

“I can’t do this alone” She adds, her voice hitching. She’s afraid. She’s so very afraid of facing the world out there without him. Without his wisdom, his guidance, and the levity he effortlessly brings into even the shittiest of situations.

Varric shakes his head, almost in disbelief they’re still having this conversation. He gives her a pointed look and gestures towards her, “What do you think you’ve been doing all this time?”

Madeleina doesn’t have a good rebuttal, so, she merely stands with her arms limp at her side and looks at the ground because she can’t bear to face him right now. She feels like a dog without a sense of smell, a horse that can’t gallop.

A pawn without a purpose.

“Look at me, kid” Varric says, ducking his head low so he forces himself into her line of sight.

Madeleina’s eyes slowly drift upward. She’s biting on her lip to keep more tears from falling.

Varric gives her a gentle, reassuring grin, “You’re the leader they need, Rook. And you’re not alone. You never were”

The dwarf continues walking down the path in front of them. He pauses when the cobblestones drop down into the void of nothingness below them, their path momentarily cut off. Grass and dirt form below their feet, giving them new ground to tread on. The ritual site crumbles to pieces behind them, like a wetted sand castle crushed under someone’s hand.

Great sycamore trees spring to life, growing and maturing a hundred years over the course of seconds. A mountain range stretches along the border of the forest, opening like the maw of a great beast.

They’re surrounded by tiny wooden houses with thatched roofs. The small Chantry near the town square. The butcher’s shop, the Blacksmith’s forge, the apothecarist’s lab. All there, as she remembered them.

Arvanitum, frozen in time, stretches out before her.

“W-what …?” She whimpers, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. Madeleina’s head swivels desperately, so fast she’s giving herself whiplash. But all she sees is her old home. “Varric …” Madeleina swallows the bile threatening to rise in her throat, “What is this?” She turns to him, confusion and hurt and fear writhing across her delicate features, vying for dominance.

Varric puts a spectral hand on her shoulder and looks out over a perfectly preserved Arvanitum with her. Although she can’t feel solid touch, there is still the same warmth and comfort she knew in his presence when he lived.

“The final lock in a prison meant to cage Gods” He smiles gently, and lets his hand slide off her shoulder.

Madeleina takes a hesitant step on familiar roads she trod a thousand times in her youth. She half-expects to see her footprints lingering in the dirt, up the winding path behind the Chantry that would take her to the lone house on a small hill. The town bakery. Her home.

“It’s time to finish this story, Rook. Your story” Varric takes a step back. “Sometimes, we need to go back to the beginning, to get our ending”

Madeleina whips her head around, so quickly the tears fly off her cheeks.

“Varric – wait!” She calls out after him, her arm outstretched, grasping for empty space. She wants to run after him, but her feet stay planted in place as if roots have grown over them.

Varric already has his back turned to her as he walks away.

“Good luck, kid” He gives her a small wave, and a confident smirk over his shoulder.

“I just know your ending’s going to be killer”

And with that, he was gone. Disappeared into the thick foliage of the forest.

Madeleina doesn’t know how long she was left standing there, alone in the town square.

It was empty. There were no villagers milling about their daily lives. No clerics in their vestments standing outside the Chantry soliciting donations and reading out verses from the Chant of Light. No children making trouble in the street. No clanking from the Blacksmith’s hammer. No raucous laughter from the tavern down the road. No stray animals lingering by the food stalls, waiting for their chance to scavenge the scraps of the day.

Empty.

No people, no animals, just her.

She turns again to the winding path behind the Chantry. There is a pull towards her childhood home she can’t explain. Something deep in her chest grasps for it, yearns to go there like a flower turning towards the sun.

Before Madeleina is even aware, her feet are moving. One step at a time, she begins walking that familiar path back home.

Anxiety winds itself into knots in her chest. She is terrified of what she might find there.

Will the prison make her relive the day she found her parents dead? Relive the moment she was nearly possessed by Despair? Madeleina doesn’t know if she can handle that. It was enough to go through it once. To see it again might very well destroy her, she thinks.

Then again, she would expect nothing less from a prison designed to trap a God. And she is no God – she’s just a person. Back in this village, she’s just a little girl.

Her feet continue moving of their own accord, carrying her home.

She sees it soon enough, that house on the hill.

The same thatched roof in desperate need of repair. The same flowers in the window box – daffodils, snowdrops, and hyacinths. A warm, orange glow from the windows on the second floor. Her mother has lit her favourite candles, most likely. The ones she buys from the Orlesian merchant who comes once a month. Scented like lavender. Familiar and comforting, just like her.

Madeleina lingers at the door, frozen in place. She wants to move. To reach out, push the door open and step inside. But she can’t bring herself to do it. Her chest tightens, so much so that she feels like she’s going to implode on the spot.

Venhedis, I can’t do this.

Her palms start to feel sweaty. She flexes her fingers back and forth in an effort to relieve some of the tension.

“Darling, is that you?” A familiar voice calls from inside the house.

Her mother’s voice.

Oh.

There’s movement from inside the house. She has time to run. She wants to run. And yet, she remains as still as a statue. Her heart thuds quickly in her chest, so loud she can hear its rhythmic thrum in her eardrums.

The door swings open, and she’s greeted by the sight of Eurydice Arcturion. Her mother is exactly how Madeleina remembered her in her dreams and memories. Warm, whiskey-brown eyes, long auburn hair tied over her left shoulder, and the same upturned nose as her own. Her crow’s feet are more prominent – signs of a life filled with laughter and smiling. She’s wearing a familiar light blue linen dress. Her white baker’s apron is powdered with flour and spices. The same dress and apron she was wearing on that day. The only noticeable difference is that Eurydice is somewhat shorter than Madeleina remembers.

Her stomach forms an endless pit. She swallows thickly, as words try and fail desperately to form on her tongue but end up unwinding like a ball of yarn dropped to the floor.

Mother.

I missed you so much.

I saw you … I saw your …

You’re here.

How?

Eurydice smiles sweetly at the sight of her daughter, “There you are, love. Did you have fun picking the elderberries in the forest?” She ushers Madeleina inside, and before she can think, her feet are moving on their own again.

Elderberries?

Madeleina looks down, and in her hands, her bare hands, is an old wicker basket full of purple berries. Her armour is gone. She’s traded it for a simple beige tunic and pants. Eurydice is taller than her now. Just a moment ago, Madeleina was practically towering over her.

When did that happen?

“Love?” Her mother touches her shoulder with a calloused hand. Despite her hands being worn from the day’s work, Eurydice’s touch is as soft as silk, and warmer than wool. She smells like flour and cinnamon and lavender.

“Hmm?” Madeleina looks up at her mother with a blank stare. “Oh … yeah, it was fun” She answers, as a small, mischievous grin creeps onto her features when she remembers her adventures in the forest, “I chased a few rabbits. Ended up finding some babies in a burrow!”

“Did you now?” Eurydice smiles and quirks a brow, “Did I not teach you better manners than to terrorize new parents?”

Madeleina pouts and stares down at the floor, embarrassed, “I just wanted to see the babies …”

“Rascal” Her mother pinches her cheek and gets her moving again with a hand on the small of her back. They maneuver to the back of the shop and walk past large bags of flour, the woodfire oven, and clay pots. Up the familiar creaking stairs, and through the door at the top, is the small den of their home.

A sweet aroma drifts from the adjoining kitchen. Familiar. Something she hasn’t had in a long time. Had almost forgotten about entirely, until she’s practically salivating with anticipation.

“I made Dolmades, your favourite” Eurydice grins as she takes the basket of Elderberries from Madeleina’s small hands. “Go wash up for dinner”

Madeleina and her empty stomach don’t have to be told twice. She hurries to the restroom and takes a bar of soap from the counter, then uses it to hurriedly scrub the dirt from her hands and fingernails in the wash basin.

She catches her reflection in the mirror. The young Madeleina, about twelve year’s younger, all wiry limbs and wild curls, stares back at her. Scrawnier. Covered in cuts and scrapes reflective of the recklessness of youth.

There’s a smear of dirt on her left cheek, and after wetting her fingers in the wash basin, she rubs it off quickly. Mother doesn’t mind her getting dirty, so long as none of it makes it to her dinner table. Satisfied, Madeleina gives herself a small smile.

After walking back into the kitchen, she spies her father lounging on a cushion by the fireplace. Judging by the way his salt-and-pepper curls seem extra curly, he must have just woken up. He’s usually asleep during the day, as he plays at the tavern in the evenings. Her mother busies herself with setting the table while she makes her way towards her father.

“Ahhh, there she is” His kind face splits into a wide grin at the sight of Madeleina. She wraps her arms around her father’s neck. He places a gentle kiss to her cheek, and ruffles her hair, mussing her own curls.  “Hello, little love”

“More like little terror” Her mother chimes in, as the sound of pots and pans clinking fill the kitchen. “If the forest animals are to be believed”

Orpheus grins, and hugs Madeleina tightly against him, “Humm, wherever did she get that tendency from”

“Father…” Madeleina mumbles, trying to pry her way out of his grasp. It only makes his grip tighter.

He chuckles, “Now, now, I’m sure you had a perfectly good reason for making trouble in the forest, hmm?”

“I wanted to see the baby rabbits…” The young girl answers sheepishly, avoiding his bright green eyes. Sharp, keen, intelligent – like a hawk’s. She can never look at him when she’s trying to lie, so she doesn’t bother lying anymore. He picks them out like weeds in a garden.

“Oh, and did you?”

“Orpheus” Her mother’s voice is stern. “Don’t encourage her. One of these days she’s going to get herself in trouble, running around the wilds like that”

“But I didn’t!” Madeleina protests quickly. Her father’s grip has loosened somewhat and she’s able to pry herself out of his grasp. “Get in trouble, I mean. I found the path again – I dropped berries so I could find my way back in case I got lost…”

Eurydice sets the Dolmades on the table, along with three plates. There’s a spread of other grilled vegetables beside them. A small bowl of Tzatziki sauce with a spoon sticking out of it is the last thing to be put on the table.

“Alright, alright – enough of that for now, come and eat dinner” She wipes her hands on her apron, before untying it and placing it on the back of her chair.

Her father pinches her cheek and guides her towards the dinner table.

Eggplant. Augh.

She makes a sour face when she spies the offending purple vegetable next to the carrots. Madeleina knows her Mother won’t like her being picky, so she’ll settle for pretending to nibble on the slices slowly, while subtly reaching for the carrots that are furthest away from the eggplant.

Madeleina grins and piles the stuffed grape leaves onto her plate.

“Whoa, slow down there, where’s the fire?” Orpheus chuckles, as he loads his own plate.

“Picking berries is hard work” She pouts, before dipping a Dolma into the Tzatziki and shoving it in her mouth. A content sigh escapes her lips as the sweet and savoury flavours mix on her tongue. “I was at it for hours” she adds, speaking around the stuffed grape leaves.

“Oh, my apologies” He places a hand on his chest with dramatic flourish. “I’ll be more mindful of your laborious duties from now on, my darling”

“Good” Madeleina grins and continues eating her dinner, picking from Dolmas and vegetables alike.

Eurydice smiles and shakes her head, pointing to Orpheus with her fork, “She gets her attitude from you”

“And all her best qualities from you, Amatus” Her father blows her a kiss from across the table, and Madeleina makes a sour face as her mother’s cheeks flush.

Ew.

As much as she may pretend to be disgusted by her parent’s displays of affection, she’s always loved seeing them… in love. Since she was a young girl, Madeleina dreamed of finding someone who would cherish her the way Orpheus cherished Eurydice. A love like something out of a fairytale.

Something familiar tugs in the back of her mind.

Bitter and sweet, like a kiss goodbye.

Where has she heard that before?

The scent of chocolate and coffee curiously fills her nostrils, but there is none on the table.

Strange.

“Darling?” Her mother’s voice snaps her out of it. The thought is forgotten as quickly as it came, and the smell of chocolate and coffee fades away. Her head quickly whips to attention.

“Hmm?”

“Is everything alright?” Her mother raises a concerned brow, “You’re unusually… pensive today”

A very polite way of saying you keep spacing out. But it was just like her mother to put a polite spin on everything.

Madeleina nods, and picks at her vegetables, “Yes mother, I’m fine, I promise. I … I guess I’m just tired, is all”

Her father sees it for the lie it is, but mercifully doesn’t call her out on it.

Orpheus gives her a warm smile and leans in closer, “Not too tired for a story, I hope”

Madeleina rolls her eyes but can’t stop the grin from spreading across her lips. “Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

He sticks a thumb to his chest and laughs, “I’m the only bard for miles around, what are they going to do? Fire me? Half the patrons only come to hear me play”

She goes to take another Dolma on her plate before her mother’s hand gently slaps her own away, “Ah-ah, finish your vegetables first. All of them” She eyes the unfinished eggplant on her plate.

Madeleine frowns, withdrawing her hand. She folds her arms over her chest, “Actually, I’m not hungry anymore. I’ll take that story, father”

“No, you’re going to sit there and finish your – “

Orpheus lifts a hand to stop his wife mid-sentence, “Amatus, she’s had a long day. Picking berries is such tiresome work after all”

Eurydice looks like she wants to protest, but realizes she is effectively outnumbered on the matter, and resigns to finish her own dinner. “Unbelievable, these two” She murmurs around mouthfuls of Dolma.

Her father pushes his chair out and leaves the room for a moment. Madeleina knows exactly what he’s gone to do, and bounces eagerly in her chair, vibrating with anticipation.

She quickly stuffs one last Dolma down her throat before her mother can get a word in edgewise and runs away from the table. She takes her usual seat on the cushion closest to the fireplace. Her mother sighs, finishes her own dinner, and then begins clearing the plates.

Her father returns a moment later, scratching his beard.

“That’s odd” He says thoughtfully, putting a hand on his hip. “Amatus – have you seen my journal?”

Her mother is by the kitchen sink now, washing the emptied plates from dinner. “No, dear. I haven’t. Isn’t it on the bedside table?” She calls over her shoulder, above the gritting noise of the sponge tearing grease from the dish.

Orpheus looks about the den – he checks the fireplace mantle, under the cushions, between the couch cushions, the bookshelf. And yet, he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for.

Faded red leather. Yellowed pages. Black ink spots. No, dried bloodstains. The acrid smell of must and mothballs.

Her father’s journal doesn’t look like that. Doesn’t smell like that. It never has.

Stranger still.

Madeleina shakes her head and gets up from her spot, first inspecting under the coffee table, and then under the cushions once more to make sure her father didn’t miss anything.

“Darling, can you check your bedroom? I might have left it there last night” Orpheus calls, as he ducks beneath the dinner table to ensure it didn’t fall there from his pocket.

Right. He had been reading Swan Lake to her last night. Madeleina wastes no time jogging to her small bedroom.

Nothing looks out of place. She sees the same stuffed rabbit and teddy bear lying on her bed, well-worn and well-loved with age. Hand-me-downs from one of the older girls in the village.

Octavia. That’s right - she married a soldier from Ventus. She’s gone now, and the tailor’s hours were reduced since their only daughter wasn’t around to help anymore.

She checks her little writing desk and moves the clothes she’d left on the chair to the floor. Madeleina can already hear her mother chastising her for that.

Still, there’s no journal to be found. Not on the desk, under the desk, nor under her bed.

Madeleina sits cross-legged in the middle of her room and releases a soft breath. Well, if the journal was somewhere in this house, it wasn’t in here.

As her thoughts drifted towards her father’s journal, there was a strange feeling that took root in her chest. Like she was attached to a string being tugged at from some far away place. A marionette being pulled towards its puppeteer.  

She looks through the window to see the setting sun, washing the mountains and forest in pinks, oranges and golds.

The tugging sensation in her chest grows stronger. Enough to no longer be considered a trick of the mind. It turns sharp, almost painful. Madeleina winces and grasps her chest where she feels the sensation.

“Ahh …” She hisses, closing her eyes, her brows drawing tight. Madeleina looks down at her chest, and where her heart should be, she sees a faint, blue light flickering in and out.

“What the -…?”

“Darling?” Her father calls from the den.

Madeleina’s head snaps towards the sound of his voice. She looks back down at her chest. The blue light is gone, no longer flickering like a candle in the wind. There’s no more tugging in her chest.

I must have been more tired than I thought. She thinks, before standing up and rejoining her family in the living room.

Her father is sitting on one of the cushions on the floor, next to the fireplace.

“Did you find it?” Madeleina asks, as she comes to sit next to him.

Orpheus shakes his head, and black-and-grey ringlets fly about him as he does. “No – I must have left it at the tavern, I’ll check later tonight.”

Madeleina’s face falls, too tired to hide her disappointment, “Oh. So… no story tonight?”

Her father chuckles and pats her softly on the back, “Of course there’ll be a story tonight. The journal is just for show,” He leans in closer and turns his index finger against his temple, like one might turn a key into a lock, “Everything’s stored right here, anyway”

Orpheus pulls his daughter in closely, and she settles against his side, leaning her head on his broad shoulder.

“Which one are you going to tell me tonight?” She asks quietly, her eyelids growing heavy.

“Which one do you want to hear?”

Madeleina thinks hard for a moment. There’s so many to choose from. She’s heard them all at least a dozen times. Thinks she’s even memorized a good chunk of them.

She can’t explain her choice, only that she feels it’s an important one. There’s a distant feeling of familiarity with that story, one that goes deeper than all the times it’s been retold to her by her father.

“The Sleeping Princess, please”

“Ahhh, an excellent choice, little love” Orpheus smiles widely, and collects his weary daughter into his lap.

Madeleina rests against his chest and lets herself feel the exhaustion she’s been ignoring until now. Her breathing slows, and her eyelids grow heavier.

Her father begins gently stroking her hair, and it lulls her towards sleep even more.

“Once upon a time, in a land far, far, away, there was a small kingdom. And in that kingdom, there lived a King and Queen, much beloved by their people…”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yay, another chapter done. This time I'd like to thank @hawkeish for giving me some angst fodder by playing around with the idea that something in the fade prison from Rook's past would make her more resistant to leave! >:)

As usual, do enjoy the story!

Thank you in advance for your comments and reblogs, I appreciate everyone who takes the time to do so and I do read all of them <3

[thatwildwolfart]

Everyone read Out of the Fade, Into the Fire by @whiskynorocks. It's a beautiful, heartwrenching and heartwarming story about recovery, pain, love, family, and moving on, and I can't recommend it enough.

[tanzani-coil]

[curioushappenstance]

Sketch of an alternate reality of my fic where Varric got to raise Isana.

I imagine in this reality, Bartrand forced varric to marry isana’s mother. I think he ends up being more present than Javarel does, which works out fine for everyone.

And without Javarel breathing down her neck, Isana turns out to be a yapper just like her father ❤️

[fic here]

[xhollowfaerie]

Dread of the Wolf

(Note: a little exploration into Rook's mind after picking to save Treviso as a Shadow Dragon. As always, you can find my Rookanis (Spookanis?) fanfic on ao3! Warnings: endgame spoilers, slight body horror, angst)

- “Ir abelas” Solas spoke gravely as he approached Rook.

Kore had been quiet since Minrathous, once she had stopped sobbing. Too quiet.

Her face was tight with dry tears. Her makeup was a smeared mess, eyes swollen. Passed out in the infirmary, she found herself in the Fade, watching the same memories replay over and over, like a broken record.

Her face lit up, for the very first time.

“Is that a smile?” Viper teased, and her sunken eye widened for a moment. A faint wave of color crept over the drained features of her face. “... smile” she repeated, voice as monotone as ever.

“That's right. It suits you. I hope I’ll get to see it again.”

“Show Viper? Smile. I'll try” she croaked.

“No, no, it's not an order. Not something you do consciously. You smiled just now because I called that templar a bumbling idiot.” “I'm right here, you know” Tarquin called from outside the room.

Kore’s chapped lips curled again. She didn't understand. She didn't do it on purpose. Her face twisted in confusion before relaxing. It was strange. But… it wasn't bad. 

“I like this” she voiced. Viper's eyes softened.

“Good. I like it, too.”

“I don't like this, Ash!” Rook cried as she buried her face in her knees. She didn't know eyes could sting in the Fade. 

“He is alive” Solas tried to console her.

“Blighted!” She screamed at him, her eyes lighting up as the air around her sparked with electricity. 

“MY fault. My fault… they're right! It’s all… my…!”

As indifferent and calculating as the Dread Wolf strived to be towards his pawn, his gaze lowered as she wailed. It hurt to listen to.

It destroyed him to know the truth.

The Blight…

It wasn’t her fault. It was his. 

Her agony was his responsibility. Not only was she Elven, but she had been a slave. And now, she was his only hope.

He had long since given up on ever getting close to someone again. 

Not after her .

He couldn't consider Rook a friend. And although her delusion about her past was not directly his doing, it was still his burden.

He had broken her before they ever even met. By putting up the Veil. By letting mortal whims taint his resolve.

That was exactly why he had to use her. To create a better world, for her , for Rook, and for every other elf who had ever drawn breath. No matter what it takes.

She grasped the dirt, scraped it with her nails. Her voice was growing hoarse from strain, her tears pooling underneath her tangled hair, dripping off the tip of her nose. Some of the salt got inhaled back in through her nostrils, stinging. Her breaths hitched, worse and worse, before she clutched her chest. 

“I killed him.”

The dread built up, coursing through her veins like poison. She was freezing. Somewhere in the depths of her memory, she recalled. Elven corpses, laying still and cold.

“I killed him. I-I killed Ash” she choked, grasping her head in horror.

“Neve will never forgive me. NEVER! She hates me! She hates me so much . She’s right! It should’ve been me instead. I should’ve been blighted instead. I doomed Minrathous. I killed so many. Tarquin’s right! I blight everything. It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me! ”

Rook’s words were slurred, hectic. Her stomach was turning itself inside out, spilling searing acid into her throat. But nothing could compare to Ashur’s agony. 

“I’ll get them all killed. Every last one. Every single one. All of them. Dead! I killed them. I killed them, my friends, my everything! I killed them all .” Kore frantically whispered their names, as if to not forget them. As if they were already dead. When she mentioned Varric, Solas clenched his teeth, remaining still and silent.

“Kill me, please, kill me instead. I’ll give anything. Trade my… freedom? For them… Yes, take it. For them. Anything, anything for them. Please… NO! NO, I KILLED THEM! I PROMISED I’D KEEP THEM SAFE! LUCANIS! Lucanis, no, no, no, please, please, PLEASE! Please, not Lucanis, not Spite. No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Anything, but not Lucanis, not Spite… ” Her panic began to melt into despondent lament. Her cries lowered and broke into a rhythmic ballad of sobs. She planted her head into the dirt, painfully kneading her fingers into her hair, desperately tugging it from her skull. Her body rocked in place, subconsciously aching for any shred of solace.

“ No, no, no, no, no, My Crow, not My Crow… I never told you… I should have told you… Spite, Lucanis… Ma vhenan… Ar lath ma, Vhenan… ”

Solas whipped his head away. He couldn’t watch. Those words burnt a hole right through his chest.

He couldn’t help her. What could he possibly say? What were his options? He thought to reason with her through Varric’s guise, but her state was so deplorable, he felt much too guilty to further intrude her mind.

A soft hand landed on the Wolf’s shoulder. He almost fell apart himself at the familiar touch.

‘You could talk to her.’

Elven words ghosted over his lips, too, but remained just that. A ghost.

Kore collapsed into a pit of serpents; they latched onto her, pumping her with venom, coiling tightly around her limbs. She wanted to scream, but she could no longer breathe. She couldn’t see. She just tasted her own bile, mucus and tears. Felt the fangs dig into her skin. Hearing hazy. Ears ringing. Scarred fingers tried reaching out to the sickly shaded sky, green eye trembling. It was too late. They completely enveloped her, choking her out, filling her lungs.

They were eating her alive.

Just like in Minrathous.

She had gathered a crowd of predators, swarming above them. 

Hungry. 

She was so open. So inviting. So vulnerable.

Her mind was held together by a thread - no, a black feather that was being ripped to pieces.

She started humming, out of tune, gurgling and nearly suffocating every few words. The demons grew in number and stalked closer.

Many, Solas recognized. Hurt. Shame. 

He thought it best to not intervene. He didn’t want to risk facing his own worst demon. The one that had been hunting him so eagerly, for so long.

Regret.

“Hahren, na melana sahlin,

Emma… ir abelas…

Souver'inan isala haaaamin,

Vhenan hiiim dor'felas…

In uthenera… na… revas…”

(Elder, your time has come,

Now… I am filled with sorrow…

Weary eyes need resting,

Heart has become grey and slow…

In waking sleep… is… freedom…)

The Elven eulogy.

He remembered the first time he had heard any Elven roll off of… her tongue. The warmth it had sent through him. 

The poem filled him with nothing but sorrow.

Rook was an important piece on his board. Her life was still useful to him.

He could hear her laugh at him. Lovingly.

‘You don’t always need to justify everything, you know.’

Ever since entering the prison, her voice had followed him.

One of the demons launched at Rook, drooling.

“ Varas! ” (Leave!)

The Dread Wolf knelt down next to her, shielding her body as his eyes began to glow. A brief flash followed before specks of dust floated around them peacefully.

“They are gone” he tried to tell her, but she was humming still.

“Ma ghilana mir din'an… ma ghilana… mir din'an…” (Guide me into death, guide me… into death...)

With a huff, Solas pulled her out of the pit, knocking away any lingering snakes off her body.

“Da’len. Listen to me. You are stronger than this pain. You have defied all odds. Risen above every expectation. You have inspired many, and saved even more, at the risk of that which you held dear. Had I been given the choice of who to aid me in sealing away the tyrants and freeing the Elven people, I couldn’t have been more sure that it had to be you.”

She laid limp in his arms, lolling her head to the side as she continued mumbling incoherently, and he clicked his tongue in frustration.

“Being a leader means accepting sacrifice! It means doing whatever you must , whatever the cost!”

‘Solas. Gentle.’

Yes. Of course.

Abelas .

“Being… a true leader means… having those who believe in you. Having something to protect… And…” His eyes dimmed.

“It means keeping them close. Relying on them. It is a privilege not many have the fortune of knowing.”

Solas’s hands trembled as he held the frail mage. His voice continued echoing through the emptiness of the Fade around them.

“You did well. Better than anyone could have, in your position. It was a difficult choice. Yet you persevere. Your companions are proud of you. As am I.”

Rook’s eyes slowly peered up at him.

“...Varric?”

His eyes widened in horror. He didn’t dare to speak.

But someone else did.

“You got this, kid. Now, go on, they’re worried sick about you. You can make things right, with Neve, with the Dragons. You’re not someone they can hate so easily.”

She had missed that hearty chuckle.

“I… I know… you’re right… I… I miss them terribly… I'm so sorry…”

“They miss you too, Rook. So show them. They all wanna help. And they know you do, too. Go kick some Ancient Elven ass for me, will ya?”

Solas helped Rook up wordlessly. When he glanced at her again, she had taken the form of a scrawny Elven child, beaming up at them.

“Okay! I’ll go do that! Thank you, Mister Varric!” 

The dwarf ruffled her hair and watched her run off. 

The Dread Wolf. What a fitting name. He would forever feel alone. Starving.

Varric nudged him, and little Rook turned around to wave towards both of them.

“Thank you, too, Mister Solas! You look scary, but you’re so nice!”

A swarm of fog floated over to Kore, taking the shape of the Viper. He placed his hat on her head and propped her up on his shoulder.

Little Rook giggled happily. 

Solas’s long, thin fingers clenched behind his back. 

He deserved this punishment. He should be able to take it.

“Lighten up, Chuckles. Look on the bright side! She doesn’t even know I’m dead yet.”

[ruiningsalads]

Happy Friday! Maybe for Varric/Cassandra: "I never had the courage to ask you if you'd kiss me."

another drabble for @dadrunkwriting!

"That's another drink, Seeker!" Varric crowed gleefully.

"Ugh." Cassandra threw her cards down and picked up her tankard. "I don't know why I agreed to this."

"Because I'm incredibly charming," and he waggled his eyebrows at her.

She choked on her drink and nearly spat ale all over the table. As she coughed and struggled to regain her breath, Varric shuffled the cards.

"You're supposed to drink it, not inhale it," he offered with a smirk.

"Quiet," she wheezed, red-faced.

"How about a new game, since you're so bad at cards?" He set the deck aside and hefted his own tankard. "Truth or drink. You ask me a question, and I either have to tell the truth or take a drink."

Cassandra eyed him suspiciously. "You, tell the truth?"

"It's been known to happen. Now, what do you say?"

"Fine." She squinted at him for a moment before asking, "How often are you staring at the Inquisitor's rear while we are traveling?"

That made him laugh. "As lovely as she is, I'm not really into elves. Besides, I think Chuckles would have something to say about it."

"That wasn't the question," she challenged.

"Oh, fine. I don't stare. If I happen to look, it's because she stepped into my line of vision, and that's Andraste's honest truth."

When she didn't challenge him further, he asked, "What about you? Has anyone caught the eye of the Seeker? Perhaps a handsome commander?"

"Cullen?" It came out as a startled laugh. "Maker, no!"

"No? Then who?"

Cassandra's face reddened, and she swiftly took a drink.

"Spoilsport," Varric chucked. "Your turn, then."

She peered at him thoughtfully. "Have you started on the next chapter of Swords and Shields yet?"

"Of all the things you could ask me, you choose to ask me about my crummy romance serial?" He shook his head disbelievingly. "No, I haven't."

Her shoulders slumped the tiniest bit. "But you should."

"That's debatable," he snorted. "But now, a real question: when was the last time you were truly afraid?"

He watched as she sucked on her teeth for a moment. "When that giant picked you up and would have thrown you, were it not for the Inquisitor's quick thinking."

A wide smile spread across his face. "Aw, Seeker, I'm touched."

Pink bloomed across her cheeks. "Same question to you," she demanded.

"Right now," he admitted before he could think better of it.

Her brow wrinkled with a frown. "What?"

"Because... Because I want to kiss you, but I'm not sure if you'll throw another chair at me."

He watched her lips part as the breath gusted out of her. Then, so quietly that he almost didn't hear, she murmured, "Only if it's a bad kiss after how long I've waited."

[liberaquantobasta]

So I'm going to share my Solavellan Fanfic.

Ainur'Len Lavellan is filled with doubt about Solas' possible redemption after what happened to Varric. Solas is pulling the strings from the prison of regrets. Morrigan is willing to help Lavellan at any cost, and perhaps Mythal can help. What happens to Lavellan as events unfold in Veilguard?

This story follows the events and timeline of the last chapter of Dragon Age, but focuses on Lavellan and Solas.

MASSIVE SPOILERS FROM THE ENDING

[Chapter 2] - [Chapter 3]

The Ceiling Above Us 

1. The Doubt

The ceiling is high, but the room is so stifling, lit only by the faint glow of a flickering fire. Varric looks at his friend's back, it's stiff and bent forward while her hands are resting on the table. He can only imagine the frowned face of Lavellan as she leans over the map. 

"Inquisitor. How long has it been since you slept?" 

For a moment Varric can seee her shoulders relax, but the elf does not look at him. Just a faint shrug of her head.

"The last time I slept, I had such stupid dreams that I don't feel like closing my eyes anymore." 

Varric shakes his head and moves closer to his friend until he's beside her and he can see her face.

"Really, Ainur. How long has it been? A week? You need to rest. Without expecting to see him. Just close your eyes."

"He hasn't shown himself for months, Varric. If even this time..." the words die in her throat. 

"He'll be fine."

"I think he's close. I think he's found a way."

"I'll ask Leliana to spread the word. We have contacts all over Thedas. We are close to a breakthrough, the rumours are spreading from Minrathous. Tomorrow I will join Harding, she is already there."

Ainur'Len looks at him sideways, her tired eyes shrouded in two deep dark circles. She sighs and feels her muscles relax, as they often do when she talks to her friend. 

"I should go with you," she mutters, frowning.

"Aren't you sweet, Inquisitor?" Varric laughs and pats her shoulder. "You must keep the Venatori who have invaded the Hinterlands at bay, we need you here." 

"When will it end, Varric?" she finally turns to him, slowly running a hand through her raven hair.

"Soon, Ainur. You will see."

The Inquisitor clicks her tongue before allowing herself a faint smile. She locks her eyes with Varric's, breaking a promise from him.

"Be careful, please. And keep me informed."

He winks at her.

"Of course, Ainur'Len. I promise." 

*

"This is it, Inquisitor.

Harding found a lead through our contact in Minrathous. As soon as we arrived, all hell broke loose, I only have time to write you these few words. We have a small team of smart people trying to reach Chuckles and shake him up. I will try to bring him back in one piece, I promise. Chances are you will see us coming before you even get this letter.

When it's all over, maybe I'll write a novel about it, what do you think?

Love, secrets, betrayal: it'll be a bestseller.

Yours,

Varric." 

She clutches the letter until it crumples in her hands. 

Not this time.

I can't let you get away with this.

If you hear me, Solas, I won't forgive you.

How the hell could you do this?

Varric.

No.

The icy air cuts her face, maybe that's why her eyes are watering. She squeezes the wolf figurine in her hands, feeling it vibrate as she curses her old love. It is warm. She stares at the pool of dry blood before her.

Fuck, Solas. 

Morrigan takes a step back and looks away. 

"Haven't you lost enough?" She whispers, slowly bringing her eyes back to hers. "Do you still want to save him?"

Aiunr'Len hunches her shoulders forward and holds back a breath that turns to a sob. She holds the statuette to her chest and her legs can't take it any more. She collapses to her knees, eyes narrowed and tears streaming down her worn face. Her desperate scream breaks the silence, smacking against the clear sky and the light sea breeze that thickens the air.

Varric will never come back.

Shit, Solas. 

She holds her breath to keep from choking. Then she lets it out. Slowly. She resets her eyes on the wolf statuette she holds close. It vibrates. It glows softly, with blue flickers, soft and calm. 

Vhenan.

"It is no coincidence that you found it. The Dread Wolf leaves nothing to chance." Morrigan approaches her slowly, just enough to place a hand on her shoulder. She looks down at Ainur'Len, but her eyes are filled with an unusual softness. 

"He left it here for you to find. It is a fragment of something greater. A key. He wanted you to have it and no one else."

The elf searches for something more in the witch's eyes, but they reveal no secrets. She notices only a warm glow in the usually icy yellow colour. Perhaps it is Mythal who is looking at her. She wipes her nose with the back of her hand and rises quietly, her amber eyes returning to Solas' relic. 

"He's the same old piece of shit, Morrigan." She snorts, exhausted. She hears her friend chuckle. "But I can feel him. There's something about him in here. I can feel it." She shrugs. "Sometimes I wish he would just write me a fucking letter, you know? At least I'd find out what he's trying to tell me."

Morrigan shakes her head, smiling.

"You already know what he wants to tell you, Ainur'Len."

"I suppose I do. Or at least I hope I do."  

She stares at the spot where Fen'harel disappeared, swallowed by the Fade.

"I can't bear the thought of him being alone." She whispers. "Trapped in a prison of suffering." 

Morrigan lets the silence soften the weight of those words for a few moments before she speaks. 

"He is in a terrible place. A prison of regret. The loss of Varric will be just one more to haunt him. But you are also there with him. Hurting you must have made him suffer terribly. You have a special bond with the Fade. You have a connection to him." She pauses for a moment, giving the Inquisitor time to catch her breath. She is looking at her with exhausted eyes, full of fear, but with a glimmer of hope. 

The witch speaks again, cautiously, "Perhaps I know a way..."

*

Solas paces frantically, one hand on his chin, the other behind his back.

"Damn it."

His eyes, narrowed in anger, dart quickly from side to side. 

"Damn!" 

He lifts a stone with his gaze and hurls it at the iron bars that remain unharmed. With a grunt of rage, hundreds of rocks rise from the ground and crash against the metal. He knows it won't work.

"I have to get out of here." He looks around with a furrowed brow. "Rook." He mutters through clenched teeth, his voice a hiss.

He kicks a rock and sits on the ground, his gaze lost in the emptiness.

Then he hears it.

Not this time. 

I can't let you get away with this. 

If you can hear me, Solas, I won't forgive you. 

How the hell could you do this?

Varric. 

No.

He clenches his fists and his eyes suddenly fill with desperation. Something like panic floods his chest. He rises and a faint reflection of the Inquisitor appears before him.

"Vhenan. I have failed again." He holds his face in his hands, as if afraid it will slip away. "I have brought you pain once more. And with Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain at loose, no one is safe. Not even you."

Only silence, suffocating. 

“I have failed again. I... Varric is dead.”

Silence, deafening.

“I had taken precautions to save you. And now, the thought that they might get to you…”

The pale light illuminates Ainur'Len's face, which is not really hers, but a shy, expressionless reflection. He cannot bring himself to look at her. 

“I have a plan,” he whispers, his gaze suddenly sharp. “You would not approve. But it's my last chance.”

He glances once more at the bars surrounding him, before turning his back on the image of his beloved's face and walking slowly towards the rift that separates him from the rest of Fade. 

“You will understand when this is over.”

*

Back at the hideout a few miles from Minrathous, Ainur'Len can't even collapse into the chair that her friend is standing in front of her.

"We need to talk," she hints, pointing to the glowing object sticking out of the elf's pockets.

"Morrigan. Has anyone ever told you that you have terrible timing?" Ainur'Len tries to joke, but she can't even curl her lips into a smile. "Let me mourn the dead in peace. Please."' she rubs her eyes, still numb from the tears she shed. 

"What is it, Inquisitor?" Morrigan presses, one eyebrow raised. She tries to shake her off, "Are you having second thoughts?"

Ainur'Len suddenly feels uncomfortable in her chair. She holds her breath for a moment. She does not know. The only thing she is sure of is that it was she who sent Varric straight to his death. The only certainty is that Varric is gone, and it is all her fault. She runs a hand slowly down her face, her gaze lost in the emptiness. 

Morrigan leans over her, grabbing her shoulders and squeezing harder than she would like. 

"You have lost and will lose your people along the way." she whispers, looking steadily into her eyes. "It is the path you have chosen for yourself."

Ainur'Len slowly focuses on the image of the witch before her, these words echoing in her head like drums in a church. She straightens in her chair and shrugs Morrigan's hands from her shoulders. 

"I wish I could have persuaded him to stay with me." she doesn't know if she's talking about Solas or Varric. She holds back tears. She sniffles, trying to find the strength to face what is to come and what has been. But she has never had to deal with grief like this before. 

She cannot believe that Solas could have killed Varric in cold blood. She cannot accept that one of her closest friends is gone. That he will never come back. She feels overwhelmed by a feeling of helplessness that glues her to the chair, robbing her of all strength to fight. 

"So it is over," Morrigan whispers, looking down at her. "You are no longer convinced that Solas can redeem himself."

Ainurur'Len's face twitches in a grimace of pain. She looks at her friend with a pleading expression. 

"Morrigan, please. It's not like that. I don't... I don't know anymore. I don't know anything anymore. I..." she freezes, her voice breaking. She fixes her eyes on her feet. "What if it had been me instead of Varric? Would he have killed me too?"

Morrigan lets out a sigh. She allows silence to fill the room. She weighs the words she is about to speak, one by one.

"His motives are too deeply rooted in his own remorse, Inquisitor. Varric was a fool to think he could convince him with his own strength alone," the elf stands up, angry. Her face is inches from the witch's. Ainru'Len fights the urge to punch her in the face with all her might.

Morrigan doesn't even blink and continues to speak. 

"Solas alone carries too heavy a burden. He has done so for millennia. A chat between old friends will not be enough to stop him."

Ainur'Len looks angrily into the witch's eyes. She tries to control the trembling of her breath. 

"Solas will not share this burden with anyone, Morrigan," she says, tears in her eyes. 

"If he did, he'd be no better than..." she stops, without breaking eye contact.

“Than who? Morrigan. If you know something, please tell me."

"Do you really wish to uncover the truth, Inquisitor?"

The silence that follows is so heavy that the elf has to take a few steps back, crushed. A strange fear suddenly grows in her stomach, twisting her insides. 

Ainur'Len swallows. The image of Solas holding her close flashes before her eyes. In Haven, in Crestwood, surrounded by fireflies and sparks of magic. When he whispered words of love to her, hands in hands, eyes in eyes. When he could have let her die, eaten by the Anchor, but he had saved her life and confessed his true identity. How many times had she told Varric, calling herself an idiot for not realising it sooner. And how many times had he cheered her up by sharing his love misadventures with her.

"Yes." she says. A fire burns in her eyes. "I have to understand."

[girlwithadragonheart]

Chapter 4 - Ashes to Ashes

This story contains major spoilers for Dragon Age the Veilguard. Read at your own discretion!!

Rook x Lucanis

Summary: Kalais has to choose to save her city or Lucanis's. Things don't end well.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Swearing, Mental-emotional breakdown, Kalais snaps a little

A/N: I love when I develop a character that ends up not taking any shit it's so healing

Chapter 3 DATV Masterlist Chapter 5

We met with Harding’s Warden contacts in the High Anderfels. Antoine and Evka were both very sweet and seemed like they wanted to help. They said they had noticed some things about the Blight that lined up with what we were seeing, everything the First Warden didn’t believe.

They told us about another Warden in the area who was pulled into another mission. Lucanis and I made our way to his last known location. There was a tent and a fire still halfway burning.

“Well, I’d say we found the camp.” Lucanis crouched down on the opposite side of the fire from me. “So did some darkspawn, looks like.”

“They left the fire burning,” Lucanis said.

“Were they ambushed?” Lucanis and I glanced at each other.

We heard a screech, both looking toward the sound. I crossed behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He rose from his crouched position behind me as I tried to find the source of the sound.

The creature screeched again, this time louder, and a ball of feathers was fiving at me, about the size of a mabari. I held my hands out, trying to keep the creature from attacking me. By description, it looked like a griffon, but that couldn’t be right. Griffons were extinct.

“Assan!” A deep voice yelled close by. I looked over seeing a handsome, dark skinned elf. The griffon pounced over to him as he walked up to us, sticking close to his side. “Easy boy.” The man smoothed a hand over his feathers.

“I’ll be damned… a griffon,” I said.

“Trouble is, he’s not sure what you are. Neither am I,” the man said.

“Rook,” I said. “Evka and Antoine sent us. We’re looking for Davrin.”

“You found him. Mind telling me why you smell like darkspawn?” He asked. “Griffons hunt darkspawn.”

“We don’t smell that bad. It’s the tent,” I explained.

“Blight? Where are Lancit and Remi?”

“The camp was empty when we got here,” I told him.

We heard a raged cry from somewhere distant. “Assan! To the trees!” Davrin commanded. “Try to keep up!” He told us.

After killing lots of darkspawn, and finding all of the griffons locked up in cages sealed with blood magic, we found what Davrin called the “Gloom Howler”. Some kind of Darkspawn, undead, bitch queen.

She got away and took the griffons with her before we could stop her.

The four of us made our way back through the eluvian and the Caretaker took us between islands in the Crossroads.

Neve, Harding, and Bellara came running toward us, looking panicked. “What’s happened?” I asked with a furrowed brow.

“The Viper just sent word. Minrathous is under attack by a blighted dragon,” Neve said.

“Has to be the one we saw at D’Meta’s Crossing,” I said.

“Well, one of them has to be,” Harding replied.

“What do you mean, “one of them”?” Lucanis questioned.

“Teia also got in touch. Another dragon is attacking Treviso, too,” Harding told him.

“Mierda,” Lucanis cursed.

“You got back just in time,” Harding said to me.

I took a breath, putting my hands on my hips. “Alright. What do we know?”

“Two dragons at once? Has to be the gods behind it,” she said.

“Teviso’s a merchant city. It has no defenses. And the canals run everywhere,” Lucanis told me. “If we don’t stop that dragon, people will die. Innocent people. My people. They either die right away, from the dragon. Or slowly after, from blight in the water. We need to go to Treviso.”

“And leave Minrathous to burn?” Neve questioned. “You’re a Shadow Dragon, Rook. You know the Viper, Tarquin, every damn Shadow… We’ll fight to the end. But people will get hurt. Or worse,” she said. “And if we fail? The Venatori will take advantage. They’ll make a push for the throne. And hand the gods the entire Tevinter Empire.”

“If we decide to—”

“Damn it! There’s no time!” Neve interrupted me. “It’s my city. Our city. I need to be in Minrathous.”

“And I must go to Treviso,” Lucanis said. “Go where you feel you must, Rook. We cannot wait.” 

Without another word, Neve and Lucanis both ran off. “What’s our move, Rook?” Harding asked.

I ran over what I knew for certain in my head. Minrathous had defenses, including the Archon Palace. I was certain that me and two others would not be able to make much of a difference against a dragon. But I did know that Treviso was already under occupation and its people wouldn’t survive without some extra aid. I also knew that as much as Neve said Minrathous was my city, I was its slave long before I was its savior.

I took a breath, my chest feeling tight with the weight of this decision. “We help Lucanis in Treviso. We have to trust that the Shadow Dragons can take care of things in Minrathous. That said… two of you should join Neve there. See if you can help. And we’ll head to Treviso.”

“Understood,” Davrin said.

“Let’s all try to make it through this alive, all right?”

I brought Davrin with me, leaving the other two to go to Minrathous with Neve. I had to trust that they would be alright. I couldn’t afford to be distracted right now, lest I risk my own hide. When we got to Treviso, the city was burning.

Davrin and I made our way through the city, killing Antaam as we went. With the dragon trying to kill everyone, I suppose they saw their chance to really take over. Or, even worse, they were working for the Gods. ‘Cause that’s what we needed. More enemies.

We ran through the courtyard, seeing Lucanis and Teia up ahead. Lucanis looked so relieved to see us. “Rook! You’re just in time. Where the dragon attacks, the Antaam soon follow.”

“It is strong and fast. You must get its attention, then lure it onto the ground,” Teia said, hands on her hips.

“We’ll figure out a way,” I said, mimicking her stance.

“Draw up your courage,” she said. “We will need it.”

We took up position in the field, Davrin on my right and Lucanis on my left. Ghilan’nain, the horrible beast that she now was, all tentacles and no heart, demanded the dagger from me and said that Treviso offered nothing more than a pawn for Elgar’nan. She clearly couldn’t see the beauty it held.

She sent the dragon after us to retrieve the dagger. Most of my time was spent dodging blows as I tried to keep it off the other two, allowing them to actually hit it.

Enough of my panic built up, that I was able to aim some of it back at the dragon in the form of lightning and fire, beamed directly at its heart. Before we could bring it down, Ghilan’nain called it away, saying she had need of it elsewhere.

“You fought it off!” Teia ran over to us.

Lucanis clutched at a wound on his leg as he limped over to us. “If Ghilan’nain hadn’t called it away…”

“It’s more important that it stopped attacking the city,” I told him, casting a worried glance at the blood staining him.

“Everyone with a home that still stands will agree,” Teia said.

“That thing was tough. It’ll be hard to put down for good,” I sighed.

“What happened to Treviso would’ve been worse if you hadn’t arrived when you did. I cannot imagine how much worse,” Lucanis said looking at me gratefully.

“Still have to help with that dragon in Minrathous,” Davrin said.

“Let’s go,” I said.

—-------------------------------------

Minrathous was covered in Blight by the time we reached it. The streets were crawling with darkspawn and buildings were on fire. Even as I knew I made the right choice, it hurt to see this place like this. I had more bad memories here than good ones, but the good ones outweighed the negative. This was where I met Varric, after all.

We found Neve and Tarquin huddled around Ashur who was on a table, looking miserable and wounded.

“We’re here. What’s the situation?” I asked.

“Where were you?” Neve demanded.

“Treviso. The dragon—”

“This is your city! I thought—”

“My city?!” I almost laughed in her face. “You mean the city I was enslaved to? You mean the city that showed me and other people like me no kindness? The city that’s been corrupted since the beginning of Thedas?”

“And because we were busy fighting the bigger evil, the Venatori took large parts of the city!” She yelled. “We lost people. And Ashur…”

“I’m fine,” he grunted. “She’s right.”

“You are not fine,” Tarquin said, standing. “He took a claw to the gut. A claw from a blighted dragon. Think about that,” he said to me.

“The blight’s in his blood. But that means…” All my fire was gone, and I was just exhausted.

“A slow death,” Neve finished. 

“You’ve brought nothing but trouble since you came back,” Tarquin growled.

My brows furrowed, pained and hurt. Dorian led me to them and all I did was fuck everything up. Lucanis stepped closer, almost protectively.

“It’s not Rook’s fault,” Ashur said. “I chose to engage it.”

“Because it was going for a safe house! Because half of us were already dead!” Tarquin shouted.

“Do you honestly think one more fucking person would’ve changed the outcome?” I questioned.

Tarquin spun on me. “No, but maybe you would be dying instead of him.”

I physically recoiled from the hatred in his eyes, my gut twisting with nausea. I bumped into Lucanis, and he steadied me with a hand on my waist.

“Just go. There’s nothing you can do here,” Neve said, looking over at Ashur.

—-------------------------------

I stumbled through the eluvian in the lighthouse, clutching my chest. My stomach churned, and I thought I might throw up.

“Rook!” I heard Bellara behind me, but I didn’t stop, heading straight through the hall and up the stairs. I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t lead, I wasn’t cut out for it.

I let my feet guide me and before I knew it, I was in the infirmary. Varric looked alarmed as I collapsed to my knees beside his bed, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I fucked up,” I whimpered. “I fucked up, Varric.”

“Hey, hey, hey, kid, take a breath.” He shifted, and I felt his warm hand on my shoulder, gripping me just tight enough to bring me back to reality. “What happened?”

“Minrathous---” I started, getting cut off by a sob. “Minrathous is burning. They took it- The gods took it, and Neve…” My body shook, wracked with sobs as I tried to breathe. “She’s so mad. I don’t think she’s coming back, Varric.” I looked up at him with bleary eyes.

He moved, sliding to the edge of the bed until I was between his legs, and he pulled me into his chest. “Easy, kid.” He had one arm tight around my shoulders, his other hand smoothing my hair. “You can’t save everyone. That’s the life.”

“Neve trusted me. She trusted me and Minrathous is burning now,” I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to suck up the warmth he was giving me. It was so hard to breathe.

“You made a decision based on what limited knowledge you had,” Varric said. “No one can ask any more of you than that. Neve will come back around. Give her time.”

“We don’t have time, Varric,” I said desperately.

“So keep moving forward. That’s what you do, Rook. That’s what you’ve always done,” he said. “She’ll either come around or she won’t. But you can’t afford to spend what little time you have regretting your choices. Let me ask you something: Do you regret the choice you made? Or just Neve?”

I felt silent in contemplation. “I made the right choice,” I said carefully. “Treviso has no defenses, and it’s under occupation by the Antaam. I couldn’t have changed the outcome in Minrathous.” I had to believe that, if nothing else.

Varric squeezed my shoulder, and I pulled back, looking up at him. He smiled with that softness in his eyes that was just reserved for me. He put his thumb and forefinger under my chin so I looked at him. “Then you did the right thing,” he said simply. Carefully, he used his thumbs to wipe my face of tears. “Cheer up, kid. The night may be long, but it isn’t all dark.”

I heard what he said and what he didn’t. Minrathous was doomed to fall some day. We had been fighting a losing battle regardless, much as I hated to leave behind the people there. Half of them were under Venatori control, and the other half were too helpless to fight against it.

“Chin up, Rook. I think the others need you,” he told me.

I nodded, sniffling and wiping the remainder of my tears from my chin and jaw. “I need to talk to Solas.”

“If Chuckles pisses you off too much, hit him for me,” he said as he slid back up to the wall.

I couldn’t help but laugh a bit, shaking my head as I left.

---------------------------------------

“When last we spoke, you were hunting for followers of Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain in hopes of finding “specifics”. Has your search been successful?” Solas asked.

“You could say that. It looks like both the Venatori and the Antaam are working for Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain,” I told him.

“Unsurprising. The Venatori want magical secrets, and the Antaam want to destroy anyone opposing their brutal expansion. Both will readily bow to anyone who promises them power.”

“It’s more than a promise this time. The Antaam and the Venatori both have dragons doing their bidding.”

“Dragons?” He said surprised. “That is worse than I had feared.”

“Yeah. We drove off the one the Antaam brought to Treviso—barely,” I crossed my arms.

“Have you determined how the dragons are being directed? If it is blood magic, it may be possible to disrupt their control.”

“The dragons are blighted. We think that’s what let the gods control them.”

“The blight. Of course.”

“The blight seems to be the gods’ favored tool right now. We ran into Venatori who could control darkspawn,” I said.

“Elgar’nan would not bestow such power unless the darkspawn were to serve as the main force of his army. And I suspect Ghilan’nain will see the darkspawn as new subjects for her… modifications.”

“We’ve already run into a few darkspawn nobody has seen before. That’s in addition to the blighted dragons.”

“That is the fate Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain plan for this world, then. Corruption and blighted slavery,” Solas said, hands clasped behind his back.

“Right… Everyone should be free and uncorrupted when your demons and raw magic kill them,” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Do you truly believe my goal was to destroy this world?” He asked.

“I believe you’re ‘goal’, like you said, was to transfer the gods to a better prison—the one you’re stuck in now. And you were willing to tear down the Veil and destroy with world while you did so,” I spat.

“The Veil is a wound I cut into the Fade in a moment of desperation while aking their prison. It should not exist. I had a host of spirits ready to help when the Veil fell. They would have minimized the loss of life.”

“Do you have any idea what you sound like? You could’ve actually saved the world from the blight, but instead you chose to kill thousands of people with your vanity project!” I shouted.

“It is not vanity! I broke this world. I am the only one who can fix it!”

His shouting didn’t faze me with the huge ravine and the Fade between us. “Spoken like a god,” I said with all the contempt I felt.

“I am not a god! I am as I have always been: a man, all too aware of his failings… But equally aware that if he did not act, accepting the judgment it would bring, all would be lost. They called me the Dread Wolf. What will they call you, when this is over?” He wondered.

“I don’t care what they call me. If they’re calling me anything, it means they’re still alive. That’s all that matters.”

“Acceptance. You are willing to face the consequences your actions may one day bring, because the world needs you. I believe I can work with that.” He smiled, though it felt anything but sincere. “If the gods are using dragons, you will wish to find someone trained to fight them. Have you unlocked the lighthouse eluvian?”

“Yes. We found the Crossroads. It’s still confusing, though.”

“I cannot help you from in here. You may need to find an expert in the magic of the Fade. And if the Darkspawn are to be Elgar’nan’s army, you will need Grey Wardens to fight them.”

“I’ve got a few of them. Their leaders don’t trust me right now, though.”

“I have faith in you, Rook,” Solas said. “You seem to have a knack for gaining the cooperation of your adversaries.”

---------------------------------------

I woke up in a cold sweat---as I often did these days---to someone thumping against my door. I moved over to it quickly, brows furrowing. When I opened it, I had to catch Lucanis. He was struggling to stand, but when he spoke, it was Spite coming through his teeth.

“The idiot is still bleeding. Help him.”

“Walk with me,” I supported him with his arm over my shoulders, and I led him to my chaise lounge. When he sat, the purple glow from Lucanis’s eyes was gone, and he slumped, unconscious. “Fenedhis.”

I could see the blood seeping through the bandage on his leg, staining his loungewear dark red.

“Gods dammit, Lucanis,” I grumbled. I looked up at his unconscious form, regretting what I was about to do before I could even do it. I reached for the buttons on his pants, undoing them and pulling them down to his knees, keeping my eyes on the bandaged wound.

My fingers fumbled with the knot before finally getting it undone, unraveling it, lifting his boot onto my knee to pull the bandage from under his leg. When I got to the wound, I looked at it with furrowed brows. It looked like there was a piece of jagged rock stuck in there, which would explain why it didn’t clot properly.

I sighed, hovering my hand over the wound and pulling the piece of shrapnel with my magic. Lucanis winced. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” I whispered, putting just a bit more power until it flew up and smacked my palm. I set it with the bandages next to him. “Nasty little thing.”

Carefully, I held my hand over the wound again, pushing warmth into it and watching it seal closed beneath my magic. When it was healed, I stood, moving to my wardrobe for a fresh cloth to clean the blood up on his leg.

Before I came back around, I heard a startled grunt from Lucanis. His chest seized, staring at the wall of the aquarium across from him. I internally panicked, realizing he spent a year in the bottom of the ocean tortured.

I moved around the chaise with the cloth, putting myself into his direct line of sight. He looked up at me with wide brown eyes. “Rook?”

Slowly, he loosed a breath, looking around. “Hey, it’s alright. We’re in my room. Spite brought you here because of your wound.” I knelt down in front of him again, starting to mop up his blood.

“Of course he did,” he grumbled, looking down at his lap. He cleared his throat. “Isn’t it customary to ask before removing a man’s clothes?”

I rolled my eyes, hitting him with the cloth. “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better. Well enough to clean yourself.” I stood, throwing the cloth at him.

He caught my wrist as I turned away. “Vuelve mi pequeña polilla, I meant nothing by it.”

My cheeks warmed as he crooned in his native language, and I was pulled back to my knees in front of him, resuming to clean his wound. “You had quite a nasty cut. This was keeping it from closing.” I picked up the piece of jagged rock. 

“Mierda,” he cursed, taking it to inspect it. “I wondered.”

“You would be lost without me,” I teased, wiping my hands on the cloth.

“You have no idea,” he muttered.

“I hope the next time we’re like this it’s not because you’re bleeding out,” I grinned, standing and collecting the dirty bandages to dispose of them. I saw Lucanis’s cheeks flush, and I smiled to myself as I left the room to avoid embarrassing him further. I was sure the last thing he wanted was for me to see him indecent and turned on.

❈❈❈

Lucanis pinched the bridge of his nose, looking up at the dancing reflections of water on the ceiling. It was bad enough that he had awoken half naked in a place of his nightmares. But then a complete one-eighty occurred, and he had the woman of his dreams kneeling in front of him with those mismatched eyes and warm smile.

Spite had brought him here, of course he had. And Kalais had just taken care of him like it didn’t take a second thought. And the things she said, mierda, he wished she would stop trailing him like a moth to a flame. It was dangerous, and it wouldn’t end well for either of them. Spite was Lucanis’s only future. To hope for anything else was futile.

Of course that didn’t stop all blood from running southward when she hinted at something more. Something unattainable, something beyond his imagination. Something impossible, and yet all too good for him anyway.

“She. Wants. You!” Spite growled in his ear. “We want. To taste her!” 

“Enough, Spite,” Lucanis said, standing and buttoning his pants. He didn’t look at the demon. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“We. Want. Rook! Why?” he questioned.

Lucanis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why you want Rook. Possibly because she’s the only one who’s kind to you, though I can’t figure out why,” he muttered.

“No! You want her,” he said. “Her touch. Soft. Her hair silk. Her breath warm! Her lips. What do they taste like?”

“Enough!” He snapped. “She is not ours to have.”

❈❈❈

We all met around the fire in the dining hall. I filled everyone in on what Solas had said.

“So this elven god thinks we need a dragon hunter and a Fade expert?” Lucanis asked.

“He’s right about the dragon hunter, at least,” Harding said. “The Shadow Dragons did all the could. The dragon was just too much.” I frowned, staring into the fire. “The moment the dust settled? The Venatori rushed in. Guess they knew it was coming.”

My chest suddenly felt tight again.

“Neve’s staying for now. She said she’ll be back soon, but… At least you took care of yours,” Harding said to me.

“We hurt it, but didn’t kill it. The dragon flew off before we could put it down,” I said.

“Treviso could have used a dragon hunter. That much is true,” Lucanis said.

“Don’t remind me. Fewer people injured, and we wouldn’t have to worry about it coming back.” My brow furrowed, and I crossed my arms over my stomach.

“We shouldn’t forget about Minrathous, either. We need to do what we can to help. Though there’s no telling how long Neve will be helping the Shadow Dragons…” Lucanis added.

“Hey, let’s not get stuck in our regrets, all right?” Varric came hobbling over.

“Hang on a minute,” Davrin interrupted. “Not only have you retained the services of a demon assassin, you’re also taking advice from the elven god who attempted to tear down the Veil.”

“Spite is my problem,” Lucanis said defensively.

“That’s what they always say,” Davrin retorted. “Rook, Lucanis is one thing, but do you really trust this Solas?” He asked.

“Trust is such a strong word, you know?”

“So you don’t trust him.”

“Ehhh.”

“All right then.”

Harding said she would ask around about Dragon Hunters, and Bellara said she would get a message through to a Fade expert immediately.

“See, Rook? Nothing to worry about,” Varric said.

“All right. We all know what to do. Let’s get going,” I said to dismiss them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list

Have a good day/night!

Tagged: @colombia-chan @bleummie

[ravenrissa]

A Champion's Loss

Hawke returns to Skyhold to help the Inquisitor in their fight to protect Southern Thedas whilst Rook and their team fight the Ancient Elven Gods up North. However, upon her return to the historic building, Hawke is the last person to learn that their oldest and dearest friend is not returning.

Read it here (you will need an AO3 account to read it):

This one's angsty and a little sad, with a smidge of FenHawke mixed in. Plus, major spoilers for Veilguard.

[lostinthewiind]

Way With Words

Varric Tethras - Dragon Age

Genre: Fluff

Rating: All ages

➤ True to his nature as a renowned author, Varric has always been better at expressing himself through the art of written words.

The sound of Varric's quill scratching against parchment sent a chill up your spine—one that scratched a particular itch you didn't even know you had. Perched in his usual spot at the wooden table in front of the fireplace, you sat across from him, watching intently as he frantically worked to get everything down before he forgot even a single, minute detail.

"You don't have to release the book tomorrow, you know," you told him. "Take a couple of days to enjoy the fact that we saved Thedas. Surely that's deserving of a night or two off."

You could tell that Varric had only slightly registered what you had said, his quill faltering for a brief moment before continuing to whip from left to right across the page. Again and again. Flip the page. Left to right. Again and again. New page.

The fireplace crackling behind you lit up his face, basking his features in a warm, orange glow. In this light, you could see clearly as the wrinkles of his forehead deepened; and if you watched his facial expressions closely enough, you could tell which ones were permanent from age and which ones were temporary from stress.

When a pocket of gas escaped one of the burning logs with a loud pop, Varric's eyes shifted up from his work. In that moment, as his eyes darted toward the fire behind you before focusing on your face, you clocked the exhaustion he was trying so desperately to hide—or ignore. His gaze caught yours just long enough for you to notice the dull hue of his usual bright, brown irises.

He flashed a superficial smile before returning to his work. Word after word, he recounted the tale of the Inquisition from the moment he met you to the moment Corypheus was finally defeated.

"Varric." You reached across the table and caught his hand in yours. You felt as the tight muscles in his grip loosened. "Take a break."

Varric's hand twitched in your hold. "I can't. I don't want to forget anything important."

"That makes one of us." You exhaled slowly. "There's so much I wish I could forget. So much I have forgotten."

"Someone has to tell the story. Might as well be me." He smiled again, but this time it seemed more genuine. "Besides, no one else will give it the right amount of flair."

"I would expect nothing less from the legendary author of Swords and Shields." You chuckled. "I'm sure Cassandra is chomping at the bit to read about all the behind the scenes romances of the Inquisition you no doubt have all the insider information on."

That caused Varric to laugh, and finally, the rest of his body relaxed. Quill dropping onto the page, the sentence Varric had been in the middle of writing was left temporarily forgotten; the retelling of a past story was put aside for the making of a new one.

"I really don't know why she likes that garbage, but hey, I suppose there's an audience for everything."

"You're too hard on yourself. It's not that bad."

Varric quirked a brow at you. "Don't tell me you've read them?"

"I've read a few chapters."

Varric hummed, amused. "And?"

"I can see the appeal."

A bark of a laugh. "I never took you as a romantic, Inquisitor."

"I'm full of surprises."

"So I've come to learn."

Suddenly eager to get a sneak peak at you favourite author's newest work, you reached out and grabbed one of the first pages Varric had written. The ink was already dry, the scribbled words a duller shade of black than the newer pages.

Varric didn't protest. Instead, he watched intently as your eyes scanned the page. "Let me know if I missed anything."

"There's details in here that I don't even recall happening," you assured him. "But it's kind of bland. For a romance author, this isn't very flowery. Where's that so-called 'flair'?"

"Such a critic." Varric tried to snatch the paper away, but your sharp reflexes won. "This is just the first draft. Only the facts. The flair comes later."

"Thank goodness, because if this is how you end up describing me in the final copy, I'll hunt you down." You cleared your throat before reciting the words in front of you. "'Inquisitor. Small woman. Prisoner turned ally. Glowing hand.'"

Varric shook his head. "Like I said. The facts."

"Nothing about my bright eyes? My charming smile? Not even a throwaway line about how incredibly beautiful I am?" you joked as you relinquished the page so Varric could put it back in order with the others.

"This isn't that kind of book, Inquisitor."

You leaned back and felt the warmth of the fire on the nape of your neck. "Of course." You smirked. "But if it were, how would you describe me?"

Varric pretended he didn't hear you and instead went back to his writing. His pace was noticeably slower now though, more thoughtful. Something else was on his mind and he was having to think more about what he was jotting down instead of just letting it flow.

"I was a newborn in this world—a world I had lived in all my life, yet somehow I didn't recognize any of it. I stepped out of the fade, my memory lost and a glowing hand gained." You closed your eyes and described the series of events from your point of view. "I had just closed my first fade rift. I was overcome with fear and excitement, a slurry of emotions that had no business mixing. When the possibility of being able to close the breach was mentioned, he spoke. 'Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever.' A man. A dwarf. Handsome, and I could tell he knew it from the way he showed off his abundance of chest hair for any and all to see. But my eyes were drawn first to his crossbow, the weapon he had used to save my life moments earlier; the weapon he would use to save my life more times than I could count."

When you opened your eyes, Varric was staring at you, eyes wide. Speechless.

"It doesn't have to be a romance for it to be romantic," you told him. "Life and death is just as beautiful as any love story."

Still silent, he swallowed hard. Then, grabbing a fresh piece of parchment, he began to write; this time with all the fervor he had possessed originally. Arm resting at the top of the paper, he shielded the words from your eyes.

Head resting in your hand, you sat and watched as he wrote. When he reached the bottom of the page, he stopped and handed it over. "Like any author, I'm better in the written format," he said.

You nodded and began to read.

"No," he corrected. "Out loud. Read it out loud."

"Okay," you chuckled. "'All hope had been lost and then she appeared, stepping out of the fade with determination etched into her features and bright eyes that held the future in them—the world's future ... my future. From prisoner to ally to friend, the more I learned about her, the fonder I grew.'"

You paused and looked up at Varric. He nodded his encouragement. "Keep going."

Your throat suddenly felt dry and your chest tight. "'She was beautiful. She still is beautiful. But she's also so much more than that.'" You were reading slower now, your breath catching on the words. As Varric reached out to take one of your hands in his, your grip on the paper with your other hand tightened. "'Anyone who knows the Inquisitor could tell you that she is smart, brave, kind, compassionate, and so many more wonderful qualities. But not everyone could tell you about the way her smile always reaches her eyes, no matter how exhausted she is, or the way she sleeps so lightly that the faintest gust of wind could wake her. Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one who gets to see the way she curls her hair around her finger when she's feeling playful. Then I pray I'm the only person who gets to see it, because the thought of anyone else making her feel that way causes a sickening feeling to snake its way through my veins. She is-'"

"She is the most incredible person I've ever met in my entire life," Varric took over, having memorized the words after somehow only writing them once. You suspected, however, that they had been within him for a long time. As his hand held yours firmly and the pad of his thumb ghosted over the inside of your wrist, you shivered. "And as things come to an end and time runs out, I think of the past and dread the future because for all of the brave things I've done by her side, I don't know if I'll ever be brave enough to tell her I love her."

You felt a tear fall down your cheek and moved to quickly wipe it away. "If you're that good with words, maybe I should read more of your books."

Varric smiled as he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles. "For you, I'd write down my every waking thought."

"You don't have to." You folded up that paper in your hand and tucked it into your pocket. "This is more than enough."

Varric let out a nervous chuckle. "You're killing me here, love. I gotta know if you feel the same way. Please, put an old man's aching heart to rest."

Standing up, you leaned across the wooden table and cupped his stubbled jaw in your hand and felt his entire being soften to your touch. "Of course, I love you too." You gently pressed your lips against his. With a relieved exhale, he melted into the kiss.

When you moved to pull away, his hand shot up to the back of your head and held you in place, lips ghosting over his, so he could savour the moment. "Just so you know, I'm not putting any of this in my book," he whispered. "I'd like to be the only person to know that you smelt like smoke and tasted like elfroot tea the first time we kissed."

"Cassandra will be so disappointed."

"Me? Disappointing the Seeker? That's never happened before." He grinned as his hand slid down from the back of your head to caress your cheek. "Now come here. I'm suddenly craving the taste of elfroot."

[trillian-n7]

I realise, you just kissed a girl and now I’ve got you chasing leads.

I realise I kissed Neve Gallus and this is part of your charm.

Valka had just been kissed by a woman, by a human, by Neve fucking Gallus. As she blindly pursued Neve through the alleys of Dock Town, her mind raced as she processed the earlier events on the dock. They were friends, nothing more. Sure, they teased each other, but Valka did that with everyone. It was her way of dealing with the constant danger they lived in. It was all in good fun - until suddenly it wasn't. Until she realized she wanted to kiss Neve again.

But she was a woman. A beautiful, intoxicating, exciting woman. Valka’s mind raced as she considered the implications. What did this mean?

Oh…

Fuck…

She was in love with Neve Gallus. 

Their hunt led them to the spillway and, as Neve had correctly guessed, they uncovered more clues she could use to track Aelia. It was more than they had expected for the afternoon trip to Minrathous, yet Valka could not concentrate on Neve’s chatter about the case as they made their way back to the market. 

‘Val, are you listening to me?’ Neve’s voice cut through Valka’s thoughts. 

Valka snapped out of her thoughts and offered a reassuring smile. ‘Sorry, Neve. I was just thinking... How about we grab some dinner? We can discuss the case over a meal.’

[rookinthecrownest]

WIP or Snip, You Decide

Thanks for the tag @nightingaletrash :)

Here's a sneak peak at the next instalment of The Day The World Disappeared.

tags for @hawkeish @lightan117 @thewardenisonthecase and any other writing mutuals if y'all have anything in the works!