Chapter Text
Social life in Thedas was complex. Rook often felt like it was a stacked trifle. The bottom layer being the continent and locations, from the Anderfels, Seheron and Par Vollen in the North down to the Teventer Imperium, Antiva and Rivain, then Nevarra and the Free Marches and Orlais and Ferelden in the south. These primary territories held greater and mixed pockets of races - humans, elves, dwarves and qunari. According to history books it did used to be a little more…secular, but Rook enjoyed that this had changed quite a lot.
This did not completely dictate but had strong influences on social and culture. Magic and Religion too, if Rook thought about it - this all mixed together in this weird layer cake of social definition and expectation. But the true cherry on top was designations.
Alphas, Betas and Omegas.
Alphas, predictably were drawn to positions of leadership and could often be found in higher concentration amongst the armies, or in political circles. Betas made up the majority of the rest of the population, but were never excluded from the same roles as the Alphas, but she found what they lacked in physical prowess and command, they had to make up with intelligence. She had met a few Alphas in her life that relied purely on strength, primarily fighting against them in battle and more often than not, she could find the chink in their armor in their pride.
There was nothing she loved more than to defeat and Alpha. Defeated in combat there was a type of rage in their eyes that made the victory so sweet. Varric had laughed when she would do that.
That was by no means the case for all Alphas, but in Rook’s line of work it was more common that not. She of course knew several Alphas who were not inclined to that lifestyle at all, but nevertheless had a presence about them. She had always felt it, just like everyone else she assumed.
That was until she had presented as an Omega.
Brutal and unfair, she railed against the designation. She wanted to be a soldier! An adventurer! She longed for a life of freedom and travelling and refused to be corralled into the social expectations for Omega life. Subservience. A slave to your own body. Breeding. She hated that one the most. Like she had no choice in the matter. Like she would fuck any Alpha and not have a say in it. It made her skin crawl and her stomach turn over, remembering the blissful happy faces of some of the other Omegas she had met in her life. Mated. Popping out kids. Blurgh. Not for her!
Defiant and independent to the core she had taken matters into her own hands. After experiencing her first heat and having the pure good fortune of being alone in the wilderness when it had happened, she had found a cave, sealed it up and rode it out alone. It had been hell. Pure, absolute hell. The need inside her overrode everything and she knew that if this had happened in the presence of an Alpha she would not have stood a chance, biology compelling her to...well.
Once it had passed she had waited several days, just to make sure she was safe and then travelled directly to Nevarra. She had heard rumours of potion makers there that had, over the centuries, managed to weave a concoction that essentially caused a small death of her designation, as they described it. She had given all the gold she had for a substantial supply and had never looked back. One small warning - whilst it would hold back the effects, heats and for the most part, her scent - it would be rendered almost null and void if she was to meet her mate.
Fat chance of that happening she had scoffed. Mates were a choice and all the pairs she had ever met had occurred because of timing and convenience. If an Omega had presented and gone into heat, often it was the first Alpha that found her that was able to bite her and make her theirs. In some cities and cultures, the Omega would be given options and choices, and given their rarity could take the highest bidder. Some of the sums that Alphas would pay for a mate were astronomical. A favourite tale was about how a Prince of Orlais had offered the entire Western Approach for a single night with a famed beautiful and unmated Omega. She couldn't remember how the story ended, but assumed it was in becoming royalty and yet another possession.
At least the Omega would get some financial stability out of it but Rook hated that thought as well. Like they were a commodity. It felt no better than buying a slave.
No, Rook was happy with her choice. Freedom and autonomy. She would never give it up.
* * *
Present Day.
Rook stands in front of the Crows, eyeing Caterina Dellamorte inside of the Cantori Diamond. Her eyes cast around the room, taking in the wealth and splendor of the place. Although the Antaam were occupying Trevisto, there was no sign of it here. The plush Antivan furniture and large arching windows added elegance and power. A perfect compliment to the room, she notes.
Her eyes then move from Teia and Viago to the woman sitting in the chair. Older and stern, Rook has no trouble placing who she must be. She had heard of this formidable First Talon and she lives up to every bit of her reputation. Rook also detects the scent of an Alpha. Unmistakable and strong she wears it like a classic perfume and it projects and leaves no trace of doubt of who is in charge.
She resists the urge to cast her eyes down, something that her body is screaming at her to do. Alpha! Strong Alpha! Show respect! A voice in her head tells her.
Bite Me she tells it in response, stiffening her back.
Neve had neglected to mention this key piece of information when she had setup the meeting. But then Beta’s often did. It didn’t impact them in quite the same way. Rook had not told anyone of her designation. She had masked it well enough that most assumed she was a Beta. She could not pretend to be an Alpha of course…but her leadership skills were strong and there had not been any questions from the others.
She instead adjusts her stance somewhat and breathes through her mouth so as not to get wave after wave of pure pheromone all up in her nasal cavity.
“The First Talon. I’m honored Which makes you…” her eyes slide to the man standing to her left. At first sniff Rook had found his scent distasteful. There was nothing about his appearance that made her suspicious but some people just tended to smell…off. She tried not to hold it against them, sometimes it was just biology and they couldn’t help it. Rook was not so small minded as to believe in treating people unfairly on first meeting just because of it. She believed actions determined a persons character, not their scent.
But regardless, she was glad that she was breathing in through her mouth. It felt…sour somehow. Her eyes flicker to his outfit and she notes a golden pinion there. Not entirely out of the ordinary but…
“Illario Dellamorte. Her grandson. What brings you here?” he replies and she’s somewhat unsurprised to find his voice is as distasteful as the rest of him. Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it she tells her hind brain which is beginning to growl.
“Right. My target is a pair of elven gods - or thats’s what they call themselves. They’re ancient blighted mages.”
She focuses on Caterina, Teia and Viago when speaking, to stop the urge to growl.
“I need your best. The man who brought blood mages and Venatori to their knees” she states. She had read the file Neve had prepared for her. On paper the man was impressive. His kill count was pages long, and she suspected that wasn’t even the half of it.
“Lucanis” Caterina drawls. Rook’s ears tingle a little, liking the way it’s said with an Antivan accent.
“My grandson. They called him ‘the Demon of Vyrantium. He was the only one who did those jobs” she says, her eyes looking away for the smallest moment.
“Sounds like there’s more to it” Rook replies, smelling intrigue.
Viago’s scowl is focused. “Lucanis Dellamorte is dead. He was killed a year ago, now.”
Rook feels despair sink in her chest. Dead? Then this trip was a waste. Neve’s report had only indicated that he had not been heard from in a year. She supposed it was a possibility, but given the man's record she found it unlikely.
She looks at Caterina, despite wanting to, she wanted to hear it from an Alpha. The old matriarchs face twitches in displeasure, as if Viago’s words had insulted her.
“What I say doesn’t leave this room” she says, low, like a growl and Rook detects the undercurrent of Alpha orders laced into her words. She sees the others all nod in subservience and the overwhelming urge to bow her head once again presses on her. But she wasn’t part of their pack. Caterina had no real sway over Rook…and yet…the strength in her command was hard to ignore.
“The body our people brought back was not my grandson. It was dressed in his clothing, but it had been altered with blood magic to have his face.”
Rooks eyes flick to the others. Viago looks away, as if not willing to believe it. She understood that. False hope was dangerous, and meant the wounds of grief would never properly heal. He struck her as the type of person who liked things clean cut.
An acrid taste hangs in the air and she looks at Illario. His face is a mixture of emotions.
“My cousin is still alive? And you didn’t think to tell me?” he says to his grandmother. Arrogant.
“His ship was attacked” Viago continues. “We new someone sold him out…so you kept your suspicions to yourself.” His tone is wondering, considering such implications.
“But you’ve brought it up now. Why?” Rook asks, unable to contain her curiosity.
“I’ve had eyes on the Venatori ever since they took my grandson from me. They were hunting your Dread Wolf. And what you did to his ritual threw them into disarray” she states, her hand gripping her cane. Was that…admiration Rook detected in her tone? She feels a small puff of pride. At least some good came from what happened at the ritual site.
“They made mistakes. And now I have a location. The Ossuary. Where the Demon of Vyrantium is kept.” Her tone is so sure, so commanding, Rook feels hope blossoming in her chest.
Viago looks skeptically at Teia at this announcement, but does not say a word.
“Find this Ossuary. Free Lucanis. You’ll have your god-killer. And I’ll have my grandson” she offers. A contract then? Rook nods, agreeing to the terms.
She stands then. “Illario, take them to the boat” she commands. Rook watches as his eyes flicker with…something for the smallest moment. “Of course First Talon” he replies, bowing a little.
Viago and Teia follow her as she departs and Rook looks to their guide. She’ll be holding her breath a little longer then. Behind her, Bellara shifts a little nervously. She had been remarkably quiet and almost hidden during that entire exchange. Rook knows its something she does, when she doesn’t feel comfortable and she reaches out to gently touch her shoulder.
“You ok Bel?” she asks, gently.
“Oh yes. I’m fine. I can’t believe we are going to The Ossuary. I have read about it before you see, but have never been there. Obviously. I’ve never been arrested before” she says, rambling a little bit.
“Then it will be a fun adventure. You’ll be able to see it up close and know if what you read about it is accurate.”
The historian in her likes that. She beams and flickers back to her enthusiastic self.
“I don’t have all day” Illario spits, and Rook looks to see him crossing his arms and scowling at the two of them.
She sighs and follows.
Down the staircase and towards the zipline he begins speaking. “Come. Caterina arranged a boat. One of our mages will meet us there.”
“A boat?” Rook asks, wondering if the Ossurary was perhaps on an island.
“Did you think the Venatori would keep a normal prison?” he sneers. “Or that one could hold the Demon of Vyrantium?”
Rook’s senses again pick up on a tone there. Something that went beyond just pride in his cousin and it felt…off. But she didn’t have time to analyse the intricate workings of a family or pack drama. He was taking them where they needed to go. The rest felt irrelevant.
“The Ossuary lies beneath the sea. A fact I learned mere minutes ago.” he adds.
Ok…sor-reeey Rook’s snarky little internal Omega snips at him. We also just learned this mere minutes ago.
“You’re not happy Caterina kept this from you” Rook surmises.
“Would you be?” he snips back.
“Lucanis is family. Maybe she thought I’d act too rash if it meant saving him. And now…Who can say if he’s even still alive?” Illario’s complains.
They come up to the dock where a small boat waits with a mage inside.
“There. You take the boat. I’ll make sure we weren’t followed” he growls.
Rook and Bellara get in and she looks up at the Crow.
“Are you coming with us?” she asks, hoping he says no.
“It’s possible we’ve been watched. If all of us vanish from the dock…” he gestures, almost theatrically.
“You play the alluring hero” he croons.
Ew. Ew, ew ew her hind brain says, shaking it’s muzzle in distaste.
“I know Trevisto. If we have a tail, I have a better chance of distracting their interest” he justifies.
Works for me Rook thinks. She didn’t really want to be around him longer than she had to.
With silent motions the mage moves the paddle through the still Antivan waters and out past the other boats, away from the city. The further they go the cleaner the air and soon Rook finds herself admiring the general landscape. Adventuring really took you places.
Slowly the boat comes to a halt and the mage stands up. No island…no elevator…Rook wonders again how this all works.
“So, how do we get in?” she asks the obvious question.
“You’ll see” the mage replies, beginning to cast.
A whirlpool begins and Rook’s heart just about leaps into her chest. She can’t swim!
But it’s alright. The magic transports them down and she looks in awe as the water surrounds them without engulfing them.
Bellara is equally amazed and Rook can see her taking notes furiously in her notebook.
Eventually, they reach the bottom. “I will wait here for your return” the mage says as Rook steps out of the boat and onto the sandy bottom.
“Good luck” she says.
Rook looks towards the strange landscape, a world under the sea and nods. “C’mon Bel. Lets go get us a Demon.”