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“I loathe the way you look in this outfit.” Lucanis grumbled, as his hands smooth out the fabric of the Venatori uniform Rook had thrown on haphazardly. Lucanis was apparently one of the few in their team that had taken care to pay attention to how the Venatori tied their robes, and which way their golden old god brooches were supposed to face. He and Neve had gone around fixing everyone else’s clothes, and Lucanis was fixing Rook’s last. Mostly because Rook’s had been the worst. And also because he was really trying to avoid looking at Rook when he’s in these colors. He pulled at the belted tie, then loosened it unhappily when he saw how that enunciated Rook’s thin waist further.
He wondered if all Mourn Watchers were skeletal.
“Mm-hmm.” Amused, and rather dismissive, Rook put the hood up, further hiding his face, he’d look like any other Venatori, and Lucanis’ face soured further.
“You do know I’m prone to killing mages who wear this uniform?”
“Oohh, we’re going straight to death threats tonight?” Rook asked, rather flirtatiously and Lucanis slapped his shoulder, glancing backwards in sudden worry that one of the others had heard. They hadn’t, since they were quite a ways off in the small alcove where they’re changing their clothes. Little privacies. Lucanis turned back to look at Rook, fixing him a reprimanding look.
Rook smiled at him, though Lucanis noticed he had continuously rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. Nervous. He wondered if Rook knew he had that tic. Probably not, because he seemed eager to act like everything’s fine, nodding his head and leading them back to get closer to the others.
“Why are these sticky?” Bellara harshly whispered.
“Blood. Hopefully.” Strife answered, “One of you is wearing the uniform from the man Rook scared half to death and I’m fairly sure the mess in his breeches also got to–”
A chorus of disgusted groans and immediate requests for him to stop explaining that detail sounded out from everyone.
Strife snorted, then returned to his usual serious demeanor. “I’ll be leading a team of Veil Jumpers and try to use another way, keep the exits clear for the Dalish. Figure out where they’re kept, and free them. And do not stand out.”
“Why are we sending the known mage-killer out, then?” Davrin pointed out at Lucanis who folded his arms, squinting at the Warden just out of principle.
“Your ears would probably be a dead giveaway.” Strife dryly said, “Your horns as well.” He nodded at Taash who shrugged and muttered out, “Venatori parties are lame anyway.”
“Suffice to say, it’s best if the humans go, which in this case…” Strife made a point with Rook, Neve, Lucanis and Emmrich.
“Neve’s Tevinter, she’d be the best at pretending to be a Venatori.” Rook said
“Sad. But true.” She sighed dramatically. “And if I’m playing a magister witch with two Venatori bodyguards, it’d make more sense to have younger men with me. Even if these two…” She used her finger to flick Rook’s forehead who let out an ow! “... Absolutely ruined the last Venatori party they went to.”
Lucanis wasn’t particularly happy about that either. The last time Rook infiltrated a Venatori party had the mage almost dying in his arms. Rook, however, seemed plenty pleased at the memory of it. “Aw, Neve come on, you read the papers about it with me! Since we didn’t leave any witnesses, none of the Venatori knew what happened and thought it was a curse. They're calling it ‘The Red Death’. Bet you 10 silver coins it’ll be in the theaters in a few years.”
“Keep your curses to a minimum this time.” Strife said, very seriously and Rook lifted his hands in surrender.
“Keep our heads down. Get the Dalish out. And no curses.” Rook repeated.
–
Rook looked pretty much ready to break the no curses rule himself, blue eyes staring straight at the halla that’s suspended in the air. It kicked and yelped, limbs twisting and bones rearranged inhumanely, “Rook, we don’t have to watch this.” Neve warned, “It won’t be pretty.” But Rook kept stubbornly staring at the poor animal– and then slam! Loud jeers and cheers as the creature now a cloud of blood.
Neve looked away, disgusted. Purposefully leaving the spot.
They need to move. Lucanis risked getting closer, clapping along to avoid attention to himself. He stood next to Rook, elbows brushing. “They will pay. One way or another.” He whispered out.
With his hood up and from his position, Lucanis can’t quite tell what face Rook is making, but it must've been enough of a comforting thought for now that Rook finally stepped away; they silently split up, looking for clues on where the Dalish might be held.
Lucanis saw Neve picking up a glass of wine next to a group of Venatori that were sitting on the backs of their slaves who looked wretchedly miserable, but all too used to the treatment.
“Are you from Minrathous?” A woman asked him, suddenly. Lucanis turned to her, he hadn’t expected someone would strike a conversation.
“Vyrantium.” He answered, perhaps rather unwisely.
“Vyrantium? Then you must know Magister Renata? Oh, was she peerless. Shame she wouldn’t be able to enjoy today’s festivities.”
Lucanis hummed, “Yes, pity. She’d have loved to compare prison notes.”
A laugh, “Even her ladyship wouldn’t be a match to our god’s demands of a cage.”
Should’ve known idle chatter wouldn’t have got him to know where the prison was.
A few Venatori rolled over to where they were, one of them crowed with a teasing lilt, “Whyyy, if it isn’t Auralin Vera herself! Does your father know you’re here?”
Vera scoffed, though she kissed the air near the left and right cheek of the male Venatori, “Please. The old fool would disinherit me.” A sigh, “I’d have thought the old toad would die by now, but nooo, he clings to life like the miserable embarrassment he is. If I had his magisterium seat…”
“My prices are reasonable, my dear.” The Venatori cooed and Vera laughed, “Reasonable enough to bleed me dry, cicaro!”
“You’d do well to consider it, Lady Vera, the news of this gathering is everywhere. Your father would have put two and two together on the timing of your absence.” A younger toadie of the old Venatori said. He looked around, and Lucanis slowly stepped away, as if to politely give more space to the man.
Just as he walked away, he could hear the man say again, rather hushed, “I’d wager the news even reached our enemies. Do you think Rook will come…?”
Lucanis swallowed, dipped his head and moved even further away, picking up his pace. From his peripheral vision he saw Neve and Rook get out of an enclosed room, perhaps a vault of some kind. Their eyes met and she shook her head faintly, looking quite annoyed. Figures none of the Venatori wouldn’t have bothered to write down where the Dalish were.
He joined them as Neve led them further into the party, into the outdoor area. The sun was unforgivably beating down on them once they’re underneath it. There’s a fountain, overridden with vines and dust, and the lack of water in it just made the entire place feel hotter than it should. As Neve walked further, a guard halted her, and in turn made both Lucanis and Rook stop in their tracks behind her, “Stop. I don’t recognize any of you.”
Rook was shifting his weight nervously. Lucanis glanced around the exit points, hands slowly reaching towards a hidden dagger… and then Neve’s voice, commanding and cruel, “You don’t recognize me?”
“I don’t. Uh. Magister… uh… Lady…” The Venatori stuttered, looking at Lucanis and Rook who stared at him back, unhelpfully.
“Appalling.” Neve spat out, she turned to look at Rook, “They’ll hire anyone these days.”
“I’m– my humblest apologies, my lady, but I was given instructions to…”
“Why am I still waiting? Where are the gods? When does the ritual start?”
The Venatori looked taken aback, even with his mask on, “G-gods? There’s only Lord Elgar’nan here, and he said it’s of most importance that he’s left alone while he prepares..”
Neve groaned, “Useless. Out of my way!” The Venatori quickly stepped aside, and Neve strutted in, while Rook and Lucanis followed closely behind like her shadow.
They kept walking until Neve found a quiet area, rather hidden behind some cascading vines. “It’s Elgar’nan, not Ghilan’nain like we thought.” She whispered out. Rook lifted his hood slightly with a thumb, huffing out slightly as he’s getting uncomfortably warm, “Hey, less tentacles is a good thing.”
“I wouldn’t mind another try at her if she was here.” Lucanis grumbled, it still kept him up at nights, how he missed.
“I wouldn’t have let you close to her anyway, not here.”
Lucanis understood the why’s in theory–the Dalish takes precedence, along with the fact they’re knee-deep in enemy territory– but that doesn’t mean he should be happy about it. Rook nodded at Neve, grinning, “Got any more impressive evil magister act up your sleeve to get us more intel?”
Neve smirked, “What can I say? They expect strength and power from someone like me.”
“A mage?” Lucanis dryly asked. He somewhat regretted his tone when he remembered he’s in the presence of two mages, both who gave him a rather deadpan look of one whose patience was being tested. Oops.
“A Tevinter mage,” Neve corrected, “Show them what they expect, and they won’t ask questions. Maybe a consideration while you mingle, Lucanis?” She raised an eyebrow.
He shrugged, and slipped into a Tevene accent– practiced over the years for more covert contracts, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Anything from your mingling, though?” Rook asked.
Lucanis shed the accent, back to his usual speaking tone, “A vague mention about the Dalish being held in a prison with more airtight security than Zara’s Ossuary, from a certain Auralin Vera.”
“Vera?” Neve repeated, frowning, “I know him, he was sympathetic to the Lucerni back when they were still a political faction. Damn, his daughter’s a Venatori? I’ll need to warn him.”
“Be quick about it, I believe she’s considering hiring an assassin.” Lucanis said.
A heavy sigh at that, another thing to add onto her plate, most likely. “Let’s go, this coat’s giving me a rash.”
They split up again. Lucanis smoothly took a glass of wine as he kept his ears perked to hear what the Venatori were gossiping about. There’s a growing migraine in his head. Almost akin to the usual pain he’d get when he’s close to blood magic– the dull pain had been present here and there, when he gets too close to some slaves or certain mages. But this was different. This was more powerful somehow, and completely beyond his understanding.
There’s mentions of waiting, and Lord Elgar’nan. He spied Rook already making a humble patrol around and possibly not finding anything either. His attempt to reach Lucanis was halted by two Venatori, deep in a conversation, walking towards the edge of the garden.
“I’m just saying…” The younger Venatori, with thin cat-like whiskers of a moustache says to a woman who’s sneering at him. “Learning about the enemy is a great way to ensure they don’t get a jump on us..”
“There’s learning about the enemy and being a fan of them.” She scoffed, “Have you forgotten which side you’re on?”
“No, no!” He stammered, “But think about it, what if… we could turn him.” He grabbed her shoulder, giving her a somewhat friendly side hug and used a free hand to paint a picture, “Think about it… riding at the head of Tevinter’s fast armies with Rook on our side.”
The wine in his mouth turned and Lucanis had half a mind to spit it out.
She snorted, “Forget it. The man might be dangerous but he’s not worthy enough to be our general.”
“He took down both blighted dragons! That’s impressive in itself, and didn’t you hear about the Red Death? Every single victim either exploding to their death or bleeding out of all orifices? If that doesn’t warrant a general title, I don’t know what will.”
“Ugh, not this again, that mansion’s just cursed, that’s all! Or are you going to blame all the unexplainable mysteries of Tevinter to a single Crow?”
A what now.
“He’s not an Antivan Crow, he’s a Lord of Fortune!”
Lucanis doesn’t know what he should be feeling right now. Offended on Rook’s behalf? Tickled? A glance at Rook showed the mage was tapping his foot unhappily while staring a moss-ridden statue of Mythal to death, waiting for these two to pass by and rejoin Lucanis and Neve.
“Whatever, you’re delusional. Next you’ll be telling me he’s actually a spirit that could appear anywhere and smells like death and destruction.”
“...Well now that you mention it.. do you think Rook smells nice?”
Spite jolted under his skin at that, hissing.
“You are UNBELIEVEABLE!” She cried out as she left while he ran up to catch up to her, desperately defending himself once more.
Rook eagerly stepped around them, and joined Lucanis as they walked quietly to where Neve was waiting for them in front of a bridge.
“I could stab them for you. On the house.” Lucanis offered and Rook actually let out a laugh. Spite prodded at Lucanis’ heart, begging for more. Mineminemine– “Though the idea of the Rook being a Crow isn’t such an unwelcome thought.” Ours.
“Keep your voice down!” Rook hissed out, glancing around warily, and Lucanis huffed. He opened his mouth to say something again, when an unwelcome voice rang out through his head, demanding attention. That same unexplainable pain.
“I feel you–” A man’s voice, commanding and prideful, “I see you. I know how you suffer… come to me, I will ease your soul…”
Spite scrambled around, all claws and nervous tittering. Lucanis swatted the noise away as best as he could, “No. We do not need another voice in here.” He muttered to himself. Lucanis glanced around to see most of the Venatori in the bridges were incoherent, yelling in excitement in a frenzy, cheering at something at the other edge.
Warily stepping closer towards it, he saw Neve shutting her eyes, breath hitching, “Venhedis… Out of my head…”
Like clockwork, the voice comes back in Lucanis’ own head, “What a sorry way to live. Being an abomination– ousted by your own family… I could give you what you want.”
Spite desperately clung against Lucanis. Arguably if there was anyone who could separate him and Spite it’d be an all-powerful elven god who is privy to ancient magic. It startled Lucanis somehow, that he recognized Spite’s desperation as a kind of fear–and how in turn it had made him angry instead of the usual way around. “All I want from you is a blade in your heart.” Lucanis thought out, very clearly, just in case Elgar’nan was listening.
Rook pushed through the last of the Venatori, and then they saw the god himself, standing in front of them, he was spewing an almighty speech, lifted up his hands to the sky… and an archdemon flew out from behind him, roaring and incredibly large.
Lusacan.
“Shit, we need to move now,” Rook whispered out to Neve, “We can’t make a move at him un– unle…” his words trail off, as Elgar’nan’s voice reach out to them once more. Stronger than before.
Distantly he could hear Neve whisper out, “Rook?” She shook her head, struggling to concentrate. Lucanis could barely think for himself either, he could feel Spite nipping at invisible forces, trying to ward them off in his own head.
And then, like a saving grace– Bellara’s voice, “Mythal’enaste, this magic is too strong.. I can’t… I can’t break it…”
Neve heaved a relieved sigh, and Lucanis could feel her call out to the Fade, “We got this Bellara…” She pulled and refined, until her own magic was in harmony with Bellara’s and then… the voice was shut off completely, in blissful silence. Rook gasped, looking around, but Neve caught his arm, and Lucanis’ wrist, pulling them along with her urgently. “Bellara’s up in the trees– don’t look– she bought us some time, concealing us. But Elgar’nan will know, and soon. The jig is up, we have to go now.”
They stumble through Venatori who were staring in manipulated awe of Lusacan and Elgar’nan, dipping through the side. Lucanis sees the walkway to the stadium Elgar’nan was standing to address his subjects. Everyone was worshipping him too much to be alert.
He stopped Rook, “Elgar’nan’s defenseless, give me the dagger.” He sees a peek of the dagger under Rook’s robe, and went to grab it. Rook caught his wrists, clutching it harshly, “No,” He hissed out. Lucanis frowned at him but Rook continued, “Didn’t you see that giant archdemon? He’s immortal right now. And once you strike him, the Dalish are going to die– I’m not risking their lives.”
Rook pulled his hood back completely, pulling his staff out, “Whatever happens, we need them out. We–” A magical strike passed by them and they ducked.
“Shit, Venatori!” An inhumane guttural yell came from above them and Rook blasted the Darkspawn jumping at him away with an icicle, “Annnd darkspawn.”
“He’s sending the cult after us!”
Rook placed a large rot spell over them, providing just enough moment for them to brandish their weapons, and take a firm breath in, bracing themselves.
“Sorry, no gods on the menu tonight, Lucanis, how about a shitload of Venatori instead?” Rook asked apologetically.
Lucanis huffed, rapier at the ready. Spite was already brimming with energy, eager and willing. “I suppose it’ll have to do.”
–
Lucanis whipped his rapier down, ran his hands through his hair. It’s wet with sweat and blood and what he hopes were pieces of organic matter and not blight. But he’s growing less certain by the minute.
An entire Venatori army and being stuck in a hall with a mechanical blood-magic-fuelled death trap was preferable than whatever this was. They were now trapped by Elgar’nan, whose voice had continued to mock and berate them. By this point the god had figured out who they were and why they’re here… which did not bode well for the fate of the Dalish.
And yet, they’re stuck here, a loop of the same maze-like halls, overtaken by vines and more and more blight.
They go through another possible exit, only to come right back to where they first started. Rook’s clearly losing his wits, “Oh, COME ON!” He yelled.
“Rook, what about the Dalish? Are we certain they’re still safe? What if Elgar’--”
“One thing at a time,” Rook snapped at Neve before taking a deep breath in. It did not help matters, surely, the place they’re in was horribly damp and smelled rotten, like there was no fresh air available. But next he spoke, he had forced out some form of calm, rather apologetic, “Sorry– just… Let’s just focus on getting out of here first. Any ideas what he’s doing, Neve?”
“A pocket in the Fade, made by thinning down the Veil.”
“That’s what I thought too, but if it is the Fade, there should be an exit.” Rook shifted around, “And the space should be affected by our thoughts and memories too. This is all just Elgar’nan’s magic. This doesn’t..” Rook suddenly stopped, and looked back, like one would when they heard they’re being called.
“... Solas?” Rook called out, confused. Lucanis turned to look at him, startled and Neve halted all movements. She fished warily, “Something wrong?”
Rook looked back at her, blinking, “I thought I just heard Solas.” He was looking around, clearly looking for the source of the sound. Neve and Lucanis looked at each other in alarm at that. With everything that’s currently happening, they did not need Solas to crack Rook’s head open right now.
Rook must’ve heard something again, because he winced, head tilting slightly, like he’s trying to hear better. He took a shaky breath in, eyes casted low, before he shook his head, “I heard him again. Tell me one of you heard that too.”
“Heard what?” Lucanis asked, stepping forward, but Neve threw an arm out and held him back from getting closer to Rook.
Rook winced again, obviously listening to Solas in his head. He mumbled out, “I’m really busy right now, this is not the time for you to do this, Solas.” He swallowed, sighed out, “What kind of assistance?” His knitted brows start to lose its frown. Instructions. Rook nodding along. Uncharacteristically obedient. Lucanis glanced at Neve in dismay at that just to see she was staring straight at Rook, studying and analyzing.
“What do you mean?” Rook asked, and then he winced harshly, jumping like someone had yelled in his head. He looked back at Neve and Lucanis at that, hands open like he’s trying to say can you believe this guy.
“Let’s keep going, Solas said he’s going to distract Elgar’nan.”
“Distract him how?” Neve prompted.
“A lot of yelling.” Rook winced again, he made a rowing motion with his hand, “Come on, let’s go, let’s go.”
Staying in place wasn’t exactly a good idea anyways, so they followed Rook’s suggestion to find the space was no longer as maze-like as it had before. Elgar’nan’s yelling had now been directed at an invisible source. Lucanis had heard bits of it at first, like it was from a faint street harker a block away– but now Elgar’nan had vacated his head completely, seemingly finding his target was solely living in Rook’s head.
Even with Elgar’nan no longer trapping them in a loop, the small pocket he trapped them in was plenty of trouble. A missing bridge that had to be fixed with an elven artifact. Blight boils at every turn. Darkspawn trouble. And through it all, Rook was far too quiet, most of his shots missed its mark, like he was having a hard time concentrating. When he completely slipped on a patch of wet blight and almost hit himself against a wall of mutated vines and mushroom, Lucanis caught the edge of his coat, yanking him backwards.
“Rook,” Rook barely acknowledged him, eyes unfocused, breathing uneven. He’s covered in cold sweat. Lucanis called out again, dreadfully worried, “Rook, are you..”
“I can hear them in my head..” Rook whispered out, unfocused. He shook his head once, blinking as if he’s seeing Lucanis for the first time. He pushed Lucanis’ hands away. “Let’s go…” He said, rather listlessly, clutching his staff harder than he has to.
Darkspawns prevented Lucanis from asking further questions. It was only after the lot of their wretched kind disappeared that Lucanis could sheathe his blade and hear Rook was muttering to himself again, “It’s okay. It’s fine. We can do this.” and then more urgently, “We have to do this…”
Was that to Solas? Or was that Rook talking to himself?
He’s never seen Rook like this before. It’s unnerving, seeing him unravel bit by bit. “Rook, it’s…” He sees Rook wince again, almost instinctively swatting the side of his head at something he just heard. As if he had been so appalled at it. Hitting himself had apparently made Rook notice something when his head inadvertently turned to the side. Eyes widening. Bits of himself coming back, “Wait, I think I see a way through!”
Lucanis looked at where he’s looking, and saw it as well. A light through a faint crack. They scrambled towards it, and climbed out. The air was much more breathable here. The pain behind his eyelids relenting, just slightly. Spite’s wings less bunched up against his ribs as he sighed out in relief.
“We’re out,” Neve announced, relieved as well. Rook pointed at the red-hued cage ahead of them, “And look, the Dalish are still there! Come on, we have to move!”
There’s Venatori everywhere. Lucanis felt Spite growl out through his tongue. The demon was frustrated, and Lucanis shared the sentiment. Every time he killed one another seemed to take its place, yelling in madness, daggers and blasts of blood crystals. Neve had localized a blizzard against a circle of them. Lucanis stabbed through another one, his eyes scanning the perimeter to find Rook’s rot engulfing one, then two… but when Rook would often move on to another enemy, he stayed on these ones for far too long. The rot ate at the Venatori’s skin down to their bones, and even through that as well.
“Rook, that’s enough!” Neve yelled out, and Lucanis popped his wings out eager to fly and snap Rook out of it himself. He narrowly avoided a Venatori that had tried to strike him. Lucanis hissed at the bastard, stabbing him cleanly. He doesn’t have time for this. When he turned back to look, he saw Neve had finished the last of the Venatori that was around her, trying to get his attention once more, “Rook? Rook!”
The Watcher’s magic abruptly stopped, he gasped, “What? Were you talking to–” Another Venatori attack, and Rook dodged in the opposite direction. Rook shook his head, trying to stay awake, “Sorry, they’re… very loud.”
Spite was hissing possessively at that. Mine. and Hurt. Despite the evident distractions, Rook somehow managed to beat the Venatori thrown their way, and after what felt like forever they made their way through the wards, freeing the Dalish elves. Rook spewed out clear instructions, where to go, a safehouse none of them knew before. One owned by Solas. There’s even wards still in place that would shield them from Elgar’nan’s eyes until things calm down and they could move somewhere further that was safer.
They ran off, desperate and panicked. Their team met up with Bellara’s and Strife’s. Taash and Davrin yelling at them to move. Harding immediately running ahead of them all, scouting the place first. Lucanis had followed their tail. He paused when he realized Rook was hanging back, just at the edge of the cliff, looking at someone.
Elgar’nan.
Their eyes had locked against each other, and Rook was frowning at the self-proclaimed god. Far too away for them to do anything about each other. Rook ran back, eyes meeting Lucanis next. “Let’s go.”
Lucanis nodded, as they ran with the others to the safehouse.
–
Reaching the safehouse was surprisingly not an issue, and Strife and Bellara were even planning on moving immediately through the eluvian. Night will fall soon, which meant they had the cover of darkness. Everyone else was either crying in relief, or catching their breaths, in complete disbelief that they managed to survive being in breathing distance of an archdemon, and the wrath of an elven tyrannical god. Loud murmurs and frantic movements across the cave.
Rook sighed out next to him, relaxing slightly, shoulders loosening tension. He let his staff down. The silverite edge of it softly hits the ground. And then, the scent of blood. “Rook,” Lucanis said, horror creeping in.
“Mmm?” Rook turned to him, questioning, and Lucanis’ heart fell further because he hadn’t even realized.
“Rook, you’re bleeding.” Lucanis said, hurrying to put his hands on Rook’s shoulders, walking him towards the nearest place to sit. Rook blinked, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand, it came back bloody. He was forcefully sat down on a dusty old crate, it creaked under his weight but held sturdy.
“Oh.” Rook said dumbly, staring at the blood. “I guess I am.”
“Emmrich?” Lucanis called out urgently, looking around, trying to find the necromancer through the crowd of elves. Harding walked to them, “What’s the matter?”
“Where’s Emmrich?” Lucanis asked urgently. “Or Neve?”
“I’m fine,” Rook mumbled out, looking anything but, his nose was still gushing out fresh blood, and he hadn’t even bothered to pinch it shut or anything. “This happens sometimes.”
Lucanis snapped his head back. Sometimes? When? He’s never seen Rook start bleeding out of nowhere. Alarm ran across Lucanis’ head. Was this really a common occurrence that none of them were privy to?
He wiped a palm across Rook’s forehead, pushing back sweat matted hair that had fallen forward. Rook’s always so cold… Neve was rushing towards them, Lucanis could tell even without looking, her prosthetic leg making loud thunks against the cave’s floor. “I’m here, what’s– kaffas.”
“I’m fine, I…” Rook stopped, as he blinked and realized they were all looking at him, concern palpable. He shut up, swallowed harshly, “... Okay, yeah, I could use an elfroot potion.”
Harding sighed in mild relief at that, “I’ll look for one!” She said, leaving. Emmrich finally turned up, “Did someone say they needed me? Oh, goodness.”
“It’s fine Emmrich, I just need some elfroot.” Rook calmed him, “Why don’t you check on Neve and Lucanis instead?”
“Me?” “Me???”
They asked, incredulous and simultaneously and Rook shrugged, “We were all walking on blight.”
“You were walking on what?” Davrin called out from the other side of the cave.
“I’m completely fine, don’t distract us with–” Neve started, but Emmrich had pushed her to the side, “Now Rook has a point, it’s best to be safe, Neve, it really wouldn’t do well if you lost your other leg. Lucanis, come with, please?”
Harding came back with a potion, and Rook took it gratefully, pleasant Mourn Watch manners. He smiled at them shooing them away. Neve couldn’t argue against Emmrich, as she’s pulled away.
Lucanis frowned at him. It did not escape his notice that Rook’s thumb had brushed over his enclosed knuckles holding the cork of the elfroot potion.
Emmrich called out to him again and Lucanis turned, allowing Rook his escape for now. There’ll be time to confront him about this later.
–
Later might never come at this point.
After Arlathan, things were hectic. Making sure the Dalish were safely evacuated. Spy work in Dock Town. Finding out all of the Venatori in the party had all been eaten by Lusacan for his sustenance after a long slumber. A trip to Dock Town, where Darkspawns run amok in the sewers– the enchantment around their cages gone with the mages that were eaten by an archdemon.
It wasn’t all bad, the failing enchantments and Darkspawn led them to a cave filled with terrified slaves. And then there was rescuing them. And figuring out where to relocate them safely out of Dock Town for now. And then it was checking up on Lavandel–
Most of their team were busy going in and out of the Lighthouse, frantically contacting people. Short team meetings. Getting brushed away by Rook with new orders. Lucanis had half a mind that he was avoiding him, until he realized Rook was simply avoiding everyone.
In House Dellamorte, they don’t talk about self-sabotage unless it affects contracts. It is why they don’t talk about Tio Alvaro anymore– Caterina’s youngest son. Rebellious in the worst ways; he lacked discipline and Caterina had banned him from undertaking contracts after he’d rather chase his fixes than fulfilling his duties. The other houses still whisper that Caterina herself had issued a contract within her own house’s assassins for her own wayward son. In reality, she didn’t have to. Alvaro had succumbed to his own vices. Too much dice, wine and women. A servant found him in his room, stiff and blue. A single mysterious line of substance on the desk he still had not consumed.
Tio Alvaro sired no children, and his death was swept aside as neatly as possible. Caterina had disowned him long before his death, but even now her lips purse unhappily if they slip and mention his name. Her brand of grief over Alvaro will forever be anger at wasted potentials and squandered chances.
Illario remembered the man more than Lucanis. Illario remembered more about their childhood in general before their parents died than Lucanis. He said Tio was always laughing, never staying in one place for too long, stealing toast and eggs from the plates of his nephews and nieces during breakfast and running off when they whine and giggle while their parents click their tongues and scold him. Harmless crimes to hide his bigger ones. Hiding his red-ringed eyes by not looking at anyone else's.
Lucanis sat in the library, stewing in that knowledge, and the fight between wanting to confront Rook and leaving him be. Rook was not a Crow, so it was unfair to hold Rook to their standards. And yet he somehow understood Caterina’s anger about Tio Alvaro better now. In between all his seething, the door leading to the eluvian room was kicked open, and up comes Taash, carrying Rook like a sack of bricks.
Lucanis stood up from his chair, anger snuffed out to bewilderment.
“Taash, let me down–” Rook struggled, flapping and struggling, but his limbs couldn’t reach anything. Harding and Bellara came up behind them.
“What happened?” Lucanis asked.
“Nothing happened! Maker, fuck, let me go!”
Lucanis blinked at that, when had Rook ever prayed to the Maker? Even to blaspheme?
“Oh, oh this is really really bad,” Bellara said, pacing around the room. Harding had run off immediately to the courtyard. “This is really, so very bad…” Bellara muttered.
“Bellara??” Lucanis asked, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t even know where to... Okay, okay, from the start? Um, so it happened right around the area where Elgar’nan was holding his ritual for Lusacan. There were plenty of statues of the Forgotten Ones there, all broken down, some carvings with ancient elven… I was trying to read through one of them and then Rook over here helped me read, like–really read it, like he knew what it said! And then he started bleeding!”
Lucanis snapped his attention to Rook at that, noticing the faint blood stains under his nose that he’d clearly tried to wipe off earlier. On top of that there’s a fresh bruise on his temple.
Harding came in with Neve and Emmrich, she was also explaining, fast-paced, and frantic, “--and afterwards he just fell down with no warning!”
That explained the bruise.
“I’m fine!” Rook insisted, trying to struggle free again, but he seemed to only manage to do so for a precious few seconds before he’s completely winded. He’s clearly exhausted.
Neve’s jaw tightened, and she squinted her eyes at Rook, her voice monotonous. She’s worried, and fighting not to let it show, “I told you, you should sleep or Solas was going to stop playing nice.”
“I think I can handle the asshole who’s taken root in my dreams myself, thanks.” Rook dryly retorted.
“Clearly not.” Neve retorted. She turned to Emmrich who nodded, agreeing with her, “Neve is right, Rook. Your ambient magic is fractured in the likes I’ve never seen before.”
Taash lifted Rook up like he was a stuffed toy at that, hands at either side of his shoulder, shaking him vehemently, “Ew! I don’t want any magicky stuff on me! Hey dread fuck! Knock it off!!”
“Taash!”
“Taash, no!”
“By the crypts, Taash, stop that, it’s not contagious!”
Taash stopped their movements abruptly and Rook looked positively ill, “Okay, sorry. But whatever’s wrong with him’s not good, right?”
“No, it’s not,” Neve agreed. “I’m willing to bet Solas is acting up because Rook here hasn’t checked up on him after Arlathan. That, and maybe also the simple fact that you don’t sleep for a few days, you start to get pretty delirious.”
Lucanis huffed. He should know that better than anyone here.
“So what do we do with him?”
“I’m right here, you know.” Rook grumbled, weak and still very much dazed from Taash’s earlier roughhousing.
“Ooh, Emmrich, you could cast Sleep on him!” Bellara suggested, and Rook tensed up at that, casting a glare at Emmrich, clearly ready to combat it with any means possible.
Emmrich let out a soft polite chuckle, “My dear Bellara, be that as it may seem like a proper solution, casting Sleep on an unwilling participant is very much unethical and unbefitting of a Watcher, especially to cast it to another member!”
Rook visibly sagged, relaxing slightly.
“However, there’s nothing in the Mourn Watch rules that would prevent its little brother: Drowse, which would cause eventual sleep, more so in Rook’s current state, so–”
“Wait, Emmrich, no–” But Emmrich had waved a hand at Rook and Rook groaned, limbs growing limp as he scrunched his face hard, clearly fighting back the hex as best as he could.
His lack of struggling finally allowed Taash to lift him up again, and Emmrich cheerily instructed Taash to drop Rook in his quarters.
“He’ll fall sleep in a few meager minutes, by my calculation.” Emmrich confidently said.
–
“Well,” Emmrich came out of Rook’s room a good hour later, looking rather embarrassed and impressed all the while, “... I stand corrected.”
“Let me guess, he’s still awake?” Neve dryly asked. Bellara and Taash had gone to their own quarters, but Neve, Harding and Lucanis had waited in the library. Mostly because Neve was the one who enchanted the doors to Rook’s room shut, when the mage had stubbornly tried to walk out even in his state. He banged on the door for a good few minutes, then stopped, which Emmrich had taken to mean he had fallen asleep.
Emmrich nodded, putting his hands together elegantly in front of his vest, “I’ll have to congratulate Dr. Elgenbracht for her craft to educate such highly qualified students, Rook just about countered my second attempt to Drowse him as well.” He cleared his throat rather indignantly, “... And threw such colorful words at me while at it.”
“Oh, Emmrich, I’m sure Rook doesn’t mean it. He’s just really out of it.” Harding tried to comfort him, she bit her bottom lip, “Yesterday I found him talking to nobody in the infirmary. When I called out to him he just blinked at me for a really long time.”
Harding moved her bow to try and make herself more comfortable. She hadn’t even taken off her armor ever since she got back. Lucanis shifted in his own seat, hands itching to do something. He hadn’t bother risking going to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee all this time. “So what now?”
“I suppose there's little we can do except simply wait for the inevitable.” Emmrich said, as if it's an unavoidable conclusion to the matter. Spite bristled, wings flapping noisily inside his ribs at that. Impatient and unhappy. “The human body could only stay awake for so long. It’s rather primitive, but we should just leave him to his own devices. I’ll revisit his quarters in a while.”
“And hopefully Solas doesn’t scramble his head in the meantime.” Neve muttered out, ever the pessimist. She caught Lucanis’ eyes at the tail end of the sentence. They shared a mutual disdain over the entire situation, but Neve was always better at compartmentalising which problems could be solved first.
“Alright, guess that’s that.” She stood up, nodded at Harding, “Lace, you should probably get out of that armor. The only active threat here is if Solas decides to kill Rook, and I have a feeling the elven god of lies still needs things only Rook is privy to to actually do that.”
Harding let out a nervous laugh at that, “You’re a real joy to the soul, you know that Neve?”
“So I've heard!” Neve smiled at her.
“I would kill for a sandwich right now, though. How about some ham and jam slams for everyone?” Harding offered, standing up and groaning as she stretched her limbs, taking up her bow, “Emmrich, would you like some too? I think we have some yams in the pantry for you.”
“We do.” Lucanis informed her. Harding lit up at that, and turned to Emmrich expectantly.
“Oh, well, I do feel a bit peckish.” Emmrich cheerily said. “It would be a marvelous companion for afternoon tea.”
“Or coffee.” Neve said, “You coming with, Lucanis?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Neve looked back at Lucanis at that, while Harding and Emmrich had gone ahead before her to the courtyard, talking pleasantly to each other.
“You don’t have to drink my pot, you know.” Neve reminded him.
“I wasn’t intending to in the first place. That liquid in your pot would be a crime to call ‘coffee’.”
Neve huffed out, “Alright then. Well, offer’s on the table once you finish your talk with Rook.”
Lucanis blinked and opened his mouth to protest, but Neve had turned around and walked away. He supposed he should stop being so surprised that the detective could read him like a book.
–
Neve was great at lock enchantments. This one was specific so that only Rook couldn’t pass through, yet Lucanis still felt an uncomfortable tingle as he walked through the doors. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see. Surely not Rook on the floor, with his back towards the door. He was curled up into himself, hair flat against his left side, the small tuft of braid he had on that side was sprawled across the floor. He had worn his Watcher uniform and coat– which made Lucanis wonder if it was because his usual armor wasn’t clean yet (a certain Grey Warden had been slacking off on his turn on laundry duties) or if it had been an attempt to find comfort in something familiar.
The coat was a tapered cut, the longest side ended just above Rook’s ankles. Against the dappled reflection of the water beyond the windows and the greys of the cold floor, it somehow seemed longer than that.
Lucanis avoided stepping on the coat, walking around it. He doesn’t bother to make a circle to face Rook either– he knows the mage was still awake. The interval between his breathing wasn’t stable enough for it. Instead, Lucanis went over to the table just behind Rook’s sofa, taking the Venatori robes he had discarded in a rush. Lucanis folded the robe without much care, putting it aside, unveiling the morbid urn that the robes had inadvertently covered before.
“I think your Baron Van Markham would be appalled that you’re covering him with dirty Venatori robes.”
Despite everything, Rook let out a stifle of a laugh, hollow and painful. “He hasn’t been particularly chatty with me despite my best efforts to strike a conversation anyway.”
“You know, normal people use journals or logbooks.” Lucanis said, finally circling Rook to look at him. Mierda, does he look miserable. Lucanis squatted down so they could see each other eye to eye better. It’s unmistakable now that the dark bags under Rook’s eyes were worse than ever, he seemed to struggle to even blink. His eyes were reflecting back the aquarium’s lights. But even then it couldn’t hide the way they were bloodshot, unalert. Their lighter shade betrayed the way they had dulled in spirit. “You’re the only man I know who monologues evilly to an urn to reiterate their day.”
Rook looked up at him, watchful, quiet.
Lucanis sighed, he supposed it’s too much to ask Rook to take a joke right now. He leaned in and pulled him up, Rook pushed him away to no avail, “No–” Lucanis had one arm under his legs, picking him up with a grunt and then put him down to lie properly on the sofa.
Rook pushed at him, eager to sit up but Lucanis pushed him back down. He landed back with a soft oomph, not even any energy left to really physically fight back. Lucanis squatted on the floor next to him, as Rook frustratedly dug his palms into his eyes. A manic laugh bubbled up out of him, “Once I figure out how to get out of here, I’m going to condemn you all with mutiny and you’ll see. You’ll all see.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Lucanis put his hand on the side of Rook’s head, frowning at the fresh bruise. Couldn’t Emmrich have done something for it? Rook hissed as Lucanis’ fingers must’ve pressed too hard in certain purple spots. Lucanis eased his pressing, but Rook let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch anyway. Something twisted in his heart at the sight, “Rook…”
“I can’t,” Rook muttered, he opened his eyes, “I can’t, you can’t make me…”
“We both know there’s no other way around this, Rook.”
A frustrated, desperate groan at that. “No, no, no–” Rook tried to sit back up, only for Lucanis to sigh out, getting rather exasperated himself, “Rook..”
Pushed back against the sofa, now completely sideways to face him, Rook whispered out, “Lucanis, please don't let me fall asleep.”
Lucanis shushed him, hand still on the side of Rook’s head, thumb rubbing against the crook of Rook’s brow.
Rook let out a sort of strangled noise, and he scrunched his eyes hard, like it’s physically painful for him to do so, “You don't get it, I can feel him now. I can tell he's doing something in here–” Rook lifted his hand, pointed at his head, “Maybe Arlathan knocked a few spells loose, but I can tell now.”
“You're just tired, Rook.”
“I'm not, I'm not–” Rook muttered, half pleas and delirious, words slurring and repeating sentences, “He's planning something, I don't know what, and he's doing something to me and what if I start doing what he orders? What if this is all his plan? What if I’m not me anymore and I just don't notice? What if–”
“Hush,” Lucanis shushed him. Rook clammed up, heavy breathing, already at the edge of a panic attack.
“Rook… you…” Lucanis started, thumb caressing the side of his face. He sighed, and fixed his position to kneel instead, closer to Rook’s prone position on the sofa.
“You take your coffee with half a spoon of sugar, but if there's cream, you'd take that instead. You stir it always counter-clockwise for some reason, and then always tap your spoon three times on the side of the cup.”
Rook blinked at him, quiet and confused at the shift of conversation.
“You have a somewhat unhealthy attachment to chocolate, and candied sage, any kind of candy, actually. A sweet tooth so bad I’m worried for your dental health. And very typically Nevarran of you, you're particular to pomegranates for fruits. Which secretly, between you and me, I've been meaning to find a dessert recipe to make with. And when you smile–”
Lucanis hovers a finger above him, to trace the crinkle that's forming on Rook’s eyes at the last sentence, how his heart soared at the sight of it finally appearing since Arlathan, “--It reaches your eyes, forming a little indentation, like so, and it's always a little lopsided on your left lip.”
Lucanis lets the words hang in the air, then drops his fingers back down, reaching for Rook's and bringing them up to his lips. He kisses cold thin fingers, as gently as he could. “I can't help you if he makes you forget." He admitted, “But I can remind you who you really are if you do.”
It was a pathetic consolation. Not a solution, and barely a comfort. But Rook seemed relieved with it anyway, and he nodded softly, took a shaky breath in.
Lucanis shushes him gently, “Go on, get some sleep."
Lucanis stayed on his spot as Rook swallowed, like he’s bracing himself. He watched in quiet worry, trampling down his own heart, how it still took a few measured breaths for Rook to finally gather enough courage to close his eyes.
Rook fell asleep within the minute. And not even long after, Lucanis felt a familiar pain twist behind his eyelids, and for the first time he felt vehement anger at Solas.
He leaned closer, forehead touching against Rook’s. Rook’s eyelashes fluttered, but he did not wake. Solas would keep him that way until he's satisfied with the outcome of their conversation, surely.
Lucanis closed his own eyes, whispering to Rook’s ear, as if perhaps it would carry over to the offending party. “Watch your step, Dread Wolf. I've killed for less than the sins you've committed against me.”
Rook doesn't stir at that, his breathing shallow but rhythmic. Lucanis kissed the edge of his eyebrow, a small inconsequential peck, then stood up to tell the others the relatively good news.
–
When Rook wakes, he is back to his old self. He apologized profusely to the team and especially to Emmrich for the trouble he caused and the words he hadn’t meant. He repeated everything Solas had said to him, like he always does every time he talked with the elven god.
The meeting adjourned, Lucanis saw him leave with Neve, talking to her privately away at the edge of the room. He came over to Lucanis after, and said he had a request. He admitted he had asked Neve the same request and she had thankfully said yes.
He was hoping for Lucanis to say yes as well.
The moment the words were uttered, Spite thrashed against Lucanis, snarling and cornering him, DON’T. You. dare.
“You ask too much of me.” Lucanis said, strangely numb.
“Lucanis, please.”
“No–”
“If,” Rook punctuated the word, “If it gets to that point, I’m a lost cause anyway. And it’s better to stick Solas in the Fade with no tether to the real world. And Neve would help to make sure when-if--it happens!”
“I refuse,” Lucanis felt his throat go very, very dry, “This is not a joke, Rook. I’m not taking that contract.” A Crow never abandons a contract.
“Well, don’t say it’s a contract, then.”
“Then what is it?” Lucanis hissed out, “What else could it be?”
“... A kindness?” Rook offered, and Lucanis felt his heart trampled at the mere idea of it being that. He looked away, and Rook leaned forward, trying to catch his eyes, “If it comes down to it, you’d be the only one who could get the job done.” Rook reasoned again. “Look, I’m not asking you to do it now, I’m just covering all bases and what-if’s.”
Lucanis looked at the wall, away from Rook, swallowing roughly. He loathed this. Loathed the way Rook was looking expectantly at him. Loathed the way he was forced into submission despite his heart’s protest, despite Spite’s frantic scratches against his gut.
“For you.” Lucanis pried the words out. It’s not a contract. He repeats to himself. Like that makes this any better. “I’ll do it for you.”
The relief that washed over Rook’s face at that, “Thank yo–”
“Don’t thank me.” Lucanis hissed out, he pushed Rook against a wall, pointed finger against his chest, “Do you have any idea what you just asked for?”
Rook laughed, insufferable as always, “Well, no, I’m counting for you to surprise me, actually. Who knows, you might even make it romantic.”
Lucanis groaned in anger and devotion in equal measures, trapping Rook against the wall he kisses the nook of his neck, “You–” his lips climb upwards, to Rook’s chin, “Miserable–” the mole on the cheek near the base of his nose, “Reckless–” Rook’s already giggling now, terrible manners to laugh at a death sentence. He's mentioned how he's greatly amused by it--the way Lucanis still hasn't been able to somehow let their lips touch yet-- and he’s trying to wriggle himself away to avoid the kisses but couldn’t because Lucanis’ hands were like talons on his hips. “--Fool.” Lucanis finishes, kissing just under his eye.
“I swear, you’ll be the death of me first.”
Rook smiled at him at that, all left-lopsided grin and crinkling near the eyes. Lucanis prays with all his might and kisses those indentations with the desperation of a man drowning, hoping so they’ll never vanish.