You’d Be Harding In Hightown

Chapter 1:

Viago’s study was exactly as ever, orderly, clean, and faintly scented with ink and something corrosive. One detail stood out: the vase that usually held fresh flowers was empty and had been placed on the highest cabinet in the back corner, as though it had been exiled.

Ah. He and Teia were off again.

Which meant the conversation ahead would be prickly, but not personal. A small, irrelevant part of him hoped otherwise before he tamped it down. Viago never welcomed personal conversation, but didn’t even allow the hint of personal when things weren’t going well; time had only made him more tight-lipped about certain things.

Aydenne turned as Viago entered. The First Talon had removed his leather apron and replaced his poison‑making gloves with a thin black pair that offered both dexterity and plausible deniability.

Viago shut the door behind him with a soft click, then paused a fraction too long as he adjusted the layering of sleeve and glove. Aydenne caught the hesitation and felt his stomach tighten. Viago seated himself, eyes on his desk. “I understand you’ll be traveling to Ferelden soon,” he opened, steepling his fingers in front of his face.

“You were invited, too?”

“We—I was, yes.”

Definitely off with Teia.

“Are you going to attend? The eluvian web will make travel simple.”

Viago exhaled through his nose. “There are several critical priorities at the moment, but I believe I will be able to attend.”

Chapter 2:

“Viago was in a bad mood when I visited.”

“Oh, yeah. I heard him and Teia broke up again. Did he say something about it?”

“I… no? I think he was telling me he was tired of me being sad about…you know who… and he might have suggested that it interferes with my work.”

Not everyone in Houses de Riva and Dellamorte knew how steadfastly Aydenne cared for Illario, but enough were aware of it and for those there was no question: it had never once interfered with Aydenne’s work. He’d concealed his feelings from Caterina herself, which was no small feat. If in the tumultuous relationship they’d sustained up to this point caused Aydenne untold mental anguish, he kept it to himself most of the time, hiding his pain like a housecat disappearing to lick its wounds.

Zalan’s silence lasted up the stairs and into the family wing of the home, a weighted, deliberate quiet that made Aydenne wish he’d kept his mouth shut. He tried to match Zalan’s calm, to breathe evenly, but his pulse kept stuttering. When Zalan finally asked his question, his voice was light; a sure sign he was holding something back.

“What exactly did Viago say that made you think that?” They’d arrived at a guest suite Aydenne insisted Zalan consider his home away from home, though House de Riva’s Treviso headquarters weren’t far.

Aydenne winced. “It’s not important.” 

divider by strangergraphics from this post

Abandonment is the first chronologically, and this story speculates on how and why Illario might have entertained Zara's opening move. He wakes up from a nap to a letter inviting him to learn information Caterina would kill for (not that that's a stretch for, you know, an assassin).

Your work at the Forfex estate did not go unnoticed. You were precise where others chose chaos. You held control where another indulged sentiment. The future First Talon should distinguish himself, not hide in the shadows of his House. Antiva needs clarity and strength—not age or impulse. I offer you information on the Antaam’s massing invasion, knowledge your Talon seeks but cannot confirm. This I extend as payment for a simple service: the death of a rival. If you wish to serve the Crows and stand in the light as a man respected, I offer a path. Where faith was abandoned, the light of knowledge still burns. Seek me, if you are worthy to claim it.

All it takes is one little foothold, and Zara has more than one at her disposal. (I headcanon that she was after Illario all along; his strength and ambition makes him the perfect host for her demon-birthing program. Lucanis was a happy accident, a test run and a way to ensure Illario could never get away from her because she'd have the ultimate leverage over him.) Illario listens to her offer, then leaves, thinking he's got the upper hand and can control the situation. I do plan to revisit this, but we all know how it ends--I just wanted to put my spin on how it began.

“She’s probably harmless,” he muttered. “This will all come to nothing.” If it was something, he’d ensure the fallout was in his favor. He did not think the word blood mage anywhere except in the depths where he covered it with other words: A jealous manipulator. Someone who wished to play games with a Crow and would learn how dangerous that could be. A lead to follow. He clung to the lies because it was easier than admitting the truth. He had already stepped over the line simply by listening. And he would step over it again. Her voice taunted him in memory. “You stand on the margins of a life that was never meant for you. A life shaped by others’ expectations, others’ ambitions, others’ fears. You have been told who you are, what you are worth, and how far you are allowed to rise.” This was the lie. Illario Dellamorte would not have his limits defined by another—not even by his grandmother.

Variable is currently next: Aydenne is assigned to watch Caterina's grandson in the aftermath of the events at Lago di Novo.

“You’ve been called to serve the House in a search for a traitor among the Crows.” Aydenne’s mind went blank for a moment. His fingers curled against his knee before he forced them still. “Here in Treviso?” “In all likelihood, yes.” Viago’s voice was low, controlled. “Someone is feeding the Antaam intelligence. Someone with access to Crow channels. Someone with political cover.” Aydenne felt the weight of that. “Do you have suspects?” “All of them.” Viago’s mouth tightened. “Every House with a presence in this city. Every operative with access to intelligence. Every ally the First Talon insists is loyal.” Aydenne swallowed. “You think it’s internal.” “I know it is.” Viago’s expression darkened. “The Antaam’s movements are too precise. They know where our defenses are weakest. They know what Caterina does not. That means someone is giving them information.”

You guessed it: Viago is suspicious of Illario, who started attending meetings and asking strategy questions that don't fit his character. (Un)fortunately for Aydenne, he sees more than he's been asked to.

Illario played along, but Aydenne saw the moment his smile faltered. It was a flicker of loneliness so quick most people would miss it. A caged Crow. Aydenne knew the feeling all too well. He had worn that expression himself in rooms where he did not belong but was expected to perform anyway. It was like looking in a mirror, except the reflection was tall, good‑looking, and silver‑tongued. Illario excused himself after a few minutes and slipped into the shadows at the edge of the courtyard. He leaned against the wall, head tipped back and eyes closed. Just for a moment. Just long enough for the mask to drop. Aydenne’s heart thudded once, hard. Illario looked tired in a way that had nothing to do with the hour. Soul tired. Aydé knew that shape too.

Zalan de Riva (@blackwall-my-tiny-husband 's Rook) was always a planned part of the story; I thought it would be juicy to have someone from House de Riva who's a good friend of Aydenne's see all this stuff he's going through with Illario and [redacted later Crow drama] but then Zalan tripped and fell in love with Aydenne long before our collective introduction to Aydenne, which was beautifully revealed in Shin's story The art of toeing the line...so Zalan did much more than just rescue Aydenne for a night of freedom after 6 months of living with Caterina alone in Jailbreaks, Fireworks and Other Acts of Devotion:

Aydenne didn’t hear the lock pick, or the whisper of feet on stone. He didn’t even hear the soft click of the door easing open. He was too tired for that—too wrung out, hollowed by Caterina’s endless tests and the suffocating silence of the Villa. What he did hear was Zalan’s voice, soft as a knife sliding free of its sheath. “Aydé. We’re leaving.” Aydenne jerked upright. “Zalan? What—how did you—” Zalan squeezed his shoulder. “Come on. Before Caterina notices.”

This is getting long but thanks for reading if you made it this far haha

In Tending What Remains, we see plant daddy Aydenne win over Caterina's frozen-ass heart in the back garden, and receive permission to recruit new Crows into House Dellamorte.

Finally she said, “Those are not herbs we cultivate here.” “No,” Aydenne murmured. “They’re de Riva cultivars. They grow well in poor soil.” Another silence. Longer. He dared a glance up. Caterina’s expression was unreadable, but her eyes—those cloudy, dark eyes—were softer than he expected. Not warm or anything that could even generously be called approving. But at least they were free of judgment. “You are planting something that does not belong here,” she said. Aydenne’s heart sped up, though he tried to keep his breathing steady. Holding Caterina’s gaze was like making eye contact with a bear just before it mauled you. The attack itself was always unpredictable. “But,” she added, and the word landed like a stone in still water, “perhaps that is not always a mistake.” He blinked. “Caterina?” She looked past him, toward the rosemary bushes she tended herself. “This House has lost much. Too much. It is…easy to forget that things can grow again.”

The "ducklings" as Zalan affectionately called them, imprinted on Aydenne beautifully.

Zalan sighed. “You’re doomed.” “They’re just recruits,” Aydenne said, rubbing a hand over his face. “They’re your recruits,” Zalan corrected. “Which is worse. They’re going to follow you around like ducklings with knives, testing you.” Aydenne tried not to smile; failed. “They’ll need time.” “They’ll need supervision,” Zalan said. “And possibly leashes.” Aydenne elbowed him. “Stop.” Zalan leaned back on his hands, watching the recruits with a softer expression. “They’re good kids. Rough edges, but good. You’ll make something out of them.” “That’s the dream. I’ve got plenty of help. I hope most of them survive.” Aydenne let out a slow breath. “I hope I survive.” “You will,” Zalan said, nudging him with his shoulder. “You’re annoying like that.”

Aydenne picks up one final, special Crow in Ink and Ash. Fiorella was raised exactly the same way Aydenne was: in a créche with other orphans, some born to Crow parents, others rescued and sent there for training when they're old enough. They're lifers, quite literally. She, like Aydé, doesn't know her parents and is determined to join a Talon House someday (at this time, I'm not sure Dellamorte qualifies, but Fio's got a dream)

He stopped a few paces away, giving her room. “Fiorella Maialen Berezi?” She seemed surprised for a heartbeat, then stepped forward and bowed, proud and polite. “Fio,” she corrected, quick and sure. “Fio,” he repeated. “May I speak with you?” The other Fledglings pretended not to stare, and failed spectacularly. Fio wiped her palms on her trousers and clambered over the low wall marking the training yard’s boundary. “You’re Master Dellamorte.” Aydenne almost corrected her. He almost said ‘just Aydenne’. He almost asked her not to use the title that still felt too large. But she said it with such certainty that he let it stand. “I am,” he said. “I’m here on assignment. I’ll be leaving in the morning, but I stopped here to ask Heir for a recommendation.” Her eyes flicked over him—boots, posture, the way he carried himself. She was cataloguing him the way a Crow should. “You need a scout? I can scout. I’m ready for my first kill too.”

The other parts of In Shadow are more about Xiqaa, Emmrich, Lucanis and Spite, how they live now that Vigil's Keep is their permanent home (I'm planning a story about them formalizing their union that spans two stories: one is just an excuse to have a wedding, a party and absolutely nothing sad happening, but the other is Three of Crows, a very angsty story about Aydenne going to the wedding and seeing Illario again after two years apart--apart is putting it mildly. Zalan's forced to watch while carrying a quarry's worth of complicated feelings for his old friend.) Aydenne and Illario is an open secret among the inner circle, and as you might imagine, it's complicated.

If this is interesting to you, check out the whole series from the beginning here. Still to come: a Crow civil war, more love geometry (not sure how many triangles we'll go through), and a secret identity reveal! Can I write it all? We'll see hahahaha

tagging some friends of Aydenne and to tell me on some today if you'd like?? @grad-writes (there are technically no spoilers for It's Still You here lol) @davrinsleftpectoral @redaresss @pixiedurango @chaosherald @serialsforbellara @gatesofminrathous @cimmanombagel @theelderdemon @sorrygoldfish @dags-over-caravans @jenn2d2 and 🫵🏾 if you made it all the way here I'd love to be tagged to see what you got!

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Jericho's brow furrowed and his frown deepend. "I promised you I wouldn't push…" he squeezed Juan's hand, "but I'm here."

"I know, I know." They tightened their hand. "It's not really a fixing thing. It's not even a big deal, really. Riley's ready to quit. He'll move in with Lydia while we're all out. Why wouldn't Glad leave too? Gemma thinks he won't. She's sure of it. I'm not sure. Then what? I won't stop them but… It's different. I just got used to this."

Sighing, Jericho moved in front of them and rested a hand against their cheek, leaving a gentle caress. "I know, it seems like everything is kind of happening at once, it's a lot. I get it. But, you don't have to deal with it by yourself, you know? And if it helps… I'm not going anywhere."

"I know." They smiled slightly and leaned against him. "I do. I don't know what I'd do if—it doesn't matter. I'm glad you're here."

He wrapped his arms around them and pulled them into a hug. "I think I know what you were going to say," he muttered, kissing them on the cheek. "What exactly is bothering you about all of the change? Just that's it different… or do you feel like you're…?" Jericho trailed off, unsure if Juan would want to answer the question.

"Like I'm alone again. I know, it's stupid," they muttered. "And I know it's not reasonable. You're here. And Gemma and Turvi and Nae. And with Veryl back it felt less possible. But if they leave… anyone can."

"It's not stupid at all, Juan." He held them a bit closer. "But you're not alone… even if Riley leaves, and Gladius, they're still our friends. And we're all still here for you."

"I know. I'm being a lot." Juan took a deep sigh. "I'll get it together."

"Juan, no." Jericho drew back a bit to look them in eyes. "You're not being a lot… I promise. And you don't have to get it together right now. Not for me. You can talk as much as you need to. It's not going to bother me." He sighed a bit, his voice turning soft. "I want to be a safe place for you. Whenever you need."

"Thank you, Jer. I guess it's too much to hope that every problem can be solved with nudes." Juan had a lopsided smile.

He laughed and smiled back at them. "I mean, if you think it will help, I'll see what I can do, but yeah… you might need more than just that to feel better."

"I got you. I already feel better."

"I'm glad." Jericho pressed a soft kiss to their lips and then leaned his forehead against theirs. "I love you, Juan. And I'm not going anywhere."

Juan tightened their arms around him. "Thank you, I needed to hear that. Even if you did tell me a bunch of times just now."

"I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it," he whispered.

They stood up on their toes and kissed him. "You're the best, Jer. I love you."

i can’t believe this fic is actually done! i haven’t written anything long form in… years, honestly. but dasha grabbed onto my creativity with both hands and wouldn’t let go! who knew a throw away line in a companion quest would hard spun dasha into the strong, wonderful font of inspiration that she’s become for me!

all my thanks and gratitude to @handsignals for being my editor, cheerleader, and my graphic design department (they made that amazing banner for me!). i truly could not have finished this piece without their support 💖

special thanks also to @seaglassmelody and @casa-dei-corvei for your feedback and support throughout this whole process!

now for the tag list! if you would like to be tagged in my original works, please like this post. if you would like to be tagged for games, like this post! and if we are mutuals and you would like to add me on discord, just let me know!

all tag lists are no obligation, and please let me know if ever need to be removed, no questions asked.

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He also insisted that Tarquin call him Dorian, and while he thought the man was sincere, he wasn't going to take any chance with that either.

"Are you as miserable as you look?" Maevaris Tilani's rich voice preceded her as she pressed a glass of cold, salted juice into his hand. Her smile followed shortly after, as she stood at his side, stunning in a gown of gold and teal. This close, he could see the stitching along the edge of her sleeves in dwarven runes, only recognizing the Tethras name in spots.

He pretended he didn't notice, like always.

"That depends," Tarquin shrugged and took a sip, sour lime and cucumber, one of his favorites. He liked Mae, and they'd known each other long enough to know which of their tragedies made for casual conversation, and didn't poke at the ones that weren't. "Do I look like I want to scoop out my eyeballs and throw them over the garden wall to get a better view?"

"You are hiding it magnificently well, then," Mae slipped her arm in his and gave his forearm a pat. "And the Archon?"

"Torturing the Antivan Ambassador," he nodded across the garden to a small clutch of important people clustered around Dorian Pavus like a collections of chickens around a peacock. A tall, aquiline woman had been attempting to look down her nose at him, and finding it difficult as he kept recommending increasingly spicy canapes for her to try. It's difficult to be intimidating or commanding when your eyes and nose are running like crazy.

"It's good he's enjoying himself," she chuckled. "But I think I might have something of a diversion you might actually appreciate. One with teeth."

"Why the fuck not?" Tarquin threw back the rest of his juice. "What did you have in mind?"

"A quiet sit-down with a friend and some light reading, as a treat."

"You shouldn't have," Tarquin made a face several minutes later as he leafed through a ream of paper, bound together in several different flip books by leather ties. Names, times, dates, descriptions, all in an uneven and somewhat difficult hand. Except for the last, which must have been written in haste by someone else, using a Templar Shorthand that he recognized from his days walking a beat.

"I promise this is a lot more fun than it looks," Mae waved her hand. The two of them had taken over a small study near the garden, with high bookcases that looked like they hadn't been changed much in the last several hundred years. "I found it in here a couple of weeks ago as we swept through the place to get it ready."

"Pavus has you doing his housekeeping? Typical," Tarquin quipped, looking more closely at the last notebook, and opening it to a page titled 'Restaurants and Inns.' "I didn't know you could read Templar shorthand. It's one of the few things we mostly succeed at keeping away from you mages. Especially Magisters."

"I wouldn't say I can read it," she shrugged. "But I know a few words. It was enough to help me figure out what they were."

"And what's that?"

"Here, what page are you on?" Mae leaned over and looked, waiting for an answer as her hand hovered the other notes.

"Apparently it's 'Restaurants and Inns,'" Tarquin rolled his eyes. "Not that I'm going to take the Venatori's advice about where to get my next beer."

"Ah! That's this one," her hand plucked out one of the sets of notes and pulled it into her lap. "What's the most ridiculous thing you can see in there?"

"It's all ridiculous," Tarquin scanned through. The names of the places alone seemed ludicrous, much less the description. "Alright, then. 'Marvelous Squid,' which is supposedly a tavern in Marnas Pell, specializing in a local purple shrimp. Small, but sturdy."

"What do you know about Magister Trian?" Mae asked after a moment, looking up from her notes expectantly.

"Pompous tit," Tarquin answered immediately, an image of the man bursting into his mind's eye with clarity. "Short on stature and wit, wide as a doorway, overly fond of the 'royal' Orlesian silks…"

"Exactly," Mae said. "Continue."

"Originally from Marnas Pell, probably Venatori," Tarquin narrowed his eyes, and looked back down at his list again with a growing suspicion. "Alright then, the 'Carriage and Goose,' Gwaren in the ass-end of Maker damned Ferelden, with over twenty different types of local ales and beer. No wine or cheese allowed on the premises."

"Yalanna Dendaedus is notoriously allergic to dairy and grapes," Mae rolled her eyes. "She can't be anywhere near the stuff."

"And her Fereldan-born husband owns the worst brewery in Val Dorma," Tarquin stared at her. "Are you saying—"

"That someone documented the personal traits of literally hundreds of major Venatori?" Mae smiled, and put down the notes. "Yes. Between these notes, and the shorthand that describes them together, we might just finally have the Venatori in our hands. And they're none the wiser."

"You need me to translate the notes?"

"That would be helpful, but no," she smiled, and Tarquin's feeling of unease from earlier returned with the glint in her eye. "You just need to keep on attending these terrible parties, meeting the good and great of the empire. And, of course, mingling enough that we can start to match them up with their descriptions. You get to make lots of new friends. If you want to of course, it's your choice."

"Kaffas," Tarquin sighed, flipping to the next page. "I just knew you were going to say that."

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Desmond sighed, "We're running low on certain potions, and the herbs to make them."

"Ah, so its a Shadows problem, not a brewery problem," Rook set the contract down. "That I can solve easily enough with a note to Treviso. The Crows should have what we need, or they can get it, and what they can't the Mourn Watch can."

"Maybe Neve should put you in charge of the Shadows inventory," Desmond suggested. "You've got enough pull."

Rook made a face. "I have enough pull, and enough notoriety that I can't do stealth jobs anymore either. " She held a hand out. "If you want me to deal with the Shadows inventory, you can focus on the brewery. We need you enough there to keep this place legitimate."

Desmond was happy to trade tasks with her, taking over reviewing the potential contract with the Lamplighter while Rook disappeared into the back and through a hidden door into the portion of the building that contained the Shadows new hideout.

She spent the next few hours reviewing inventory and making notes on what they needed. Shadows came and went, with Marisa overseeing feeding them and making note of any news they brought it. She set a tea mug for Rook on the table that Rook and Neve usually used as a desk.

It was well past dark when Ashur and Tarquin made it to the hideout, coming through an entrance from the catacombs. Most of the other Shadows had gone home by this point.

Neither man was particularly surprised to find Rook asleep at the table, head half pillowed on her arm, quill still in her hand, and drooling on a letter she'd started writing to the Mourn Watch requesting herbs.

"Well, that answers that question," Tarquin muttered, eying the sleeping mage. He shook Rook gently, "Come on, Rook, get up."

"Eh, mm?" Rook took a few moments to wake up, blinking blearily at the Templar.

"You've got drool on your face," Tarquin told her dryly.

She mechanically wiped the drool away with the back of her sleeve, eyes still half full of sleep.

"You fell asleep at the hideout, again," Ashur chuckled, smiling in amusement behind his mask.

"Come on, Desa, let's head home," Tarquin suggested as he pulled her top her feet.

Rook grumbled and stretched. "I can walk back to my apartment myself," she informed the Templar.

Ashur and Tarquin exchanged and glance.

"He wasn't talking about your apartment, Desa," the Viper advised. "He meant the manor."

Rook gave him an even look. "That's your home, and 'Quin's now. I live in Dock Town."

"And half your shit is already at the manor and you usually end up spending the night." Tarquin rolled his eyes. "Stop arguing and come home with us, Desa."

"I don't know that it's a good idea." Rook looked warily at them.

"Maker, stop being deliberately obtuse," Tarquin muttered.

Rook glanced between the two of them, saw the frustration in Tarquin's expression and earnestness in Ashur's, then sighed. "I suppose I can spend the night on your couch again. It's fairly comfortable."

"Is she doing this on purpose?" Tarquin demanded as he looked at Ashur.

"You haven't actually told her what it is we want," Ashur murmured to his lover. He reached out and took Rook's hand. "Desa, we want you to come home, with us, sleep with us, stay with us."

Desa stared at him.

"Venhedis," Tarquin swore. "We love you, Desa. Even when I was angry at you, that never stopped."

"Please come home, amata," Ashur added gently.

Rook trembled as she reached her hands towards them.

Ashur placed her hand in his, and Tarquin took her other, and gently, the Divine and his Knight Divine led their Rook from the the Shadows hideout, finally taking her home, where she belonged.

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