Lonely Space Pineapple

These were fascinating questions, thank you! I really enjoyed thinking through the answers!

1. How do you think Lucanis processes Caterina's treatment of him when he was a child?

I believe Lucanis views Caterina’s upbringing and training as a "necessary evil." In his mind, it was the very thing that allowed him to survive despite all the hardships and adversities he faced.

2. How do you think her treatment differs now that he is an adult?

Unfortunately, I don’t think Caterina’s attitude toward Lucanis has changed much, even now. To her, he is primarily an investment in the future of House Dellamorte. I think she simply expects him to be a sharp and obedient weapon.

3. Did he consider it necessary, maybe even good, since he survived and is an excellent assassin?

Yes, I think he considers it to have been essential for his survival, though as an adult he now has a better understanding of how toxic that kind of "love" truly is. Nevertheless, Lucanis still seeks Caterina’s approval for his actions. Before the events of The Veilguard, it’s unlikely there was anyone else who could have given him that sense of validation.

4. Is it the sort of treatment he would carry over if he was to have an heir to raise?

I'm one of those fanfiction writers who write something that never sees the light of day. But @trevisowillbefree tag me and i already written enough to think I can show off a little.

And maybe intrigue someone😅👀

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...The next second, Spite dropped heavily into the mud right beside them.

The demon fell to his knees behind Lucanis and, with an unexpected, greedy force, wrapped them both up. His claws gently settled on Rook’s shoulders. Spite pressed the two of them to him as if afraid they would dissolve back into the Fade. His purple flame no longer burned — it wrapped them in a hot, protective cocoon.

“Human tenderness,” Spite grunted hoarsely, right by Rook’s ear. “How touching… it makes me want to puke.”

Yet he buried his nose in Rook’s tangled hair near Lucanis face, sniffing like an animal, drawing breath to make sure they were real, that they were alive.

Rook smiled faintly, feeling his torn lips sting. He lifted a trembling hand and lightly covered Spite's clawed palm on his chest.

“You’re… very convincing when you shout. Thank you.”

“I wasn’t shouting, I was commanding,” Spite snorted indignantly, though his grip only tightened.

At last he reluctantly released the embrace and slid back half a step, but only to brusquely seize Rook by the chin. The demon’s bright eyes betrayed an unmistakable, heavy attachment of a predator to his pack.

“You are ours. Understand? We. We don’t give up what’s ours,” Spite said, enunciating every word. “Not to gods, not to the Blight, not to the old hags of Antiva. To no one!''

Lucanis did not pull the demon’s hand away. He leaned his temple wearily, with a slight smile, against Rook’s shoulder, feeling Spite's hot presence behind them. For once, in this strange triangle there reigned an absolute, unbreakable accord.

For one short, precious moment perfect silence fell around them. The illusion finally shattered, leaving them sitting in the flat, ash‑gray expanse of the Fade, pressed to one another. They had found each other at the very bottom.

And they endured.

But the Fade never forgives those who break its rules....

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