For the coffee

Behind him, Lucanis could hear Illario's breathing as they both listened, but not much else. Neither boy made noise as they moved, feet as silent on carpet as they were on stone, wood, straw or dirt. Caterina had made it very clear as the both started their training that anything above silence was a failure which would have a reckoning, the consequences written clearly in her eyes. The woman who looked at them then was not their grandmother. Nonna. That word was couldn't contain even a fraction of what she was here to every other person in this room.

Talon. First Talon. A woman who held death in her hands like coin. 

Tonight she would give generously.

"That one looks too like his mother. Too sharp by half. It's in the eyes." "As long as he isn't like his demon grandmother—" "Hush, Nero. They're both weapons, just like you or I." "Speak for yourself, Valisti."

Lucanis slowed almost before Caterina stopped, his outstretched hand behind him lightly touching Illario's chest to stop his cousin just as she halted. The audience around them stilled where they stood, conversation dying out like the snuff of a candle leaving only the slightest acrid taste of smoke behind. Caterina's grip tightened on her cane as her eyes swept over the assembled Crows, lighting on one particular man with the crest of House Nero stitched into the leathers at his chest, stretched into a stylized crow feather pattern that ran up and over onto his back.

Caterina's eyes flashed as her hands moved with sudden precision. The cane whipped forward so quickly that it was only easily visible as the tip struck the man in the center of his throat. Aimed true, it slipped effortlessly by the guard and leather at his neck, hitting soft flesh with a sharp slap. It was withdrawn just as quickly as the man collapsed, choking and retching as he clawed at his neck.

The wake of silence rippled behind her as Caterina turned to move again, Lucanis and Illario at her side like sharpened daggers as she ascended the stage. Six other Talons regarded her warily as the last seat nearest hers remained conspicuously empty. A brief flutter of nerves ran through his stomach as Lucanis stepped forward to hand his grandmother a large, opal ring. 

"It was a present from your Nonna, Luca," his father had patted his head every time he had asked about the ring on his mother's hand, sized to fit over her gloves she wore when working. Each retelling of how she had earned the ring had grown more daring, bloody, and fanciful.  He had held it in his fist that night, unwilling to let that piece of her go, even as he ran and hid from the knives that had chased him in the dark. Daring and bloody.

"It has been said that I am too told to lead. That I am a demon among Crows. That my family should give way to one more worthy."

Caterina tossed the words into the audience to see who would take them, spend them. None rose to the challenge. She put the ring on the middle finger of her left hand, and reached down with her right as Illario lifted a dagger into her hand with precision. She held it up briefly, and slid it into a waiting scabbard at her side.

"Whose is it?" Lucanis had asked Illario when he took the dagger out of its hiding place in a pile of fabric. He had admired the clean lines of the pommel and blade, so much smoother and unembellished than the ornate weapons he had seen his mother wearing. "My father's," Illario had said quietly after a long pause. He had always been the more talkative of his cousins, but he hadn't said very much after they had joined Caterina at the Villa. "Abue— Caterina gave it to him when he wasn't a Crow anymore. But still a Dellamorte."

"It took three days for a lesser House to try and put mine to rest," Caterina's eyes swept the room, so silent Lucanis wondered if anyone still breathed. It was impossible to see past the footlights which burned bright enough to cast their own shadows into hers onto the backdrop.

"It took me less than one day to burn their own House to ashes and leave nothing of them for anyone to remember aside my own name as their executioner," she rested her hand on the dagger at her side and gave a quirk of her mouth that should have been a smile. "This is what waits for any who cannot complete their contracts. You know this."

"A Crow always completes their contracts," one of the Talons strode forward to stand just back from her side, the silver in his hair a highlight and reminder that his age was not much less than Caterina's. He was joined one by one on either side by the remaining five, flanking her evenly like wings. "And the Crows always have eight Talons. What is your will?"

Lucanis was already handing Caterina the envelope that had been concealed in the front pocket of his leathers when she stretched her hand to take it. In the bright light of the state, he and Illario matched, fledglings in baby feathers of no distinction aside the Dellamorte family crest marked in silver and gold on their shoulders and chest. The design was carried onto the parchment Caterina unfolded.

"Arainai," she handed the paper to Emil Kortez, who Lucanis finally recognized now that he could see his eyes under the stylized metallic mask that he wore. He had been one of the Crows who had delivered him to Caterina. He wore the mask of studied friendliness that night in place of the silver. Lucanis preferred him tonight, sharp edges and promised violence.

A murmur went up among the Talons and crowd, but Lucanis could hear more agreement than confusion or questioning. He risked a quick flick of his eyes towards Illario, and could see he felt the same way as their eyes met. They both looked up as Caterina placed a hand on each of their shoulders, then out to the side of the stage where the current head of House Arainai ascended to join their fellow Talons.

"Good," Caterina nodded to them as they took their place, and then the audience as goblets were handed around to each Talon behind her. Her own glass was delivered by Emil himself. "To the Eighth Talon and the Crows. May we never bend a knee to crown or conqueror."

"The Crows Rule Antiva!"

The room erupted in a cheer, and after Caterina had taken a long drink from her cup, she looked down at Lucanis and Illario with a look of satisfaction. Passing the goblet off to a Crow Lucanis did not recognize, she swept both boys into her shadow once again to exit the stage. Both trailed behind, silent, waiting and following until the next chance for them to prove they could be of use.

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Alma’s words failed her. After all those years… Of course. Dorian was a magister now. Of course he’d cut off the sudden liability, no matter the bond they’d forged, if it threatened his position, his brilliant plans for the future. Of course he’d replace her the moment she’d become inconvenient, in power both magical and political… Why was she so surprised?

Dorian carried on without pause, oblivious to her eating herself alive:

“Had you succeeded in killing your mother, you would’ve been a magister yourself by now, and I– the Lucerni would’ve had another ally in the Magisterium–!"

“So it’s my fault?" Alma said softly.

She didn’t need his answer. Not really. His disappointment was clear enough. In response, Alma’s own temper flared. The room seemed to grow hotter, but the effect was deceiving: just anger, simmering under her skin. Now she lacked the power that could harm people around her if it got out of control.

Alma turned away and walked around the lavish study slowly, oblivious to the trove of knowledge and information that it was, putting her fingers in her hair. A pale white lock fell into her face, and she tucked it behind her ear irritably. With white hair she looked less like her mother now, but it hardly substituted as consolation.

“Why didn’t she finish the job?” she mused aloud. “Why did they have to save me? Why–”

“Because you are worth saving,” Dorian said.

His earnestness was something even Alma glimpsed rarely, but she couldn’t find it in herself to appreciate it right now.

“But not worthy enough for you to take me back in," she sneered.

“That is not–"

“Enough!" Aurelia cried out.

Her blue eyes, same as Alma’s, blazed with indignation. Both Alma and Dorian jumped slightly, having forgotten about the third mage present. Dorian coughed awkwardly into his sleeve and smoothed out his mustache, trying to appear nonchalant. He fooled no one: Alma due to their long acquaintance, and Aurelia due to her taking none of other people’s shit, magister or no magister. For her part, Alma ruffled her hair to try and hide her face behind the free falling locks, their colour no longer bothering her.

“You!” Aurelia turned to Dorian who had the funniest look on his face, almost pointing at himself: me? who is this rascal addressing me so rudely? But he should’ve known better by now. “Apologize and speak without going in circles. And you,” Aurelia turned to Alma, “hear him out. Please.”

Alma sighed, the fight seeping out of her. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand Dorian’s stance – it just hurt. The way they’d envisioned what steps they would undertake next, what scandalous escapades they’d be up to together… Those daydreams were nothing but ash now. Alma had clawed her way back out of the abyss, as well as reclaimed a fraction of her former power, of control over herself – only to find out she no longer had a place next to her loved ones.

She’d tasted what it felt like to be in the sun, and now shadows would claim her again, chain her again.

“Let’s just admit that if your mother did perish, we would all have had less trouble to contend with.”

This was the closest to an apology that Alma would ever get. Not to mention Dorian wasn’t wrong.

“She cannot know you live – no objections here, I hope?” Dorian continued, all pompous and business-like. “Alas, there goes our triumphant announcement in the Magisterium: the illustrious Magister Pavus and his humble apprentice of the Renatus bloodline… Imagine the look on the faces of those trying so very hard not to give away they’re Venatori!.. But, frankly, there is not much for you to miss.”

Alma couldn’t help a half-hearted chuckle.

“Says the illustrious Magister Pavus,” she parried with his own words, “illustrating perfectly how dull Magisterium sessions are by attending every single one of them.”

Dorian pretended to be mortally wounded, complete with putting a hand over his pierced heart and sagging dramatically into his armchair. Aurelia rolled her eyes with an exasperated smirk, already used to his theatrics.

“My point,” he spoke as he got himself comfortable in the plush seat, “is that there are ways we’ll all happily work together for a better future, even if unseen.”

“Meaning you don’t see them right now,” Aurelia muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and rocking from heel to toe.

Dorian sent her a withering look.

“I am coming up with ideas as we speak,” he stated haughtily. “I am not turning away an ally that has been nothing but helpful throughout our years together.”

Moments ago Alma could have sworn in her despair that the ground was about to open up and swallow her, and now, in response to her first mentor’s acknowledgement, her heart swelled, threatening to push past the boundaries of her chest.

“That's great!” Aurelia clapped her hands with deceptive enthusiasm. “Now, what would this steadfast ally receive for her deeds both past and future?”

Dorian tutted, shaking his finger at her, like a bemused elderly enchanter at an unruly student. Alma laughed – loudly, genuinely, for the first time in a long while. The way Aurelia tried to secure her sister’s position was endearing, and, judging by the way Dorian’s mustache moved, he shared the feeling.

Suddenly, Alma remembered: people cared. The road ahead promised to be rough, but she wasn't alone walking it.

Thank you @rookappreciationweek for hosting!

Divider by @quantumstar-rpmemes

I might be misinterpreting/misremembering 8LT, but Teia is known for killing cruel and abusive men. Her modus operandi is likely to cozy up to her victims (ahem, targets). Keep in mind that she's an elf. Remember what Zevran says about Crows recruiting elves for their ranks?

Elves in general are more attractive than humans. Crows recruit them specifically because of that. You'll never see them coming if a Crow is an elf. If they looked intimidating while seducing their targets, that would sabotage their efforts from the very beginning.

This could be part of why Lucanis might consider someone else, a non-Crow, thinking of Teia as "intimidating" baffling.

Another factor - to me - is what Lucanis is. He's also a Crow, a master assassin, the (in)famous mage-killer, the Demon of Vyrantium (remember how in 8LT, which in my headcanon takes place before TWJ, Viago called him "[Caterina's] demon of a grandson"?), the would-be god-killer.

Lucanis doesn't consider Teia intimidating. But that doesn't mean he is blind to what she's capable of. She's a Talon, and even if Caterina once had to pull strings to manoeuvre Teia into this position, it doesn't mean Teia had never had to work hard to get there - to be deemed worthy of it in the first place.

Perhaps it's just the contrast between a non-Crow mentality VS a Crow one (not to mention one of a Crow who's known Teia and has been allies with her for years).

Also, Harding has seen Teia in action (The Missing comic, although for some reason them meeting there is never referenced in Veilguard, unlike her encounters with Strife and Irelin or Antoine and Evka O_o).