#datv x reader

Her hand reached up to her face, brushing some sweat and stray tears away. “They’re still working on it, I know it. They wouldn’t leave me here like this.” Varric glanced up from his crossbow and up to her face. He heard how she still had hope, but one look into her eyes told him that the spark of hope diminished more and more over time. After closing her eyes once more to rest and opening them once she believed the night was over, Varric was gone, the Fade rearranging itself once again.

It’s almost mostly quiet in the Fade, apart from the stray Spirit managing to get lost and stumble upon this black and white painted prison of regret, immediately making their return back before they accidentally get themselves turnt into a despair demon or something similar of the sorts. Apart from that, no one ever came back to visit. Not even dreamers. Above her she saw shapes and shades of grey rearrange themselves, creating new areas of the prison she was trapped in for her to explore, but at a certain point, she stop bothering. Having one constant thing, the ritual site, despite how much it hurt to be here, was nice.

***

At first, after Varric left, Rook was alone with her thoughts. To entertain herself she took walks around the areas of the Fade she can reach, explore new areas and admire the ones she already knows over and over again, trying to find special new things every time she takes the same route. She talked to herself out loud, acting like somebody is going to respond someday, hoping someone will.

"So. How’s… Minrathous? We should get some of that fish by the docks again sometime." Rook cocked her head up to look at Neve’s face.

'Still blighted. The Shadow Dragons are trying their best, but the Venatori still hold most of the power. It’s.. (sigh) …hard.'

She could’ve sworn Neve did answer her this time. It almost felt… real. "I’m sorry, but—" 'You did what you could, but it wasn’t enough, Rook. You could have done more, done better. Because of you and your leadership Minrathous burned.'

Nothing was ever enough.

All of the things she did before; it was all never enough. She didn’t do enough to stop Solas’ ritual, not enough to save Minrathous, not enough to protect to Treviso, never enough for Viago, never enough, never enough.

At some point, even the smallest regrets circled inside her mind on loop over and over until it finally came to a halt after someone entered his mind.

***

The Fade changed around her to create new places and remind her of her biggest and most tragic mistakes while she walker circles in her prison, her eyes stopped registering what was around her at a certain point she cannot pinpoint. A mix of sand and gravel being crushed under her boot dragged her out of her daydreams of nothingness.

Lifting her head and taking the area around her, her heart stopped for a moment. This was the Ossuary. But how? It looked exactly the same to when Rook first stepped into this dammed prison to retrieve the grandson of Catarina, even the bodies of the slain Venatori were scattered around as blood slowly pooled beneath their bodies. Why did the Fade bring her here after… maybe months? She wasn’t sure. Rook’s mind cleared for a brief moment as she took a look around, taking the same route as before when she got here the first time. The fish outside the Ossuary were standing still, the water that was supposed to be pouring out of the cracks of the veil protecting the prison was unmoving.

It was too quiet.

Finding the cage where Lucanis was held, there was no trace of him. A fraction of her hoped he might be here, or at least, a piece of him. She felt selfish for even thinking of having him be trapped in here with her, even if it is not his real person that would be here. She felt selfish for wanting him.

Him, Lucanis Dellamorte, grandson of the First Talon and the future of the crows. The man that makes coffee to avoid falling asleep and let the demon residing in him to take over and possibly endanger the others, the same man that cooks for everyone and to their individual preferences, no matter how achy his body might be after being tossed around like a ragdoll by a Ghoul or how exhausted he was, the man whose eyes lit up like fireworks when Rook handed him the wyvern dagger, the man that didn’t believe he was allowed to love those creatures even as a grown man, the person that blindly loved his cousin to the point of not being able to recognise betrayal, the one that practically ran away in distress after experiencing an ounce of flirtation and real admiration. Lucanis.

Rook never wanted to think of him. She was unworthy to do so, because every time she did, she wished for nothing more than for him to be here in this black and white prison of endless agony and regret and suffer alongside her as they waited for rescue. She knew she was selfish for wanting him to experience more pain just so that she could have the person she loved most by her side until the end of time, or at least as long as their bodies allowed it. To trap him once more after releasing him from the Venatori prison, to lock him into another cage where he helplessly can wait for ultimate demise or let himself descend into insanity as the Fade created a new room handcrafted to reopen a wound that never really closed.

She knew she was selfish for wanting him. But was it selfish of her to wish that she still had a chance to return back home and ask for him to never leave her side again, to promise her that he loved her as much as she did him, or was it plain ignorance that led her to believe that she could ever leave this place and live in peace with her lover? Lucanis will never be here with here and she will never be with him again.

After leaving the Ossuary-copy of the Fade and taking her walk back to the ritual site, Rook felt glad that he wasn’t here. There was no coffee maker and no coffee beans, who knows how long this man could’ve survived in here before willingly giving his body to Spite to end his suffering? A small chuckle escaped her lips as she thought about that, a rare occasion in these times.

***

It was less painful to just not think, Rook found out. Maybe it was some sort of meditation she never was aware of, but at one point it felt nice to lay down on the ground and do nothing, feel nothing, think nothing. Her eyes stared at the air while her limbs were sprawled out into all directions. Varric used to make her lie down like this on the floor. "We called it Floortime in Kirkwall, does good to your mind to sometimes just do… nothing."

Her brain was painfully empty, not having enough energy to form one coherent thought. Even the Fade gave up on trying to lure her into exploring new areas of the regret prison by recreating some of her companions, kneeling down to her body and talking to her like nothing ever happened.

"It will do you good to stretch your limbs every now and then." Emmrich’s tall stature loomed over her, an unsure smile forming on his face as if not sure how to handle Rook in a state like hers. His hands clapped together. "Come on. We don’t have all day, dear! The Fade might change again and we will miss whatever it offered to us to experience it first hand, you wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?" Not even his professor voice and attitude, which usually made her perk up and sharpen her mind to prepare and listen to one of his lectures and informative rambles, instead leaving her to close her eyes is aspiration as to not having to look at him.

She knows he’s not real. There’s no point of talking to this skinwalker, this mimic trying to make her stand up and push herself to do something utterly meaningless.

It would only make her even more upset, frustrated at how a so-called damned Fade expert hasn’t managed to retrieve her out of this gods-forsaken place, even after months, maybe years of time!

The Fade understood that Rook didn’t want to see any of her other companions, so it created an imagine that made her stir and briefly believe that they were really here. The moment where hope shimmered to the surface that let her jump up to her feet was brief. "Rook?" She knew that voice. It was not exactly the voice she yearned to hear for all the long past moments, but it was similar and not unwelcome. “Found. Rook!” Spite’s toothy grin on Lucanis’s face almost made her throw up. "Spite! You—?"

Her throat felt incredibly dry and her words died on her tongue after not speaking for such a long time, but it seems like Spite understood whatever she tried to say. This was his domain in a way after all, Trade Speak wasn’t needed here. The demon stepped closer and invaded her personal space, but she didn’t mind, especially after his arms pulled her into an incredibly crushing hug against his (surprisingly) firm body. He was real. Spite felt real. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes as her shaky arms reached out to wrap around his shoulders, to convince him silently to never let go of her ever again. “S-Spite.” Is the only thing she managed to press out of her mouth.

“Rook lost. Spite found! Curiosity and Prof-fes-sor work on dagger. For Rook!” Spite spoke against her skin as they were still holding each other. She couldn’t help but chuckle at how Spite was still trying to pronounce words slowly to get them right and buried her face into his surprisingly warm shoulder.

"Y-You found me." Spite, seemingly confused at how Rook repeated what he just said and now worried she might’ve gone deaf, decided to speak the next few words more loudly. "YES! CURIOSITY. AND. PRO-"She stopped him with a laugh and pulled away from his hug slightly to make him stop yelling by putting a finger on his lips.

"You’re going to get me out." Spite nodded furiously. "Yes. But. Go there first. Closer." The demon pointed at somewhere behind him. Hope bubbled up to the surface and dared to overflow, thinking Spite was trying to bring her somewhere Emmrich, Bellara or whoever else was working to get her can reach her more easily. She took his hand into hers and dragged him along to where Spite had pointed at.

"Where do you want me to go? Up the stairs? We can also go to the right, I thought I felt the Fade being weaker there because you know, lots of new rooms over there, but we can also…” Rook’s words died out as she turned around to look back at Spite and ask him where to go next, but the demon was gone.

Looking down at her closed fist was nothing, not even dust. Spite was gone. She was really there though, right? Spite, doing his very best and working hard to get Lucanis to bed so he can go access the Fade, finally found here wandering around.

Surely the Fade did not create another copy of someone she adores just to push her and face new regrets again. Surely she did not imagine the whole interacting, hallucinate Lucanis’ face, the body-crushing hug.

There was simply no way, is there? He must’ve been here.

He must’ve.

He HAD to.

There was no other choice.

No choice.

No.

***

There it was again; regret and shame.

Walking in circles at the ritual site, Rook’s mind repeated her own thoughts to her until it spiralled into the endless void and what was beyond it again. Maybe the others back home simply couldn’t get to her because they got distracted and busy by their own personal issues, even after Rook tried to solve them together with them.

Or maybe because they noticed they would fare much better without the overbearing, bossy, selfish leader. Or maybe because the world was consumed by blight, ruled by an unforgiving god that managed to get what he had ultimately wanted in the end. Perhaps there was nobody to retrieve and save her.

Thoughts like these are why Rook fell into this vegetative state of mind, not allowing herself to think or feel. If she could not think about her regrets, react to the Fade forcing all her smallest and largest mistakes to be faced and reviewed second by agonising second, let both frustration rise through her body and make her angry at perhaps already perished people for not coming for her, let her yearning for him crush her from the inside and out, maybe then she would be at peace.

Maybe then the unthinking Fade will show mercy and finally let her pass away.

***

After experiencing denial, anger, bargaining and depression both at a time and at the same time, there was nothing left but acceptance. What else was there as to accept that this is her fate from now on, to wander the Fade as a mortal now immortal, mourning over a lover she never had, mourning over a blighted world ruled by an even more blighted god, mourning over herself and how she never came to live her life to the end of her years. Acceptance is all there is, and Rook experiences it as an unending, stomach churning mourning and grief.

There is nothing else.

Nobody else. Nobody but her, forever and ever.

💠

Author’s note. Thanks for reading!

My best friend is FED UP with me takking about Lucanis she can’t take it anymore I gotta spread my hyperfixation elsewhere. Also I posted it on ao3 but I’m uploading here too because I yearn for instant dopamine boosts 🙂

Next chapter is gonna be all about Lucanis and Spite being bad at feelings

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough <33

You were not planning on sleeping tonight. Sleep inevitably meant talking to Solas, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Instead, you had resigned yourself to flicking through a dust-coated leather bound tome, enjoying the momentary reprieve on the chaise in the meditation room.

A steady knock drew your attention. You craned your neck around to see Emmrich slipping through the doorway, closing the doors behind him again.

"Darling," he greeted. "Forgive the intrusion."

"You're never intruding, Emmrich," you smiled, glad of the distraction. "Sit with me?" you asked, beckoning him closer with a tilt of your head.

"With pleasure," he replied, tense shoulders seemingly falling in contentment. "What's that you've got there, dearest?"

"Ah," you smiled, closing the book and running your fingers over the indents of the title in the leather. "Nothing particularly exciting, I'm afraid. I was planning on warding off sleep with some light reading, but as it turns out this book on horticulture is having the opposite effect. Perhaps it might be of more interest to Harding, though."

Emmrich huffed a laugh through his nose, taking the tome from your grasp and placing it on the coffee table nearby.

Instead of perching next to you on the chaise, Emmrich lowered to his haunches at your feet, bringing a hot palm to rest over your kneecap. A healthy flush darkened his cheeks, and he hesitated in meeting your eyes.

"Emmrich," you prompted, moving to cup his jaw. "Is everything alright?"

He only flushed more at the question, but offered you a bashful smile in return.

"Yes, everything's quite alright, my darling. Forgive me if I led you to believe otherwise. It's just-" Emmrich paused, lips parted as though he couldn't quite get the words out.

"You can tell me anything, Em. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course, and I am ever thankful for that. I only hesitate because-" Emmrich sighed in half-hearted frustration. "I can hardly get certain... thoughts out of my mind these days. I am so much your senior yet, since you came into my life, I find myself reduced to the appetite of when I was a much younger man. I yearn for you, Rook, lust after you when the evening grows dim. You must forgive me, I know you are ever busy as the leader of our party. This is surely the least of your worries, and I'm afraid I may lead your focus astray if I continue this... behaviour. I am aware it is unbecoming of a man such as myself."

You felt your heart pounding out of your chest. You met Emmrich's wide eyes, his pupils dilated.

"There is no shame in that, Emmrich. And if there was then we'd share in it. I think of you constantly in that very same way. I watch the way your lips move when you speak, your fingers, too. I'm drawn to you in a way I haven't felt before."

Emmrich groaned, lowering his head to press a kiss to your knee.

"Rook, my heart. I beg of you, let me indulge you. I have thought of nothing but bringing you pleasure since I awoke this morning, allow me this?"

Emmrich shifted from his haunches down to his knees.

"Yes, Emmrich, please. I need you," you grew breathless, the words slipping out in a puff of air.

As though snapped out of a trance, Emmrich straightened, diving in to meld his lips against yours. His broad hands cupped the back of your neck and your jaw with a steady grip, keeping you completely under his gentle control as he plucked at your lips.

His hot mouth began to trail lower, tracing down your jaw to your neck and collarbones, reverent in his worship. His usually patient demeanour faltered, his hands leaving you to grasp the hem of your tunic, tugging it up and over your head.

You had forgone a bra and trousers while lounging, leaving you almost bare to the ravenous man's gaze.

"What a treasure you are," Emmrich moaned, voice scraping the bottom of his range.

Ducking his head dutifully, Emmrich took a nipple into his mouth, flicking over the hardened nub with a soft tongue.

Gasping, you arched further into him, his fingers coming to roll the peak of your unattended breast.

Not before switching to pay each nipple equal attention, Emmrich resumed his descent, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses from your breasts to your groin.

When he met the only fabric maintaining your dignity, Emmrich bowed his head, pressing a kiss to exactly where he knew your clit to be, holding his tongue there in a flat press to soak through the fabric.

You moaned and writhed, hands moving to tug at his hair.

"Emmrich, please. Stop teasing," you huffed.

He laughed under his breath, hooking his lithe fingers into the seams of your underwear before pulling them down and off your body in one swift motion.

Without hesitation, Emmrich grasped your thighs, spreading them further apart and hiking them up and over his shoulders.

Your breath stuttered at the feeling of his hot breaths panting between your legs. Using both hands, Emmrich placed one thumb either side of your folds, spreading them apart and open.

Your face grew warm as he remained still, staring at your cunt with a darkened gaze as you twitched and clenched around nothing, growing more and more slick by the second.

"Emmrich," you whined, bucking your hips up towards his mouth, losing all self restraint.

"Patience is a virtue, darling. You must allow me to savour you."

Before you could make a petulant complaint, Emmrich finally dove down and buried his mouth. His mouth open wide, he flattened his tongue, licking a hot stripe from your hole to your clit.

You yelped at the sensation, back arching and head falling back. With his firm grip on you, you were helpless but to lie back and take what he gave to you, reduced to panting and whining with your eyes squeezed shut.

Emmrich groaned into your sex, the vibrations going straight through your clit. He closed his lips around your clit, sucking a steady pulse around it all the while swirling his tongue in circles.

Without pause or the need to break, Emmrich lapped determinedly at your clit, switching every so often to plunge his tongue into your hole. As he moved back up to flick your clit with the hardened tip of his tongue, you felt two fingertips tracing the entrance to your hole, easy circles at first before they dipped inside.

You moaned at the intrusion, fighting his restraint to buck wildly against him in pleasure. His pumped his fingers a few times before withdrawing them half way and curling them, rubbing against a spot that had you biting your hands so no one heard you wail.

He continued fucking up against that spot with his long fingers, never stopping the flicking and swirling of his tongue.

"Emmrich, Emmrich, please, I'm- ah, I'm so close. I - please," you couldn't keep quiet, every exhale had voice to it as you whined as his ongoing treatment. You babbled his name, tears sparkling in your eyes.

"Come for me, Rook."

The second the words left his lips you were gone, thighs quaking, body thrashing with the overwhelming pleasure that shot down your spine. Emmrich didn't slow down, his efforts almost doubling as you clenched and trembled around his fingers.

"That's it Rook. That's it, my darling girl. You can give me one more can't you? Be good for me, won't you? All you have to do is lie back, I'll give you one, I promise."

Under the continue onslaught of his increased efforts it didn't take long for you to come again. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mouth drooling as you took everything he gave you, the wet sounds from between your legs increasing everything tenfold.

When he finally withdrew from you, you were limp, eyes closed and panting for your life.

"Shhh," he hushed you, kissing the tears from your cheeks. "That's my girl. So good for me, my Rook. My precious Rook."

You let him coo at you, his hands petting at your hair and face.

When you finally began to regain your senses, you tilted your head toward him for a kiss. Of course, he obliged, dipping his tongue past your lips to allow you to taste yourself.

You groaned, gathering all your strength to wrap your legs around his still clothed waist. You didn't need to look down to know he was tenting his slacks. Emmrich was hard, his untouched length straining the fabric, probably uncomfortable for him, but he would never let on.

"Emmrich," you panted, looking up into his eyes. "Fuck me."

___________________________________________

“Yeah, home.” You stowed your gear by the door - a gesture of goodwill, you supposed, though you couldn't decide if remaining unarmed in the presence of Fen’Harel made you faithful or a fool. Maybe a bit of both, you thought with a wan smile. “The only home left to some of us, after all the trouble the gods caused.” 

Solas hummed, lifting his head to gaze out the window at the fish flitting past the glass. “And how have your cohorts fared, since the battle with Elgar’nan?”

You shifted on your feet. You couldn’t seem to decide what to do with your hands. “They’re doing well. Resting, rebuilding. Grieving, for those we’ve lost.” The hurt lingered, even now, the friends you’d lost to the gods - including the one standing before you now - leaving an ache that never truly eased. 

Solas dipped his head, an acknowledgment of your pain. He didn’t offer apologies or platitudes - both of which you had heard dozens of times before from a thousand other mouths, it seemed - and for that, you found yourself grateful. You had spent enough of your time floundering beneath the weight of the Dread Wolf’s regrets. 

“Why are you here, Solas?” you questioned, resting your hip against the bookshelf. Your tone was devoid of anger or spite, tinged with little else but  bare curiosity. You had not thought you would see the elf anytime soon, if at all, once he disappeared into the Fade. “Are you kicking us out?” 

Solas’ lips twitched, a shade of a smile. “This place is as much yours as it was ever mine,” he assured you, clasping his hands behind his back. “You rid the Crossroads of the blight and the gods’ influence - the Fade honors your efforts, and so shall I.”

“So that’s a no?” you asked slowly, lips twitching as Solas’ brow furrowed in mild annoyance. He always seemed to take affront whenever you did that - disregarding all of his lofty words to get to the heart of the matter. Feeling generous, you caught his eye and dipped your head in thanks. “It’s still your home, too, and open to you, should you need it.”

Solas huffed lightly. He looked much the same as he had during your last encounter, you noticed, though free of the blood and wounds Elgar’nan’s Archdemon had inflicted upon him. You were grateful for that, you realized suddenly. The sight of his fur wet with blood and the pained howls he had released beneath the weight of the Archdemon’s jaws had lingered in your dreams for days after that last, harrowing battle. 

“What?” you asked, curious about the smile that had settled on his face - one of abject disbelief, tinged with an edge of frustration that he admittedly always seemed to feel around you. 

“I do not understand you,” he muttered, hands falling to his sides as he turned to face you. “I am the reason your mentor is gone. I trapped you in the Fade and left you to rot. Time and time again I have betrayed you and taken advantage of your kindness and yet here you stand, offering me sanctuary.” He shook his head, gaze piercing into yours. “You are either exceedingly foolish or too forgiving for your own good, and in this moment I cannot decide which is worse.” 

“Probably a bit of both,” you shrugged, your cavalier tone at odds with the sudden tightness in your chest. There was little use in denying that Solas’ betrayals had cut deep. You had always tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, the chance to choose another way, first for Varric’s sake and then, gradually, your own, and yet the stubborn fool had nearly destroyed the Veil, anyway. Were it not for the fragments of Mythal managing to call him to his senses, he would have succeeded, or been killed by your hand in the process. 

You had not wanted to kill him. Despite everything - despite all that he had done - you had not wanted that weight on your conscience. Rather, you had wanted to save him - from the gods, from himself, from the regret that seemed to haunt his every step. 

Perhaps Solas was right, you thought wryly. You were a fool. 

“Why do you do it?” Solas pressed, his fingers curling into a fist at his side. His eyes bored into yours, as though he could pillage their depths by nothing more than sheer willpower alone and scoop the truth from their innards. “What could possibly merit such kindness towards a creature who caused you nothing but strife? Torment?” His throat worked around a swallow, and you knew he was thinking of Varric. “Heartache?”

You held his gaze. “Because I wanted to help Varric,” you replied softly. Simply. “And then, somewhere along the way, that turned into wanting to help you. Even when you were too damn obstinate to see it,” you couldn’t help but add pointedly, before averting your gaze and finishing, somewhat lamely, “What do you want me to say, Solas? I guess you grew on me. Happy?”

Silence settled between you, broken only by the hush of your breaths and that of the elven god whom you’d apparently stunned into stillness. You’d thought such a thing impossible for someone who prided themselves on always being three steps ahead of his adversaries, and yet here you were, watching Solas’ lips thin as he contemplated how to respond to your claim. 

You held back a sigh. You didn’t know what he wanted from you, or even whether any of your answers, truthful though they were, would satisfy him, and yet they were all you had. You lacked the Dread Wolf’s penchant for subterfuge, preferring to stick to what you knew - blunt honesty and guileless enthusiasm. And when that didn’t work - pure, unadulterated impulsivity.

Huh. You studied the Dread Wolf’s profile - his furrowed brow, sharp eyes and pursed lips. You remembered the first time you’d seen him, bathed in light from the rip in the Fade, and the last, marred with blood and exhaustion and ageless regret. 

You took a step closer. Your impulsivity had gotten you into trouble a time or two, but it was also what had led you to Varric. To Neve and Bellara and all the rest. To family. 

And you were so tired of talking. For now, for once, you just wanted to feel.

“Why are you here, Solas?” you repeated gently, taking another step, and then another, until you were closer to the contemplative elven god than you had been in months. 

Solas’ brows pinched, his expression shuttered. “I do not know,” he spoke quietly, his tone edged with frustration. 

You could work with frustration, you thought with a nervous grin, and made your move. 

Solas’ body grew rigid against yours as your lips met, his breath stuttering against your mouth before he grew quiet, and still. Your pulse hitched in nervous anticipation as you awaited his next move - a violent shove if you were lucky, a knife to your ribs if you were not. Either way, you’d be nursing more than wounded pride once the Dread Wolf made his choice - of that, you were bleakly certain.

Until - 

Slender fingers gripped at your cheeks and you gasped as you were tugged closer, breath sticking in your throat as Solas pushed his mouth more firmly against yours. Your hip struck the bookshelf as he twisted you and pressed you back against it, and your hands scrambled for a handhold on his waist as he devoured you, harsh, hungry, but lacking the fury you had been half-assured he’d wield. Solas’ kiss was punishing, yes, but there was little anger to be found in the melding of his mouth and yours. Instead, there was hunger, there was need. There was - 

Your heart seized. There was desperation. 

You had seen the Dread Wolf angry, frustrated, cutting. You had never seen him desperate.

Your mouth fell open as you arched against him, clutching at his waist and keening softly as his kiss grew deeper, wetter. Hot. Solas tasted like magic - ancient, powerful, and sharp on your tongue, and as he bit out a growl and hefted you onto the bookcase, fingers dragging over your sides and snagging on your leathers, you found yourself grasping just as desperately for him, searching for an anchor in the storm of his lust and hooking your thighs over his hips in a last ditch effort to prevent yourself from flying apart.

Solas’ mouth ripped away as your grip around him pushed you together, the heat of his groin tucked firmly against yours. His breath came out in sharp pants against your collar, his brow falling to your shoulder, and amidst the rush of your own hitched gasps you heard his voice, soft and disbelieving.

“You really are a fool.” You bristled at the insult, but Solas reached for your cheek and dragged your mouth back to his, murmuring, “And so am I,” before catching your lips in a kiss deep enough to burn. 

The weight of leadership that has strained her shoulders for months is just starting to alleviate. Not that she didn’t like her role as a leader. But during all this time, she had to put a lot aside to make sure their mission succeeded. Her own emotions, her own worries. It had always been kind of like this with the Crows, but not with such high stakes. In any case, the job was done. Contract fulfilled, as she would often say to Viago.

It's no wonder then that she freezes when a plate of bean casserole stew is being placed in front of her. She grips her fork, her knuckles a shade of white death. Looks at her plate. The voices of her companions, engaging in sparse discussion, come to her ears from far, very far away. Glad to be victorious, but tinted with the obvious strain of grief and exhaustion. She barely notices it. Doesn’t listen.

Rook was never really good at regular stuff outside of contracts. Enjoying the moments of peace. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to find herself. To have the strength to get back to herself. Contracts had kept her alive. But after that, she feels different.

It's as she took a way to strong, way to effective kind of drug. Avoiding herself had been made so, so much easier. Now that the fight is over, it's another piece of cake. The moment Solas disappeared through the Veil, an icy fear had started to pervade her. An intuition. The knowledge that, after such a big job, the contracts will not be able to keep her afloat anymore.

She knows then that she has to leave the dining hall. Go to the main building. Take the stairs. Go back to her room. The steps present themselves clearly in her mind, and it’s all she can hang onto to not break down right then and there. She focuses her mind on it. She knows that from the outside, her composure is perfectly smooth. Or as good as can be. She has been trained well.

She stands up and mutters that she has some small business she forgot to attend to, that she’ll be back soon. She doesn’t pay attention to their reaction. Most swallow up the lie like it’s honey. However, Neve looks nonplussed. And a light of alarm immediately goes off in Lucanis’ head. He feels Spite rouse inside him.

When Rook reaches the entrance, she is interrupted by the opening of the door. She almost rushes, nodding in distracted acknowledgment.

“Viago.” she salutes her superior before passing through.

The door shuts close.

“What’s the matter with her?” asks the Fifth Talon.

“I’ll go.” Lucanis says, already standing.

Viago nods. Rook has always been strong. He had taught her how to master one’s composure, how to never let one’s weaknesses show. But that, that’s new. The look on her face that he saw as he was entering the place. Not good. Not one bit.

Soon enough, the door opens again and Teia follows him into the dining hall.

“What’s with Rook ? ” she asks. “She looked…”

“I thought the same," Viago answers.

He doesn’t say the rest out loud, but Teia understands it : this doesn’t look good. As usual, Viago doesn't dwell on things. He clears up his throat.

“For the final arrangements,” he says to the rest of the team. “Neve, we have gathered Crow forces to help with Minrathous.”

~~~

Rook is shaking. She scolds herself for being this way. This isn’t supposed to happen. She’s supposed to deal with stuff in a normal way. Not crumble at the first opportunity, or whatever the hell this is.

She takes gulps of air but that doesn’t seem to help.

She knows, acknowledges her situation from a distance.

“Rook ?”

 Shit.

Lucanis' voice is worried. She hears him approaching carefully, coming to a halt almost behind her. She sees him crouch from the corner of her eye. Her mouth opens, but only a few ragged breaths come out of it.

“Rook, look at me.”

She barely manages to do that. His hand comes to support her chin, lifting it gently towards him. Helping her look at him.

“Breathe. That’s it. In, and out,” he demonstrates.

Tears well up in her eyes. Gods, he can’t see her like this.

“Come back to me, Rook. I know you can do this.”

She follows his movements, the way he shows her how to breathe. When she gets there, she finally manages to speak.

“I’m sorry.”

Lucanis shushes her.

“No apologies, just breathe. I’ve got you.”

She lets herself go slack in his arms. He holds her. His warmth immediately envelopes her, and the cold ice stone under them is left nothing more than a detail. Time passes.

“I’ve never seen you like this, Rook. What is it?”

She doesn’t even know what to say. How to explain it. If there’s even something to explain, at all. Everything is all scrambled up in her brain. When she feels his fingers graze against her scalp, she closes her eyes. Her head is shaved, there’s not a strand of hair on it, but she still feels the pleasurable shivers when he passes his nails along her buzzcut.

“I don’t…I’m not like…”

His fingers pause, then resume their grazing.

“I have these moments, sometimes. I always make sure no one sees.”

Against her, Lucanis doesn’t move, providing a welcoming support for her.

“I never…It never happened like that. I always had things under control, or I dealt with it privately.”

“Until now,” concludes Lucanis. “Something is eating at your mind.”

She turns to dive into his deep, lovely brown eyes.

“What happened with the Antaams before I took this job is still not forgotten. I don’t know where to go from there. I still have to stay low for a while, and that’s okay, but…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence.

“We killed gods, Rook. You made it happen," Lucanis expression is focused on her, full of...what, pride ? "Why would the Crows continue to keep you at an arm’s length ? You’re not fired. If anything, you deserve a raise.”

She laughs at his words.

“You know it’s not like that.”

“It can be.”

He doesn’t say it, but she understands the meaning behind it. He’s First Talon. He won’t let her be cast aside.

“Do you remember what I told you? As long as my duties don’t call to me yet, I’ll be by your side. And even then, I’ll always be by your side.”

Rook smiles.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Alright, lovers,” suddenly interrupts Viago’s voice.

They turn towards the Fifth Talon, now standing at the entrance of Rook’s room. Lucanis reprimands himself for not closing the door sooner.

We’re not…Rook wants to protest, but she stops herself. She has a very specific point of view concerning these things. Of course, she loves Lucanis. She would die for him. And she knows that Lucanis loves her too. Unfortunately, there’s a limit that she cannot allow herself to cross. The night they shared together, before the final fight with Elgar’nan, could have been a night of…well, something more. But Lucanis had noticed her reluctance, and they had just made out and enjoyed each other’s company, hoping to still be alive at the end of all of this. She still doesn’t know how he feels about it.

“We have a meeting tomorrow with some of the houses. I’ll expect you there,” Viago adds, interrupting her train of thoughts.

Her mind grows calmer again. She processes the information. He doesn’t need to specify the place. The Cantori Diamond.

“And, Rook?” he adds. “You should go see a healer.”

She nods distractedly.

“Thanks, Viago?”

She knows she won’t take his advice. She has bad history with healers in general.

~~~

When she first shaved her head, Rook was fourteen. She never liked her strawberry blond curls. Not that they were ugly, but it didn’t match with her. She always had them at about chin’s length, long enough to cover her cheeks and maybe a part of her neck, but never more than that.

It hadn’t been a long time since she was taken in by the Crows. She still went by the name of Dawn. The training had been hard that day, and that was the first time that she felt that something in her was amiss. Not quite exactly right. That night, when she looked into the small wobbly mirror beside her bed, she couldn’t stand to look at her hair anymore.

The first try had been terrible. She’d ended up with splotches of hair scattered all around her partially shaved skull. When Teia had saw the mess she’d made of her head, she’d let out an exclamation of shock. The young woman had helped the girl get rid of the irregularities and had managed to give her a nice, presentable buzzcut. Upon seeing Dawn like this, Viago had raised a brow but hadn’t done anything besides giving her a small nod of encouragement.

Now, quite advanced into her twenties, Rook has kept up with this haircut. Although some of her battle scars extend to her scalp in quite a visible way, she is happy with it. Content. She may always have been kind of lost, but this, she has always been sure of it.

~~~

It’s a bit hard to wake up the next morning, but at least she has something to do : to assist a meeting. A smooth wave of reassurance washes over her as she gets ready to go to Treviso. Lucanis is behind her when they pass through the Eluvian, and Rook can’t help but flash a smile at him when they arrive in their city.

“Good to be home?” Lucanis says with a glint of adoration in his eyes.

She nods, humming the air. Cobblestone, dewy ivy, wood. Floral scents from the bushes nearby. The smell of the night is still lingering.

“Good to be home,” she confirms.

They get to the Diamond without waiting any further. When they enter the meeting room, a space adjacent to the main hall, everyone seems to be already there. Heir, sat next to an expectant Jacobus, gives a polite nod to Rook. Part of De Riva’s house is there as well, some sat on chairs around the big stone table coming up from the ground, others standing on the sides, leaning on the wall. Teia and Viago are waiting right next to the entrance.

Rook cannot escape the look Viago gives her. It’s a blue, ice, cold color. Even though she knows there’s a question in there, she doesn’t try to decipher it further. She’s not in the same state as she was in the last evening. She’s okay and functional now. Let’s get to it.

“Everyone is there,” Viago says, looking at both Rook and Lucanis this time.

Rook knows that look. It’s an easy one: you’re late. Weirdly enough, for a strictly-trained assassin, she sometimes manages to not arrive in time for things. She holds her smirk in. Teia’s voice comes cutting through, diving straight into the subject.

“Although Treviso has been badly affected by the Antaams and Ghilan’nain archdemon, Minrathous needs some more help rebuilding. As you all know, we have gathered a team for this. House de Riva and part of my house will be sent there.”

“Will there be operations in Treviso?” Jacobus asks.

“Of course,” Viago answers. “But we must be a bit more careful there. What’s left of the Antaam army will not go down smoothly. They’ve got their own network. We’re working on a plan.”

“This meeting is for the distribution of contracts,” Teia adds, retrieving a pile of parchments from under a small desk. “All of the previously appointed Crows from House De Riva, here.” She places a smaller pile of paper on the table. The Crows serve themselves. “House Cantori : Egoram, here is the quarter of the town that you're attached to. Take the trainees with you.”

“Maggie, you’ll go to Dock Town. You’ll find Neve Gallus there. Tina and Gregor, at the frontier.”

"Yrina, you’ll make rounds around the Cobbled Swan in search for any Venatori strays. I’ve heard some of them have found a hiding amongst bards and artists.”

Jacobus scoffs, quickly masking his laugh as a raspy cough.

Teia continues to distribute the papers until there’s none left. Heir and Jacobus are assigned to Treviso, which makes the young boy almost complain. He really wanted to travel to Minrathous.

"Jacobus Egrativi," Heir gently scolds as they stand up.

“That leaves us with the both of you,” Viago says, turning to Rook and Lucanis.

Rook is glad that the panic doesn’t knock at her ribcage when she hears it. No need to worry. You will have a contract. You will get busy.

“Obviously, I guess that you have some updating to do with your family, now, Lucanis. You’re First Talon, after all.”

Rook looks at Lucanis. His silky, raven hair shines under the oil lamps. For a moment she almost forgets herself, lost in the admiration of his smooth locks. She looks away, trying to push down the newly arisen thoughts. He’s beautiful. Hot. Kind. That big pleading look he gives me sometimes? Fuck. She shakes her head.

“Rook ?” Teia says.

Her head almost snaps back up, but she controls the movement just in time. She has been lost in thought regarding Minrathous and Treviso, obviously. Not thinking about Lucanis, at all. She was simply planning their next course of action. Not basking in his scent of coffee, and berries, and…

“We think it better for you to stay here a while,” Teia informs her cautiously.

The rest of the Crows are gone. They’re the only four left. At Teia’s call, Rook arches a brow. She resists the urge to scratch her neck in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Here, in Treviso,” Viago specifies while closing the door. “Unless you still have matters to attend to with your team.”

“No, I don’t.”

She’s surprised the topic is even broached.

“Perfect,” he responds.

“What do you need me for, exactly? Am I allowed to retire?” she says with a smirk, knowing full well how Viago will react.

“No, Idiot. It’s a surveillance mission.”

“Okay. What is it?”

There’s a pause, almost imperceptible. But Viago continues:

“You must be prepared. Let me warn you…”

“Viago is worried,” Teia interjects, a smile on her lips. “He didn’t want you to take the job at first.”

Viago gives Teia a bad look.

“Worried? Damn, Viago, that’s not like you,” Rook says, hands on her hips.

“Take this seriously! That’s not me personally worrying over you. It’s way bigger than that. If you don’t do this correctly, the Crows could take a blow to their side.”

Rook isn’t convinced. She catches Lucanis from the corner of her eye: he’s just as confused as her.

“Not to sound arrogant, but we just killed gods,” she says. “I’m sure your new contract will be in reach of my abilities.”

Teia and Viago share a look. Oh-oh. Rook falters.

“Okay, get it out,” Lucanis intervenes. “What is it?”

It almost seems like Viago doesn’t want to open his mouth and say the words. When Teia finally speaks, giving him the chance to stay silent, Rook doesn’t register the words at first. Lucanis places a warm hand on her shoulder.

Levito’s Healing House. Levito’s Healing House. Levito’s…Healing…House. You must investigate around Levito’s Healing House. That’s the name. She hears it, reverberating in her skull, jumping around like a rubberball. Levito’s Healing House. They’re planning something. It’s our chance to root them out of the city for good, but we must have someone investigating around here first.

Rook doesn’t let herself stumble in front of them.

“Why?” she asks, gaze lost in front of her. “Do you need me to infiltrate the place as a spy?”

“No,” Viago reassures her. “Not to that extent. Just observing from afar. Gather information. As I’ve taught you.”

Even though she’s relieved at hearing she won’t have to go back inside this…thing, her throat locks.

“Why me?” she asks.

Her voice is neutral. Not a shake in it.

“Viago thought you’d be the best suited for it, in the end. You have...history, back there.”

Teia looks sorry as she says it. Rook glances furiously at her mentor.

“What? And you don’t even want to tell me yourself? Teia has to be the one saying it? She just said you didn’t want me to take the job!”

“Rook…” pleads Teia. “We’ve tried to find someone, but we know it will be fruitless if it isn’t someone who knows their way of operating.”

Rook takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“So, observing.”

“Yes.” Viago nods. “Rook, I need you to confirm to me that you will not get into this personally. As I said, if you do something rash, I don’t know if the Crows will be as forgiving as they were with your little run-in with the Antaam.”

She nods.

“I need words.” Viago adds sternly.

Rook raises her head to plunge her eyes in his. Ice, blue, cold. Fresh snow. Cooling.

“Okay.”

“Did I miss something?” Lucanis asks.

“It’s Rook’s story to tell,” answers Viago.

“Do you know what Levito’s Healing House is?” Rook asks him.

“I…vaguely remember. It’s a place of healing.” Viago rolls his eyes. Lucanis feels Spite snicker inside of him. “For matters of the mind, as they say themselves,” he adds.

Rook nods.

“Well, I was in there for a part of my childhood. Don’t remember it a lot, but what I remember is…not good.”

“They don’t do healing, obviously.” Teia says, her mouth a crisp line.

Lucanis doesn’t need to ask further details. He knows, now, he remembers, the whispers about the place. This shady mental institution in Treviso. The kids who manage to escape from there, the things they manage to tell, if they're not rendered mute from traumatism.

“You told me about it, once, after Weisshaupt” he says, thoughtful. “That you grew up in this sort of place.”

Rook nods.

“Not for all my life, but yes.”

He wants to know what happened to her in there, but he knows it's not the right time for this.

“You have all my support, in whatever you do, Rook. Remember that.”

“Thank you,” she manages to smile.

Her hand comes to find his, and squeezes. He can see the way her jaw untightens at the contact. He squeezes back.

When they leave, Teia turns to Viago.

“She took this surprisingly well. I mean, she seemed a bit stunned, but that’s to be expected. What do you think of it?”

“Her reaction?” says Viago. “She’s obviously bluffing. But I’ll take her word on this. I trust her.”

“So you think she will take it upon herself? If she’s bluffing, that means she’s affected.”

“She will. She’s strong like that, Teia.”

A pause.

“I know.”

You were always so patient and kind to him despite his title as Demon of Vyrantium, him being an abomination, just a kill for hire, you always treated him with humanity. Something Lucanis hasn’t felt many times.

He denied himself the fantasy of you possibly liking him the way the liked you. You flirted with him and gifted him the wyvern dagger, check up on him regularly, but how would someone like you be interested in him?

But after you disappeared into the Fade, after every attempt at finding you, every time Emmrich and Bellara failed again to locate you, with every cup of coffee chugged down his throat and with every minute he spends longer on the green couch in your bedroom his mind was more and more plagued by regrets.

Why didn’t he lean in for the kiss, why was he never brave enough to risk it all, why wasn’t he the one trapped in the Fade? Why you? Why, why, why?

Oh how much he loves you, good you are to him. How can he possibly live on without you, without you making him feel like a foolish boy crushing on a girl, nothing more than a simple person and not an abomination, first Talon, mage killer and whatever other titles were pushed onto him.

Lucanis buried his face in your neck to hide his humiliating crying face since he was still completely inside you. His hands steadily wrap around your waist to pull you even closer than you already are, his lips finding your skin over and over again to remind himself you are here, you are with him.

Your hand cupping his face to lift him away from your shoulder grounds him in reality, your hooded eyes and quivering smile making him feel like he’s about to cum without a single thrust.

“M-Mierda. I love you. I love you so much…”