#lostinforestbound

Spite shoved against the walls of Lucanis’ mind, trying to force his way out, presumably to attack the blood mage responsible, and Lucanis had to fight to keep him contained, the demon’s fury burning every inch of him. Every nerve, every muscle, every inch of skin screamed with pain. A heartbeat passed, the sound of a crow’s wings fluttering in the distance, and a sword swung in the direction of his neck, its wielder intent on severing his head from the rest of his body.

A blast of cold air rushed past him, a spell that turned his enemy into a block of ice, sword arm raised for the killing blow. He glanced over his shoulder at the sight of Neve turning her sights next on a Venatori mage, continuing the fight since he safety was assured. Spite’s rage was a tangible thing, every attempt to contain it more excruciating than the last. 

Now is not the time!

THEY. MUST. BLEED.

And they shall.

With every last remnant of control he could muster, Lucanis shoved Spite into a contained portion of his mind, the demon struggling furiously against the chains, before he gripped his daggers tightly in his hands. Spite’s fury was unmistakable, each roar of anger a pulse of electricity in his brain, the pain nearly undoing him as he fought to keep his feet.

Fuck, they didn’t have time for this. The enemy surrounded them, Rook was indisposed and Neve… she was left to fight alone against blood magic, against Venatori agents. She would fail… they all would, if Lucanis couldn’t gain control over himself. Channeling that rage was effective, but difficult when he and Spite were so at odds with each other. But Rook… he knew they could work together. They had to or they’d all die here.

The wings were still a strange phenomenon. Spite couldn’t explain them, or at least, wouldn’t, whenever Lucanis asked. But after a year of having the demon inside of his body, they sprouted as if they’d always been a part of him, an extension of not only the demon’s powers, but the embodiment of the darkness he carried inside. 

Lilac permeated every shadowy corner of the alley, the damp stones glowing unnaturally as he stepped forward, burying his dagger in the chest of his enemy, spinning away before the blood mage aimed a spell in his direction. Two more steps before he dodged a scythe as it came down, blade stuck in the mud where it hit the ground. His arm came around the Venatori’s throat, and with the downward motion of his free hand, severed the muscle in the man’s shoulder. The Venatori dropped the scythe into a puddle, water splashing onto them both before Lucanis ended it with a swipe of the blade across his throat.

The momentum carried him to the blood mage who’d been distracted by Neve. Spite’s powers intermingled with the reflexes his Crow training had honed in him and they were nearly on top of the mage before they’d even realized what happened, dagger protruding from their neck as they dropped into a bloody heap in the mud. 

Without hesitation, Neve rushed to where Rook had fallen, the battle forgotten, her instincts to heal and protect taking priority. And Lucanis… he froze, watching helplessly as the detective shifted rotted wood away from the warrior, healing magic in one hand as she worked.

GO. TO. HIM.

He wanted to. Lucanis had never wanted anything more: to help Rook to his feet, to run his hands over his body looking for each and every hurt, to soothe the worst of the pain away with a touch. But his hands weren’t meant for softness. They ended lives, blood-soaked and scarred, only destined for death.

So why did he wish to be kind?

A single step. Then another. Both were followed by a third and Lucanis was suddenly standing over Neve and Rook, eyes on the gash above the man’s eye, blood dripping into his face, and it took everything in him not to howl with the same ferocious anger as Spite. Neve glanced up at him, eyes echoing his fear, something neither would ever put a voice to. 

“He’s unconscious and I cannot heal him here. Not with the Venatori roaming. We must return to the Lighthouse.”

Lucanis wasn’t sure how they’d managed it, bearing the whole of Rook’s weight on their much smaller shoulders as they shuffled through the wet streets to the former Shadow Dragon hideout. It wasn’t easy work, not with the strain on Neve’s prothestic leg, and the exhaustion seeping into both of their muscles. Rook’s head hung at an awkward angle that left Lucanis worried, the gash on his forehead more concerning in the strange light of the Fade.

Lucanis avoided the infirmary after they’d returned, leaving Bellara and Neve to help Rook with healing. He didn’t know what he’d do if Rook didn’t wake up. He ignored the fear curling in his gut as best as he could, but in the end, all he did was pace the room he’d taken as his own, wringing his hands and fighting with Spite about what to do next.

The demon had demanded to see Rook. Refused to be silent when Lucanis denied him. A couple cups of coffee later and his hands had even begun to shake, anxiety and caffeine leaving his heart pulsing painfully in his veins. Each step he took echoed in his head, the sound of his heels striking the stone keeping time with his heartbeat. The struggle against Spite had waned a little less than an hour ago, the demon going quiet at the realization that Lucanis would not budge.

Enough so that he managed to think without interruption.

Lucanis wasn’t entirely sure what’d gone wrong during the fight. The warrior was so proficient at wielding a blade, his shield having protected him and the others from dangerous enemies, a barrier Lucanis had found safety behind one too many times. And that was their situation most days: they protected each other, killed the enemy before they could kill them, made sure the other returned to the Lighthouse in one piece. But one second was all it took for something to go wrong. 

And Lucanis failed in his duty to protect the man he-

His mind froze before the word could fully form.

What did he feel for Rook? For so long, he figured he was incapable of feeling anything past contempt for his enemies (familial affection for Caterina and Illario aside). Even the things he’d felt for Viago were brief, an attachment that ran its course in a matter of weeks (and he couldn’t even blame Viago’s lack of reciprocation for that).

Lucanis wasn’t prepared for any of this, and it made it all the harder to come to terms with.

Time passed strangely in the Fade, the never changing scenery making it difficult to parse whether it was day or night. Lucanis was accustomed to being the only one awake during the supposed late evening, a ghost haunting the halls, an echo of a man who’d once lived without fear of losing control of himself. Now, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to truly sleep again.

To his surprise, when he entered the kitchen, Neve was sitting in one of the chairs in front of the hearth, staring into the flames with dead eyes. Fear seized him, settling uncomfortably in his gut. For a man who feared very little in his short life, losing Rook was one thing he was truly afraid of.

Neve must have sensed his presence because she glanced up, blinking at him briefly before a frown pulled at her lips. “You look as if you haven’t sleep in days.”

He hadn’t, truth be told, but with how much the healer in her overshadowed the detective as of late, he merely shrugged, hoping she’d drop it in light of Rook’s health. “My problems are ones best left for another day. We have other more concerning matters.” He paused, a heartbeat breaking the silence before he spoke again. “Rook? How is he?”

Neve sighed, shifting her posture into a more comfortable position, eyes returning to the blaze. “Rook is resting, but he’s fine. No worse for wear.” 

Relief washed over him, anxiety lifting from his shoulders as his eyes roamed the room, the decor only slightly different from when he’d first stepped into the Fade. Rook’s little touches of Tevinter were everywhere: pages of the latest serial on the dining room table, some tomes about early Tevinter history stacked on a chair in the corner, a serpent handled mug sitting unused on the mantle.

A mug he liked to drink that special Antivan hot chocolate out of when they sat around the fireplace together.

“Rook is worried about you.” She said suddenly, settling back against the chair with arms crossed. Lucanis felt the judgment even when he wasn’t looking at her. “He wants the best for everyone, sometimes to his own detriment. But with you, it’s deeper than that.”

Lucanis swallowed around the uncomfortable lump forming in his throat. “I don’t know what you’re-”

He couldn’t speak the words when he knew they were a lie. He saw the looks Rook sent him when he thought Lucanis wasn’t looking. 

Lucanis was positive his face betrayed the same expression whenever he spied Rook in the same room.

In the silence that followed, Lucanis heard Neve’s slight intake of breath. “Don’t do that. You know how much you mean to him. Rook is a man of many talents, but hiding his true feelings isn’t one of them.” 

He finally sought her gaze through the darkness and immediately recognized the exhaustion on her face. It was the same deep seated fatigue that weighed down his bones, got into his muscles, pulsed through his blood. 

“I will go to him.” Lucanis promised, knowing he couldn’t stay away even if he wished to. Not with the feelings Rook brought out in him. Feelings he thought he was incapable of. 

Even Spite was confused, more about what the sudden sweaty palms and nervous palpitations meant, but Lucanis  found he couldn’t explain it at all. He wasn’t even sure if he understood it. But he owed Rook so much and after everything they’d been through, he didn’t want to run from this anymore. 

Why was he so willing to risk his life against self proclaimed gods but was terrified at confronting the very idea of being vulnerable with someone who truly cared for him? 

The infirmary was as quiet as the grave, not a sound breaking the silence. Was Rook even here? Neve said he’d needed the rest, that most likely he had a concussion from smacking his head into the stone wall when he’d fallen, and the infirmary was stocked with potions. The likelihood Rook was still in the infirmary was low, especially when he stayed in a room merely feet from here. Perhaps he could brew a cup of tea, an apology for failing to protect him like he’d promised-

Lucanis paused in the doorway, hand still flat against the surface of the door, his eyes settling on the form of Rook sleeping on the tiny cot in the corner of the room. Though he was quiet, his chest moved with each intake of breath, and Lucanis felt immense relief at the sight.

He was safe, he was alive. 

No thanks to me.

Spite was strangely quiet as he stood there, eyes taking in every detail of Rook as he slept. Dark auburn curls rested against cheek, each puff of breath shifting one particular lock of hair. His eyes were closed, hiding the mesmerizing amber of his gaze, and Lucanis felt a pang of regret. Rook’s eyes said more than his mouth ever did and Lucanis found he missed how they’d alight on him. From across a room, or a battlefield, those golden irises always enchanted him. So much so that whenever his body betrayed him and he fell into a fitful sleep, Rook’s sunshine eyes calmed his nightmares.

Lucanis moved further into the room, the throw rugs masking the sound of his steps. Rook didn’t stir, the elven lantern sitting on the table beside his cot throwing strange shadows across his skin. They didn’t obscure the bruising along the curve of his jaw, shades of violet intermingling with the red of Rook’s tattoo. Despite his appearance, there was one thing left unchanged amidst the marks of violence.

His freckles.

They spread across every inch of exposed skin, like stars dotting a clear Antivan night sky. Lucanis never put much thought into a person’s body past where he might strike to fulfill a contract, but Rook… Rook changed everything. Now, he craved a brief glance from amber eyes, a light brush of hands when a mug was traded between them, and a sweet smile when he entered the room after a particularly difficult evening.

Now, Lucanis had something more to lose.

And he was going to have to kill a god- no, two gods- to keep it.

A sigh left Rook’s mouth, lips parted as he breathed quietly in sleep, eyes fluttering beneath his eyelids as he dreamed, hopefully of something more pleasant than reality. Lucanis didn’t know what to do with himself, standing as he was over the cot, hands hanging uselessly at his sides, tongue heavy in his mouth. It took him longer than it should have to realize Rook’s eyes had opened, a pair of suns among the darkness.

“Lucanis?” Rook’s voice jolted him back to awareness, the roughness stirring warmth low in his gut. Warmth he didn’t know what to do with. “Is everything alright?”

Lucanis flexed his hands, skin tight over his knuckles, resisting the urge to reach out and brush a stray curl out of Rook’s eyes. With a sigh, he sank into the cot across from Rook, refusing to let the concern on the man’s face distract him from his purpose. Clearing his throat, Lucanis stared at his hands, memorizing the scars marking his skin, moments in his life when he’d failed to do his job to perfection. Scars left from careless wounds, culminating in lessons he had needed to learn.

Somehow, those lessons hadn’t taught him enough.

“I failed you, Rook.”

Silence followed his confession, words hanging between them like air before a storm, thick and heavy, breathing difficult in the midst of the emotional whirlwind tearing through him. He’d made too many mistakes as of late and now, someone he cared for was paying the price. 

Rook shifted into a sitting position, wincing in pain as the wound on his forehead smarted painfully. “Lucanis-”

“Rook, you shouldn’t move.” He reached out in the space between them, fingers grasping nothing but empty air. The only time in his life when he’d felt more helpless was in the ossuary. “You’ll re-injure yourself.”

Rook curled his own fingers around Lucanis’, squeezing slightly as if Lucanis was the one in need of safety and comfort. Guilt gnawed at him, a sick curdling in his stomach that made his tongue heavy and his mouth taste strange. “What’s wrong? What is all this talk about failure?” He paused for a heartbeat, a frown pulling at lips Lucanis thought about too often in the lonely dark of the place he laid his head.

“You are hurt because I could not protect you. The Venatori- if only I’d been faster, smarter… you wouldn’t be sitting in this room right now.”

Rook blinked at him, those hauntingly beautiful eyes studying Lucanis as if he could read his thoughts. Nothing would surprise him by this point, not with Solas rattling around in Rook’s head. “How could you believe such a thing?”

“I-”

“Do you think me so incapable that I couldn’t make my own stupid mistakes without your help?”

Rook’s tone was light, lighter than it’d been before, or at least it seemed that way. Not at all matching the stare Rook was aiming in his direction. Lucanis ran his free hand over the back of his neck, feeling absurdly self-conscious at the soft touch of Rook’s hand against his and at the sparkle in his golden eyes. Was he… being teased?

Somewhere in his head, he felt Spite’s presence again but this time, there was a giddy excitement he’d never felt from the demon before. Almost as if…

Did Spite also have feelings for Rook? Or was this some sort of residual affection because of Lucanis’ own feelings? 

Too many questions and almost no answers.

A sudden smile spread across Rook’s freckled lips, an expression of pure joy radiating from the man as if he was made of pure sunlight. Against Lucanis’ darkness, it was like breaking through the surface of icy waters, safety amidst the violence. Lucanis struggled to take in a breath, the longing a physical ache in his chest, each thump of his heart a painful cadence to which he’d memorized the melody, bittersweet and unfamiliar.

Rook was simultaneously his every hope and his inevitable doom; one he was more than willing to meet head on, for good or ill.

“You are teasing me.” A laugh slipped out despite himself, glad to see that a head injury had little effect on Rook’s ability to bring levity to a situation. “I shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow, you still manage to make me question everything.”

Rook raised an eyebrow then winced at the sudden twitch of pain from his wound. “Ouch.”

“Perhaps during the next fight, you could avoid getting smacked around by a blood mage.” Lucanis responded, only to earn a chuckle from the man across from him. 

“Yes, well, I do hear it’s bad for one’s health.”

The knot of anxiety began to loosen in his chest, each breath coming easier at the realization that Rook was alright… he was going to get through this like he always did and they’d continue fighting another day.

Rook’s fingers tightened around his hand, skin warm and rough, touch like electricity in his veins. With a gentle tug, it didn’t take much convincing for Lucanis to shift to Rook’s cot, settling in next to him with a tired noise. His shoulder brushed against Rook’s arm, the man’s taller and lankier form nearly towering over him even sitting beside one another.

“I was worried, Rook.” Lucanis admitted, leaning back against the wall behind them, entwining their fingers together and thanking the Maker for keeping the man he cared for safe even when he couldn’t. “I can’t lose you, not after everything that’s happened.”

Rook shifted to rest against Lucanis, head on his shoulder, curls tickling his cheek. And in that moment, after years of loneliness and death being his constant companion, Lucanis felt at peace. Even the demon that resided within was quiet, subdued, he daresay even happy.

“I’m alright, Lucanis.” Rook whispered, turning his head and burying his face into the curve where Lucanis’ neck met his shoulder. Hot breath caressed his skin, lips tantalizingly close to his pulse. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t promise that, Rook, but I… appreciate it all the same.”

Rook hummed low in his throat, mouth hovering so close that Lucanis could feel the movement of his lips in the little space between them. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

Lucanis snorted, the noise strange to his ears. “I have a contract to fulfill.” Shifting so Rook rested comfortably against his chest, he brushed his fingers down Rook’s arm, enjoying the pressure of his weight on him, the warmth of his body filling all of the cold places the darkness had seeped into. “And you. I have you.”

Rook smiled against his chest, the motion obvious even over layers of clothing. Lucanis’ heart pounded in his chest, knowing full well he was gotten. And he couldn’t recall a time when he’d been happier in his entire life.