#nevcanis

She had wanted to take on a new mission, Neve had been told by Davrin, who had accompanied Rook after Bellara had been taken by the blight three months ago. His head hung low as if expecting Neve to go in for the killing blow, as if she would lunge and tear at him for not being able to stop it. But how could she? Both of them already tried to find the fault within themselves. So Neve choked on words of comfort until she felt there was no air anymore. No one said anything when she left for outside.

The poison was quick, she probably felt no pain, Emmrich said, soothing voice dripping with grief, as Lucanis only nodded along, as Spite clawed and screamed at his insides and then at the wall until his voice was horse and his nails bled. He knew this was a lie. A kind one, maybe, yet all he could see was Rooks face, grimacing even in death. He knew the poison brought pain beyond imagining.

Their shared bed was too empty, to spacious without Rooks tall frame in it. Arms and wings wrapped tighter around each other, holding each other in grief and anger and sadness and numbing loss. Still their mornings were too quiet without Rooks chatter and the nights too long as they worked without pause on finding the one who took their beloved from them.

They found him before Rooks funeral. It felt too easy. There was no grand surprises, only bland truths. People who were vocally against Rooks work, against her being with the first Talon and the inspirational Detective, against her having saved the world as a no good- er from a faction they did not even care about.

Rook was not that loved anyway, he claimed.

He was so very wrong.

So many people came to their funeral. Friends from the Veilguard, friends from all their factions, people who were blessed with Rooks bright personally, who looked up to her, cherished her. When the send the ashes off into the sea Lucanis and Neve held hands, the same way they held hands when the raised a light for Rook.

It was only a few months later when Neve held onto Lucanis’ once more. Only this time his hands were unnaturally cold.

As someone told her the circumstances of his death with a too empathetic tone, as if she was a wounded animal, Neve watched her tears pool on his knuckles; wondering on how they could be so stiff when just this morning they were wrapped around a mug when making coffee, wrapped around a spatula when making food, wrapped around her when making love.

He had gone out on a rumor of someone else being involved with Rooks death and the failed assassination attempt on Emmrich and Strife.

Someone seemed to get rid of the Veilguard and he was adamant to find out who.

Why did she not go with him? Why did she let him slink away from her when she was still drowsy from the happiness they shared in that not so quiet, not so sad moment this morning.

Rage. But her rage was not born of fire and embers like Taash’s was, Neve's rage was icy and unforgiving; slow and dark She could not see Spite but she knew he was there, all demonic fury as lights flickered wherever their shared fury trailed.

She worked tirelessly, finding clues, trying to make sense of it. The rest of the Veilguard helped her, held her close as she had to watch how Caterina, who Neve was convinced just refused to die out of sheer stubbornness, conducted a lavish second and final sendoff for her grandson and refused to allow Neve there. The words and threats she had thrown at her head were nothing in comparison to not getting to say goodbye.

There may have been no official goodbye for her, but Teia and Viago were kind enough to offer her to find a hidden nook, a safe place to watch from afar.

Neve had declined. Both of them attended the small wake they held in his name, when Neve raised a light for him next to them for Rook and Bellara and Harding. She tried to take some comfort in the thought of them having Book clubs and new adventures in the afterlife. If something like this even existed.

This time she did not return home for weeks. She dreaded it, dreaded the silence, the memories, the vague outlines of someone that were etched in her heart and in the mattress.

Neve threw herself into work. It took years to take apart the people who did this, who had formed just to take apart everyone she had let too close.

Davrin helped until his own calling came, Assan pressed close to him. Taash ventured out on a lead, their eyes fire and anger and never returned. Their lights shone bright next to the others’.

Rana held Neve some nights and helped her in the days. Emmrich called upon any corpse and any connection he could find to help them stop this, his eyes darting worriedly to the scars Strife bore from the attack on them. Neve recognized the fear of loving the one you love and when Emmrich caught her eye, he always made sure to touch her shoulder and sit with her in shared grief.

Their friendship grew even closer over every loss and she was thankful for it.

The news that Emmrich had died did not take her by surprise. It was a broken heart soon after Strife left the world.

He loved him so much. Neve would not have wished to see him go on without his other half. Yet she missed her friend, missed his warmth and the comfort of being the last ones together.

She attended their burial together with Fred, who only hissed sadly in her embrace.

“I know,” she whispered as hot tears fell from her eyes, as if words could soothe their terror. “I know.”

When she finally caught the organization who was behind all of it her mouth tasted only of ash. It tasted like everyone she lost, of every brutal loss, every word unspoken.

It had been years since they defeated the elven gods but not enough to justify her being the very last of them.

She had gone back to the Lighthouse but found it unbearable. She had gone back to the Rivaini Sea but had found it too salty and vast. She went to Nevarra and to Arlathan, but their weirdness was no comfort with none of her friends to make sense of it anymore. She was less welcome by the wardens with every year, as known faces were slowly replaced by new ones, ones who would never experience the calling but still held the title with pride. She had no place among the crows.

In the end it was Docktown were she stayed, the place she always returned to. She took on work for next to no money and saved whoever she could.

With every reunion her ritual began.

She would start at the place of their lights, making sure that every one was still afloat. It took some time to light up the group and say hello to everyone, but it was well worth it. When Fred was around, he would join her, but nowadays he was hauled up in the Necropolis, studying and learning. Curiosity and his never tiring feet had so many nooks to uncover still, Neve could not blame him.

Then she would go to where Hal’s was. Her footsteps on the wood seemed wrong without two other pairs of feet alongside her but on a good day she would try to conjure up the sound. Lucanis silent steps and Rooks jumps. Then she would look to the spot the Viper would always sit at, missing his presence around. She would imagine Lucanis making a joke about him being less a Viper but a Crow with how he perched above Docktown.

She would imagine smiling so hard one of her lips curled up in reality before venturing on. She would give some money to the begging people, still too many, still too hungry, and sit with whoever was willing. She learned their names and made sure to always bring something for them.

Then she would go on to the first place she and Lucanis kissed in public. It was heated and full of fear of loosing him after some Venatori nearly took out his jugular.

She remembered how Rook stumbled upon them holding hands; how her eyes lit up. Neve also remembered how many kisses it took to get Rook to stop hiding her insecurities behind bad puns, the first time Rook and Lucanis kissed in front of her.

Their beginning was messy, full of fear and longing. Imperfect but it had been theirs.

She went to all the places they had shared. The place they skipped stones, the place they would drink at, the places were they shared secrets and touches.

With every place she would think of the memory, put it behind ice so it would not wither away. She would imagine Rook and Lucanis being there, Horns and crows trailing next to her.

At the end she would sit on a dock and share a moment with their memory as she watched the ships go by. She smiled when she could hear Lucanis bemoan her choice of food and making coffee, thinking of the way he could spend hours on perfecting his beverage.

She thought about Rook reading the newest filthy literature to her, imagining the way her lips curled up and cheeks reddened, all toe curling and joy. Seeing Neve like this would turn her face into the frown she knew so very well, the one that they always had when they tried to work out the solution to a problem.

Neve chased the memory in her hollowed out heart through Docktown until she reached the door to their shared apartment, rent still payed by an “anonymous friend” who she knew to be Dorian, until she bolted.

It took years until she was ready to go in again.

When she did, she wept. Wept with rage, wept with sorrow, wept with the bitter aftertaste of having something so sweet and so vulnerable only to have it pulled away from you.

She fell asleep curled into dusted blankets, holding onto them like a child. Just for this one moment she wanted to feel small again, in the vastness of everything that was too horrible and too lonely.

Her dreams were full of happiness and the lighthearted feeling of having her loved ones around her, both romantic and platonic. Her dream self did not understand why everyone was so sad for her, she did not understand why they told her they would wait for her.

In the morning she only felt heavier for it, as if the ice she wielded had settled into her blood tying her to the bed, as it dawned her why they were there and she was all alone.

She took the whole morning to go through their memories, to pick things she wanted to bring along and to discard others when her eyes fell on a piece of paper. Even after years she recognized the lopsided handwriting: Rook.

“Hey love, if you find this it’s because you are gloomy and going through our stuff again. I would tell you to look at the bright side of things, but I know you too much, so I have drawn you Lucanis and Spite who are bickering right now about how to make your favorite dish for your birthday. We will be waiting for you and surprise you with it. When you find this, you will probably be able to remember what a blast this was, so dry your tears. We will always be waiting for you, because you’ve got the love we need to see ourselves through. I love you, Lucanis does too. See you soon.”

She should cry, Neve thought to herself, but she could not bring herself to do it. Instead she felt the most genuine smile come to her face she had in so very long.

There is still so much to do before she could see them again, but until then she would carry on.

“Like what you see?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, but she could see his throat bob as he swallowed. Then he stepped closer, his hips between her thighs, and bent to press a kiss to her bare sternum. His lips were hot, and she could feel the soft sweep of his beard as he tilted his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth. The swipe of his tongue against her made her arch and cry out and he reached for her, sliding his hands up her back until his palms were supporting her shoulderblades.

Oh, she had wanted this.