#shameless fluff

"i did, lip." you pout. you felt like you'd done something... wrong? like lip was angry at you. you'd just brought him the lunch he always forgot. "you didn't reply so i just-"

"-you just brought it in? couldn't wait?"

"why are you- why does that even matter?" you could feel your pitch rise in that shrill, the one that meant you we teetering on a fight.

lip cringed at the sound, hovering over you so the guys couldn't see your upset expression. "you know they're gonna bust my fuckin' balls when you do shit like this. they're-they're gonna fuck with me all day about this."

"about me bringing you your lunch?" your throat burned with an all too familiar heat that meant you were close to crying- to spilling right over.

lip could see it, see it in your eyes, in the wobble of your lips. he sucked in a breath, nerves shot and itching for a cigarette desperately. "baby," though the endearment was spoken with more of a grit to it than the normal coo. "i told you to text me and i'd come to the car-"

"-why are you mad at me right now?" you squeaked, voice bubbling up with a cry. "i just brought you your lunch, lip." then the tears come. the big tears that flood your water line before rolling down your cheeks, always making lip's heart break- even more so now because he was the asshole who made you cry.

The kitchen smelled lovely - fish heads poaching on the stove, a fragrant waft of cheese from the board Gale was filling up beside it. Tara settled contentedly into her preferred chair. Her eyes had just fluttered closed for a delicious pre-dinner nap when Gale's mumbled song resolved into words.

He had come to set a dish on the table, and she could hear little snatches of lyrics. A bit rude when she was clearly trying to sleep, but oh well.

"Little laaady, tressym mine,

Fluffy feathers, eyes that shiiiine,

Flies and purrs and casts a spell,

Snores at night but hides it well..."

Tara's eyes flew open. Gale had returned to the stove, now singing loudly and confidently, though as before his tone wandered in and out of tuneful.

"Little lady Taaaaaraaaa..."

"Mr. Dekarios!"

Gale spun, looking faintly guilty. "Yes?"

"Show some respect! Why, I'm considering breaking the household ban on Fireball. What a song!"

"But you are fluffy, Tara, there's no point denying it."

"Snores at night! I never!"

"It's quite a melodious snore, really. There's a bit of a fluting sound to it."

"Oh! No respect whatsoever!"

Gale grinned, then ducked his head in apology. "I'm sorry. I'll find more appropriate lyrics next time."

Tara said nothing, instead turning in her chair to show him her back. Next time. Pfft.

"I'll find more appropriate lyrics and I'll add crab to the pate. Will that please you, Lady Tara?"

“You didn’t have to go through this much trouble, Luca!” Naera chided, fists on her hips as she stared around the room, mouth agape. “I thought we were just gonna have a game of cards. Drink a lot. Eat some food. Win some coin! This is… wow. Just… wow.” She spun around on the spot to really take in the time and effort her lover and his Crow family had gone through for her. When she’d suggested a friendly get-together to celebrate the defeat of Elgar'nan – away from the bustle of the streets – word had reached Teia, and the rest was history. The Crows around her had insisted on making it grander than the casual affair she had originally envisioned. From Lighthouse catch up to lavish black-tie casino dinner. 

The rest of the team adored the themed night and said they would be there with bells on. Naera had glowered at the well-meaning woman when she saw the invitations, telling her promptly that she had nothing suitable for such an event. Teia had scoffed at her and given her a withering stare, as if she were offended that she hadn’t considered every avenue.  

“We have two weeks, do we not? That is plenty of time for my tailors to whip something up! Then whenever we have balls, you can wear it again!” she said, clapping, a smug look on her face. 

Naera could feel her eyebrow twitch. “So you’d let me wear the dress more than once?” 

“Of course not, Querida. What a foolish thing to say.”  

Strong hands on her hips stopped Naera’s slow turn. She didn’t have to turn around to know who was touching her; she knew by his grip, by the warmth from his skin. “Truly, Lucanis, what you and Teia managed is a vision! If Teia had allowed me to wear a hat, I would tip it to you, good sir!” she laughed, still looking at the magical scene before her. 

“Nonsense, Rook,” he murmured against her ear. “It is you who looks divine tonight. Remind me to find more excuses to get you into formal wear. It suits you.” 

A flare of embarrassment rushed to her cheeks at her lover’s kind words. She was not averse to wearing dresses; she had worn them in Rivain, though as a Lord of Fortune, it just wasn’t tenable. Easier to wear armour or clothes that were more suited to fighting than dancing. Still, Lucanis wasn’t wrong. She did look amazing, and it was all thanks to Teia and her magic workers. Naera wasn’t naive enough to believe the bill for the dress hadn’t gone straight to the First Talon – nor sheltered enough to miss that his cousin, the newly appointed accounts man for the First House, would write it off as a taxable expense. 

Tricksy bastard.

Chiffon of the palest blue that shifted silver or white in the light trailed over her curves like mist, flaring out in soft folds that danced around her feet. Rook knew that this dress was made with her in mind. From the deep dip between her breasts, the fabric pulled over her shoulders, around her neck and twisted together like a fine rope she would find on a ship – undoubtedly a detail her friend knew she would appreciate. She felt like a Rivaini princess, wearing pearl bracelets and golden bangles that clinked prettily as she moved. Never in her life would she have thought that she’d be dressed so extravagantly, in such a building that housed more gold than all the treasure she had ever seen. Teia had pulled her hair up into a stack of loose, messy curls she would never be able to recreate, making her look like a proper noble. Which, for a former slave, seemed like nothing but a tale told to children to gasp at. 

Lucanis pressed a kiss to her temple and spun her. He looked her up and down with such awe she almost blushed – like they were meeting for the first time, not already living together. “I think maybe I need to hold the others off whilst Teia makes this place even fancier to match you-” 

“Match me?!” she scoffed, returning his appreciative stares. “You look good enough to eat, First Talon.” In a dark suit with a cravat made of the same shade of blue as her dress, his vest’s details tailored to match hers perfectly – she shouldn’t have been surprised that Teia Cantori had ensured they matched. The woman truly was brilliant.  

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm” 

“Oh, get a room, you two!” 

Rook’s head spun to the voice she hadn’t heard in months, a wide smile gracing her face. The sound of coins tinkling in the air as she walked, the effervescent smile and hat the size of a baccarat table – 

“Isabela!” 

“Hello, my sweetest thing – look at you! I left you a Lord and here you are a Lady!” the pirate queen called out from across the room. Naera squeezed Lucanis’ hands in excitement before stepping away to rush towards her old Captain. Launching herself into the older woman’s arms as if she were thirteen and newly saved from that Tevinter galley, Isabela was still as stunning in her full regalia even twenty years on.

“I’m so glad you could come, ‘Bela! As if we could play Wicked Grace without the best there was – especially with a bunch of Crows!” 

“You say Crows like a bad word, Rook,” Teia huffed, a playful grin forming on her face. The Seventh Talon looked like one of Viago’s prized paintings come to life, in a daring red gown, and on the arm of said Fifth Talon, whose pocket square was coloured to match her dress; the pin in his cravat bearing one of the largest rubies she had ever seen. 

“Not at all, Teia, I say it knowing what formidable opponents you are on the field and across the casino table,” Naera said, bowing with a flourish. 

“Smooth save, Rook,” Viago smirked, breaking away from his partner to begin testing the wine and food on the table. Same old Viago.  

From the hush before the storm to the sudden barrage of people, the top floor quickly filled with their guests. Illario and Caterina had arrived together, followed by all their friends who had not been in the same room together for months. 

“So, tell me, Rook… that Vorgoth character from Nevarra… is uh… is all of him mist under those robes?” 

“Isabela!”

“Oh, relax, Poppet. I was just curious… aren’t you curious?” 

“No. No, I am not.” 

“Oh, go on then, Rook. Surely, you must have thought about it.”

“Of course, I’ve thought about it!” 

“Then be a peach and tell Aunty Bela if all that dangles are that Watcher’s bangles,” she cackled, waggling her eyebrows.  

Rook groaned and shook her head – that pirate was the one constant in the world: forever horny. Bless her. Patting her on the shoulder, she wandered beyond her to properly meet her best friends, her family. The same but different in the moments they were parted. Assan had somehow grown as tall as her shoulders, Davrin telling her it would not be long before they could make good on her wish to ride the gryphon's back. Bellara and Neve had given her completely opposite greetings, the detective kissing her on the cheek and saying hello, whilst Bellara had managed to ask her five questions and tell her a story about a rogue artifact in Minrathous, all within three minutes. 

Naera smiled to herself as she watched Manfred speaking more confidently, serving everyone drinks from the trays he had stolen from the waitstaff. She could not help but cover her giggle as Emmrich tried to reason with his undead son, reminding him that he was a guest and not an assistant there, but he seemed to enjoy being helpful and paid no mind to his beleaguered father’s words. And Taash – they were… they were looking better. A lot better. Still adventuring. Still searching for Lace. But their smiles had started to reach their eyes again, and Naera could only hope that Shathann and Harding could see it and take comfort in it – wherever they were.  --- Dinner had gone too well. That should have been Naera’s first warning.

Lucanis and the kitchen staff had outdone themselves with the feast — ten courses that were as decadent as they were excessive. They’d brought in Rivaini fruit, Fereldan cheeses, Nevarran wines (Emmrich was thrilled!), and Tevinter cured meats that cost more than most people’s annual rent, and some Antivan confection that Illario swore would turn a man into a romantic poet after two bites. He was already halfway there by the time dessert came out, declaring that if the night ended without someone serenading the table, he’d consider it a failure of culture.

“Decorum is what I’m concerned about,” Viago said dryly, swirling his dark red wine. “Particularly the idiotic trend of people assuming I poisoned them simply because they feel a little euphoric.”

“You can’t blame them,” Taash replied, picking at the last of her duck. “You’re smiling. Kinda. And that’s suspicious.”

Davrin let out a bark of a laugh beside her, slapping the table, startling the gryphon dozing beside him. “It’s true. The man smiles, and half the room checks their pulse.”

“It would be a waste of good poison,” Viago replied, unperturbed. “If I wanted you dead, I’d simply have you pushed over the balcony. Quicker. More efficient. And infinitely more dramatic.”

“See?!” Taash pointed at him. “That! That’s exactly what I’m talking about!”

“For the record, no one is dying tonight. I made sure the food was tested. By Illario.” Lucanis chuckled, lifting his glass to his cousin. 

“Volunteered,” Illario said, with mock offence. “I volunteered to ensure the integrity of the menu.”

“Because you misheard him and thought ‘tested’ meant ‘tasted,’” Caterina murmured from across the table, not bothering to look up from her plate. Everyone laughed, Illario the loudest – raising his glass to his grandmother, a gesture she mirrored, their expressions strained but not closed. Everyone was finally healing. 

“Oh, Viago, would you stop testing the food? Nothing is poisoned!” Teia chuckled, tapping the top of his gloved hand. 

“... Yet. Nothing is poisoned, yet.”   --- The tables were cleared, replaced with decks of cards and more carafes filled with wine from the Dellamorte cellars. Isabela pitched with the precision of a woman who had a lifetime’s experience of gambling away coin and lives like they were merely hypotheticals. She chose the game: Wicked Grace, her old favourite.

“Right,” she announced, shuffling with such flair she could have been a croupier from one of the tables beneath them. “House rules. No magic, no blades, and no crying when you lose.”

“I think that last one’s directed at you, Bell,” Neve muttered, trying not to snort into her glass.

Bellara pulled a face at her friend and she sipped her wine, lifting a delicate brow. “If I cry, it’ll only be from laughter.”

“Or – because you’re broke ‘cos I took all your cheese wand money again,” Taash snickered, throwing their arm over Bellara’s shoulder good-naturedly.

“...Or both,” the veil jumper added between snorts, already half-drunk and useless with laughter. “Oh, this is going to be sooo good. I’ve been practising guys, just you wait. I’m going to win this time!”

Teia leaned forward, arranging her cards with infuriating calm. “I like your enthusiasm, darling one. But if you think a little practice will be enough to win against the people at the table, mainly me, you’re severely underestimating my rapport with the cards.”

“Andarateia, my dear, no one underestimates you,” Emmrich said, the tops of his cheeks a glow from the rich alcohol he had indulged in. “Truthfully, we rightly fear you.”

“As you should,” Caterina murmured, amused, tipping the ash of her cigar into the crystal bowl to her right. “Damned brat took my coin last week during our afternoon tea.” 

Rook watched them all, heart fuller than it had been since the last time they had caught up. It had been too long since she’d seen this many of them in one room – the mad assortment of allies who had somehow banded together with her to save the world. The clinking of glass, the lingering smell of a meal well devoured, the familiar sound of her team’s friendly teasing – it was almost enough to make her forget everything outside the Diamond’s glittering walls ever existed. She had everything she ever needed right there with her. 

Bellara won the first few rounds, which Taash insisted was impossible. “She’s cheating. I saw her swap a card with Emmrich.”

“I did not!”

“Taash, I do not appreciate the insinuation that I helped anyone cheat!” 

“You did, though,” they prodded, leaning their elbow on the table. “You passed something to Manfred who then scuttled over to Bell and suddenly – she’s won the third game in a row!”

“Relax, no one has cheated,” Isabela interjected, with just enough conviction to make everyone suspicious.

“Oh, this is rich,” Davrin wheezed, wiping his eyes. “Taash accusing Bellara and Emmrich, Isabela defending her, and Rook’s just sitting there like the mother of a dozen delinquent children.”

“I am the mother of a dozen delinquent children,” Naera agreed, crossing her legs under the table as she stared at her own cards. “I am also going to make sure I take back all of their allowances for being a pain in my ass.” 

“You look good for having that many children, Rook,” Illario said, grinning, forgetting his cousin was sitting right across from him. “... I say that respectfully, of course.” 

Lucanis’ eyebrow rose as a tired but fond smirk found its way onto his lips. 

Viago’s reply was to raise his glass between the two men. “To attractive mothers – and the delusion that any of us were raised properly. May their eternally disappointing progeny, and the tragic men who think flattery will save them, at least have the decency to pour the next round.”

Neve, seated off to the side with Assan’s head in her lap, smiled faintly. “I’m sitting out for a bit. Besides, I'm just here to keep Bell’s research in order.”

“Research?” Isabela asked, dealing again.

“Yes! I’ve been writing a novel about a hero and their friends’ crusade to better the world. But the more I read it, the flatter it falls. I need to breathe life into my characters. I want to capture… this,” she gestured around the room, eyes starry and wide. “I want to capture this feeling for my hero. I never want to forget what we fought for. Not one year from now or a hundred.”

That silenced the table for a heartbeat, the air between them humming with unspoken affection and reverence to the memory of their journey to that point – before Taash ruined it entirely by snatching Bellara’s notebook and shaking it to find extra cards falling out from between the pages. “AHA! I knew you were cheating!” --- Rook was losing. Badly. Suspiciously bad. 

Every hand she played, somehow, turned into a complete disaster. Davrin’s grin widened with every loss. Lucanis, annoyingly calm, just kept winning. Even Emmrich, who rarely played, seemed to have unnaturally good luck tonight.

“Alright,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Going on?” Lucanis repeated innocently, long lashes batting at her with those giant doe eyes of his. Oh, she wasn’t falling for it this time! 

“Don’t you try to ‘innocent’ your way out of this one, First Talon. I’ve been around cheats since I could walk, and I know a setup when I see one.”

“I take offence to that, Poppet,” Isabela quipped, popping a date into her mouth. “No one taught you better than me. It could be me setting you up.” 

“Yes, but this time it’s not you trying to trick me. I’ve been watching you and you’re clean… well… maybe not clean…” 

“Alright, that one I definitely take offence to.” 

Neve tried her best to hide her smile at the scene Rook was making as she shuffled something under the table to Lucanis. Naera spun around, eyes narrowed at her detective friend. 

“I saw that, Neve. Sweetheart. Friend of mine. What did you just pass Lucanis?”

“Nothing,” she replied, her expression steeled so as not to give anything away. Damn all of these professional liars she called family! 

“Aha!” Naera jumped to her feet, pointing at Lucanis in mock triumph. “You’re cheating! I can’t believe you’d resort to cheating!”

She did not notice the table had gone quiet for the second time that night. 

Lucanis didn’t even deny it, setting his cards down and looking at her with eyes that told her she needed to listen to him. 

“Yes, Rook. Neve did pass something to me.”

“You admit it?” she gasped. “Why? And why specifically target me? Viago has much more money than me!”

Lucanis stood, tugging at his cuffs, shaking his head at himself or the situation he had been placed in. “I employed Neve’s assistance to give myself the best chance.”

“At what? Making me destitute?”

He walked around the table, the whole room turning to follow him. Rook frowned, half-laughing, half-confused – until he went down on one knee.

“Oh, for the love of-” Viago began, but Bellara’s gasp drowned him out.

Rook froze.

“For this,” Lucanis said softly, pulling a small box from his pocket.

Teia squealed, actually squealed, and clutched onto both Illario and Viago’s hands as if she might explode. Isabela beamed, Bellara tearing up immediately, and Taash muttered something about losing her gambling hand to true love.

Lucanis opened the box. The opal inside gleamed in the candlelight, its colours shifting like moonlight through stained glass. “This was my mother’s, as you know,” he said, voice low but steady. “And whilst I can't think of anyone she’d rather have worn it than you, I know there will never be anyone I would rather have by my side. In this world. In the Fade. Anywhere – forever. Naera Laidir, Rook, will you marry me?”

For a moment, she just stared at the ring. Marriage had once been something she’d mocked, something distant and gilded for other people who wanted to be bound to only one person. That wasn’t her. But standing there, surrounded by everyone she loved, she understood what it could mean. Not ownership. Not an obligation. Not a loss of freedom, but the freedom of truly and completely letting yourself love someone. A promise to each other, to keep fighting for their joy. 

Naera’s throat went tight. For once, she was speechless. She nodded, dropping her cards to the floor and choked out the softest but clearest answer. 

“Yes.”

The room erupted in cheers, laughter, and drum rolls on the table top. Bellara jumped up and down and clapped like a child. Illario shook his head but smiled at the development, already raising a glass in honour of the happy couple. Lucanis slipped the ring onto her trembling hand (or was it his hands that shook?) and stood to his feet. When the noise began to fade, she looked around at all of them, at the family she’d found and the man she loved, too many thoughts and feelings rushing through her veins. And then. Clarity. Something in her heart shifted all at once, and as she always did, she went with her gut.

Naera turned back to him, hands still entwined. “Luca?”

He tilted his head. “Yes, Rook?”

“Do you want to marry me?”

Lucanis blinked, startled, eyes squinting slightly in confusion, as though it were a trick question. Spite, who had been happily conversing with Manfred and Emmrich, rushed back to his side, the demon acknowledging him for the first time in the evening. 

You didn’t ask right. Rook is unsure. Had to ask you again.  “I – yes? I just asked you that. Of course, I want to marry you.”

Good. Make sure she knows this time.

“No, no. I mean – now.” She laughed breathlessly, teeth pressed into her bottom lip with excitement. “Here. With everyone we love. Will you marry me, right now?”

Oh. Was wrong. You asked right, after all.

An almost audible swoosh could be heard from the way everyone's eyes snapped onto the First Talon who stood dazed, rooted to the spot. It was Isabela, who’d been leaning her chin on her palm with an expression of pure glee, who broke the silence, setting her cards face down. “Well. Just in case anyone forgot… I am a captain.”

Naera turned to her, bright-eyed. “You can marry us?”

“Sweetheart,” Isabela grinned, standing and brushing imaginary dust off her shoulder, “I’ve married more people at sea than most chantry mothers have on land.”

Say. Yes. Lucanis. It is your turn to say yes. 

Lucanis hesitated only a moment before his fingers gave Naera a reassuring squeeze. “Well then. Why wait?” he laughed, a rich sound, not heard often enough, filling the room. 

Teia clapped her hands together. “This is absurd. Who has a wedding like this? I love and applaud the spontaneity, but I hate that I could have planned for a more extravagant event had I been advised.”

Isabela gestured for the couple to stand before her. The guests crowded close, some half-drunk, and some half-weeping, but all grinning. Candles flickered around them, reflected a thousand times over in the Diamond’s elaborate windows.

Lucanis took both of Naera’s hands into his hold and took a deep breath, eyes roaming over her face as his brain fought to catch up with the idea that he was going to be married.

“You are a marvel,” he whispered.

“I am ridiculous. But then again, so are you,” she whispered back, laughing quietly through her nose. “Is this crazy? More crazy than normal?” 

“Yes. And it’s perfect.” 

“...We’re going to have to have a second wedding to appease your grandmother and Teia, aren’t we?” 

Lucanis snorted. “See. You already know all the ins and outs of how to be a Dellamorte, a Crow. We just need to make it official now-” 

Isabela cleared her throat and readjusted her hat. 

“Dearly beloved, we were gathered here tonight for a friendly game of Wicked Grace – but it seems Naera Laidir and Lucanis Dellamorte have raised the stakes. Like any good match, marriage is less about luck than how you play your hand. So, Naera, knowing full well that fortune favours the bold and cheats get caught, do you take this man to be your husband – to bluff, wager, and win with him, and make your own luck for the rest of your days?” 

“I do. Of course, I do,” she beamed, thrilled the Captain had decided to cut right to the chase and get to the good part. 

Isabela’s eyes rested upon Lucanis, her stare sharper than the affectionate gaze she offered to Naera. “And do you, Lucanis, take this woman – this brilliant, infuriatingly wonderful woman who’s the closest thing I have to a daughter, a niece, or at the very least, a partner in poor decisions – to be your wife? To play beside her, never fold on her, no matter how the cards fall?”  “Yes, yes, I do. Always.” 

“By the power vested in me, by ocean, storm, and my own sheer audacity, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Well, what are you waiting for, man? Hurry up and kiss her, you fool.”

He did, fingers curling at the hair at her nape, lips sliding over hers, swallowing the wondrous sound of her happy sigh. Logically, he understood that the kiss between them that morning was no different to what he was doing with her then, but he swore he could feel the change, a more profound connection now that … Mierda… now that Rook was his wife. 

A chorus of cheers rang out from their family and friends that would have shaken the chandelier, if Spite were not already swinging on it to and fro, thrilled that ‘Rook will always be our favourite’. Wine was poured, cards were thrown, and someone had got them all singing wildly inappropriate celebration songs. Neve allowed herself a few tears of joy to eke through. Teia threatened to plan three weddings now. Viago pretended to be indifferent but failed, while Illario toasted so often he ran out of glasses.

Finally pulling apart, Naera rose onto her toes and pressed her forehead to his, eyes closed, a smile gracing her face. Brushing the pad of his thumb just so that the tip grazed the ends of her eyelashes, tickling her eyes to open so he could drink in her golden stare once more. 

“What… why are you looking at me like that?” Rook grinned up at him. “Too late to back out now, Luca.” 

“I would never,” he said, unable to stop caressing the softness of her cheek, nuzzling her, his wife, his Naera. His Rook. “I was just thinking that I still do not know what you see in me… but I’m happy. I’m so happy – are you happy, Naera?” 

Her hands drew him back to meet her mouth, overcome with emotions that were rapidly catching up to her. “Being with you? Always.”