#valkanis

Lucanis is afraid, though he will not say the word, even to himself. He is also angry, and that is much easier for Spite to commune with. They speak to the echoes of that anger, stoking it, keeping the cage alive and them with it. Sometimes, Lucanis is even grateful for the rage, and it is the closest to a positive thing he allows himsel to feel. Everything else is pain and despair.

Like any beast, Spite can only grow as large as their containment will allow. The press against dark, shadowy corners, but it’s not enough. Spite hates the walls. Determination had the whole Fade to stretch along, but Spite has a cage that despises it. They take Lucanis’s shape like water filling a container, but not all of him is open to be reached.

One day, Spite’s cage seems to think it has broken free of Lucanis’s cage. And on the other side is her.

She is unlike any person Spite has come to know through Lucanis’s memory, a world away from the Venatori masks and cowls they’ve witnessed first hand. Her hair is red— not like the blood Spite is now so familiar with, but like poppy flowers and strawberries and other things they do not yet know. She smiles in a way that shows her teeth; Spite didn’t even know humans smiled like that. Lucanis quakes at the sight of it and then immediately argues that he did no such thing while the temors still ripple outward.

She calls herself Valkyr de Riva— they can call her “Rook.” Spite will call her Rook. She said they could.

Lucanis’s thoughts run too fast to follow. Freedom—no, blood. Phylactery. Her smile. Destroy the blood. Get out. Eyes the color of violets. Kill the Venatori. Kill Calivan. The contract. Her laugh. The demon. Abomination. Illario. Caterina. Who is Valkyr de Riva? Get out. Get free.

At the end of the incessant stream of thinking, Lucanis declares them free. Spite looks around and sees they are still in the Ossuary. The cage lied to them. They do not know why.

But something is different after, though Spite cannot quite grasp how. There are more people around, more new faces, less torture and pain. The walls of Spite’s prison shift ever-so-slightly outward, as if letting out a held breath. But it is still dark, and the walls are too high. Spite scrabbles at them, begging to speak, to be heard. They are ignored.

Spite learns about the strangers first through Lucanis’s eyes and impressions of them before discovering they are capable of developing opinions themselves. It turns out tha mortal trappings have a scent that the flesh cannot grasp. Spite smells their pride and their failures, their wants and their hatred, the smells of their long-ago and their not yet arrived. Lucanis hates it when they try to tell him what they picked up, and Spite does it anyway. Perhaps they do it because Lucanis hates it— because Spite is its name in the end.

Unfortunately for Lucanis, no one fascinates Spite quite so much as Rook.

Rook— violet eyes and poppy hair— is something different. It is impossible for Spite to describe how. Her outside is visually standard for mortals, and while she holds a spark of magic, it is not particularly strong or unique. There is nothing about her that demands remark from a demon, and yet she is special somehow, some way. Because her presence changes the prison.

It starts out subtle and easy to miss in the noise and vibration of a mortal body. Rook speaks and a buzz of electricity sparks in the darkness. She laughs and bars move, chains rattle. Spite can see further, hear more. Something in Rook changes something in Lucanis. Something that now sits in the human chest which Spite cannot identify.

The first time Lucanis smiles after Spite is with her, at her, and the edges of his ragged mind go quiet. The quiet is new. Being with Rook creates many new things.

Spite tries to ask Lucanis what it all means but he pushes them away and down, saying it means nothing, it can never mean anything. Why? The prison does not answer. Why should Spite even hope for answers? Lucanis isn’t even capable of leaving the Ossuary.

Lucanis thinks he will not let Spite speak to Rook, but this cage is not as sturdy as it likes to think itself. When he sleeps, Spite learns what it means to move and speak. The ugly, heavy limbs are hard to manipulate, his voice scratched and strains against the human throat, but the teach themselves that the prison can be used.

When Spite meets Rook, Lucanis cannot stop them.

She is nervous to meet them and she admits it freely. But she does not run, she does not glare. Rook speaks with Spite, not to them, and still offers her smiles.

And she is special. They can see it now.

Lucanis is furious when he shoves them back inside, but Spite still finds the jail door is open when he returns. Still a prison, but the door flung open.

Rook smells like cinnamon and fire smoke and sharp edges and hope. Her fingerprints whitewash the cage bars and Spite can see it, even if Lucanis refuses.

So the day Lucanis shrinks into himself and locks the door behind him, she is the only one Spite can turn to.

Rook changes prisons. She opens doors.

She glows inside the prison the way she has glowed inside Lucanis’s heart this entire time. They follow behind as she throws open doorways, shrinks problems, creates bridges.

To see her is remarkable. To be in her presence is a gift.

It’s so obvious now.

When they find Lucanis, he is not different. Because he was changed by Rook long ago. She had been changing him since they first saw violet eyes and poppy hair, and she holds their hand as the Ossuary melts away.

Lucanis’s body is no longer a prison. It is a shared shelter, a contract, a union.

Lucanis turned, though the demon had not manifested a form for him to focus on. “Was he right?” His voice cracked bitterly, “Are you protecting them?” He had denied Davrin’s accusation at the table, but here, now, he questioned.

Spite let out a low grumble like a dragon about to breathe flame. It was not a no. “Answer me!”

‘Wouldn’t,’ Spite snapped in turn.

“Why should I believe that?”

‘Wouldn’t. To Rook.’

Right. Because that was what he needed right now: a reminder of Spite’s strange infatuation with their contract holder. A reminder that this focus might be a reflection of his own feelings, no matter how he tried to repress them.

Perhaps that was another reason he had failed so miserably. He had allowed himself too many distractions, too much comfort. He was losing his edge and now—

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting what surely would have looked like a madman fighting with himself to an outside perspective. Lucanis flinched at the sound before asking in a biting tone, “What?”

“Hey, it’s me. Can I come in?”

And now she was here. Naturally.

Lucanis pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes where a headache was brewing. “I—yes. I suppose.”

He could have said no, of course, but, truthfully, he wanted to hear what she would say. A part of him was hoping Rook would be angry— that she would yell or berate him, perhaps even threaten his contract. Maybe, just maybe, if he saw the bitter disappointment in her face, he could finally put aside the lingering thoughts of her once and for all.

He turned as she entered and immediately knew she was not here to make it so easy on him. Instead, she had a lopsided smile as she strolled in and closed the door behind her. “Nice to know there’s room for two. I wasn’t sure if this was a solo brooding situation…”

“What do you need, Rook?”

Her lips twisted to the side as she realized Lucanis was not in the mood to play along. “I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re, you know…alright. Relatively.”

Why did she care? It was a question he had asked himself a million times over; every opportunity Rook had to be tough, she instead approached with a sort of openness that Lucanis didn’t—couldn’t—understand.

He grit his teeth. “I failed, Rook.”

“I mean, it’s not like it was a resounding success outside of that—”

“I failed,” Lucanis repeated, “we had one shot and I missed. That should never have happened.”

She infuriatingly shrugged one shoulder. “Then we make our own second chance. Somehow. It’s alright, Lucanis.”

He let out a disbelieving huff. “Rook, I am not supposed to miss.”

“Honestly, Lucanis, I’m just glad you made it back. That you’re alright.” She glanced away awkwardly, “Better to have you alive than Ghilan’nain dead.”

Lucanis heard his teeth crack as his jaw tightened. “You can’t think like that.”

“What? Why—?”

“Because I am a weapon, Rook. That’s all I am. And when a weapon breaks, you don’t waste your breath reassuring it. You throw it out.”

She was looking at him now, violet eyes wide, breath shallow in her chest. Lucanis forced himself to keep looking at her. “That’s— that’s not true.” Rook swallowed, “You’re not a weapon, you’re a person—”

“No. I’m not.” Lucanis could feel Spite rising in his gullet. “I’m not.”

Rook frowned as an indent formed between her brows. “Well— I don’t agree. You’re more than that.” Before Lucanis could breathe she added, “You’re more than that to me.”

Gods, what was he supposed to do with those words? What did they even mean? He could feel their threatening warmth from here and knew that no, no, he had allowed too much already.

His own voice sounded distant as he heard himself say, “Maybe it would be better for everyone if you just accepted what I am.”

His words left an electric snap in the air, so visceral that even Spite retreated down and in. There was no distraction from watching Rook’s reaction. For a moment, she looked hurt, and Lucanis felt the distinct rush of the floor dropping out beneath his feet. Then, her violet eyes caught fire.

“Seriously?” The single questioning word made Lucanis flinch. “You’re going to say that to me after—”

Rook didn’t finish the thought, but she didn’t need to. Lucanis could finish it for her: after what they had been through, after getting to know her, after the tender spark of flirtation they had both skirted around and never addressed. He looked away as the unfinished thought hung between them, a hot dread creeping under his collar.

Rook growled to herself, and Lucanis saw her throw her hands up from the corner of his eye. “Fine. You know what? Fucking— fine.” And she turned for the door.

The regret was immediate. “Rook—” she didn’t pause, simply throwing the door open as he repeated, “Rook!”

The door slamming closed was his response. For a moment, Lucanis could only stand in place, unsure of exactly what had just happened.

Spite grumbled low in his chest, ‘He is a weapon. Can only cut. Can only destroy.’

Lucanis’s anger and frustration were slowly shifting into a sort of horror. He shouldn’t have spoken to her like that. Why had he done that?

Was he even capable of existing without sabotaging himself?

‘Broken. Broke Rook. Only Rook we had.’

Normally, he didn’t like to listen to Spite. But the demon wasn’t wrong this once. Lucanis took in a deep breath, releasing it shakily. “I’ll…make it up to her.”

‘Liar. Weapon.’

Apparently he’d be doing it alone.

—————————————-

Lucanis wasn’t sure how long he stood unmoving outside Rook’s door. At least long enough that he started to memorize the pattern of the wood grain, spotting familiar shapes in the random strokes.

‘Waste. Time.’ Spite informed him sullenly. Lucanis ignored him, trying to rally his courage before the coffee he was holding went cold.

He had lifted his fist, poised above the door to knock, when it suddenly flew open.

Rook almost barreled into him, clearly not expecting the company. She made a humorous “ack” sound as she realized he was there before stumbling back, her red hair a tornado of curls around her. For a moment, neither said anything; they just stared at each other on either side of the doorway.

An internal kick from Spite spurred Lucanis to blurt, “I…I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Rook’s eyes flickered over him, contemplative. Her cheeks were still flushed, but the angry fire in her eyes had cooled, if not vanished completely. “Right…It’s fine.”

Another awkward silence descended before Lucanis had the sense to hold out the mug in his hand. “I…I made you coffee,” he explained even though that was clearly what he was offering. “A…peace offering.” Rook looked at the mug curiously as he rushed to finish, “I’m sorry, Rook.”

Her eyes jumped back to his face, then to the coffee, then back. Slowly, she shifted, leaning her hip against her open door. “What…are you apologizing for?”

It was a question marked with wariness. Because he could apologize for speaking harshly, or fall back to apologizing for his failures. But the meditative experience of making coffee had grounded Lucanis, reminded him of what he valued in Rook. Of the many things he valued in her.

With a steadying breath, he confessed, “I’m sorry for acting as though there is a problem with how you view me. How you treat me. If I’m honest…” he swallowed, “it is easier for me to be used by people. It’s easier than…having a friend. And I responded…like an ass.”

Rook was trying to keep her face neutral, but Lucanis could see a smile pulling one corner of her lips and felt a flood of relief.

“You were an ass.”

He shrugged sheepishly, “I can’t promise it won’t happen again. But if you can stomach my apologies…I’ll try to do better.”

Finally, she lost the fight with her expression and grinned. Lucanis smiled back, in spite of himself, in spite of the situation, in spite of everything.

Coquettishly, Rook tilted her head and plucked away the mug he had brought. “So…you made me coffee?”

“Sí,” he fidgeted his now empty hands together. “The same kind from Cafe Pietra.”

“The kind I liked?”

Lucanis nodded; he had to look away from the full force of her smile. It was like trying to look directly into the sun.

“Thank you.”

He nodded again, suddenly overwhelmed by his own awkwardness. Clearing his throat, he said, “Yes, well…goodnight, Rook.”

“Goodnight, Lucanis.”

She had said his name a hundred times, but this one sent a distinct shiver down his spine. Before he could reveal that, or say anything else stupid, he turned to retreat down the hall.

Spite mused as they descended the stairs, ‘Rook…good.’

Lucanis’s gaze softened, his eyes so warm they could melt her into the bedding. “That’s very sweet, mi amore.” He leaned in to kiss her temple. “You are very sweet.”

“Sweet and useless,” Rook grumbled.

Lucanis blinked rapidly as his eyes slowly turned purple, glowing in the dim light of their room. “We…love Rook,” Spite’s voice rumbled. He used Lucanis’s body to trace a finger down her jaw. “Don’t want…Rook to be…sad…”

A smile twitched her lips. “I love you, too. And I’m not sad, really,” she promised softly, taking their hand so that she could brush a kiss to their knuckles. “I just…wanted to do this for us. All three of us. And I’m…not good at it.”

They blinked again until Lucanis’s eyes returned, brown and beautiful and full of feeling. He tilted his head, his dark hair falling past his shoulder as he did. “Maybe we’ve been going about this wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

He had an almost mischievous look as he slowly inched to the top of the bed, leaning his back against the headboard and gesturing for her to join. Still feeling a bit sulky, Rook crawled over on the bed, coming to a stop sitting on her knees in front of him. He gestured again. “Closer, mi vida.”

Rook moved to situate herself between his legs. They both faced out and she leaned back to rest her head on his warm chest. The gentle movement of his breathing was relaxing, almost rocking her. He rubbed her arms. “Close you eyes,” he guided in a velvet voice. Rook complied, nestling back into him.

“I don’t know about magic or…other spirits aside from Spite,” a hum hung at the ends of his words from her being so close. “But maybe we ignore experts and just do what works for us.”

“That does sound like us,” Valkyrie mumbled, voice already sleepy from how relaxed this man made her.

“So listen, mi vida. Sit right here with me and listen.”

Sitting down and listening were two things Valkyr de Riva was not known for. But she tried, taking a deep breath, honing in on the sound of Lucanis’s heartbeat. He continued speaking softly. “You know his voice. You know he adores you. And we have time, mi vida. We have all our lives to figure this out.”

All our lives. Rook’s toes curled at the promise. She sunk even farther back into him, her eyes closing. They did have time, didn’t they? She wasn’t used to that.

As Lucanis’s heartbeat became a metronome in her head, her mind reached out. Listening for anything, anything at all. After an age, Rook felt on the verge of nodding off.

“—we hear her heart—”

The voice was a whisper on the air, wavering and then gone, but she immediately bolted upright with a gasp.

Lucanis, who had clearly started to drift as well, startled. “Amore?”

“I heard him!” She practically cried in violent opposition to the silence they had just experienced. “Just a second, but I heard—” she turned to face Lucanis, bursting with the excitement. “He was talking about my heartbeat? Like I said, I lost it, but— he was here!”

Lucanis looked surprised for just a moment before a grin split his expression. He cupped her face in his hands. “Brilliant. Brilliant, mi amore.” He kissed her sweetly. “I knew you could.”

Rook beamed at him. “So we can work on it! We know I can and we can work on it!”

“Of course,” he laughed, bumping her nose with his. “You are adorable.”

“Is Spite happy?”

“Thrilled.”

Rook giggled, so pleased that she could barely sit still. She had heard her demon in the air. She had done it — for them.

As if he were suddenly overwhelmed, Lucanis dragged her face to his, kissing her lovingly. She kissed him back, her hands on his legs.

It was a bit hard for Lucanis to understand. Before all of this— the Ossuary, the gods— he had considered himself adept at handling Caterina Dellamorte. He had been immune to her sniping, absorbent of her criticism, taking it in stride and adjusting to suit her mood. Now, however, she found ways to scratch under his skin with a single word, and where he may have allowed it previously, Lucanis had found his voice to argue back.

It would be easy to blame it on his being named First Talon and the responsibility that brought. On the fact that, in spite of naming her successor, Caterina was not about to let go of the position completely. That is what the two of them had been doing, after all: pretending this was about the Crows.

What they both knew and refused to address was the fact was that things were different. And while Caterina hadn’t changed at all, Lucanis had. That was the layer underneath every argument, every disagreement, every fight he and his grandmother had.

Rook.

They never said her name directly, but Rook’s presence hovered between every unsaid word. The woman who was apparently good enough to send on a suicide mission to save Lucanis, but not suitable to be the love of his life. Just the thought made his fists clench, and Spite did the same. ‘Rook is ours,’ the demon growled the way he wasn’t allowed to speak to Caterina.

His grandmother had once told Lucanis he had been made soft by Rook. All he had been able to think at the time was thank the gods for that. Thank the gods that something gentle had found its way past his ribs, even if Caterina couldn’t see all the good Rook did for him.

Pulled from thought by Spite slowly turning, Lucanis did the same. ‘Rook…coming,’ he informed needlessly. Of course she was; she always seemed to know when he needed to see her most.

Sure enough, a pair of hands gripped the rooftop edge and Rook hoisted herself over it. Her fiery red curls spilled in front of her face as she got one knee up, allowing her to unfurl to standing. When she threw her head back to move her hair, her smiling, freckled face was warmly flushed from her climb. She poked her tongue into her cheek, “Another rooftop kind of day, huh?”

Lucanis nodded mutely. She knew better than anyone that this was where he went to stew, to think. It was also the place where he had first kissed her; an event that had imbued the space with a sort of warm glow it never had before. As if she were also remembering, Rook’s eyes lingered on the space around them before asking, "Do you want to be alone, or…?”

He took a moment to really consider the question. It was only fair to answer honestly, even as Spite chanted ‘No, no, no…’ in his head. However, he was in agreement with the demon. Just the sight of her had splashed cold water on his anger, and Lucanis knew it was what he needed. Instead of answering, he extended a hand out to her, palm up. A pleased grin tugged her lips as she took his hand, letting him guide and maneuver her the few steps across the tile roof to sit next to him. She plopped gracelessly at his side and continued to hold his hand.

“Let me guess:” she hummed, tracing her free fingers along his knuckles, “everything is great and Caterina is being totally reasonable?”

Lucanis snorted, making her giggle. “Well, no one took a knife to the shoulder so, in that way, it was a roaring success.”

“Aw, pity. The knives are the best part.”

Lucanis nudged her with his elbow and she nudged back until a ghost of a smile cracked his expression, satisfying his partner.

“Are you alright?” Rook asked after a moment, “Both of you?”

Spite all but purred in the back of Lucanis’s throat at the acknowledgement, making the man cough. “We’re…fine,” he managed unconvincingly, “we will be fine. You know how she is.”

Rook didn’t answer because she did, in fact, know how the old woman could be. Caterina made no secret of her feelings, even and especially to the subject of her displeasure. That was what made Lucanis angrier than anything; Caterina could say whatever she wanted about him, to him, but he would be damned if he allowed a bad word about Valkyr de Riva.

Rook cleared her throat, “Did I…?”

“No,” he cut her off firmly, “No, mi vida, you did nothing wrong. You never do.”

“Ooh, mind telling Viago that?”

He laughed in spite of himself, briefly bringing the hand he still held to his lips. “He knows I’m biased, I think.”

“But we’re so subtle,” she replied with feigned shock. Lucanis chuckled again; since becoming official in Treviso society, no one could doubt where his affections lay. If Rook had made him soft, she had also made him deeply unsubtle.

The laugh turned into a sigh. “Caterina names me First Talon in front of everyone, and yet stands in the way of anything meaningful I might do. It’s a circus act every day. It makes me feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Rook grinned. “The mind with the demon in it?”

Spite excitedly jumped forward in Lucanis’s mouth to say, “We keep…him sane. For Rook.”

She threw back her head, the loud crack of laughter sent up to the sky. “Of course,” the woman acquiesced, eyes lowering with fluttering lashes, “thank you, Spite.”

Spite hummed, pleased as he unwound himself from Lucanis’s tongue. Back in control, Lucanis heaved another sigh and let his body relax against her, his head falling into the space between her shoulder and her neck. The smell of her perfumed soap filled his nose, sweet and spiced, much like herself.

His mind had started to drift when Rook said quietly, “Can I ask you something weird?”

“Anything, mi amour.”

“Do you…” she shifted in such a way that Lucanis was compelled to sit up and check her expression, “Do you want to be First Talon?” Then, “Did you ever want to be First Talon?”

For a minute, Lucanis is frozen. His entire world is momentarily off its axis, strange and foreign.

What he wanted?

“I—” he choked, stammering while Rook watched with auburn brows pulled together over violet eyes. “I don’t—” his head swayed side to side, “no one has ever asked me that before.”

“Oh,” she blinked, “Well…I’m asking.”

But Lucanis didn’t have an answer. He and Illario had gone back and forth on the topic as boys, insisting the other was the better option. But never had someone asked if it was what they wanted, or what an alternative might look like.

And as strange as the question was, a quiet voice from the depths of his gut answered, “No.”

No, he never wanted this. He never wanted to be the target of ire and jealousy, all so he could make decisions he didn’t want to make. All he knew was being a Crow, and he was good at the work, but Firat Talon was a completely different beast. Politics and doling out contracts strategizing which family to spurn and which to support, while never playing favorites. All of it…well, it would have been better suited to Illario.

And that said nothing of the danger. He knew it better than anyone— the First Talon position had ripped apart the Dellamorte family once. Who could say it wouldn’t happen again? Rook was more than capable of taking care of herself, he knew, but the cold facts were that she was worse off for being at his side.

He looked at her face, unsure of what emotion he might find there. Anger? Irritation? Instead, when he turned to her, she just looked…relieved.

“You’re…not disappointed?” Lucanis ventured.

“What? No, I—” her brow furrowed, her nose wrinkling. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“I—don’t know. Maybe— maybe you like it.”

Rook gave him an incredulous look, though a smile lifting the corner of her lips gave away that she wasn’t upset. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you think I was with you because you were First Talon?”

Heat flooded his face. “No, I—”

“Because I just crave all the trappings of leadership?” She leaned in further with each word, her smile growing more mischievous. “You’ve got me: I pursued you all in the name of future fame and because I fucking love pissing off your grandmother. Is that what we’re saying? That’s our story now?”

Lucanis groaned at the teasing. He set the heel of his free hand to her forehead and pushed her away while she giggled the whole time. “You’re impossible,” he said with naked affection, shaking his head.

Rook pouted at him briefly as she rubbed her brow, but another smile cracked her expression. “I’m just saying— you’re supposed to be the smart one here.” She stilled, her fist still resting at her forehead. “You know what I do want, Lucanis?”

“What, mi vida?”

“I want you to be happy.” Rook inched back into his side. “I mean, we fucking saved the world. Doesn’t that mean we get to decide what we want for ourselves now?”

“I…I don’t know,” he confessed, “Maybe.”

“Well, I want you to be happy and not tense and I want to stay with you forever and…and all the other stuff we can negotiate.” She shrugged, “That’s what I think.”

Lucanis turned his head to look at her fully. Rook had looked away to stare out over the city, but he could still see the red blush creeping up to the point of her ear. Embarrassed by her own honesty and vulnerability.

How did she keep finding ways to make him love her more? Was there a limit to this sort of thing? Or would he love her more with each passing day?

How lovely to find out.

Lucanis leaned over, lips planting a soft kiss on her freckled cheek. “Thank you, querida,” he murmured, lifting his lips just enough to speak before kissing her again. “We…we will think on it. Together. We don’t need to know today. But I know…” He kissed her jaw, the space beneath her blushing ear, down to the curve of her neck, “You are a gift to me, Valkyr de Riva.”

She let out a delightfully flustered sound as Lucanis continued to kiss her. When she turned her head to reply, his kiss landed on her mouth and the words ceased to exist.

Illario had those nightmares, too. They never discussed them, but Lucanis had before seen his cousin wake up with a closed off cry for his own parents. Sometimes they would silently go to one another’s rooms just so they didn’t have to exist in the giant empty mansion alone.

It was almost a relief when he started to forget his mother’s face. At least it stopped those nightmares.

Once his Crow training started in earnest, Caterina became the primary player in these visions. He was quickly coming to understand his grandmother’s standards and know her wrath in the day, and, at night, he would dream of every mistake he had made. Caterina would start to scream at him, but then her mouth would continue opening ever wider, into a screaming maw of teeth and darkness. He would try to run, but every movement was as slow as if he were trying to wade through tar. Unable to run and unable to turn, something would lash at his legs, his arms, until he could no longer bear it.

Often, Lucanis would wake up with such a start that his actual bruises from Caterina ached.

As terrifying as those nightmares were, it was instant relief when he woke up. How could those dreams frighten him any more than what the real Caterina was capable of?

Eventually, Lucanis grew out of those dreams, and the next fear his mind fixated on centered around Illario. His cousin, his brother, his only friend. If he lost Illario, what would he have left? So, when he slept, Lucanis saw the endless ways for his cousin to die: catching a stray arrow in the neck, a knife in the chest, falling as Lucanis failed to reach him. Sometimes accidents, sometimes Lucanis’s sleeping mind filling in the reckless behavior he knew Illario so capable of. These nightmares frightened him more than any that had come before. When he dreamed of his mother, she was already dead, but Illario could still be lost. It terrified him.

There were even nights where Lucanis would have nightmares so vivid that he would go to Illario’s room just to ensure that he hadn’t been maimed and murdered in the night. More than once, he had gotten right up to the door only to hear the muffled sounds of moans from someone Illario had managed to sneak into the villa. The relief that his cousin was alive did little to combat the annoyance at his ability to always make the poorest decision available. It’s why he worried in the first place.

In retrospect, if that had been the worst of the nightmares, it would have been a blessing. However, all these combined would fail to measure up to the real lived experience of the Ossuary.

There, the nightmares blurred together with reality: screams that came both from him and around him, his mouth tasting of coppery blood, darkness and confinement and the feeling of magic prickling at his skin. By the time they shove a demon down his throat, Lucanis hardly knows if it’s another dream or not.

It is not.

The demon is a waking nightmare in itself. Spite prowls restlessly day and night, an unruly guest in an inhospitable house. It speaks to Lucanis nonstop, never quiet, never shutting up, just an unfamiliar voice rattling incessantly inside his skull. Lucanis’s horrible dreams mirror his horrible reality, and the demon speaks throughout both.

Even then, though, Lucanis can’t stop himself from occasionally dreaming of Illario and Caterina. He doesn’t want to: he doesn’t want the demon to see his family, to have a chance to grasp at any knowledge of who Lucanis is. But it is a losing battle and, sometimes, he— they— see the family Lucanis is sure he has lost. He wonders if they mourn him, if they would be happy to see him should he manage to survive with a demon living under his tongue. In between the torture, a dozen situations both positive and negative unspool in his mind. Once they had caused his nightmares and now they were the only reprieve.

The rescue almost seems like a dream. Lucanis expects to wake up at any moment as he weaves through the collapsing halls of the Ossuary looking for Calivan. The only thing that keeps him believing it’s real is that he doesn’t think he could dream up the woman Caterina sent for him. Rook, she called herself; a startlingly loud presence that breaks the quiet horror of his life this last year, with fire red curls and more freckles than he has ever seen.

It’s a cold comfort when he hears Caterina is dead, because it at least proves that it’s all truly happening. Dreams had never conjured a life beyond his grandmother before.

He is finally from the prison, and yet it all matters very little because the nightmare is not over. The Ossuary is still with him every night, and every day Spite screams about lies and cages and things Lucanis is too tired to understand.

The first time he wakes up to find himself in the middle of the dining room, Lucanis believes it might be a fluke. That it’s simply his body sleepwalking to make sense of this new situation. But the second time, the demon drags his body to the courtyard, and Lucanis cannot deny it. Sleep now poses an entirely new threat with Spite in the picture. It’s an easy decision to try and stay awake as much possible in response; it’s not as though it had ever offered him peace, anyway.

Lucanis drinks coffee, cup after cup, and wills his eyes not to close. A part of him knows he will still have to sleep, but the years have made him adept at ignoring the parts of himself that ask for grace.

If Treviso had fallen that horrible day the gods attacked, Lucanis suspects he may have never found true rest again. After so much loss, how would he have moved beyond seeing his beautiful city in ash while the canals ran black with blight? It would have unmoored him. Yet Treviso doesn’t fall; Rook is there, hair a red spark in the blighted dragon’s eye, and she fights. They all fight at her back, because it was what she wanted. And Treviso does not fall and Lucanis is still alive and he thinks Rook may be beautiful.

That thought scares him most of all.

After the idea reveals itself, Lucanis finds that, in the times he accidentally drifts off, Rook is there waiting. A soft beacon in his mind ushering him to harbor. Most often, the dreams are pleasant, and that is somehow more disturbing than any of the nightmares Lucanis has stomached thus far. Because he knows how to deal with the negative emotions; but how does one combat a warm flutter in the chest? How does one defang something with no sharp edges?

The nightmares are still there, of course, but they have also changed. Instead of seeing death or destruction, the Rook he fears is cold and scornful. She mocks him and sneers in ways that she never does in life and those dreams still somehow terrify him. His dreams know that his heart is opening before any other part of him even registers that affection has taken hold.

Lucanis hopes to put that aside in order to face Zara, but it turns out he in unprepared. The face of his torturer blurs until all he can see is his cousin. The man who was supposed to be his brother had left him to die. What nightmare could be worse than that betrayal?

Lucanis spirals in and down. By the time Spite draws Rook into their shared mind, his thoughts are a tangled thicket. Rook shouldn’t have to sort him— she shouldn’t be able to. She does anyway. She greets the mire of his thoughts with open warmth and reaches out.

Lucanis thinks she may be the most beautiful dream he has ever had.

So he lets it come true, even if he knows that means that soon he will be having nightmares about her safety and well being. He knows the price of love is making room for the worst his brain has to offer.

It just happens to be worth it.

“—so we’ll probably have to chase them down eventually,” she shrugged, stopping to check her work on the knife edge. As she held it up, her gaze went past it, noticing him watching. Lucanis looked away, but it was too late as she said smugly, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Something on my face?”

When he looked back, she was grinning, fully aware she had caught him admiring her. Lucanis sighed before admitting, “I…like having you around. It’s…nice.” And even though it was hardly an admission, he still felt his ears go hot. “And you…look…nice. To look at. Is…nice.”

“I look nice to look at?” She challenged gleefully. Lucanis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What I meant— I—” Gods, how he wished he had Illario’s gift for knowing the right thing to say in these situations.

However, Rook giggled. “It’s alright, I’m just teasing you.” He heard her go back to work sharpening the knife. “It's cute when you get flustered like that.”

Cute. His blush deepened. “Mierda…” he grumbled, and she laughed again.

They had an understanding that there was something between them, even if they weren’t quite ready to define or act on it in the midst of…well, everything. But this knowledge made space for them to flirt rather more openly than Lucanis was accustomed to. It was taking some adjustment. However, the adjustment was not an unhappy one, even if she was prone to leaving him flushed and speechless with just a few words.

Lucanis set down the rag he had been using and crossed from the kitchen to the table. He watched his own hands fidget together as he walked, breathing in deep before trying again. “I like hearing your voice,” he offered, “and…you look…very pretty.”

He checked her expression to see her looking pleasantly off guard. A smile tugged at his lips as he noted, “Ah. It is cute.”

She blew out a huff of air that momentarily floated her loose curls from her face. “You’re such a pain,” she jabbed without any venom in her words.

Lucanis chuckled and the sound made her smile. Rook set the knife to the side and behind her, gripping the edge of the table in order to scoot to the side on the table perch. She wordlessly indicated that he could join, so Lucanis closed the rest of the distance. He stood in the space beside her, leaning back against the table.

Rook looked down at her kicking feet, still holding the table end. Just standing this close to her made his skin felt electric, as if every hair were standing on end. And it was mutual, judging by the fidgety way she rhythmically drummed her fingers on the table top.

“I appreciate your helping,” he offered, letting his hands rest behind him on the table as well.

“It's entirely selfish.” She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “I like having you to myself.”

Lucanis coughed, sputtering in surprise. Gods, how did she manage to knock the air from his lungs every time? He recovered enough to say, “I suppose we aren’t often by ourselves, are we?”

“Nope,” she laughed quietly, “not nearly enough.”

It was true. Even though they were taking things slow physically, he still found that he longed to be with her, around her. To absorb her attention and affection undivided. And maybe he wanted more; he did want more, but for now, in the middle of so much chaos, with a body still newly shared, this was best.

“It’s not selfish,” he murmured. “It’s…it’s something I need, too. I need you around.”

Lucanis’s chin dropped and he noticed her hand still resting on the table. A small hand, short fingers, calloused with pale scars, covered with as many freckles as the rest of her skin. Finding new little details about her always left him feeling dizzy. As if he were a treasure hunter who just found an endless bounty.

Something propelled him as he stood there next to where she sat on the table. His own hand glided across the table, stopping alongside hers. She wasn’t looking, but he noticed she had gone unusually still, like she might be holding her breath. There was a buzz between them like a storm. His small finger reached out, bumping the side of hers. He held the touch as delicately as a candle flame. Then, slowly, he hooked his finger on top of hers. Her breathing released and it felt as though it fluttered down the length of his spine.

Her eyes finally dropped, watching the exploration of his touch. Lucanis stared as well as though he wasn’t fully in control of the journey. His fingers fanned out across the back of her hand, sweeping across the gentle waves of her knuckles. There were half-healed bruises nestled there, from any of the number of fights they found themselves in these days. With his middle finger, he followed the jagged line of a scar around the base of her thumb, making her shiver. Someday, he would know where each one came from. Finally, Lucanis enveloped her small, scarred, lovely hand with his own. Something about it felt achingly intimate, more than he even know a touch of hands could be.

Slowly, she rotated her hand underneath his until her palm faced upwards. His fingers interlaced with hers, skin to skin, taking her hand. After a moment, his thumb drew slow circles on the back, cutting an invisible pattern through the galaxy of freckles.

It may have seemed silly, yet it was perfect: just holding her hand for the first time. It didn't feel like they were just alone in the room, it felt like all of Thedas had disappeared.

Rook let out a breath. “Huh.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know I could still feel like this just holding someone’s hand.”

Lucanis tilted his head towards her. “Like what?”

She looked over at him, her lips traced in a faint smile. “Like I swallowed a rampaging dragon.”

He pressed his lips together, though it didn’t disguise the grin he was fighting. “Most people opt for ‘butterflies.’”

“I’m sorry: are you critiquing the way I’m trying to tell you that I like you?”

He let the battle fall and smiled. “No, no. Never.” Slowly, he brought the hand he held to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her bruises. “It’s just right for you.”

Rook giggled happily. Someday, he would show her exactly how he felt with all of him.

Lucanis knew he shouldn’t be surprised by Rook’s frankness at this point, but a burst of shyness caused his heartbeat to hiccup. Still, his voice was even when he responded, “What else would it be?”

She grinned, her eyes and nose gathering in dozens of little lines. "I just wanted to hear you say it.”

Lucanis ducked his head as he chuckled, hoping to hide his blush and aware that he was probably just making her watch more closely for it. She took a satisfied sip from her mug, and Spite copied the motion, even though his ghostly hand couldn’t pick the drink up. “It feels like a lifetime since we first came here together,” Rook remarked thoughtfully.

“It does.”

“You got me coffee…” she smiled at her fresh coffee and she remembered the first, “…and then your cousin showed up to interrupt me flirting with you.”

Lucanis laughed in surprise, loud enough that he instinctively caught the sound with his hand against his mouth. “Oh, is that what you were doing?”

“Oh, please,” Rook snorted, “you already knew that.”

“Who can say? I was very innocent before you corrupted me, you know.”

She gave him a deeply incredulous look and he once more laughed. A spark of satisfaction lit in her eyes upon hearing it, even as she dryly intoned, “Is that what you tell yourself?”

Lucanis watched her over his mug. “Just a wide-eyed man, freshly reintroduced to the world—“

“Oh my gods…”

“—seduced by your wiles.”

“I’m going to throw this at you,” she insisted, lifting her mug. They both dissolved into quiet giggles, leaning towards each other across the table, secretive and yet for all the world to see. Rook tilted her head flirtatiously. “Get Spite for me. He’ll tell me the truth.”

The demon scrambled at being called upon and wrested control of Lucanis’s tongue. “Lucanis thought Rook was beautiful. First time he thought ‘beautiful.’ Thought it all day.”

“See? I knew he wouldn’t let me down,” Rook giggled. Lucanis swatted his hand to shoo the spirit back to the side of the table where Spite preened proudly. These two would be the death of him.

“Fine,” Lucanis finally relented, taking a long drink before he continued, “if you want to know…that day we went to the market and then came here…that was the happiest I’d been in a long time.” He paused before adding, “I’m including some time before the Ossuary, too.”

Rook’s eyes went wide, quickly followed by a pink blush blooming across her cheeks and nose. She clearly had been unprepared for the sincerity with which Lucanis admitted this. “Are you still making fun of me?” She asked suspiciously.

Lucanis smiled as he shook his head. “No. I’m not.” His world had been dark for so long and she was an immutable beam of light even then, even before romance had been an idea much less an attainable goal. His first smile, his first laugh after a year of pain and torture, and it had been all her doing. “I know it might seem like nothing special happened, but I…I was prepared for that to be the best day of my life, in hindsight. With Caterina gone and so much changed…I didn’t think it would get better than that.”

The blush crept to the corners of her pointed ears. “And did it?”

“Immeasurably.”

She looked away and Lucanis studied the color crawling down her neck beneath the collar of her clothes. When she looked back she asked, “All right…what has your actual best day been?”

He didn’t even hesitate: “The first time I kissed you.”

Her face went from pink to red, making her myriad of freckles stand out. Lucanis watched it happen with delight. “Does that surprise you?”

“Well—” Rook sputtered, “I mean, that’s—”

His smile took a predator’s tilt as he continued teasing, “Or was it just not as memorable for you?”

“Shut up!” She tried to hide her face with the flat of her hand, as if that could disguise how flushed she was. “Of course it — I just— wasn’t expecting that.”

Lucanis tilted his head to the opposite direction. “Why not?”

“I don’t know, I’m—” she shrugged, “I’m not used to being the best part of anyone’s day, I guess.”

There was a heaviness behind those words but now was not the time to explore it. All Lucanis could do was confirm, “Well, you are. You are often the best of my days. And I like you. I like you…very much.”

Rook lowered her hand to peer over it, violet eyes bright. She managed to answer shyly, “I like you, too.”

Lucanis leaned forward. “Hmm? What was that?”

“I—like you too, you asshole,” she reached over to shove the elbow he was leaning on. He hummed a quiet laugh as her lips twisted playfully.

“Well, in spite of the name calling— and in spite of everything else we had to deal with that day,” Lucanis conferred, “that was my best day. And it will be difficult to dethrone.”

“I’m that good at kissing?”

“It was more than the kiss. It was…you.” Lucanis met her eyes to ensure she heard ever word. “You only ever knew me as an abomination, but you chose me anyway. Not what I was, what I am. That feeling…I’ve never known anything like it.”

She stared at him, stunned, breathless, blushing so prettily that it reminded him to add, “And then the kissing was…that was also…very good.” And at that he did blush as well; he could feel the warmth of it in every fiber of his skin.

Rook bit her lower lip but it did not keep her from smiling. “Ooh, ‘good,’ huh? Is that the official review?”

“I said ‘very good.’”

She giggled, rolling her eyes. He expected her to have another comeback but, instead, her hand slid across the length of the table. His own hand was on the table surface and he stretched his fingers almost instinctively. She stopped when her fingertips occupied the space between his on the tabletop. A dangerous game to play in Crow territory when their relationship was not yet out to everyone, but Lucanis couldn’t even be bothered to consider this. He stared fixedly at the space occupied by their hands almost, almost touching. He swore he could feel the light thrum of her heartbeat in the air alone and it was not enough to sate him. It was only enough to make him crave her more. “That was one of my favorite days, too,” she confided, almost surprising him from the intensity with which he had been studying the table.

Lucanis just nodded, swallowing as he looked up at her. A deliberately mischievous smirk had tilted her lips, almost as if she had heard the desire in his thoughts. Rook hummed, “This night is still young, though. I should get a chance to improve on ‘very good.’”

He coughed suddenly in a nervous spasm that made her laugh. Even though they had kissed quite often (and quite vigorously) since that first night, her brazen flirtation never failed to make him feel stripped down to a bashful young man. His attempt to save face stumbled as he asked haltingly, “What, ah…what did you have in mind?”

Rook shrugged in feigned nonchalance, her free hand picking up her mug. “Well, it's a long, cold walk to the Eluvian.” She downed the rest of the drink before setting the mug down with a thunk. “And I’m out of coffee. So it looks like I’ll need something else to keep me warm.”

With that, she stood, making her way breezily to the exit as Lucanis flushed further. Still, Spite fell into chanting, “Follow. Follow. Follow,” as if Lucanis wasn't immediately rushing to walk behind her.

He caught up to her easily— she wanted him to, of course. They walked in step, not touching, but still with electricity almost palpably jumping between them. He wanted so badly to take hold of her, feel her, but he held to the thin veil of restraint.

They didn’t make it far. After a moment of walking, she gently grabbed his hand and tugged. Lucanis followed her pull down a narrow alley with a lattice framework hanging overhead. Another turn and they were in the darkness, the backside of the buildings facing out over the canals. Before he could ask if she actually had any idea where they were going, she turned and pushed a hand to his chest. The reverse movement found his back against the wall and Rook rose to her toes to kiss him.

She tasted like coffee— the exact blend he had introduced her to, except it had become sweet upon touching her tongue. Because Rook made everything brighter, and coffee was no exception. Lucanis took her face between his hands to eagerly chase after the taste.

Their lips briefly broke as Rook grinned, but Lucanis was focused, his tongue slipping into her mouth. Her giggle turned into a perfectly intoxicating little groan of approval as he cradled her head softly. A part of him was aware they were outside and, while the canals were dark at this hour, anyone could stumble across this scene. A larger, louder part of him was thinking about how, when he introduced this coffee blend to her, he had never imagined later he would be inhaling it off her breath.

Rook’s fingers hooked into his shirtfront, pulling herself up and against him. The heels of his hands guided her chin up as she pulled his lower lip in between her teeth. It was gentle, teasing, promising. He chuckled and he could feel his own laugh vibrate through her jaw.

Rook suddenly pulled back, her eyes wide and pupils blown out. “Oh! I forgot— is this better than ‘good?’”

Lucanis laughed, his head tilting back as he did. “You stopped to ask me that?”

Rook twined her arms around his waist, her hands linking behind him. “Well, I had a goal!”

“I seem to remember I said very good.”

She rolled her eyes and her head rolled in tandem, even while Lucanis still held it softly. “Uch, you're insufferable.”

He bent his neck to kiss her gently on one cheek. “If you want a review,” he kissed the other, “then you are always perfect, querida.” Lucanis then kissed her lips, softly and sweetly. “Especially when you taste like my coffee.”

She burst into laughter. “Oh, is that what this is about?” He tried to occupy her lips but she spoke around him, “Just using me— for your coffee— mm…” her last word dissolved against his mouth.

“Simply a bonus, querida.”