It's been a while since I did an updated pinned post and I think it's about time I cleaned this up and made it presentable for company (i.e. you).
You might know me here as gatesofminrathous, but you can also call me Rosa - it's not my name, but it's been my online name for long enough it might as well be. I also moonlight as throneofthegods on ao3. I'm a Dragon Age fic writer and occasional fan artist and you can find all my work in the below.
Without further ado...
Veilguard Long Fics:
🗡️No Rest in This World | E | Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook de Riva | 350k (complete) | post-canon, angst, established relationship, slow-burn divorce, slavery, antivan crow politics, past trauma, mental health issues
Rook de Riva never expected there to be an ‘after' to this job. For twenty-two years, Rook was an Antivan Crow by circumstance, not by choice. While returning to the yoke of the Crows after so long away proves a bitter pill to swallow, it is life with the new First Talon that forces a reckoning with past wounds left unhealed.
When Tevinter's new Archon seeks out the Crows to eliminate the remaining Venatori, Rook is quick to jump at the contract for an escape, even as it claws at the darkest parts of her past. As tensions grow and truths come out, Rook must ask herself how much she's willing to endure for love.
🍸Last Call | E | Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook Thorne (and kind of Mercar) | 50k (complete) | modern au, romcom, humor, the hanged man is a dive bar, the antivan crows are lawyers |
What do you do when your whole life falls apart? You move to Kirkwall.
Reeling from a personal betrayal, Lucanis Dellamorte is looking for an escape, one he hopes to find as the new line cook at The Hanged Man. As closing shifts with Rook—the bar's enigmatic bartender—lead to friendship, which leads to something more, Lucanis must decide what he wants more: the life he's always known, or the unknown of a fresh start.
🥇Everything and Nothing to Lose | M (for now) | Lucanis Dellamorte/Neve Gallus/Davrin | 12k (in progress, updating weekly) | real world modern au, men's gymnastics, sibling rivalry, mystery, angst and humor, bisexuality, mid-life crisis |
Lucanis knows gold. From golden child to gold medals, there's one last gold he's chasing: the all-around Olympic gold that's eluded his gymnastics dynasty family for the past sixty years. At twenty-eight and rapidly aging out of the sport, the upcoming Olympic trials are his last chance.
Then came Worlds. After a catastrophic accident nearly ends his career, Lucanis is five months into an ill-advised, painkiller-fueled comeback. As if things couldn't get worse, an anonymous source has hired a PI to investigate potential foul play in Lucanis' accident, and now his carefully planned life is turned on its head. Add in a former competitor with an olive branch extended in friendship and a bitter, lifelong rivalry with the cousin for whom Lucanis' injury might mean his own last chance at victory, and suddenly Lucanis is wondering how much that one last gold is really worth.
Veilguard One-Shots:
💀You Only Feel It When It's Lost | T | Gen (technically Emmrich/Rook) | 2.6k (complete) | character death, regret, hurt no comfort, immortality, lich emmrich, character study, grief/mourning |
Immortality is a heavy burden to bear alone.
When the last of the Veilguard passes on, Emmrich stands alone and questions if the price of lichdom was worth it.
🥃To Be Seen By Your Eyes | T | Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook de Riva | 2.8k (complete) | pre-relationship, feelings realization, fluff and angst | *this is a prequel to No Rest* |
Rook had many questions for the Demon of Vyrantium after his rescue from his underwater prison. She had not expected one to stir up new feelings.
🩸Where Our Hearts Hunger | M | Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook de Riva | 3.8k (complete) | hurt/comfort, flirting, unresolved sexual tension, blood and injury, undressing, partial nudity | *this is a prequel to No Rest* |
Left bloodied and injured in the aftermath of Zara's death, Lucanis is forced to grapple with the implications of Illario's last words.
Rook has her own ideas for how to distract him.
Inquisition Long Fics:
📝Where Shall I Begin? | M | Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan | 69k (in-progress/hiatus) | during canon, epistolary format, letters, many POVs, slow burn, coworkers to friends to lovers, lyrium addiction, sibling bonding |
For Cullen, the Inquisition was a chance to atone, to make peace with a Templar's regrets. For Evelyn, it was the chance to live a life free of the Circle's restraints and to reunite with the Templar brother she has not seen in twenty long years.
But even in the midst of chaos that follows, there are always quiet moments. Letters from a brother to a sister, separated by time and circumstance. Notes passed between friends, reveling in the gossip that surrounds a burgeoning hero. Strange figures met on the road...and sometimes closer to home. And the friendships and love that grows between the unlikeliest pairs.
This is the story of the Inquisition as told through the letters of its people. And the story of a former Circle mage and ex-Templar who, despite it all, find hope - and the chance at a future - in one another.
Inquisition One-Shots:
🫂Nothing He Wrought Shall Be Lost | T | Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan | 5.2k (complete) | family reunions, fluff, first meetings, pre-DLC |
Thirteen years after entering Kinloch Hold and three months after the fall of Corypheus, Cullen Rutherford and Evelyn Trevelyan make a visit a long time coming, and Cullen is forced to reckon with the question haunting him for the past decade: just how unconditional is a family's love?
🐶The Things We Do For Love | G | Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan | 750 (complete) | mabari, domestic fluff, post-canon, humor |
Cullen knows that sometimes love means sacrifice. He'd just prefer if that sacrifice wasn't sharing his side of the bed.
inspired by a rant i was going on elsewhere bc someone tweeted something very stupid and uninformed about hamlet and it got my back up as someone who took two single-text-focus english literature courses in college and they were on wuthering heights and hamlet, i now put it to all of you on here:
what's "your" shakespeare play?
hamlet
macbeth
the tempest
merchant of venice
midsummer night's dream
twelfth night
richard iii
othello
julius caesar
king lear
another not listed (specify in tags) (i really just put my own top 10 here nbd)
i have no particular feelings about any shakespeare play/results tag
thank you to @epiphany-jones for the tag! and as always credit to @sorrygoldfish for originating this whole idea which has become one of my favorite things to look out for every week.
...what I'm reading (books): I'm about 1/3rd of the way through The Glass Hotel on the recommendation of @slothquisitor. Sea of Tranquility is one of my all time favorite books and I really loved Station 11, and while I don't think I'm as into this as the other two it still scratches that specific itch I think Emily St. John Mandel is particularly adept at scratching.
...what I'm reading (fic): Finally caught up on @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai's Three of Crows only to immediately fall behind (only by one chapter!) again lol. If Illario has no haters I'm dead. Name the time and place, motherfucker. Also finally started on @cimmanombagel's Lucanis week stuff, even if by that I mean I read the first lmao. I'm getting there! It's progress! Also started on @slothquisitor's The Watcher and the Crow series. It's a bit ironic given I started with her high school teacher AU, moved on to her bad ending AU, read the Lucanis and Illario prequel of sorts "Portrait," and am now just finally getting back to where it all started. On the plus side, it means I'm going in already fully bought in to Cam and Lucanis.
...what I'm listening to: I've been assembling a playlist for my DABB project which means delving into some music that's a pretty sharp departure from the Noah Kahan fest that has been my Tidal for the last month. Three songs of the moment are Reaper Man by Mother Mother, The Killing Kind by Marianas Trench, and Land of Broken Promises by IAMX. Make of that what you will.
...what I'm watching: Nothing right now. Behind on shows, not watching movies. It's a drought over here.
...what I'm playing: Still trying to finish Control but haven't played much of anything either. I've been too focused on writing as of late to get much else done.
...what I'm eating: Nothing of interest lately but I just got the latest issue of my beloved Cooks Illustrated magazine and it has a Levain cookie copycat recipe that I will be trying asap. Also looking to make my own English muffins, so if you have a good recipe hit me up.
...what I'm working on: Making headway on the secret DABB project that I cannot name (because it doesn't have one, and also rules and all that). I'm really pleased with what I've got so far (ty @armoredinmoonlight and @slothquisitor for your beta feedback). I'm really making a concerted effort both on the prose and the construction of this one so it's going a lot slower than I'm used to, but I think it'll be worth it in the end.
Once I finish the chapter I'm working on now I'll have made enough progress to allow myself to go back to EAN to free you all from cliffhanger hell.
...what I'm doing to touch grass: I'm back on my running bullshit. I always feel like a bit of a broken record saying this every week, but it is true that it's the thing that gets me outside consistently. Today I did my longest non-stop run...possibly ever? Four miles at a 12:39 pace. Not exactly winning any races, but in the race against myself I just won the gold.
...what's making me laugh: My cat has been sleeping all curled up in this little scoop that hangs off the side of her cat tower, and for the last couple days I keep catching her with her tail wrapped around her head in a way that looks like she's wearing a really bad toupee. It makes me laugh every time.
...what's giving me hope: Honestly like not a lot at the moment lol it's the dark times out here. Some shit has been going down at my husband's job that fills me with dread and my own job search is...not great. But it is important to find bright spots, so I will not dwell on that. It is August which means fall approaches! Summer will end! I will be able to sleep under more than a thin sheet soon! I have to remind myself of this every day or I will actually go insane.
...what's so true to me right now: I can't even remember what triggered it now, but last week I had a day where I was really ruminating on a falling out I had with a friend a few years ago. The reasons are complicated and the relationship had been volatile a long time before it happened, but it's still hard to not feel guilt for feeling like you've "abandoned" someone you love. But what I really learned from that whole experience - and what I still am trying to internalize - is that you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. You can love a person and realize that sometimes reaching out a hand is asking to be dragged down with them, and deciding to withdraw that hand doesn't make you a bad person. You cannot be the load-bearing pillar for someone else's mental health, and you shouldn't feel bad for recognizing how unsustainable that is. Sometimes you just have to wait and hope they figure things out on their own.
It's your turn, artists! Sign-ups for The 2026 Dragon Age Big Bang are open NOW through EOD August 10th.
From light-hearted backstories, to daring adventures across Thedas, to epic, spicy smut, our writers have been hard at work on over eighty different fanfics - there is a story to suit every taste!
💡New This Year: The sign-up will ask for your top six (6) pitches!
Check out the Artist Participation Guide and review the info under the cut if you're interested in collaborating with a writer to create an illustration for a Dragon Age fanfic, then:
✨Click Here to View Pitches & Sign Up✨
Artist Participation Guidelines:
This is an abbreviated list. The full requirements are on the Artist Guide page.
You will produce a polished illustration tangibly inspired by the fanfiction you’re paired with.
What does tangibly inspired mean? You can choose to depict:
👉 the featured characters
👉 a specific scene from the fic
👉 a broader, more symbolic illustration, like might be used for a book cover
What route you take is up to you! You’re encouraged to talk to your writer for inspiration, but this is not a commission, so follow your imagination and inspiration.
Do I need to be a professional or experienced artist to join? What if I only like certain Dragon Age games or content?
We accept artists of all skill and experience levels! You do not need to be professional or experienced, and there is no application/jurying period for this type of event. Once you sign up, you’re in!
Our writers’ fics cover all four Dragon Age games, with themes ranging from modern AUs to canon retellings to NSFW & darkfic. Whatever part of Dragon Age is your favorite, we have a fic that will interest you!
About Claims & Matching:
Anonymous pitches will be available from August 3rd - 10th. Artists will submit a sign up form ranking the six (6) fics they most want to work with. Then, the mods will match up writers and artists based on those rankings.
The fics on offer range from Teen to Explicit and have a variety of relationship types, including platonic and crossover ships. Some of our writers are focusing on canon characters, while others are including OCs.
You can find an example of the information provided in the pitches here.
If you’re an artist interested in creating an illustration based on a Dragon Age fanfic, visit our pitch website at the link above, submit your sign up, and follow us here on tumblr to stay in the loop!
You can also (optionally) join our Discord server to get on in the hype and stay on top of announcements.
Contact The Mods: ask | discord | email: [email protected]
Event Guidebook: rules, timeline, and more
"Datta: what have we given?
My friend, blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a moment’s surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract
By this, and this only, we have existed
Which is not to be found in our obituaries
Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider
Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor
In our empty rooms."
- T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land
There is a bleakness to the Lighthouse that is only eclipsed in Neve's memory by those hours immediately following Tearstone. When she and Emmrich and Taash and Lucanis and Davrin had stumbled through the eluvian, having lost three of their own. Then, at least, the grief had been easier to parse — easier to know exactly where to direct it. What are they grieving now with the woman in the infirmary returned to them? What should have felt like a triumph, a string of clues followed, a case closed, instead feels wrong.
The worst part is that she should have seen it coming — should have been ready for that other shoe to drop. There's always a catch; she knows better. When had anything been as easy as having the person they've spent a year and a half searching for just deposited in their laps? Neve knew something felt off, and she wishes she could go back and shake her past self, force her to see it sooner. Save them all from this pain.
Lucanis is a man shattered. The distance he put between himself and the rest of them was difficult before, but now he is unreachable, so isolated in his grief. Always good at disappearing, Neve looks for him within the Lighthouse and cannot find where he goes, knows that she won't as long as he doesn't want to be found. He has barely spoken to any of them beyond what he must, and though Willow and Emmrich spend their time in the infirmary, keeping vigil, Lucanis has not stepped foot in there since. He has reappeared now, sits miserably with the rest of them while they all wait in the library for Morrigan and Emmrich's return.
But for once, this doesn't feel like something that can be mended. All that time, all that hope, and Rook doesn't even remember them. Neve is surprised by how much it stings.
When Morrigan and Emmrich finally emerge from the infirmary, it is with grim expressions. Everyone is silent, awaiting their pronouncement, but Neve finds she cannot. "How bad is it?"
Emmrich's eyes sweep over the dismal scene. "I'm afraid we have few answers — a working theory. That is all."
Lucanis sits with his elbows on his knees, his gaze affixed to the ground as though it might hold some clues, might lend him the strength to face this. She wonders if he resents her for bringing him here, for appearing in Treviso and bringing the news that has caused so much renewed heartbreak. Looking at him reminds her of those meetings in Minrathous, sitting across from people realizing that at last she has news for them, and because she has news, they can no longer hope for better outcomes. As always, the guilt rests heavily on her shoulders.
"In speaking with Rook, her memory seems to cut off a few months before The War of the Banners and joining with Varric and Lace," Emmrich explains.
Neve doesn't like the sound of that. "If it was blood magic, it wouldn't be a clean break. It would be…fractured."
Emmrich nods grimly. "Just so. Lady Morrigan has another suggestion."
Morrigan looks exceptionally sorry as she speaks. "I believe that Rook shared with all of you the information I gave her, about being a host for a fragment of Mythal?"
The implication hangs heavy in the air. It is Lucanis who looks up, who shakes his head in horror. "No."
Neve doesn't like where this is going. "Are you saying that Rook is housing a fragment of a god?"
"'Tis a more hopeful theory than the alternative, yes."
From beside her, Bellara speaks up. "But you only have a fragment of Mythal because she died. There was that one in the Crossroads, too. The one we talked to. But those fragments only existed because…because she was killed."
"Maybe Solas died too; we don't know what happened in the Fade after they were pulled in," Neve says. His injuries hadn't looked that extensive, but who knows in the Fade.
"The ambient magic around Rook is fractured in a similar way to Lady Morrigan's," Emmrich explains. "It's impossible to tell for sure why, I'm afraid."
"But you allowed Mythal's spirit into you, right? Like Rivaini seers do? Wouldn't Rook have had to be willing?" Taash asks.
Morrigan's mouth is a thin, tight line. "I don't believe it to be a requirement, but more Mythal's own morality governing that it be a choice. Still, we cannot know that the deal was not freely made. Rook playing host to a fragment of Fen'Harel would explain the magical connection she now has to his Crossroads."
"But not the memory loss," Davrin replies, words careful.
"To take upon yourself even a fragment of god, the knowledge and memory of millennia…'tis no small feat. A mortal mind can only stretch so far. I was rather singularly prepared to accept a fragment of Mythal as I had already drunk of her Well of Sorrows."
"If Mythal wanted to, could her fragment steer your choices…your actions?" Neve asks.
Morrigan shakes her head. "I once feared Mythal would consume me were I to carry her, but 'twas not so. I remain free-willed and mortal."
"Are you sure you'd know? But also, you have a small fragment, split off thousands of years ago. What if Rook carries a much larger one? Instead of Rook, could it be Solas we're talking to? Could he take control of her body? Carry out the ritual he was attempting? Is it possible he sent her back for that express purpose?" Neve doesn't like the way the threads are drawing together, the conclusions they are shaping into.
Lucanis stares at her, pale as a ghost as the implications hit them all.
Morrigan looks distinctly uncomfortable. "'Tis not the Dreadwolf's way, but I suppose it is possible. 'Tis hard to be certain when Rook cannot tell us herself the bargain that was made, if one such bargain exists."
"So just to get this straight," Davrin says, "We've got an already powerful mage who has returned from the Fade with somehow even more power that we don't understand, and we're not sure that she's not being controlled by the guy who wants to destroy our world?"
"He made her see Varric for months in his desperation to escape the Fade. Sending her back…" Willow's voice fades. "In his desperation….he might try anything."
"I doubt he's pretending to be her. What would be the point of her memory loss? But biding his time? Waiting for the right moment? I'd bet on that," Neve says.
"How do we get it out of her? This….fragment of Solas?" Lucanis asks, his voice has dropped into something dangerous and dark. It isn't Lucanis who speaks but instead the First Talon of the Crows asking for a target.
"To my knowledge, the fragment of Mythal only changed hosts when the previous one died," Morrigan replies. "If there is another way, I am ignorant to it. With your permission, I would seek out help from trusted allies and friends; I have some idea of where to start."
"And in the meantime?" Willow asks.
Morrigan considers that. "If Rook's reappearance and power is, as you say, a play by the Dreadwolf to continue his work to bring down the Veil. Well, it may be best to let it play out for a time. Perhaps, it would be wise to keep our suspicions about Rook's new powers to ourselves. Watch and wait, 'tis the only advantage we have. Perhaps then Solas's plan will be made clear."
"Absolutely not!" Willow protests. "We're not going to lie to her. She might be carrying a fragment of a god against her will! How could we not tell her that?"
"Darling, I think Lady Morrigan may have a point," Emmrich entreats. "We have no idea to what purpose Solas has sent Rook back to us, but we must assume that it is for some advantage of his own."
Willow's gaze cuts to Lucanis, who sits, miserably staring at a spot in the rug. "And you, of all people, you'd be okay with this?"
Lucanis looks as though he's been slapped across the face. "No part of me is 'okay' with any of this. But what is our alternative? If she is a danger to herself…to others…are we even sure that woman in the infirmary is Camina?"
"There was nothing in our examining or questioning of her that would suggest otherwise," Emmrich replies. "We can take some comfort in that at least."
"Small comfort," Neve scoffs. "Since we apparently can't trust her either way."
"Fuck." Willow shakes her head, stands up, and begins pacing.
"Maybe if we just give her some time, she'll remember everything. Maybe it'll all come back," Bellara says, biting at her lip.
"'Tis the hope," Morrigan replies. "It would have taken no small amount of magic to send Rook from the Fade back here….there must be a reason for it. The wisest thing we can do is not reveal too much of our hand. Keep her here in the safety of the Lighthouse, but don't let your guard down until you are sure she is acting on her own. I should be on my way. I'll send word as soon as I find anything."
Emmrich is the only one of the group who offers her a smile, a goodbye. "Thank you for your assistance, Lady Morrigan."
She glances around at their group, at all their shared grief. "I am sorry that I did not carry better tidings. I hope that when I see you again, it will be under better circumstances."
The group is quiet while her footsteps echo down the stairs to the eluvian room, until they hear the closing of the door.
"This is vashedan. Rook might not remember us, but she's not fucking stupid. She'll know we're lying to her."
Davrin scrubs a hand down his face. "Then we give her a version of the truth. Something that explains enough, but isn't quite all of it. If Morrigan is right, Rook has returned with magic we don't understand, and we have no idea if she's in control of or if Solas can just take over. We don't know what his plan is or how he might use her to accomplish it. Sometimes, the best way to hunt your prey is to not let them know you're hunting them at all."
"This is wrong," Willow says, still pacing. "I understand that she doesn't remember what happened, but she has a right to know!"
"But letting her know could also alert Solas that we know," Davrin replies.
"We don't even know if this is what's happening," Will protests. "It's just a theory."
Neve glances over at Lucanis, who sits silent. They have not taken the cautious route in any of this, not so far, and what has it done for them but caused more heartbreak? "And until we know better, we should take this theory as fact. It won't be forever. We know her. If she's not herself…it should be clear."
She watches the fight leech out of Willow upon realizing that not even she is in her corner. Neve feels instant regret, but that doesn't mean they're wrong.
Willow sits down heavily. "Alright. I assume I'll have to be the one to tell her? So what's the story? It has to be good, as complete as we can make it. And then we better pray to the Maker that when she inevitably discovers this deceit she doesn't hate us all."
"The best lies are wrapped in truth. Tell her that we are afraid of what happened to her in the Fade. Of this new magic she carries. That is all very reasonable. And if it is true and she carries a fragment of Solas? Well, he will know we're watching anyway, but he won't know why," Neve offers.
"And perhaps some time in a place that is so familiar, that carries so many memories for her, will help her memory return," Emmrich adds. "But I think Neve's explanations are good. Rook is scared and confused, and has likely been through quite the ordeal." He reaches out to take his wife's hand. "I don't like the deception anymore than you do, my darling, but I think if Rook knew our concerns, she would support us doing whatever it took to stop Solas's plan."
Taash nods. "And we're all going to stay here and help figure this out, right?"
"If you can spare the time," Emmrich says. "Perhaps Rook's memories are not entirely gone, just…inaccessible. Perhaps seeing us here or interacting with us will be…helpful. As much as we can, anyway. Who better equipped to determine if Rook is herself than those who know her best?"
"I can stay. I'll send word to the crew," Taash says.
Neve nods. "I can also be here. I'll need to pop back into Minrathous…but that's easy enough."
Davrin shrugs. "Yeah, why not? I'm here, too."
Bellara jumps up. "I can make dinner! Lucanis, do you want to help?"
Lucanis doesn't reply, is already on his feet and at the doors that lead to the courtyard. The doors shut behind him with a bang.
The group sits in aborted silence for a moment.
"This is a lot to process," Will offers, and Neve is surprised at the kindness in her words — the guilt. "For all of us."
Davrin stands. "I'll check in on him in a bit."
Neve's relief is immediate, and so is the shame. She was the one who insisted on getting him, on bringing him here, but she cannot bring herself to follow. She glances in Davrin's direction, and he meets her eye in a way that tells her he understands. She's not sure how she feels about being so transparent, even to him.
***
When Lucanis had first been captured, first brought down into the depths — to the Ossuary — it had taken some time for reality to sink in. Some part of him had always known that he'd die on a contract, that there was only one fate that would befall a Crow. And yet, even as it became so very clear that contract would be his last, that he would die in that underwater prison. He'd still held out hope that someone was coming. That Caterina would send the full might of House Dellamorte to find him. That Illario would not rest so long as Lucanis was out there. That hope had burned, bright and true until Zara had whispered against his ear that she'd sent a corpse back to Treviso wearing his face, her fingers pressed with bruising force against his neck as she'd sliced her dagger down his arm in a caress that held all the tenderness of a lover.
It was only then that hope began to wane. Starved by days that turned into weeks that turned into months. When he'd been told he had been down in the Ossuary a year, it had felt….both too long and too short. Had he not spent a lifetime there in that damp, dark prison? Had it really been just a blink of time, over and done with so quickly? He had been rescued, but the Ossuary had robbed him of so much more than time alone. His capacity for hope had just been another casualty he hadn't had time to mourn.
But, of course, that wasn't entirely true. Because even after everything, when Neve had breathlessly said the words he'd longed to hear, hope had somehow resurrected itself, only to be stamped out once again.
He refuses to stoop to folly once more. Refuses to carry a banner for a cause long lost. Maybe that woman in the infirmary will remember him, or maybe she won't, but it doesn't matter because they don't truly know who or what is staring back out at them through her eyes.
And now, what? They are tasked with the awful and terrible burden of trying to determine how much of her remains, what control she really has, what her body may be being used for without her consent or knowledge? He wants no part of that, but finds he cannot go, cannot leave this place. So, instead he haunts it.
He knows his friends look for him, knows that they are trying to track him down. He allows Davrin to do so because it feels the easiest, and perhaps if he allows this, then it will buy him time away from everyone else. So when he hears Davrin's familiar tread, he doesn't move from his perch around the side of the dining hall, on the wooden stairs that lead to nowhere. He's not sure how long he's been here. It's impossible to track time in the Lighthouse's perpetual facsimile of day.
Davrin folds his large body down beside his, leaning against the stone of the dining hall, and says nothing for a very long time. He finds that he no longer knows how to simply sit with someone. As First Talon, he is rarely alone these days. Caterina hovers, spends nearly as much time in their shared offices as he does, and then in the villa there is always someone nearby. A servant or guard or messenger. He feels that he is always, somehow, observed. It is the price of his title; it is exhausting.
But as Davrin sits beside him, there's a comfortability, nothing demanded. Not yet, anyway. It's easy to pretend, just for a moment, that the last eighteen months have not happened. That they all still call the Lighthouse home, that they are still a team, still gather around the dining table together in the evenings, still meet in the library to discuss their latest book club book.
Eventually, Davrin speaks. "Do you think it's like it is for you? Maybe Solas is her unruly passenger the way Spite is yours?"
Spite has, once again, drifted to the periphery. There, but not. Lucanis resents his ability to disappear so completely.
"Only she can answer that, and we're not telling her we think she's…possessed." He spits the word out, hates it even as it leaves his lips. He and Spite are…what they are. But the idea that it might have happened to Camina, willing or not, makes him ill.
She. Is ours, Spite whispers. Not anymore, he thinks but does not say.
"Morrigan doesn't seem possessed. It's…different than you."
Lucanis has never met another abomination. "I'll take your word for it."
"The thing I can't quite figure out is how, if she was in the Necropolis….she could communicate with Neve…and me. How'd she remember us then if she doesn't know who we are now?"
Neve had told him this on their journey from Treviso, but hope and relief had all but eclipsed any potential anger or bitterness. Not anymore. Now he has a series of questions rattling around in his brain, and walking off the edge of these islands into the Fade seems a lot more appealing than answering them. Why them? Why not him? Had everything they were meant more to him than it ever had to her?
He wishes they could stop talking about this. "I don't know."
"I forget sometimes that we didn't know her before coming here…that she had this entire life she stepped away from."
A scholar's life. Lucanis knows it wasn't always that way. She'd known hardship, hunger. She'd grown up on the streets of Nevarra City before her magic manifested; she'd told him as much when they'd barely known each other, the information held out like a dare just to see what he'd make of it. He'd never asked if he passed her test, but he thinks he must have for everything that came after.
"And what of Morrigan's theory?"
Davrin sighs. "I can't stop thinking about that Chantry. Rook….she'd never do that, but we know Solas might…if he felt the ends justified the means. What if it was covering up something else?"
"Like what?"
Davrin shrugs. "What sort of magic do you think could expel someone from the Fade?"
Blood magic. Unbidden memories of sharp nails and sharper daggers piercing his skin rise to the surface. Of being held down, mouth filled, drowning, drowning, drowning. He pinches the bridge of his nose, wills the thoughts to leave him. The Ossuary typically feels far from him these days, but something about the last few days, the lack of sleep — the memories have come back with a vengeance.
"If you came to try and make me feel better, you're doing a terrible job," Lucanis replies.
Davrin huffs a short laugh. "Yeah, well, I don't exactly have any words of comfort to offer you. Don't think there's anything to say to make this better."
He's not wrong. "No."
"But you're being an asshole. You know that, right? I think you're doing it on purpose."
Lucanis stares at him, feels that familiar trickle of shame any time he thinks of his friends. There is a difference between knowing he has hurt his friends and knowing he has hurt them — in having to actually face it down. In having to that distance between them made manifest in the hurt in their eyes, their tentative words. That was in so many ways the simplicity of finally achieving the velocity of escape — the way he had wrapped that distance around him like an invisible shield. It had been the easiest thing in the world.
"Look, we all know you love her. That it's different for you…but we love her, too. And the way you just lock us all out is shitty. What I don't get is why you're so determined to keep yourself so far apart from us. Look, I've missed dinners and meet-ups too; it was harder in Ferelden to always be there. But…you cut us all out, and it was a choice."
Lucanis doesn't know how to explain that cutting them out was just a side effect of the larger goal of excising everything that reminded him of her from this life. How to explain that he felt his absence was a kindness. They wanted to talk about her, to reminisce, to remember, but they couldn't do that with him there, with how much pain it caused. It had started with one missed dinner. Easy to excuse himself from, to grant them all space, but with that missed evening it became easier and easier to justify skipping the next and the next. Easier and easier to let the distance grow.
He liked that distance. Liked everything it spared him from. The concerned looks, the questions, the soft way they all talked around Camina's existence. In the aftermath, being around his friends had always felt like he was treading water — desperate to keep his head above the surface. His grief was too big, too all-encompassing, and he didn't know how else to carry on.
He doesn't say any of that. He's afraid that Davrin can already see it anyway, but somehow that doesn't stop him from making excuses, from hiding behind that mantle he never wanted in the first place. "Things in Treviso were complicated. It wasn't always possible to leave."
Davrin looks unimpressed and unconvinced. "I am right here telling you that I see what you're doing, and you're still doing it, man."
It is as though the conversation is happening over a great distance. He can see what he is supposed to do here: apologize, promise to do better, to try even a little. Instead, he just wants Davrin to go.
"I don't know what you want me to say."
Davrin shakes his head; the laugh that escapes him is not humor, but frustration. "Yeah, I don't know either. You know that Neve is letting the guilt about bringing you here eat her alive? She feels like it's her fault that you came here, got your heart broken all over again."
Part of the problem in all of this is that there's no one to direct his blame at, except maybe Solas, but it's not as if he can reach him. It had never occurred to him to blame Neve at all.
"What?"
Davrin stands then, looms over him, blocking out the light. "Just something for you to think about. We're all here just trying to figure this thing out, you know? There's no precedent for this, and I get that it's hard, but it'd be a lot easier together. Are you sticking around?"
He doesn't know the right answer. He doesn't know how he can bear to look at the woman he loves with the objectivity required to determine if she is herself. He doesn't know how he can be around his friends, surrounded by their support, and know how undeserving he is of it. He doesn't know that he can even stay here; his responsibilities in Treviso will call him home sooner rather than later.
Can't leave her, Spite objects.
And he doesn't know how he can possibly keep his demon happy when he's convinced she's home and he is not.
"For now," he says. It's not a lie, but it's not a commitment either.
Davrin nods, unsurprised. "This isn't something you have to carry alone. I hope she remembers you. Remembers all of us."
Lucanis stays silent. He's not sure he's built for hope — doesn't know what he wants. He's not sure what would be worse, remaining a stranger to her or having her know exactly who he is and losing her to Solas. Again and again and again.
***
Willow hesitates outside the infirmary doors; she doesn't want to do this. She has spent the better part of the last several hours pacing and having this conversation over and over again in her mind. She doesn't want to lie, but everyone is right; they don't know if Cam is herself — if Solas is exerting his will over hers. She likes to think she'd know if there was someone or something else at the helm of her best friend's body, but she's no longer sure. She doesn't know what it means; she just knows that she's the first test.
"I'll be right out here if you need me, my darling," Emmrich says, his words a quiet balm.
She chooses not to glance back, to instead stride right on in. She hates the thought of this: of lying to her best friend. Of telling her just enough of the truth to cover their own asses while they watch her like she is some enemy sent to destabilize them. She hates that she has to do this, and still, she wouldn't let anyone else do the job. No one else knows Cam as she does, and she remembers none of them anyway.
Camina is awake, a book propped up by a pillow in her lap. She looks less like she's reading and more that she's got the book open to stave off the boredom of being in the infirmary. It is exactly how Willow would expect her to be. Cam glances up as Willow enters the infirmary and smiles, and something inside Willow relaxes.
"Please tell me you've come to break me out of here. I don't think I've ever been in greater need of a bath."
Willow shakes her head. "No can do. Emmrich's orders, you have to stay in bed another day at least." She takes up the chair Lucanis abandoned.
She'd resented it, the space and deference everyone had given his grief. The way they'd immediately cleared the room when he'd arrived at the Lighthouse, breathless with hope and looking more alive than they'd seen in a year. But even she was guilty of it, of pushing aside her anger and frustration at him in the wake of getting Cam back, but now, that she is the only one remembered….those feelings seem rather ungenerous. They're swallowed up by guilt so complete that she feels paralyzed with it, unable to even attempt reaching out a hand.
"I only get a little lightheaded when I stand up. I'm sure I'll be fine. Besides, I want to see more of this…Lighthouse."
"You've always been a bad patient," Willow replies. "Tour tomorrow?"
It's clear she knows she cannot win; instead she sinks into her pillows. "Professor Volkarin wouldn't really answer my questions earlier. He and Morrigan just asked about a lot of things I don't understand."
"I'm sorry. I know it's frustrating. I can answer some questions. It's just…you're missing a pretty big chunk of time, and there's a worry that if we give you too many specifics we risk….I don't know. Coloring your version of events with ours. We hope that when things come back on their own, it'll be easier."
"You mean, if things come back.''
"We really don't know why you're missing so much time. Nor do we really understand these new powers you have."
"Morrigan asked a lot about that. Talked a lot about a place called the Crossroads, said I built a bridge there without seeing it. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but I know what they mean….there's like…this pull. I can feel the walls of this place?"
"That's….very interesting. When you're stronger, we can…experiment with that."
Camina does not look comforted by that. "How much time am I missing, exactly?"
"About eighteen months," Willow replies. "And then it's been another eighteen months since we last saw you."
"Three years?!" Camina sinks into her bed, looking so young…so lost. For a moment, she swears she sees in her friend the young girl she'd first met in Necropolis. Just nine years old and completely alone in the world, no parents, no loved ones, just her wide-eyed, nervous wonder.
"I'm sorry."
"Three years," she repeats, as though she could make it smaller. Make it comprehensible. Eventually, she rallies. "And I left the Necropolis?"
She knows how hard Camina worked to be taken seriously there, to belong. That her chief concern is why she gave it up feels so much like her long, lost friend it aches. "You did."
"Why? Why would I do that?"
Willow sighs. "It wasn't exactly your choice. You…disobeyed some bad orders and pissed off some nobles. Myrna and Vorgoth put you on sabbatical. You spent a year traveling with some friends. And then, lived here until..."
"Sabbatical?" Camina shakes her head. Even without being able to remember it, she knows it's just a kinder word for exile. "And what was I doing here?"
"Saving the world."
Camina laughs then, a joyless thing. "Right."
"'It's true."
Camina's hands twist over themselves in the folds of the blanket gathered at her waist. It is a nervous habit Willow has watched countless times, through countless nights in their shared dormitory, and much later the shared apartment they'd called home. Through late-night chats and procrastinated study sessions. It's so strange seeing it now, seeing the ghost of her friend made manifest. How could Solas possibly recreate that? How could she be anything but herself in this moment?
"And that man who was here when I woke up….Lucanis?"
Willow knew this question was coming; she'd been dreading it. "Yes?"
"What was I to him?"
Willow and Emmrich and Neve had had a long discussion over and around all of this. What to say, how much to give her. Fill in the blanks, but just enough but nothing too specific, nothing too concrete. They did not want to influence her memory; they did not want to give away their advantage. "You were involved."
"Involved?" Camina scoffs. "When I didn't know him, he looked absolutely devastated. I saw his face…whatever we were, it wasn't casual."
Willow shakes her head; obfuscating isn't going to work. "You never said in so many words, but I think you loved him. I know he loves you."
Because she knows her friend, she knows that is not the answer she had hoped for. That the line of her mouth grows thin because she is considering the unpleasantness of the current situation, that there is someone who wants something from her that she cannot give. "How awful for him."
Indeed.
"And the others?"
"It's best that you meet with them, talk with them when you're ready. I can send them in here to meet with you whenever you want, or if you'd like your space, that's fine too."
"But they all knew me before…as Rook?"
"Yes."
"Why that name?"
Willow shakes her head. "I never got the full story. I understand it was given to you by a friend. Someone you cared a lot about."
"Is this friend here?"
"No, he's not."
She thinks Camina understands. She changes the subject. "Morrigan said I went into the Fade. How is that possible?"
Willow wishes she knew. "The Fade was ripping itself apart, and you were trying to keep the Veil from coming down. You were injured, and your blood became part of the ritual to strengthen it. And the Fade tear near you….pulled you in, and you disappeared."
It is strange, repeating this story as though she saw it herself. She had remained on the ground during that final push, fighting the Antaam army with their gathered allies, trying to buy her friend time. But she has heard the description of events so many times it feels as though she was there, feels as though she witnessed it too. What is memory then, in that case? Hers or not hers? If she simply tells her friend everything that transpired, everything she is missing, would that be enough?
Camina is quiet for a long moment, then shakes her head. "None of this makes any sense. These memories I'm missing….shouldn't I be able to feel the loss? Shouldn't it feel like…reaching for something on a shelf that isn't there? Shouldn't there be something? You tell me I'm missing time, but I don't feel it."
"What do you feel?" Will asks.
She hugs herself as she considers the question. "Like…my body is this foreign thing. Like I don't quite fit in it. Maybe it's just the injury or the healing potions…they always make me feel weird."
Willow quietly notes what Camina has shared, filing it away in her mind. She leans forward. "We're going to find the answer to this, Cam. I promise. Morrigan has gone looking and reaching out to friends and allies. And Emmrich and I are poring over every available resource the Necropolis has to offer-"
"'Emmrich and I'….another thing I missed, isn't it?"
Willow cannot help but toy with the ring that sits on her left hand. "The ceremony was small. It was always going to be small, but no one felt like a celebration at the time."
Camina is far too clever not to read the implication in her words. "Well, my belated congratulations to you both." The words are delivered with a smile, but there's a sadness in her eyes that it doesn't quite banish; a distance opened up between them.
"I missed you, Cam. We all did," she says, as though words could bridge the gap. "I know this is hard, but we're going to figure it out. Now you're here, and you're safe; we've got time."
Camina nods, offers a smile, but there and gone in a moment; a shadow moves behind her eyes. It could be grief or sadness, but Willow swears it's something else. And for the first time, she wonders if her faith in her friend is misplaced.
This fic is making me craaaaazy I haven't got this deep into theorizing about a story in ages. If you are not reading, literally why??? I promise it is worth your time.
like the betrayal’s always going to be worse if they cared about you and it didn’t matter. someone discards you because they didn’t give a shit, then you can be angry about that, you can feel vindicated in that, you can get over it. but if they can look you in the eyes and say “I love you. I would make the same choice again.” You will never sleep peacefully again, is all.
“I thought they cared about me, but they were lying this whole time.” <- tired. boring. removes all the nuance of this relationship to make it easier to move on from.
“I thought they cared about me, and I was right, and every minute they were there for me, every time they said they were proud, every laugh we shared leaning against each other bruised and breathless, all of it was real. and they still left me behind. They could put their love aside. I couldn’t.” <- insane. will never leave you alone. reminds you that even the worst people are still people and can still care about even the ones they hurt the most and that undoes neither the harm nor the love.
Thank you to @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai for the tag!
Rules: Make a post with links to music and/or lyrics describing six things/ events about your OC/story.
You know I love a chance to talk about music, and given my No Rest In This World playlist is 53 songs and counting, I have long been ready for this.
Event that defines your character's past
Oh Beautiful Town by IAMX
They chewed me up, they spat me out
Of their system and onto their street
And the rest of my life was a sprint to forget
All the greatness that could never be
Ariane has had the shittiest of shitty hands dealt to her, and though being born into slavery was arguably what got the snowball rolling down the proverbial hill, being sold to the Crows was arguably the most definitive. Ariane has a complicated relationship with the Crows to say the least. On one hand, they're the closest thing she's had to a family for most of her life, but on the other she is ever aware of the abuse and trauma they put her through. She's tried to accept that this is just what her life is, but post-Veilguard the veneer is coming right off and she's back to resenting everything about the institution.
How your character sees themselves
Indigo Chateau by Autoheart
Is there a lesson to be learned
A sign I need to find
Cause I'm losing my mind
My fingernails are chewed
My head is unscrewed
I'm on a decline
I confess
I'm a mess
I was perfectly fine last spring
I'm undressed
I'm possessed
And there's nothing you can do
I'm looking for a little life
I'm looking for somebody to love me
I'm looking for deliverance
I'm looking for a reason to break free
Oh, do I have it in me
Cause this is all I know
I'm looking for a little life
I'm looking for somebody to save me
Ariane spends most of No Rest going through something of a mental crisis (it takes so many forms!). She's cracking at the edges, the wheels are coming off, whatever metaphor you want to use it's probably applicable. Especially closer to the end she is completely lost, grieving the life she's given up, and desperately wanting to feel like there is something out there for her other than pain and anger.
How others view them
Spillways by Ghost
All your faith, all your rage, all your pain
It ain't over now and I ain't talking about forgiveness
All your faith, all your rage, all your pain
It ain't over now
It's the cruel beast that you feed
It's your burning yearning need to bleed
Through the spillways
Through the spillways of your soul
Honestly I don't think the "how she sees herself" and "how others see her" are too far off because Ariane is not the sort of person that hides her feelings. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and for those who are looking it's a heart that's raging and bleeding. I think others see all the warning signs, but I think they see them more in terms of anger and pain and less in terms of the shame and despondency she feels.
Their closest relationship (romantic or platonic)
Darkest Hour by Low Roar
Was it my mistake
To never fill the space?
It was love not hate
That made me hurt the thing
I truly love the most
And in my darkest hour
Shines my brightest light
And when the doves fly in
I'm just thankful that I met you, babe
It's hard to pick a single Ariane/Lucanis song because the relationship goes through a lot of different stages, all of which have different feelings, but I've always loved Darkest Hour because it really captures the essence of it: that they've both hurt each other from a place of misguided love, but that despite that hurt, their love remains the strongest guiding light in their lives.
A major fight scene
Take a Bow by Muse
Death, you bring death
And destruction to all that you touch
Pay, you must pay
You must pay for your crimes against the earth
And burn, you will burn
You will burn in Hell, yeah, you'll burn in Hell
You'll burn in Hell, yeah, you'll burn in Hell
For your sins
This one is...pretty self-explanatory if you've read No Rest. There sure is a lot of burning happening.
End credit song
Death Stranding by CHVRCHES
or
Forget by MARINA
You can take my heart
And hold it together as we fall apart
Maybe together, we can make a mark in the stars we embark
And keep us together as the lights go dark
I'm gonna leave the past behind
I've had enough, I'm breaking free
No pressing stop, erase, rewind
That chain of thought that followed me
I've put my money where my mouth is
For the first time in my life
I've made mistakes but I believe that
Everything was worth the fight
Ok cheating slightly? So Death Stranding is kind of my canon end credit song already??? It's the song I have in the ch 59 author's note and I do think of it as the fic's end credit song. It just really captures that feeling of "things are still shit but I love you and maybe, just maybe, we'll figure things out together." And yeah. That's sort of the whole vibe. The only way out is through, but it's easier if you're not doing it alone.
That being said, I've always thought Forget by MARINA is the perfect encapsulation of Ariane's personal journey throughout the story. It's this whole song about being chained to your regrets and your mistakes, unable to move on because you cannot forget and forgive. In the end it is leaving the past in the past and finding a way to move on that frees you from that prison you've made for yourself, and really, is there a better description of the end of the story than that?
tagging @slothquisitor @armoredinmoonlight @falonwithbenefits @doc-notreally-salas @cimmanombagel @serialsforbellara @dracoliskline @sorrygoldfish @epiphany-jones or whoever wants to do this (or just talk about music, because we should talk about music more!)
all yall make jokes about couples and their nonromantic third wheel having fun together, but im the one getting treated to food tonight by the couple im nonromantically third wheeling. you wish you were me
I'm sorry I read this as "necromantic third wheel" and went on a very rapid powerful imagination adventure. hello lovebirds I'm the skeleton here for breadsticks
ideal day: wake up late. iced latte. my video game. crazy reheated lunch. my show. supermarket trip to waste money. a snack. creative endeavours deep into the night. same thing next day.
