For the WIP asks, please tell me about Fit for Rook? 👀
Ask me about my WIPs!
oh man, this was my WIP for Rook Appreciation Week but that has uh, come and gone and it's still a WIP lmao
The idea was that we see Rook give gifts to each of the companions. This time, our companions reciprocate! Hence the name — "Fit for Rook" to match the in-game quest names for the gifts lmao
I only have like... 3 of the 7 companions written (Harding, Lucanis, and Bellara, though I don't think I fully finished Bel's or Harding's section) lmao. So here, have uh, all of that lmao. Approximately 1k words for these three. Might as well put it out there. I'm a little self-conscious of this one but oh well
Harding
It started with a plant — small variegated leaves of green, purple, and silver. Soft to the touch when Rook trailed her fingers down the vine, tiny boat-like flowers nestled between.
Stem to leaf to flower. It reminded her of home.
Emerald fire against the familiar shadowed halls of the Necropolis. The purple robes of teachers and classmates in every corner. The glint of the grave dowry she had to leave behind. Did Myrna and Vorgoth still have it, she wondered.
“What’s this about, Harding?” Rook swallowed the wave of homesickness that threatened to spill.
“I thought your room could use some brightening up! Can’t have you staring at fish all day, Rook.” Harding’s hand was on her hip as she laughed, easy and bright, before she turned her attention to the plant on the table. “It doesn’t need much attention, don’t worry. Just remember to water it every couple of days.”
“Ah. I’m sure the fish won’t mind sharing.” The quip was out of her mouth before thinking and Harding snorted at that.
“If the leaves start turning yellow, that means you’re over-watering,” the dwarf continued, “And if it’s getting a little spindly, you could take it out to the balcony for a bit. Give it some sunlight.”
Rook hummed in reply, fingers still stroking the leaves. She spent a bit of time in the Memorial Gardens as part of her Mourn Watcher duties. Those rose bushes weren’t caring for themselves, after all. But that was always a shared responsibility with the other junior Watchers.
This little thing, though? It was all hers — a scary prospect, on top of the whole saving the world thing.
“Softer than it looks, huh? Just like someone I know.” Harding knocked her shoulder with Rook’s before she hopped off the couch. “You can always let me know if you need some help.”
***
Lucanis
The Demon of Vyrantium was not what Rook expected.
A dark and broody master assassin? Yeah, sure, that checked out. Grocery shopping, though? That was always going to be a bit odd, she thought.
Their haul was underneath the table — bags of onions, carrots, garlic, and whatever else Lucanis thought they needed leaning against her legs as they waited for their drinks at Cafe Pietra. A tradition after every grocery run now.
Rook eyed the bag of onions. “How do we always seem to be running out of onions?”
“Onions are a fundamental ingredient in almost every kind of dish. They add depth and flavor. And they’re healthy for you.” Lucanis looked at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
She blinked at him. “Right.” She leaned her arms on the table. “I… don’t cook much.”
“I can see that. Bellara was quick to take you off the cooking roster, I hear.”
It wasn’t that she was uninterested in cooking — she had leafed through a few cookbooks of the famous chefs of Vanneska the Fourth and the Fifth. There just weren’t a lot of opportunities for it between classes, research, and Watcher duties. Rook, however, was well-acquainted with the dormitory cafeteria.
“Probably for the best.” Undead cooks didn’t care much for taste and junior Watchers didn’t get much of a say on the menu. “We’re all better off with me on dishwashing duty.”
Their drinks arrived — coffee for Lucanis (surprise, surprise) and hot chocolate for her. A sweet treat at the end of the world. She sighed happily into her cup at the first taste, Lucanis eyeing her intently.
“Would you like to learn?” He sipped at his coffee. “Cooking, I mean.”
Rook blinked at him, waiting to see if he was joking. The silence stretched as he took another sip. She cleared her throat and laughed almost nervously. “Me? I… maybe? I don’t know.”
It was on her mind all the way back to the Lighthouse. Her? Learning to cook? Now? She was caught up in the idea that she almost didn’t notice the little book on her dresser until it fell off when she was rummaging through her clothes.
She picked it up, curiosity getting the better of her as she thumbed through it. It was a small cookbook for beginners. Smartly annotated by varying hands, its pages soft and its spine showing signs of being well-loved.
A short note was tucked between the pages for spaghetti alla carbonara and gnocchi with pesto.
This was mine when I was a boy. Come find me before dinner. I will teach you.
***
Bellara
Giggles spilled through Rook’s room.
“She felt it all over. Her attraction to the hero, a powerful tingle, nearly exquisite,” Rook recited dramatically, before bursting into another fit of giggles, Bellara following suit. “Oh, Bel, I love it. I knew you were cooking up something good when I caught you last time. You could almost say I felt it all over, like—”
“Rook!” Bellara squealed, snatching the notebook from Rook’s hands, face flushed from the compliment. Rook only grinned.
Bellara looked down at the notebook on her lap and then back at Rook. “Do you really think it's good? I feel like I got a little sloppy with the part where the hero goes—”
“It’s perfect, Bel,” Rook interrupted her. “I’d love to read more. If you want me to.”
“Thank you.” Bellara let out a breathless laugh. “Actually…” She bit her lip and scooted closer to Rook on the couch, then lowered her voice as if to share a secret. “I, uh, based the hero off… you.”
“Me?”
“You're just so cool,” she said in a rush, “We have all these stories of heroic wardens conquering the Blight and dashing champions protecting their city, and I thought, yeah, Rook's just as great as the Champion of Kirkwall, she should get her own story too. The Hero who fought two gods and, against all odds, saved the day with the help of her friends.”
“And don’t forget this knife we found,” Rook joked, but she felt her heart squeeze hard in her chest.
Bellara laughed. “So, yeah, that's what I did. Well, am trying to do. I'm kinda writing as we go along.” Her fingers tightened around the notebook, almost nervous. “Am I being weird? Please don't say it's weird.”
Before she could think, Rook wrapped her arms around Bellara's shoulders, embracing her friend tightly. “Bel, that is the nicest thing anyone has said to me. Ever.”
Rook didn't set out to be a hero, she didn't imagine herself in the shoes of the Hero of Ferelden or the Champion or the Inquisitor. When the War of the Banners started, she did what she thought was right: stop the fighting before it got worse and ruined the people she imagined to be her family. In return, she was exiled.
Well, exile was a strong word. She wasn't technically, formally exiled — but it certainly felt like it. Peers and professors alike, people she looked up to, scorning her for her actions, her idiocy, and blaming her for the consequences of the nobility being put off. Even the most sympathetic of the Watch who quietly agreed with her had gently suggested she travel until heads cooled off.
Rook had never felt less like a Mourn Watcher.
