Imagine the Shadow Dragon Rook who is Lucanis's soulmate. They saved Minrathous, the city and people he made an oath to protect.
The distance between them and Lucanis only fuels their guilt. They're trying to help Treviso however they can.
A missive arrives from Teia and Viago asking for help because darkspawn are causing issues in a particular part of the city that currently was housing people displaced by the Blight.
Everyone in the Lighthouse happens to be away doing their own thing. So Rook does something stupid. They go to Treviso to hunt darkspawn. They manage to kill the darkspawn but they get injured and Blighted while doing it.
Rook has enough sense to know their only hope now is the Wardens, so they drag their wounded ass into the Crossroads. They end up collapsing in the Crossroads. Only luck allowed Davrin to find them in time, on his way back from Lavendale. He drags them back to the Wardens who put Rook through the Joining.
Rook survives and begs Davrin not to tell anyone else. Davrin, knowing their leader is being a maker damned idiot, tells the Veilguard anyway.
Heart of Darkness - A Warden Rook AU inspired by "A Rook by any other Name" - Part 2
@chaosherald opened the floodgates and here is more brain rot that happened after the amazing prompt "a rook by any other name" came upon all of us like a wildfire I just have to explore all the possible different origin stories for my canon Rook Cara de Riva.
And of course I start with the most traumatic one... the Wardens
I kindly thank @flowersforthemachines to be allowed to borrow her Rook, the awesome Ghilasara Thorne. Thank you for letting me play with your doll. (And also thank you for the dividers)
The upcoming part 2 is a some more of the character study. Cara does still not know what happened, where exactly she is, and why she still feels like crap.
2
Cast off the shackles of the past
Live in the moment, nothing ever lasts
Now we die — Machine Head
Cara saw no reason for now, to even try and get up: The door was locked anyway, she was alone, there was nothing inside this shack beside herself and three pieces of furniture and she was too exhausted to even stand, let alone breaking down the door in order to get out.
Recovery from whatever had happened to her was necessary first, before it would make sense to put in the effort.
And: there was no need to be on her feet to be able to think.
But as much as she kept the wheels turning, so far Cara could not make much sense of her situation.
Why would the Grey Wardens keep her hostage? Or to be fair, anyone else in general.
Grey Wardens were out there to fight the Blight and even though there had been some shady things going on among the Order along history, she had never heard of Wardens acting as robber knights dabbling in hostages and ransom.
However, no matter what was going on here, the realist in Cara decided that being alone and behind a locked door— no matter if locked from the inside or out — was probably the safest she could be in her current condition.
Knowing she needed to fuel herself in order to regain strength and health, Cara nibbled a little on the rusk after finding the porridge horribly thin and bland. Surely cooked with only water instead of milk… and not with a single spice… what kind of barbarians would cook something like this? Not to speak of eating it.
Soon she lost also interest in the overly dry double baked biscuit. It tasted almost as boring as the porridge.
The tea was good, though and she emptied the steaming mug as quick as she was capable of.
The Warden had been right, the nausea was not gone completely after the tea, but significantly better.
Cara felt more confident now to try and drink the water without fear of another wave of sickness.
How did she know my name already? Long after Warden Ghilasara had left, the question still wouldn’t leave Cara alone.
Then sleep again.
Passing out, right back into the disturbing darkness filled with alien voices as soon as she had put down the water jar and fell back onto the hard pillow.
Days and nights blurred, passing by. Sometimes she felt better, sometimes worse. But never well enough to break free and walk out from the room on her own two feet.
At least she was able to reach the bathroom which was only a euphemism for a small and fairly gross latrine annexed to the cabin where she was kept.
It took time to get there and back and every move still hurt but Cara would rather kill herself while trying to do it on her own before she would ask for help.
Warden Ghilasara appeared now and then. She was the only one who obviously felt comfortable enough to talk to her. Sometimes even taking the time to sit down on the sole chair next to the bed and keep her company without exchanging many words.
The other Wardens who came by, mostly to provide food and water, sometimes to check her health and tend to her wounds, did either not bother to talk to her or were afraid to do so.
Maybe they were even ordered to not engage in conversation with her. Cara could not really tell.
And even Ghilasara was very sparse with giving away any kind of viable information.
The Warden would not tell, how she knew Cara’s name before she told it to her. No information on how the Crow ended up at what was obviously a Warden outpost in the nowhere.
Only ever stating that once she would be ready, Cara would be told everything that had led to her being here.
When Ghilasara brought her a few books, Cara was actually over the moon to have something to do while still pretty much bedridden, she did not even bother that it was old and tattered volumes of even older novels that she already read years ago.
It was not Cara’s favorite, and she could tell neither was it Ghilasara’s, but both eventually engaged in small talk just for the sake of making conversation. To be honest, Cara was kind of glad to have this opportunity to talk to somebody. It helped her to stay sane and keep her mind on a swivel, having someone to converse with now and then and may it even just be about the weather or the horrible food.
Once Cara felt well enough to get up, she immediately started doing what being a Crow had ingrained into her very being: Training.
She began with just walking around inside her confined space and doing some basic stretches and a few squats and pushups. As soon as this felt too easy, she seamlessly progressed to her usual routines for strength, balance and dexterity. Methodical, careful, silent and always vigilant to stop immediately when she heard someone approaching her door.
No one needed to know, that she was getting back into shape.
Trying to get a view from that little window was depressing. All there was to see was endless marshlands. Vast, cold, wet and unwelcoming. Dark mountains shaping the horizon and an ever so gray sky made her long for a hot and sunny Trevisan summer’s day.
Sometimes the wind carried the foul scent of rotting vegetation over from the fens and she hated the smell that made her feel dirty and unwell.
But there was no way to stop it from creeping through every crevice. And that old wooden shack had a lot of those.
The better Cara felt physically, the more she urged to know where she was and what had brought her here. And even more important: Why was she kept isolated and behind locked doors by the Grey Wardens of all people.
When she had come to terms with the fact, that asking questions would not be helpful to figure out anything, she started to plan her escape to find the answers on her own.
She would flee and then figure it out herself.
Getting away should be doable, as soon as her body had healed up enough and she was back to a certain level of fitness.
She had nothing to pick the lock with, so brute force for breaking down the door it would be.
And then run like the wind.
Once out of this makeshift prison, she would find a way to flee from the outpost. It was unlikely that this place was overly big or fortified.
Finding her way out should be no big deal.
Cara was confident to be faster, cleverer and a better fighter than anyone who would dare to throw themselves into her way. Grey Wardens or not, no one could compete with an Antivan Crow.
However, maybe she would try to figure out how to not cross paths with Ghilasara.
Because she had started to like the stoic Elf and would not be very happy to have to fight her.
Also, Cara had a feeling that Ghilasara would be a handful in a fight. She’d rather not test that theory.
Once back in Treviso, she would make sure to exactly find out what had happened to her, who was responsible for it and then meticulously plan and execute her revenge.
Thank you for the Thursday Banger and WIP tags @woundedsoul12 and the WIP from Woundedsoul @juniper-and-dragonthorn @elishnord @davrinsleftpectoral @thedissonantverses and @jenn2d2
Gently tagging for either @sorcerousadventurer @kogarashi-art @imrowanartist @sandcastlekings @mushrooms-x-moss and @serialsforbellara
This week's lyrics
Kiss me in the dark Roll me through the night Hold me like you'll never let me go ~ Kiss Me in the Dark by Randy Rogers Band
On AO3 . Part 4 of Love In Our Veins Word Count, 2290
Have some post-game Blighted Ashur x Blighted Rook de Riva (This ended up being longer than I expected.)
She'd only come to the Archon's ball because Dorian had personally asked her to come as Rook, Savior of Minrathous. It had been a year since the city had been liberated from Elgar'nan's control and the Evanuris killed. Despite there still being a lot of rebuilding and recovery to go, there had been progress, and the atmosphere in the lower city was festival-like, with Dorian arranging for magical light shows in the sky for all to see in celebration. The Shadows, old and new, had carried on their own celebration over the past two days.
Tonight, though, protocol demanded she set Esperanza de Riva aside and take up the mantle of Rook once more. At least Veilguard and some of their allies would be in attendance as well.
The name de Riva meant nothing to people in Minrathous, so Esperanza in her Tevinter style garb and mask that covered her lower face was just another person helping the city recover. But everyone knew Rook was one of the notorious Antivan Crows, and that was what everyone expected to see tonight.
By some grace of the Maker, Dorian had made it a masquerade ball.
Rook stood perfectly still as Teia carefully fastened each one of the small black pearl buttons that closed the back of Rook's black lace dress. The torso of the dress had some transparency, but the black flower pattern woven into the lace easily concealed Rook dark gray, blighted veins.
"Beautiful," Viago murmured as he regarded his sister when Teia stepped back. He was dressed in black as well, in a distinctly Antivan style attire suitable for a ball rather than his usual leathers.
Teia circled Rook, inspecting her friend's outfit and gave a satisfied nod before she handed Rook the black beaded full face masquerade mask in the shape of a crow head. Teia and Viago had similar masks, though Viago's included touches of blue beading, and Teia's green to go with her dark green ballgown. "You will definitely catch a few eyes tonight, Rook."
"So long as it isn't Illario's," Rook murmured with distaste as she slipped her mask on, carefully tying the black ribbon over her Antivan braid.
She understood why he was included in Antivan Crows' party, as much for show since he'd been there helping during the final battle, and to keep him alive while Lucanis was away from Antiva. Neve and Teia had already given Lucanis their opinion on Illario's presence.
"Your Viper," Viago murmured. "Will he be in attendance?"
"It depends," Rook replied as she stared through her mask at her reflection in the looking glass. "If he does it will be as the man behind the mask, not the Viper himself." Rook couldn't lie to Viago about her relationship with the Viper, but she also hadn't told him Ashur's real identity either.
“Mm,” Viago narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. She knew he would likely uncover Ashur’s identity eventually. The Veilguard knew his identity because of what they’d found when they’d rescued him at the Chantry, but Ashur’s identity as Imperial Divine remained known only to a small number of people.
“Let’s go and find the others,” Teia suggested, aware of the quiet tension between the siblings. She lifted a brow at Viago who sighed and fetched his own mask, tying it in place before offering one arm to Teia and the other to Rook.
They met Lucanis and Neve at the south entrance to the palace ballroom. Rook immediately noted the similarities in their masks to her own. They were a different style, but every Crow wore a Crow mask of some sort. Illario was dressed in periwinkle and black, whereas Lucanis wore purple, a nod to Spite, and black. Neve was dressed in a Tevinter style gown of gold and teal and absolutely gorgeous. Neve was the only one in the group that wore a different sort of mask, hers depicting a dragon instead of a crow.
“Ahh, Neve,” Teia smiled as she greeted Neve. “If this one does not wise up and propose to you soon, perhaps I shall steal you away, you look ravishing tonight.”
Neve laughed goodnaturedly at Teia’s flirting, “I’ll keep that in mind,” she told the Seventh Talon as she tucked her arm into Lucanis’s.
Her friends and family had done well to keep Illario away from Rook since they’d arrived two days ago, but now she faced him head on. Tonight, she would put up with him for Lucanis’s sake only.
“I could escort you, Rook,” Illario suggested in a polite tone.
“My brother has already offered to escort Teia and myself,” Rook replied firmly, resolutely turning away from Lucanis’s cousin.
Rook did truly hope that Illario could earn his redemption. She knew much of what he was came as a byproduct of how Caterina raised him and Lucanis, but after his personal betrayal of her, she could never trust him as she once had.
Illario gave a jerky nod, and something like frustration flickered over his features before being replaced by a calm mask.
“Shall we go in?” Neve suggested, and Rook gave her a grateful look.
The two palace guards who had stood at the doors to the ballroom, pretending that they’d not heard a word of the conversation, moved in unison to open the doors and admit the Antivan Crows into the Archon’s ball.
The next few hours Rook spent mingling with the crowd. Aside from those in attendance from Tevinter and the Veilguard allies, there were notable guests from the south, including members of the Inquisition. She supposed it helped that the Inquisitor himself had more or less moved into the palace with his husband.
The Veilguard had evidently decided among themselves that one of them would be with Rook at almost all times, so she moved through the crowd with a friend at her side, and she also noted any time Illario came too close, her friends deflected.
Lady Myrna had accompanied Emmrich to represent the Mourn Watch, both dressed in dark green and black with skull motifs interwoven into their clothing as benefited the Watch. Emmrich had brought Manfred, who wore a smart looking suit jacket with fancy, skull shaped buttons.
“You look quite distinguished,” Rook told the skeleton when she had a moment to speak with him.
Manfred hissed happily. “Representing the Mourn Watch,” he informed her.
“And representing them well,” she told him, smiling behind her mask.
Most of the Wardens preferred the celebrations in the lower parts of the city, but Davrin, Evka, and Antoine were here to represent the Grey Wardens. Rook wondered where they’d found the formal Warden uniforms they all wore. Trust a Warden to wear something practical, she thought.
Taash, Isabela, and the other Lords of Fortune appeared in their usual peacocking and gold glory, catching some interesting looks from a few of the other guests.
Strife was with Emmrich, dressed in beautifully tooled leather and cloth. Rook had seen Irelin and Bellara moving through the crowd earlier. And anyone uncouth enough to look in askance at the Dalish tendency towards bare feet got a glare from every one of the Veil Jumpers allies in the room.
She was unsurprised when the Imperial Divine made his own entrance, dressed in incredibly elaborate ceremonial robes, a sunburst golden and ruby crown, and black veil over his features. The long sleeved robe and veil covered Ashur’s own blighted veins, and from the way he moved confidently through the ball, few would ever know he’d been blighted.
Tarquin and Rana flanked him, dressed in the impressive ceremonial Knight Divine and Knight Vigilant respectively. While Tarquin had been working as Knight Commander, there hadn’t been enough of the original command structure of the Imperial Templars left after Elgar’nan’s death and the deaths of many of his Venatori supporters. While there were a decent number of low ranking Templars that had survived and actually helped retake the city, there were few that Ashur knew or trusted that much beyond Tarquin and Rana. Thus Tarquin had been promoted to Knight Divine, and Rana to Knight Vigilant.
Rook noted that Archon Pavus had managed to arrive to have a number of his high ranking supporters from both within Tevinter and without making appearances at the celebration ball.
Dorian and Maevaris had predicted she would be popular tonight, and to her chagrin they were correct. The Veilguard and her allies were welcoming and happy to see her, and Dorian’s fellow members of the Inquisition whom she hadn’t already met were genuinely pleased to meet her. There were many others, though, that simply wanted to be seen talking with the Savior of Minrathous and a God Killer.
Some made respectable conversation with her, some speaking on mundane topics like the weather or the celebration, a few wished to talk strategy and hear stories of the battles the Veilguard had fought during the hunt for the gods. Then there were those whose insipid need to be seen talking to someone influential. It took years of patience honed in Crow training to not snap at them.
It had been awhile since she’d been forced to put on this much of a performance in awhile, and after a few hours, Rook quietly told Viago she was going to get some air and retreated to a balcony off the ballroom vestibules.
She leaned on the balcony railing, staring down at the glittering city below.
She heard the soft whisper of fabric and boots on the tile, relaxing slightly when she realized from the south that it couldn’t be Illario, and remained where she was.
“You hear you’ve been popular tonight,” Ashur’s warm voice said as he came to stand beside her.
“Unforunately,” Rook replied ruefully as she turned her head to look at him. “I understand the need for the ball, Dorian has to make certain kinds of displays as Archon, but I’ll be just as happy when it’s all over and I can wear my other mask.”
“We all have our parts that we play,” Ashur noted in an understanding tone. He placed his hand over hers, gently entwining their fingers.
“Rook, Esperanza de Riva, there are times they both feel like masks I wear for different occasions, nevermind that both of them are me,” she sighed.
“They’re a part of you,” Ashur agreed. “Just as the Viper and the Divine are both a part of me and roles that I must play at certain times.” She could hear the smile in his next words, “But there are a few people in this world with whom I can just be Ashur. I would like to think there are a few people in this world with whom you are just Espi.”
She smiled behind her own mask, “You know there are, and you know that you’re one of them, Ashur.”
“I had hoped you’d say that,” he admitted.
Espi laughed softly, “There are few people outside of my close friends and family that I take all of my masks off around, including the physical ones. You, you’re one of the few that sees me without any masks at all.”
Ashur reached up, gently cupping her jaw in his hand. “And you are one of those few for me, Espi.” He leaned forward as they stood in the shadows cast by the doors that led into the ballroom. Here in the night, she doubted many would be able to see the darken veins and gray marks the Blight had imprinted on both of them.
“We don’t recoil from each other, from the marks the Blight left on our bodies,” she murmured.
“I’ll tell you what you told me,” Ashur murmured. “Anyone who doesn’t see your beauty is a fool.” He moved one hand, pulling aside the black veil he wore, revealing the dark gray veins that still showed against his skin, and the dark circles beneath his eyes.
“Tarquin’s guarding the door,” he told her softly.
Rook found herself plucking at the ribbon that held her mask in place, pulling it off. Ashur’s smile was bright as he leaned down and caught her lips with his own.
They’d shared kisses before, both tender and fierce, but there was something more about this one, like he was telling her he intended to kiss her forever, for the rest of their lives. With her free hand she caught the back of his head and pressed him closer down to her, and heard the soft groan he made against her lips.
He pulled back and took a breath as he pressed his forehead against hers. “Epsi, dearest Espi. Whatever masks we wear for the rest of the world, I know I can remove them all with you. I love you.”
“Ashur,” awe and love wound their way through her tone. He saw the joy in her blue eyes as she caught his hand in hers. “I love you too.”
“The roles of Viper and Divine, Rook and Esperanza, they’re masks we’ll likely need to wear for a long time to come, but I’ll take whatever time we can get together, as just Epsi and Ashur,” he professed.
“I’ve been thinking of staying in Minrathous, permanently,” Espi advised him. “There’s still work to be done.”
He knew she meant both to help the city recover and as a Crow. He knew what she was, and he’d accepted it as a part of her life, a part of who she was.
Ashur kissed her again and showed her his happiness at her decision.
It would be a balancing act for both of them, playing all the parts that the world required of them, but within this moment, there was only Ashur and Espi.
Blighted Shadow Dragon Rook being morose and taking it as some kind of justice for not saving their own city. And Neve losing her mind trying to convince them to undergo the Joining because they are one more thing that she can't stand to lose
The more time Rook spends in Minrathous, the more time she spends around Ashur, the more she falls for him. But while they share the experience of being blighted, she still doesn't think she deserves him.
Ashur proves otherwise
AO3 (work count 1746), part 3 of Love in Our Veins
Rook wanted.
She wanted and she was afraid of it, afraid to ask because she knew he was not someone she deserved. She might understand the pain of their dark gray, blighted veins and the nightmares of the lingering song in their heads, and understood their shared experience as few others did, but that doesn't mean she deserved him.
The dragons weren't her fault, the aftermath wasn't her fault, but the accusations and anger still lingered in the shadowed corners of her mind. Forgiveness had been given, anger had faded, but she still doesn't deserve him.
He was the kind who would give everything he had to fight against the corruption of Tevinter. He used the privilege he had from the gilded cage he'd been raised in to change things.
She was an assassin, someone who had as a teen stolen and killed for mere survival. She'd survived the training of a fledgling where others had not from sheer force of will.
She was a killer, plain and simple, and she took her contracts for money, not cause. Certainly her targets now served a greater good, but it wasn't always that way.
She sat with Neve at the detective's desk in the hideout and watched Tarquin filling Ashur in on the past few days, and she wanted.
Maker help her, but she wanted him.
*****
Rook sat hunched over her edge of the table, quill against paper as she wrote a report to Viago on one of the latest contracts he'd sent her on. She faithfully put word to paper, but her grip around the quill was hard, recalling the things she'd overheard at the party her target had been at.
Neve eyed Rook as the Crow snapped her quill and cursed, ink dribbling onto the page as Rook glared at the broken feather.
"I don't think I've ever seen you break a quill before. What's gotten you so twisted up?" Neve asked with a raised brow.
Rook let out a huff and met Neve's gaze, her blue eyes glittering in the candlelight over her mask. "Just something I overheard at the party my target was at."
"Well, I know you pulled off your contract, but what could one of those idiots have said that's made you so angry?" Neve asked mildly.
Rook's fingers curled around the broken feather. "Have you heard how some of the highborn talk about Ashur? Some of them are avaricious creatures." She scowled and mimicked the voice of one of the ladies she'd heard that night, ""It's such a pity, the scion of two powerful mages, those well bred features, marred by the Blight. But a wedding night would secure all you needed, and then you could live apart!""
"Ah," Neve nodded, her expression darkening. "I can't say I'm surprised, though. You already know Ashur's mother is trying to get him to accept a match."
"So he can be married to someone who discards him, when he went through the void and came out on the other side?" Rook asked angrily.
"I've never considered myself a particularly vain person," Ashur's voice rumbled quietly, and both women looked up in surprise to see that the Viper had managed to sneak up on them. "They see the signs of the Blight on my skin and only see ruin."
"Any worthy person would see beyond the lines on your skin, Ashur," Rook told him in a fierce tone. "You survived so much. You went through the void, and survived what few ever could. How can they not see past that?"
Neve hid a smile as she watched Rook, listening to the fierceness with which her friend defended the Viper.
"The people who really matter do see past it, though, Rook. I'd rather have your good opinion than any of theirs," Ashur told her gravely.
Rook shook her head lightly, her tone holding a note of surprised disbelief. “I’m an assassin, Ashur, I don’t know that my good opinion is worth much.”
Neve elbowed Rook lightly and the Crow glanced at her friend, brow creased. Neve had always been good at reading the part of Ashur’s face you could see when he wore the Viper’s mask, and she’d similarly become good at reading Rook’s.
“Don’t do that, Rook,” the Viper told her. “Don’t diminish yourself like that, don’t define yourself only by your profession.”
Rook smiled faintly behind her mask. “I appreciate your intent, Ashur, even if I don’t entirely agree.”
He didn’t respond, but he watched her with those sea colored eyes, holding her gaze until she found she had to look away.
Rook couldn’t deny her emotional or physical attraction to him, even if it wasn’t anything she intended to truly act on. They were friends, and they supported each other in dealing with memories and experiences no one else understood, but to go beyond that?
This wasn’t one of Varric’s novels, and she didn’t expect a romantic happy ending.
“Well, I’m done for the evening,” Neve said into the quiet that settled over the room. “I’m heading back to my apartment. I’m going to lock the entrance behind me.” She gave Rook a smirk. “Don’t stay out too late.”
Rook watched her friend pack up her notes and say goodbye to Ashur before slipping out of the hideout, leaving Rook and Ashur alone. Flipped through her correspondence as Ashur took Neve’s seat at the table and began going through the reports the detective had left behind for him.
“Did you eat dinner?” Rook asked after watching him for a few minutes.
Ashur glanced up at her, blue eyes shaded by his hat, and she could see the mirth in his gaze. “No,” he admitted. “Too many meetings this afternoon and this evening.”
Rook muttered under her breath and went to the other room, retrieving some of the leftover meat pies that had been left behind for the Shadows and set it on the table beside him, knowing he would warm it up with his magic.
“Copper for your thoughts?” Ashur asked in an amused tone.
She eyed him. “What is it about Shadow Dragon mages and being bad at taking care of themselves? You and Neve both have a habit of forgetting to eat. Actually, I think you’re worse than Neve. I remember how much you pushed yourself after the dragons.”
Ashur held her gaze. “I believe we’ve already had this conversation. You don’t have much to lose when you’re dying, and I had to make a difference while I still had time. You did much the same during those last few days before Elgar’nan’s defeat. Yet despite the Blight that flowed through our veins, we’re both still here, both alive.”
“Are you calling me a hypocrite?” Rook arched an eyebrow. “But you’re right, we are both still alive. So you need to take better care of yourself.”
“Are you going to make sure that I do?” he asked.
“If I have to,” Rook advised.
She started back towards her seat, but Ashur caught her gloved hand in his. She stopped and looked questioningly down at him. To her surprise, he tugged her down, and she let out a soft gasp as she landed in his lap. His arm slid around her waist, and he cradled her against him like she was something precious.
“Ashur,” she breathed his name softly.
“Rook,” his tone was filled with an emotion she was afraid to identify. “Tell me I’ve read things wrong.”
Her heart pounded in her ears and she found her arm wrapping around his neck. “You haven’t read anything wrong, Ashur.”
It felt as if Neve must have cast one of her time spells as Ashur undid the clasp on one side of his mask. She felt the soft leather of his gloves and light bite of the metal of his claws as he undid a clasp on her mask. His dark grey, blighted veins shown clearly on his skin, even the low mage light, exactly as her own veins did.
Rook pressed one hand on the back of his head, knocking his hat off, and leaned up.
She had never tasted anything as sweet as his lips on hers. When he pulled away slightly she chased that taste and heard him emit a soft moan as she did. His arms tightened around her as they lost moments in that kiss, caught up only in the feel of his lips against hers, emotions that had lurked under the surface for weeks bubbling to the surface.
When they parted because they needed to draw breath again, he pressed his forehead against hers, smiling at her. “I’ve dreamed of that for weeks.”
Rook laughed, a light, giddy sound as she cupped his jaw with her hand, marveling at the privilege of being able to do so. “So have I.”
“You see me, Rook,” Ashur hummed. “Not the Divine, not the Viper, but the man. You saw me at my very worst, when the blight clawed at my mind, and you’ve seen me at my best.”
“When everyone else blamed me, you didn’t, even when you suffered the most, from the Blight and at the hands of the Venatori,” Rook sighed as she leaned into him. The scent of incense from his role as Divine lingered on him, along with the leather and oil she associated with the Viper. “And you look at me as more than just an assassin.”
“The dragons and Venatori were never your fault,” Ashur told her. “How could I blame you, Rook?”
“Esperanza,” she told him, smiling. “Rook feels more like a title, like the Viper is for you. My name is Esperanza. Or Espi.”
“Esperanza,” Ashur’s gaze was tender as he leaned in to kiss her again. “Hope.”
She wasn’t sure how long she spent in his arms, just kissing him. He ran his clawed gloves through her hair, catching the tie she used to keep her dark hair back and letting it flow loose around her face.
Finally both their stomachs growled, a reminder that he hadn’t eaten dinner, and neither had she. He gave her a knowing look and she just shrugged. “Alright, maybe I’m as bad as you. There’s enough meat pies for both of us.”
He kissed her cheek. “Go get one for yourself and I’ll reheat them.”
“I guess maybe we can take care of each other,” she said as she went to do so.
“Yes,” his voice was warm as he watched her. “We can.”
Thank you for the tags @woundedsoul12 @elishnord @kogarashi-art and @sandcastlekings
Gently tagging @weaveandwood @serensama @nevarrantorte and @talkmagically
So..Blighted Rook and Blighted Ashur. It's more than five sentence
Rook sat hunched over her edge of the table, quill against paper as she wrote a report to Viago on one of the latest contracts he'd sent her on. She faithfully put word to paper, but her grip around the quill was hard, recalling the things she'd overheard at the party her target had been at.
Neve eyed Rook as the Crow snapped her quill and cursed, ink dribbling onto the page as Rook glared at the broken feather.
"I don't think I've ever seen you break a quill before. What's gotten you so twisted up?" Neve asked with a raised brow.
Rook let out a huff and met Neve's gaze, her blue eyes glittering in the candlelight over her mask. "Just something I overheard at the party my target was at."
"Well, I know you pulled off your contract, but what could one of those idiots have said that's made you so angry?" Neve asked mildly.
Rook's fingers curled around the broken feather. "Have you heard how some of the highborn talk about Ashur? Some of them are avaricious creatures." She scowled and mimicked the voice of one of the ladies she'd heard that night, ""It's such a pity, the scion of two powerful mages, those well bred features, marred by the Blight. But a wedding night would secure all you needed, and then you could live apart!""
"Ah," Neve nodded, her expression darkening. "I can't say I'm surprised, though. You already know Ashur's mother is trying to get him to accept a match."
"So he can be married to someone who discards him, when he went through the void and came out on the other side?" Rook asked angrily.
"I've never considered myself a particularly vain person," Ashur's voice rumbled quietly, and both women looked up in surprise to see that the Viper had managed to sneak up on them. "They see the signs of the Blight on my skin and only see ruin."
"Any worthy person would see beyond the lines on your skin, Ashur," Rook told in in a fierce tone. "You survived so much. You went through the void, and survived what few ever could. How can they not see past that?"
Neve hid a smile as she watched Rook, listening to the fierceness with which her friend defended the Viper.
"The people who really matter do see past it, though, Rook. I'd rather have your good opinion than any of theirs," Ashur told her gravely.
Memories littered Treviso, knife sharp and poisoned.
Viago only knew that the Rook he had sent away two years ago was not the Rook that returned to Treviso in the aftermath of Elgar'nan's fall.
Her Talon remembered Rook's blackened veins and red tinged eyes as she looked around the table at her allies and asked them to retake Minrathous with her. The effects of being Blighted on Tearstone Island and then being trapped in the Fade for weeks haunted her like the ghosts of her dead friends. Even after she and the Veilguard had scaled down the blight tendril after killing Elgar'nan, those ghosts were still there. The effects of the Blight began to fade with time, but the haunted look did not.
He could also sometimes see the anger of one betrayed in her eyes, whenever Illario was about. Her eyes tracked his movements and her fingers itched towards the hilts of her daggers.
She'd told Lucanis to spare his cousin, but that didn't mean she forgave. The bitter taste of knowing her lover has been seeking the bed of a Venatori blood mage at the same time he'd engaged in a relationship with her burned like acid.
Viago had expected it when Rook told him she had to leave. He'd suggested their home in Salle, first, but they both knew Illario, still trying to beg her forgiveness, would follow her anywhere on Antiva soil.
It was Lucanis who suggested Minrathous.
“You will oversee anything the Crows do to aid Minrathous and the Shadow Dragons in their recovery,” Lucanis advised Rook. “As First Talon I want someone I trust there, and someone who will keep an eye on things.”
“You want someone there to help Neve,” Rook replied, though with a ghost of a smile, “And an informant.”
Lucanis shrugged. “You aren't wrong.”
“We will send you targets as well,” Viago added. “There are parties in the region that need to be eliminated.”
Rook inclined her head. “I'll go pack.”
Viago regarded Lucanis after she'd left. “This is the best we can give her?”
“Unless you want to send her to Orlais, it is the best,” Lucanis replied. “I've restricted Illario to Antivan soil, on pain of death, and we have friends in Minrathous that can keep an eye on her.”
“You are as worried as Teia and I,” Viago noted.
Lucanis sighed. “Rook is my friend, Viago, and what happened to Minrathous and the Shadows, the Blight, and the Fade? It changed her in ways we cannot guess.”
“And if she needs us?” Viago lifted a brow.
Lucanis snorted. “I could not stop you from going to her if she needed you, Viago. But if she needs us, needs me, we will be there.”
******
Neve awaited Rook on the Minrathous side of the Eluvian, along with Tarquin. The Minrathous detective took in the sight of her friend as the Crow mage stepped through the mirror.
The signs of the Blight were slow to fade. Rook looked better now than she had during the Siege, though. Her skin no longer looked quite as gray and her eyes had regained some color, but many of her veins remained black. Ashur remained in a similar state, though the Wardens had declared Ashur, Bellara, and Rook posed no risk to anyone, nor did any of the Blight victims who'd survived the Siege.
They didn't know how much of the physical effects of the Blight remained permanent yet.
Tarquin grunted when he saw her. “Eh, you look like Ashur right now.”
“Did you expect me to look hale and fresh?” Rook asked him sarcastically.
Tarquin surprised her by laughing. “Good to know you haven't lost that sense of humor. Neve tells us you're overseeing any aid from the Crows.”
“Yes,” Rook confirmed. She regarded Tarquin curiously. He'd been furious with her after the dragon, blaming her for the Blight and the deaths of the Shadows. He'd thawed towards her in the aftermath of the Siege, grudgingly admitting she'd done all she could, and saving the city from Elgar'nan proved more than anything she was an ally.
“Just don’t let any praise go to your head,” Tarquin advised as he met her gaze.
“I’ll try not to,” Rook said dryly. “Lucanis advised me the Talons would be sending another shipment through in the next few days, once they get everything together. It’s been easier, now that many of the Antaam are routed.”
“How long do you plan on staying?” Neve asked as she started to guide Rook away from the mirror.
Rook noted that they’d moved the Eluvian, and she wasn’t quite sure where in the city they were. She glanced at the building around them, taking note that they appeared to be in some sort of vaulted cellar. “A few months at least, if not longer,” Rook replied. “Treviso is..” She let out a breath. “I need to be away from Antiva for a while.”
Tarquin lifted a brow at that, but he didn’t ask why, for which she was glad. Neve gave her a look letting her know she would be telling the detective what she meant later. “Alright, well, my couch is yours for as long as you need it.”
“Thanks, Neve,” she gave her friend and fellow mage a smile, feeling some of the tension leaking out of her at Neve’s welcome. “Though I might try and find my own place after a bit. You don’t need me constantly in your hair.”
“Rook, you’re welcome to stay with me in my new place as long as you need to,” Neve told her firmly as she reached out and placed a hand on the Crow’s arm. She smiled wryly. “It’s strange, living alone again after spending so much time living in the Lighthouse with all of you.”
Neve didn’t ask why Rook wasn’t staying at the Lighthouse. Except for Bellara and Emmrich who visited often enough, the Lighthouse was empty, and Rook really didn’t want to live alone in such a large place.
“That means a lot, Neve,” Rook admitted.
“Give it long enough, maybe we’ll make a proper Minrathan out of you,” Tarquin snorted. He led Neve and Rook up the stairs. “This is the Shadows new base of operations,” he informed her. “You’re authorized to come and go as you need to, particularly since you’ll be overseeing the aid from the Crows.”
“Thank you, Tarquin, after everything that’s happened, it is appreciated,” Rook told him.
He paused and regarded her seriously. “I will be honest with you, Rook. Some of the Shadows who survived might not want to interact with you, but most of the rest of us…you were stuck in a shit situation, and you came through for us in the end.”
“Like I’ve told Neve, I’m going to keep showing up,” Rook replied just as seriously.
Tarquin gave a sharp nod, then peeled off from them, returning to a desk and a large stack of reports. Neve watched him for a moment then continued to lead Rook through the building and out a hidden door that led into a small apothecary shop.
As they walked through Docktown towards Neve’s new apartment, Rook noted the looks she got from those they passed. A few stared, some with curiosity, some with pity, and a few with not fear, but worry. She wondered how often they saw someone who still bore obvious signs of the Blight. Neve caught the looks too.
“A lot of those who survived being blighted don’t show many physical signs of it anymore,” Neve advised her. “You, Bellara, and Ashur are the only ones I know that still have so many obvious signs of having been blighted. There’s a few others in the city, I’m sure, but none who were as blighted as the three of you.”
“The Viper was blighted longer than Bellara and I were,” Rook noted. “Bellara’s veins are more gray than black now, and her eyes are brown again. How’s the Viper?”
“He looks more like you still, or maybe you look more like him, than Bellara does,” Neve admitted. “His veils are still black, but his eyes are mostly blue. He’s always got his mask on though, so it’s hard to tell sometimes.” She frowned. “Have the Wardens got any idea why you aren’t more recovered?”
“Flynn theorizes it’s either the source of the Blight we were exposed to or how long we were blighted,” Rook sighed. “The Viper was blighted the longest, and I was blighted by Ghilan’nain. Evka, Antoine, and Bellara are fairly certain she's the one who made changes to the blight to begin with.”
“So you got it from the source, or something close to it,” Neve grimaced. “Kaffas.”
Rook smiled crookedly. “Flynn said at worst, it’s possible it might stay this way. Or it might continue to fade. They’re really not sure yet. After everything we’ve been through, I’m glad that at least it’s not killing me and I can’t spread it.”
“Trying to look on the bright side of things, as always,” Neve noted with a smile.
“Someone has to.” She paused, “Want to get dinner from Hal’s and a bad bottle of wine for dinner?”
“Mm,” Neve’s eyes glittered with mirth. “You did promise me a fish dinner.”
“So I did,” Rook linked arms with her friend. “Come on, then, I’m buying.”
******
Rook knew that Neve hadn’t been able to visit Treviso much recently. She hadn’t realized it was because Neve was handling a lot of the day to day running of the Shadows now.
“Ashur has to spend most of his time as Divine, and Tarquin’s been named Knight Commander of the Templars, so he doesn’t have as much time to come to the hideout as he’d like,” Neve explained as they sat at the detective’s desk in what had become the central room of the new hideout. “And Magister Maevaris Telani is the Archon’s most trusted advisor. With everyone the Shadows lost..” her voice trailed off.
“There aren’t many others who can run things right now, other than you,” Rook finished quietly. She looked around the hideout, red rimmed eyes remembering how the old hideout had looked, before the dragon. Neve saw regret flicker briefly over Rook’s expression before the other mage suppressed it. "Alright, where can I help?
Between helping where she could in the city, running communications between Crows and Shadows, and contracts that Viago and Lucanis sent her, she found herself as busy as she'd been during the hunt for the gods.
People in Dock Town and other parts of the city were getting used to seeing her. She still got pitying looks, or others turning their gaze to the ground when she passed, though. It had been six months since Elgar’nan’s death, but her veins remained dark, almost black under her skin, and her eyes remained shadowed, as if she had traces of soot around them.
She avoided the looking glass in Neve’s apartment most of the time.
One night she sat in a corner of the Shadows hideout. She’d pulled one of her gloves off, remembering the worried look a mother had given her that evening when she’d helped a child who’d stumbled into her in the street. The fear in the woman’s eyes had only faded when she realized her child was fine, clear eyed and unblighted.
Rook’s hand trembled as she traced the dark grey veins in her arm.
“It never gets any easier to look at, does it?”
Rook head jerked up in surprise to see the Viper standing over her. She could see the smudges around his eyes, dark veins radiating out from them. He looked more like when they’d rescued him from the chantry than when they’d retaken Minrathous, she thought.
“Not really,” she said slowly. “I had hoped, by now, it would have faded more.”
The Viper glanced at the empty half of the crate she sat on and she shifted to make room. He dropped silently down beside her, flexing his clawed gloves as he did. “I had hoped the same,” he admitted. “As the Divine, I wear a veil, so it isn’t as pronounced. The people, at least, call it a miracle that their Divine survived the Blight that killed so many.” She thought she heard a smile in his voice when he said, “Though Tarquin might have something to do with that too.”
“And as the Viper, you wear a mask,” Rook noted as she met his gaze. “Does it make it any easier, hiding part of your face I mean?”
“Some,” he told her. “The Shadows don’t stare.”
Rook snorted. “They know better than to. I think Neve would have their hides if they did. She’s protective of you.” She tilted her head. “Though she has reason to be. Between being the Divine and the Viper, that’s a lot for anyone to carry.”
“And being the Hero of Minrathous isn’t? He asked lightly. “Or the Crow’s ambassador to the Shadows? Tarquin’s told me a bit of what you’ve been doing since you arrived.”
Rook shrugged. “I need something to keep me busy.”
“I would have thought a Crow would have plenty to keep them busy,” Ashur suggested. “Best friend of the First Talon, assassin in your own right.”
She thought about the few contracts Viago and Lucanis had sent her in Minrathous. She suspected at least a few of them might have come from Maevaris, if not Dorian. The heirs of Magisters who’d died when Elgar’nan attacked, families that still had connections to the broken remnants of the Venatori, or others who sought to take advantage of the chaos in recovery.
“There’ve been a few contracts,” she admitted.
“And all in Minrathous,” he lifted a brow at that.
“Worried about an assassin in your city?” she found herself asking.
“No,” he shook his head slowly. “If anything, we’re better off for you here, at least Dorian thinks so. I am just wondering why a Crow chooses to roost among the Shadows.”
“Personal reasons, really,” Rook replied. “There are things back In Antiva I wish to avoid.”
“Mm.” Ashur hummed at that, and she was grateful he didn’t press any further. “For what it’s worth, I don’t mind that you’re here. Tarquin doesn’t either, even if he does complain.”
“I’m beginning to gather that the more Tarquin complains to you, the more he likes you,” Rook permitted herself a smile at that.
Ashur laughed softly. “You’re not wrong.”
They sat quietly for a few minutes. It was the first time she’d actually seen the Viper in the shop since arriving weeks ago. “How are you feeling?” she found herself asking. “Really.”
He gave her a knowing look, “I could ask you the same thing.”
“Ah.”
She reached for her glove and began tugging it back on, hands clenching for a moment as her blighted skin vanished beneath the leather once again.
“Do you think we stay like this because the Maker’s testing us?” she asked softly.
“The Maker does not wish his children to suffer,” Ashur said lightly. “I don’t think it’s a test. I think it’s a sign of strength of will, that we survive and continue despite it.”
She tilted her head and said slowly, “Well, that’s a slightly better way to look at it, I suppose.”
“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Rook,” Ashur said softly. “You saved Minrathous, you saved the world, when you killed Elgar’nan.”
“I never would have been able to do it without my friends, without our allies,” she shook her head as she spoke. “If anything, it’s a testament to everyone’s strength that we won.”
“I agree. But remember your own part in it,” the Viper replied.
“Ashur?” Tarquin’s voice called from across the room. The Viper glanced at Rook, and she saw his eyes crinkle slightly in a smile before he rose, briefly placing a hand on her shoulder before he crossed to go and speak with Tarquin and Neve.
She and Neve left the hideout not long after that, leaving Ashur to speak with Tarquin.
Rook was glad for the cover of darkness and the way it hid her features.
When she and Neve returned to the hideout the following morning, she found a piece of fabric and leather on her normal chair. Slowly she lifted it, regarding the black and dark blue object.
When she left the hideout later that day, she wore a mask that concealed the lower half of her features.
Blighted Ashur x Blighted Rook de Riva post game fic
Post Veilguard, Rook continues to work in Minrathous. She strikes up a friendship with Ashur. Also on AO3 . Part of the series Wash Me Clean (Word count 2451)
Rook slipped into the Shadows hideout a little after dusk had fallen. She’d spent most the day traipsing around northern Thedas through the Eluvians, gathering certain supplies she knew the Shadows needed. While Archon Pavus had been pushing through a number of reforms, including anti slavery reforms, there were still many who opposed the changes he wished to make. That coupled with the fact that the Venatori who had survived the Siege of Minrathous were not content to slink away but actively attempted to interfere with Tevinter politics meant the Shadow Dragons still had plenty of work to do beyond helping Minrathous recover from the Blight.
No one was really surprised by the Venatori. Rumors of some upstart mage who’d managed to survive the siege lingered in the darker corners of Minrathous. Neve and Rook had been tracking those rumors for the past few months, searching for signs of who this mage was, and what they were planning.
Four months had passed since Rook came to Minrathous, and still she remained. Viago and Lucanis still sent her contracts, not all of them in Minrathous, but most of them in Tevinter these days. When she wasn’t doing Crow work, she was helping Neve and the Shadows. She was becoming a fixture in the Shadows hideout.
Of the Shadows that had survived the blighted dragon, the Venatori, and the Siege, a few of them were coldly civil with her, keeping everything strictly business, and she didn’t press though. Others, though, were slowly accepting her presence here. It helped, she thought, that she wasn’t from Minrathous to begin with.
She wore Tevinter style clothing in dark blue and teal, a nod to being a Crow, but she found that Tevinter clothing attracted a lot less attention around the city than her Crow leathers did. Between the Tevinter clothing and the mask she wore, few would connect her with the Crow who had saved the city and killed a god. She saved her Crow leathers for when Rook the Hero needed to make an appearance.
She’d worn masks since the day that Ashur had given her the first one, hiding most of her blacked veined face from the world. When she was working as Crow, she’d taken to wearing some of the masked hats favored by some Crows when they wanted people to know they were with the Crows but didn’t want to expose their own face.
Neve, and once or twice Tarquin or Ashur were the only ones who saw her full face these days. Even 10 months after Elgar’nan’s death, her veins remained dark beneath her skin, her eyes still surrounded by dark grey circles. Only her eyes had really recovered, no longer red but their proper blue.
After 10 months, she was beginning to believe that the remaining visual effects of the Blight on her body were never going to fade.
But she was alive, and while some of the effect the blight had on her body was still visible, it affected her no more than it affected the Wardens, and she couldn’t spread it. She reminded herself that there were worse fates.
As she approached Neve’s desk she saw Tarquin and Ashur were already there, looking over recent reports with Neve. “If I had known you two were here, I’d have brought more fish,” Rook said by way of greeting as she set a skewer of fried fish and one of fried vegetables in front of Neve.
“We’ll try and let you know, next time,” Tarquin told her with an amused smile.
“Well, I think the meat pie seller’s still open, even if Hal’s is closed,” Rook offered. “I can go grab something there for you.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. If we’re hungry enough we’ll send one of the kids to get some,” Tarquin replied, referring to the younger, newer Shadows who had recently joined. “Neve tells me we’ve got you to thank for the supplies that magically appeared in our storage room today.”
Rook shrugged. “I had a few errands to run in Nevarra and Rivain anyway,” she said casually, even if she knew both Ashur and Tarquin would see right through her.
“Right, that’s the story is it?” Tarquin grinned.
“How have things with the Templars and up at the Spire been?” Rook asked, changing the subject.
The Viper gave her a knowing look, but said, “The usual headache. About half of the Grand Clerics are unhappy with the Archon’s new laws, mostly because of how it affects them and their pocket books directly. And the usual issues with Magisters trying to interfere with the work of the Chantry.”
“More or less the same among the Templars,” Tarquin snorted, “Magisters who aren’t happy about the changes trying to interfere with our work, the few of Lenos’s supporters who survived trying to cause trouble.”
“So pretty much the same as always?” Rook asked.
“It’s Minrathous, did you really expect anything different?” Tarquin snarked.
“If things become too…troublesome, you do have direct ears to the First Talon,” Rook reminded them in a casual tone.
“Rook!” Neve scolded, but she sounded slightly amused,
“Sometimes such contracts cause more trouble than they solve,” Ashur replied.
“And this is why I never got into politics,” Rook noted.
“Like the Crows don’t have their own politics,” Neve smirked at her.
Rook only shrugged. “Don’t let me interrupt your reading reports, I’m sure it’s fascinating.”
“Oh yes, so very riveting,” Tarquin rolled his eyes.
Rook snorted and sat on a nearby crate, watching them as they returned to the task at hand.
Tarquin tried to make it to the hideout most evenings, but there were enough days that he couldn’t due to dealing with Templar business. The Viper could usually be seen in the hideout a few nights a week, as did Maevaris. Dorian they saw less, but that was to be expected. Most of the daily running of the organization remained on Neve’s shoulders.
More than once Rook had found herself sitting next to Ashur late into the evening, going through correspondence from the Crows while he looked over the reports Neve wanted him to read. He was pleasant company, and sometimes she’d find a cup of coffee waiting for her if he made it to the hideout before she did. In turn she’d learned from Tarquin that Ashur preferred tea, and would set a cup aside from him on nights she thought he might make it down based on what Tarquin or Mae told her and Neve. She knew if it got cold Ashur would simply wave his hand to reheat it.
Sometimes they would just speak quietly about their days, the daily tasks Ashur oversaw as Divine, the mess of politics he was forced to deal with among the Grand Clerics. She told him it wasn’t unlike the politics she’d seen Viago, Teia, and Lucanis deal with among the other Talons and houses.
“At least one person always has an ulterior motive,” she told him one night.
“An unfortunate truth of the world, no matter how we might wish otherwise,” Ashur noted.
She knew Ashur had nightmares of the Blight and the siege, because she had them herself. He had a particular look in his eyes after a particular bad night that she recognized.
“He pushes himself too hard,” Neve told Rook one night as she and Rook made their way home. “And he isn’t sleeping. Maevaris says it isn’t as bad as it was when he was Blighted, but..”
“It’s the nightmares,” Rook told her quietly. She touched the mask she wore lightly. “It’s hard to forget what the Blight did to your body, the way it sang in your head.”
Neve’s expression was speculative as she regarded Rook. “Will you talk to him, Rook? You’re probably one of the only people other than Bellara that can relate.”
“I’ll try,” the Crow promised.
Rook had her own nightmares, about the dragons, the Blight, and the Fade prison. Even now she would find herself roaming the streets sometimes in the early morning hours, unable to sleep after a particularly bad one. One night she slipped into the hideout, seeking a familiar setting where she wouldn’t wake Neve with her restlessness.
She was surprised to see the light from a candle coming from the main room. She followed the light quietly, knowing only someone who knew how to get past the candlehops could have made their way in.
Ashur sat at the table Neve used as her desk, his fingers flipping through reports, but she could tell his heart wasn’t really in it. His hat sat on the table, though he still wore his mask. He glanced up at her approach and didn’t seem surprised to see her.
“What were they about tonight?” she asked quietly as she took a seat beside him.
“I woke up and swore I could feel the rot under my skin,” he admitted as he set the reports in his hand aside. “I remember the sound of it in my head, trying to draw me to it like a ship to a siren the way those old sailor’s tales go.”
“And some part of you told you that the song sounded off, that it sounded wrong, but that blighted part of you thought it sounded beautiful?” Rook asked.
“Publically the Grand Clerics will talk about what a miracle it is, but behind closed doors there are those who question whether I should remain Divine, with the signs of the Blight still visible on my skin.”
“When was the last assassination attempt?”
Ashur blinked, then chuckled softly. “I should have known you’d guess, as an assassin yourself. A week ago. It’s happened, from time to time, over the past few months.”
“Have they tried to poison you yet?” Rook cocked her head.
“One did,” he admitted. “Burning the poison from my blood was unpleasant.”
“You know, as part of my Crow training, Viago made me regularly consume small amounts of poison,” Rook said thoughtfully. “To develop immunity to certain poisons. I think Neve still thinks I’m crazy when I slip it into my coffee every morning. I don’t let anyone else use the mug I use. Going through something like that might not be a bad idea for you, in case it’s a poison you or a healer can’t readily deal with.”
Ashur let out a bark of laughter. “Are you actually suggesting I regularly poison myself to keep myself from being poisoned?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Rook shrugged at his incredulous look. “It’s normal for House de Riva. I can speak to Viago about creating a regime for you, though you might want to let Mae, Dorian, Tarquin, and neve know about it before you begin.”
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I’ll consider it.”
“So what made you come to the hideout after a nightmare at this hour of the morning?” Rook asked after a moment of quiet between the two of them.
“I believe the same question applies to you,” Ashur replied, and she could hear the smirk in her voice.
“I didn’t want to wake Neve up,” Rook admitted.
“I didn’t want to deal with one of my attendants calling Maevaris,” he told her in turn. “The dreams,” a fine shutter ran through him.
“They always feel so real, afterwards,” Rook finished for him.
“It’s difficult to talk about, when they asked. Maevaris, Dorian, Tarquin, they would all listen in a heartbeat, but none of them quite understand what it was like.” His sea colored eyes met her blue. “Not like you do.”
“Yeah,” she heaved a sigh. “I’ve tried to talk to Neve or Lucanis about it. I know they hate what the Blight did to me, but they can’t quite understand what it was like. I don’t know that anyone who hasn’t been blighted can.”
“There are times I wake up and wonder why I’m still here,” she admitted. “I fully expected to die during the Siege. And to wake up, knowing that I survived what others didn’t. But it haunts me still. I shouldn’t have survived.”
“Don’t say that, Rook,” Ashur snapped. Her head jerked up as he reached out and took her hands in his. “Don’t you ever say that. You survived because you were meant to, because you were strong, because you refused to give up. If anyone should have died, it should have been me.”
Her blue eyes were fierce as she glared at him. “Don’t you say that either, then, Ashur. You survived far longer than I did with the Blight in your blood. Maker, you survived months. And don’t tell me it was just because of your magic. You have a force of will that few people I’ve ever known do.”
He squeezed her hands. “Let’s make a deal then,” he told her. “I won’t say it if you don’t. Maker willing, we’re both still here. And we aren’t alone. You may not have been blighted as long as I was, but you know what it was like. Even if you only felt it for a few days.”
“I-” Rook glanced away.
“Rook?”
“Neve told you about the Fade prison?” she whispered.
He nodded slowly, concern showing in his eyes.
“It was three weeks, Ashur. I told everyone that it felt like it was only a few hours but,” she glanced down, feeling the tears forming in her eyes, and remembering the horror of that cold, grey landscape. “I knew how badly they all felt for not getting me out sooner. So I lied. I lied, Ashur. I felt every fucking day in that place. I felt the rot as it ate away at me from the inside out.”
Gently, slowly, he pulled her into his arms, and held her as she closed her eyes against the falling tears. This kind of vulnerability was dangerous for a Crow. Letting someone else see her like this.
As if guessing her thoughts, she heard him say in her ear, “You’re the one person I know who has felt what I have. The masks we wear hide our faces from everyone, but the signs of the blight are still there. To show them to most people would be exposing weakness we can’t afford to. But with you..”
“With you I don’t feel afraid to,” she said softly.
“You’ve listened, and understood, when no one else did,” he told her. “I would not wish the blight on anyone, but Maker, having someone here that does understand?” She felt his taloned gloves run lightly through her hair.
“It helps.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “It does. And Rook, I’m not going anywhere.”
She took a deep breath. “Then, Ashur, neither am I.”
