Something different. A commission for the lovely @queenmuzz. Thank you for entrusting me with this emotional scene ❤️❤️.
I don't have a commission price list cause normally I do not accept them, but this time I wanted to do something nice for a friend ❤️. I would love to be able to accept them, but working full time it doesn't give me the time and energy to do so. I prefer to spend my free time focusing on the comics, drawing for myself and my personal growth, and sometimes making some gifts for friends.
So, sorry if someone of you would like to commission something. I don't have anything against you. Just life and lack of time. 🥺
Rook is trapped in the Fade for longer than she thought.
Pairing: Rook x Lucanis / Rook x Spite
Genre: Angst
Words: 2.7k
Read it here on ao3!
Chapter 1 (Chapter 2 will be Lucanis’ pov <3)
How long has it been since she had stepped out of reality and into the Fade? Rook lay on her back, atop of the stairs by the ritual site the Fade handcrafted for her to admire and feel regret for how she failed to stop Solas’ ritual and let Varric die out here, in the cold. This is the last place of her prison the Fade has not transformed and reshaped yet, this is the only constant in her new reality, despite being here for a very long time.
How long, Rook was not sure. She can’t count how many moons risen and fallen, how many times the sun came to shine on her face and encourage her to start her day, nor did she possess the feeling to tell the time anymore. At some point, all of her senses mush together into one pile of confusion, loneliness and emptiness.
***
During the first few months, at least she thought those were months, Rook still had Varric to talk to.
She knew he wasn’t really there, but it was nice to have someone here with her. They talked about past jobs they did together, Rook’s royal fuck-up with the Antaam that caused Viago to send her away, how hurt she felt at the time and how much she missed Antiva, her home. She’d punch herself how she’d hate listening to Viago’s endless lectures and scoldings, only to miss them now so much it hurts.
At times, Rook and Varric argued, even if it was rather one sided. She screamed at him, cried into his shoulder, threw rocks and whatever else she got into her hands against walls or into the endless voids, while he let her. He never yelled back, never tried to stop or calm her, rather just let her be and do this until she was tired of it. That’s when he spoke to her again.
"I don’t know, kid. They should’ve gotten to you by now, but what do I know? I’m no mage." Varric fiddled with Bianca on his lap, leaning against the rock pillar behind him. Rook sat silently across him, her body and hands aching from punching and clawing at the statues of her companions, crying and yelling at them, asking the statues to speak to her again, show her a way out of this, but no answer ever came.
Her hand reached up to her face, brushing some sweat and stray tears away. “They’re still working on it, I know it. They wouldn’t leave me here like this.” Varric glanced up from his crossbow and up to her face. He heard how she still had hope, but one look into her eyes told him that the spark of hope diminished more and more over time. After closing her eyes once more to rest and opening them once she believed the night was over, Varric was gone, the Fade rearranging itself once again.
It’s almost mostly quiet in the Fade, apart from the stray Spirit managing to get lost and stumble upon this black and white painted prison of regret, immediately making their return back before they accidentally get themselves turnt into a despair demon or something similar of the sorts. Apart from that, no one ever came back to visit. Not even dreamers. Above her she saw shapes and shades of grey rearrange themselves, creating new areas of the prison she was trapped in for her to explore, but at a certain point, she stop bothering. Having one constant thing, the ritual site, despite how much it hurt to be here, was nice.
***
At first, after Varric left, Rook was alone with her thoughts. To entertain herself she took walks around the areas of the Fade she can reach, explore new areas and admire the ones she already knows over and over again, trying to find special new things every time she takes the same route. She talked to herself out loud, acting like somebody is going to respond someday, hoping someone will.
"So. How’s… Minrathous? We should get some of that fish by the docks again sometime." Rook cocked her head up to look at Neve’s face.
'Still blighted. The Shadow Dragons are trying their best, but the Venatori still hold most of the power. It’s.. (sigh) …hard.'
She could’ve sworn Neve did answer her this time. It almost felt… real. "I’m sorry, but—" 'You did what you could, but it wasn’t enough, Rook. You could have done more, done better. Because of you and your leadership Minrathous burned.'
Nothing was ever enough.
All of the things she did before; it was all never enough. She didn’t do enough to stop Solas’ ritual, not enough to save Minrathous, not enough to protect to Treviso, never enough for Viago, never enough, never enough.
At some point, even the smallest regrets circled inside her mind on loop over and over until it finally came to a halt after someone entered his mind.
***
The Fade changed around her to create new places and remind her of her biggest and most tragic mistakes while she walker circles in her prison, her eyes stopped registering what was around her at a certain point she cannot pinpoint. A mix of sand and gravel being crushed under her boot dragged her out of her daydreams of nothingness.
Lifting her head and taking the area around her, her heart stopped for a moment. This was the Ossuary. But how? It looked exactly the same to when Rook first stepped into this dammed prison to retrieve the grandson of Catarina, even the bodies of the slain Venatori were scattered around as blood slowly pooled beneath their bodies. Why did the Fade bring her here after… maybe months? She wasn’t sure. Rook’s mind cleared for a brief moment as she took a look around, taking the same route as before when she got here the first time. The fish outside the Ossuary were standing still, the water that was supposed to be pouring out of the cracks of the veil protecting the prison was unmoving.
It was too quiet.
Finding the cage where Lucanis was held, there was no trace of him. A fraction of her hoped he might be here, or at least, a piece of him. She felt selfish for even thinking of having him be trapped in here with her, even if it is not his real person that would be here. She felt selfish for wanting him.
Him, Lucanis Dellamorte, grandson of the First Talon and the future of the crows. The man that makes coffee to avoid falling asleep and let the demon residing in him to take over and possibly endanger the others, the same man that cooks for everyone and to their individual preferences, no matter how achy his body might be after being tossed around like a ragdoll by a Ghoul or how exhausted he was, the man whose eyes lit up like fireworks when Rook handed him the wyvern dagger, the man that didn’t believe he was allowed to love those creatures even as a grown man, the person that blindly loved his cousin to the point of not being able to recognise betrayal, the one that practically ran away in distress after experiencing an ounce of flirtation and real admiration. Lucanis.
Rook never wanted to think of him. She was unworthy to do so, because every time she did, she wished for nothing more than for him to be here in this black and white prison of endless agony and regret and suffer alongside her as they waited for rescue. She knew she was selfish for wanting him to experience more pain just so that she could have the person she loved most by her side until the end of time, or at least as long as their bodies allowed it. To trap him once more after releasing him from the Venatori prison, to lock him into another cage where he helplessly can wait for ultimate demise or let himself descend into insanity as the Fade created a new room handcrafted to reopen a wound that never really closed.
She knew she was selfish for wanting him. But was it selfish of her to wish that she still had a chance to return back home and ask for him to never leave her side again, to promise her that he loved her as much as she did him, or was it plain ignorance that led her to believe that she could ever leave this place and live in peace with her lover? Lucanis will never be here with here and she will never be with him again.
After leaving the Ossuary-copy of the Fade and taking her walk back to the ritual site, Rook felt glad that he wasn’t here. There was no coffee maker and no coffee beans, who knows how long this man could’ve survived in here before willingly giving his body to Spite to end his suffering? A small chuckle escaped her lips as she thought about that, a rare occasion in these times.
***
It was less painful to just not think, Rook found out. Maybe it was some sort of meditation she never was aware of, but at one point it felt nice to lay down on the ground and do nothing, feel nothing, think nothing. Her eyes stared at the air while her limbs were sprawled out into all directions. Varric used to make her lie down like this on the floor. "We called it Floortime in Kirkwall, does good to your mind to sometimes just do… nothing."
Her brain was painfully empty, not having enough energy to form one coherent thought. Even the Fade gave up on trying to lure her into exploring new areas of the regret prison by recreating some of her companions, kneeling down to her body and talking to her like nothing ever happened.
"It will do you good to stretch your limbs every now and then." Emmrich’s tall stature loomed over her, an unsure smile forming on his face as if not sure how to handle Rook in a state like hers. His hands clapped together. "Come on. We don’t have all day, dear! The Fade might change again and we will miss whatever it offered to us to experience it first hand, you wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?" Not even his professor voice and attitude, which usually made her perk up and sharpen her mind to prepare and listen to one of his lectures and informative rambles, instead leaving her to close her eyes is aspiration as to not having to look at him.
She knows he’s not real. There’s no point of talking to this skinwalker, this mimic trying to make her stand up and push herself to do something utterly meaningless.
It would only make her even more upset, frustrated at how a so-called damned Fade expert hasn’t managed to retrieve her out of this gods-forsaken place, even after months, maybe years of time!
The Fade understood that Rook didn’t want to see any of her other companions, so it created an imagine that made her stir and briefly believe that they were really here. The moment where hope shimmered to the surface that let her jump up to her feet was brief. "Rook?" She knew that voice. It was not exactly the voice she yearned to hear for all the long past moments, but it was similar and not unwelcome. “Found. Rook!” Spite’s toothy grin on Lucanis’s face almost made her throw up. "Spite! You—?"
Her throat felt incredibly dry and her words died on her tongue after not speaking for such a long time, but it seems like Spite understood whatever she tried to say. This was his domain in a way after all, Trade Speak wasn’t needed here. The demon stepped closer and invaded her personal space, but she didn’t mind, especially after his arms pulled her into an incredibly crushing hug against his (surprisingly) firm body. He was real. Spite felt real. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes as her shaky arms reached out to wrap around his shoulders, to convince him silently to never let go of her ever again. “S-Spite.” Is the only thing she managed to press out of her mouth.
“Rook lost. Spite found! Curiosity and Prof-fes-sor work on dagger. For Rook!” Spite spoke against her skin as they were still holding each other. She couldn’t help but chuckle at how Spite was still trying to pronounce words slowly to get them right and buried her face into his surprisingly warm shoulder.
"Y-You found me." Spite, seemingly confused at how Rook repeated what he just said and now worried she might’ve gone deaf, decided to speak the next few words more loudly. "YES! CURIOSITY. AND. PRO-"She stopped him with a laugh and pulled away from his hug slightly to make him stop yelling by putting a finger on his lips.
"You’re going to get me out." Spite nodded furiously. "Yes. But. Go there first. Closer." The demon pointed at somewhere behind him. Hope bubbled up to the surface and dared to overflow, thinking Spite was trying to bring her somewhere Emmrich, Bellara or whoever else was working to get her can reach her more easily. She took his hand into hers and dragged him along to where Spite had pointed at.
"Where do you want me to go? Up the stairs? We can also go to the right, I thought I felt the Fade being weaker there because you know, lots of new rooms over there, but we can also…” Rook’s words died out as she turned around to look back at Spite and ask him where to go next, but the demon was gone.
Looking down at her closed fist was nothing, not even dust. Spite was gone. She was really there though, right? Spite, doing his very best and working hard to get Lucanis to bed so he can go access the Fade, finally found here wandering around.
Surely the Fade did not create another copy of someone she adores just to push her and face new regrets again. Surely she did not imagine the whole interacting, hallucinate Lucanis’ face, the body-crushing hug.
There was simply no way, is there? He must’ve been here.
He must’ve.
He HAD to.
There was no other choice.
No choice.
No.
***
There it was again; regret and shame.
Walking in circles at the ritual site, Rook’s mind repeated her own thoughts to her until it spiralled into the endless void and what was beyond it again. Maybe the others back home simply couldn’t get to her because they got distracted and busy by their own personal issues, even after Rook tried to solve them together with them.
Or maybe because they noticed they would fare much better without the overbearing, bossy, selfish leader. Or maybe because the world was consumed by blight, ruled by an unforgiving god that managed to get what he had ultimately wanted in the end. Perhaps there was nobody to retrieve and save her.
Thoughts like these are why Rook fell into this vegetative state of mind, not allowing herself to think or feel. If she could not think about her regrets, react to the Fade forcing all her smallest and largest mistakes to be faced and reviewed second by agonising second, let both frustration rise through her body and make her angry at perhaps already perished people for not coming for her, let her yearning for him crush her from the inside and out, maybe then she would be at peace.
Maybe then the unthinking Fade will show mercy and finally let her pass away.
***
After experiencing denial, anger, bargaining and depression both at a time and at the same time, there was nothing left but acceptance. What else was there as to accept that this is her fate from now on, to wander the Fade as a mortal now immortal, mourning over a lover she never had, mourning over a blighted world ruled by an even more blighted god, mourning over herself and how she never came to live her life to the end of her years. Acceptance is all there is, and Rook experiences it as an unending, stomach churning mourning and grief.
There is nothing else.
Nobody else. Nobody but her, forever and ever.
💠
Author’s note. Thanks for reading!
My best friend is FED UP with me takking about Lucanis she can’t take it anymore I gotta spread my hyperfixation elsewhere. Also I posted it on ao3 but I’m uploading here too because I yearn for instant dopamine boosts 🙂
Next chapter is gonna be all about Lucanis and Spite being bad at feelings
Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough <33
In another life, they could've held each other while they cried, and comforted each other when the nightmares got too loud, and given each other the love that neither of them think they deserve.
But that's not the life they're living
Read it on AO3!
Maybe things could have been different.
Maybe if he wasn't such a catastrophic mess of a human being, if he hadn't spent a year underwater being turned into a monster while his family mourned him. Maybe if he hadn't been raised to wield a knife and be one. Maybe if his parents were still alive. Maybe if he’d met her before.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
He thinks he could've made her happy, if anyone had ever done the same for him. If he’d known a gentler hand, perhaps. If all he knew wasn't how to brew a good cup of coffee and how to end a life without losing an ounce of sleep over it. He thinks he would've liked taking her to fancy restaurants, treating her to candlelit dinners, buying her beautiful jewellery.
He would’ve liked to just look after her, he thinks. Make sure she was never wanting for anything. He would've given her the world for the chance to be a part of hers. He would've killed anyone she asked, or he would've never killed again. He’d shave his beard if she said it scratched her face. He’d have tied his hair up so she could tuck herself comfortably into his neck. They could've gone on picnics, and he’d pack homemade churros and the paella she likes.
In another life, they could've held each other while they cried, and comforted each other when the nightmares got too loud, and given each other the love that neither of them think they deserve.
But that's not the life they're living. In this life they're separated by the walls he puts up and the danger he poses. In this life, he’ll never deserve her. In this life he’ll watch her fall in love with someone else, and he’ll smile and congratulate her; because his calling is death, not love, and he can't give her any of the things she should have. No matter how much he wants to.
In this life, he’ll crave her for the rest of his days. He’ll think of the soft smile she always saved for him and the smell of her hair as she passed him. He’ll remember the look in her eye when she took down a foe, the way she radiated with adrenaline and pride. He'll be haunted by the image of her, back against his wall, her breath fanning against his face, before he ran away. The sound of her breathing as he’d come so close to her lips he could almost taste her. The look she’d given him that he dared not put a name to. The way Spite had howled when he denied her. The fact she never looked at him the same way afterwards.
They had always known this was a possibility, that the rites of lichdom are not within the reach of all who attempt the feat. Emmrich had worked so hard to overcome his fear of dying and at last he was ready. She had long ago insisted she come as his witness, after their first kiss among the graves and he had confessed his aspiration to lichdom.
At last I may cross that threshold knowing I have found joy in my time among the living with you, my dearest love, and no matter the outcome my heart will be yours for all eternity.
His hand had slipped through her own but it was she who held tight, pulling him back to her a final time for one last kiss. She had said those words to him countless times before.
I love you, Emmrich.
He had smiled at her one final time.
I love you, Dragonia.
And then he walked through the doors and was gone.
