hihi loving all your fics especially your brynjolf stuff 💞💞💞 can u pretty please do one where he checks up on the dovahkin after they come back from snow viel sanctum after mercer tried to unalive them?? i just need some sweet worrying brynjolf🙏 please and thank u
safeguard | brynjolf x reader
a/n: you ate with this idea my friend. i love me some wholesome brynjolf. thank you for requesting and for enjoying my work! c:
You'd missed Honeyside.
You lean back in your chair and close your eyes. The warmth and comfort of your dinner lingers in your body, which is still riddled with exhaustion. Most of your pain has faded, but the tiredness remains. You've never been more eager to head to bed.
You aren't even sure of how many days have passed since you were last here. It must be more than a week now. Since you set off for Snow Veil Sanctum. Since you met up with Mercer there. Since you-
Your eyes shoot open and fix on the ceiling. Since you'd been betrayed and nearly killed.
You shudder at that string of memories. Of the pain and confusion you'd felt when you were lying paralyzed on that ground, Mercer looming above you, his sword dripping with your blood. And suddenly he wasn't your fellow guild member anymore, but someone much more sinister.
Karliah had saved you after that, and though she mended your wound enough to keep you alive, it still ached. Your hand rests gently over the bandaged area of your abdomen. It's not the only thing that stings all these days later - remembering Mercer is still out there gives you the same bitter effect.
You push to your feet as if that will help push the unpleasant thoughts out. You'll figure out the next move with the others soon - for now, you have to try and rest. At least you're finally back in your own home to do so.
You tidy up the kitchen and prepare to settle down for the evening. You do it all with slow movements, taking caution not to stretch the injury at your middle. You've just started to take off some of your leather armor when you hear a thump from behind you.
Slow movements be damned as you end up whipping around, dagger grabbed and already poised in your hand. But the familiar face at the other end of your blade halts you in your alarm.
"Easy," Brynjolf laughs nervously, palms raised and splayed out in a show of peace. "Glad to know your reflexes are still intact."
The icy panic that had gripped you just now melts away. A mix of relief and bewilderment takes its place instead. "Bryn, what the-" You lower the dagger and step back from him. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to make sure you made it home safe." His words are as soft as the olive color of his eyes as he looks you over. "Didn't get a proper time to check on you earlier, what with all that happened."
Your throat tightens as you recall the scene. When you'd brought Karliah in with you to the Guild, and together you shared your findings. The truth about Mercer and Gallus, and how there was finally an explanation for the guild's "bad luck". You felt a new wave of exhaustion at just thinking about it again.
A different thought suddenly interrupts that feeling. "Wait - how did you get in here?" You ask Brynjolf, eyes darting from him to scan the room.
He rubs a hand at his neck. "Uh-"
"Did you break in??"
"No. I didn't break anything. That window in your kitchen wasn't locked. It was actually quite easy to-"
"Brynjolf! You know you could have just knocked?" You sense your hackles raising as you glare at him. You might as well be pointing that dagger at him again.
"Aye. Sorry, love,” he chuckles, though there isn't an ounce of remorse in his voice. "Force of habit."
You roll your eyes, but you do appreciate his concern. You'd heard a ghost of a rumor at the Flagon that he had gone out to look for you when you didn't return from Snow Veil Sanctum in time. Remembering that gives you a deep prod of warmth in your chest.
"Now, are you alright? Really alright?" Brynjolf's question pulls you back to the present.
You look up at him, holding steady in spite of the flip your belly does when your eyes meet. "For the most part."
He lifts his chin like he's going to nod, but hesitates. His gaze jumps down to your abdomen. "And what of your injury? Karliah said Mercer had..."
His words clip off into a stiff silence. Like he physically struggles to get them out.
"Stabbed me," you finish for him. You grab the bottom of your shirt and roll it up just enough to show the patchy bandage. "Thanks to Karliah, it didn't kill me, but-"
"It could have." Brynjolf cuts in to finish the sentence for you this time. Something in his voice shifts - something hard and cold in his tone like you've never heard before. "He could have killed you."
You look up and you're surprised to see a subtle but unmistakable darkness in his eyes. You would recognize anger anywhere, even in the gaze of someone like Brynjolf who is always calm and collected.
Then it's gone as fast as it came, his expression softening again. "Does it hurt?" He asks, looking from the wound back to you.
You shake your head loosely and roll your shirt back down. "Not much anymore. Karliah said it will heal soon, just not without leaving a scar."
His brows knit together in concern as he nods. He takes a step closer to you. “I’ll be careful, then.”
His arms come up and wrap around you. You tense up out of sheer surprise at first but you are quick to relax and sink into it. He is indeed very careful, embracing you with just enough pressure to sweep you up in warmth, but not enough to risk pushing on your injury. Through all his roughened leathers and the muscular build underneath, he feels surprisingly soft, and secure, and safe.
“I thought I had lost you,” he murmurs. His head falls into the crook of your neck, where you can hear the vulnerability in his voice and feel the shaky breath he exhales. He squeezes you just a tad more. “I’m glad you’re still here.”
The tide of emotion that hits you would have rendered you too weak to stand on your own, so thank Nocturnal he’s holding you. A tightness takes hold of your chest and throat as your own arms snake around him, not even caring when the movement stretches your wound. It’s easy to overlook the pain anyway when you’re this close to him, almost overwhelmed by relief and comfort after everything you’ve endured recently.
“Me too,” you admit in a near whisper. You are momentarily taken back to Snow Veil Sanctum, when Mercer had chillingly said he'd "give Brynjolf your regards”, and the thought of never seeing him again had been just as scary as the life seeping out of you. “I was terrified.”
Brynjolf holds you a moment longer before reluctantly stepping back, and you already miss the feel of it. “Does he know you survived?” He asks.
You shrug. "I'm not sure. He might."
"Then he could come back for you. You're in danger."
Without meaning to, you snort out a laugh. "Oh, right. Because our line of work has been sooo safe up until this point."
"I'm serious, love." Brynjolf's voice is firm, but his gaze is gentle. His hand grabs your shoulder, prompting you to look him dead on again. "This isn't like one of our little jobs, I know you can handle those easy. If Mercer finds you, with the resources he has now, he really could..."
He trails off again, swallowing the words as if they were a stone in his throat. You've never seen such a range of emotions in those eyes before, never have felt that unsteady squeeze he gives your shoulder, never have thought that he could worry so much, like you're not just a recruit under his wing anymore, but something more.
You draw in a breath of air that feels a little too thin. "He can try," you say with a half smile.
Brynjolf shakes his head. There go his eyes again, darkening to a deeper green color. “I won't let it happen. I'll make sure he never comes close enough to touch you again."
Your heart stutters, and your half smile turns into a smirk. "Oh, so you're a bodyguard now?"
"Heh. For you, love, I could be." His eyes warm back up with amusement. He starts to drop his hand from your shoulder, but not without it lingering on the outside of your arm for a second.
You're half tempted to bring that hand right back. To lean in and embrace him again because it’s easier to forget your aching side and the dark floor of the sanctum and the looming shadow of Mercer when you can focus on just him instead.
Your thoughts cease when Brynjolf speaks up again. "I should start by staying here tonight. To keep an eye on you."
Your pulse leaps at that suggestion. "I doubt Mercer's going to track me down tonight, Bryn," you say lightly, a noticeable lack of protest in your voice. It would be nice to have his company after constant days of being on edge and looking over your shoulder. You might finally be able to get a good night’s sleep.
"It's not just about him. It's a dangerous city. After all, a thief could break in at any moment." He gives a pointed look to the window in your kitchen.
You let out a snicker. "If they're anything like you, I'm not too worried."
His face lights up with a grin at first, but after a second it dissolves into a puzzled frown. "Wait - is that a flirty comment or an insult to my thieving skills?"
You start to step around him but pause to pat his chest lightly. "I'll let you decide that one."
You swear you catch a dash of color to his cheekbones as you brush past him and head to your dresser to grab him a spare blanket.
Notes/Warnings: Hints of dommy, emperor Geta. Dated views on feelings, ownership & religion.
I saw Gladiator 2. ❤️ed Love Geta. Wrote half of this before seeing it. Only shifted somethings 🫣🥹 my story a smidge.
❤️s, comments, feedback, & reblogs are welcome & appreciated!
Something in him that he wasn’t familiar with came over him. Shifting where he sat, he glanced back at you. There a short distance between the two of you.
“Move closer.” He murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.
Once you were settled, he reached for your hand and held it over his shoulder.
He kept his attention on the dancers. A smile spread across his face. He felt good.
“Sire?” You felt confused.
His thumb grazed the softness of your wrist. You trembled.
“I want to feel your touch.” He pressed your hand to his chest.
You didn’t say anything further. Your touch was subtle as he continued to enjoy the fruits and bread before him, with an occasional sip of his wine.
Occasionally, he’d bring his hand to yours and press it against him before releasing it to let you continue your idle touch. Which felt as delicate as a butterfly wings has they flutter over new spring blossoms.
Catching the eye of one of the personal guards. He motioned for the man to come over.
In hushed tones, he told him to ready the carriage and to send word that villa was to ready for his arrival in the early afternoon. And to have the men ready as well to give a proper escort for himself and you.
The man replied with a positive affirmation, he knew it was possible. He had given them shorter notice when Caracalla had gone through a period of prolonged feelings of distress and tantrums. This would be much easier.
******
You held the breath in you when he motioned for the guard to come over. Their voices were hushed and low. You could not decipher what was said despite being close. You watched as the man gave a nod, stood straight and left with great haste.
Your thoughts whirled at the possibilities of what the exchange could have been. Your stomach turned.
Though as you felt his thumb graze the softness of your wrist, you were brought back to the room in which you sat.
“Diversion from the city lays ahead of us.” He told you softly.
Merriment still surrounded you, torches flickered and hushed pleasant voices grounded the music that player to accompany the dancers that continued to swish and twirl in the center of the room.
“That will be delightful Geta.” You smiled.
Tingles, from how your arm and hand were prickled at you. It reminded you on mornings where you had woken up after laying on your limb. You didn’t dare roll your hand or pull it back. Despite being the emperor, you surely believed he had those same tingles. But you enjoyed this and didn’t wish to disrupt his pleasure.
Feeling a gentle tug, you looked and caught Geta’s gaze. “Yes, Geta?”
“I’m growing tired. We shall retire to my quarters, there is something we need to discuss.”
“Yes.” You replied softly. “Yes, absolutely.” Before his hand released yours, his thumb once again grazed your wrist.
*******
He glanced at you as the two of you walked down the passageways. The footfalls of the two of you were the only ones that mattered in his opinion. The torches flickered and cast shadows here and there.
Looking at you, once again that feeling stirred in him from earlier in the evening. It reminded him of the excitement on the brink of a banquet celebrating a victory or watching a good fight in the arena. Never towards a person, even less towards someone who belonged to him.
His guards opened the doors to his quarters. He ushered you in first.
“Go to the balcony.” He told you, when you began to turn towards him.
You nodded.
He went over to where the guards stood.
“I do not want to be disturbed, Gallus.” He turned to the guard, he saw the most. “If anything else needs to be done before dawn, please do so. I do not want to delay our departure once dawn breaks. And inform Aelia she is to pack her belongings and hers, if she has not already done so, since she will be traveling with me as well.”
“Every well, sire. They are well prepared for your arrival at the destination and for your departure from here.”
“Good.”
With a nod, he closed the door.
He took off his laurel crown and set it down. Running his fingers through hair, he looked at your figure as he walked over to you. He paused, watching you.
You were gazing at your hand, he had enjoyed holding it. The gods have blessed you, he mused. Your hands were as lovely as the ways you twined words together. They were skillful in touch and in mending as well, as he glanced down where you had tended to his wound which stung with its freshness.
“Geta.” Seeing him, you turned with a smile that curled your lips.
He nodded, as he grew closer.
“Tonight’s festivities after justice was served were very pleasing. Do you agree?”
“Yes. Those dances were fascinating. Nothing, I had ever seen before.”
He smiled. “It was the same for me. They have traveled from one of the new providences. It was to celebrate them now being one with Rome.”
“That is wonderful.” You looked down.
He drew your chin up, he studied your features. Yes, he would definitely have to have a craftsman, capture you. It was as if the gods themselves had wielded a paintbrush or sculptors tool when you were created.
“Yes, Geta?”
He could feel your breath. Its steady increase pleased him.
“I’ve grown tired of city and all of the politics. We shall depart and enjoy the good airs and feel in good humor soon.
“We?” Your eyes grew.
He chuckled. “Yes, we. As much as I do enjoy my solitude. And anytime away from Caracalla can feel very good; I wish you to accompany me.”
********
With cloaks on and the blue light of the dawn, you had climbed in and sat with Aelia and Geta was opposite the two of you in the carriage. It was not long, before the streets of the city were shadows in the dust of the wheels and horse’s pace. The horses did not pick up a good trot till out of the confines of the city to not create a disturbance.
******
You tried, struggled even to stay awake, an eagerness to look out the windows had grabbed you. It was exciting to go somewhere you had never been. Even, Aelia had told you briefly how much nicer it was at the villa. Especially with Caracalla staying at the domus in the city.
Vaguely, you wondered about the woman who sat beside you. She was loyal without question to Geta. She had been firm yet show a warmth, a kindness towards you that you had not expected. Not many were. So you accepted and appreciated it.
On either side of the two of you were also guards, you didn’t speak to them and they didn’t speak to you. You barely ever looked up at one. They scared you. Glancing over at Geta, you noticed that he had even bowed his head to sleep. It had run its soft lulling touch over all of you. Your eyes had been growing heavier.
Before succumbing to its soft touch, you caught a glimpse of Geta from under your hood. His lashes laid on his cheeks, his hair like sun-rays themselves were peaking from the edges of his cloak’s hood and his features were soft. Your heart quickened realizing like this he resembled the sculptures you had been blessed to see. He truly, was touched by the gods.
Alright so doing this one specifically because we are going to talk about writing. This is something I wrote for @biowaredisasterbisexual and something I have discussed with @thedissonantverses
Let's talk about tone. Look something I get a lot of compliments on is setting tone/vibes and it is what I see most people struggle with. It is what separates good and great writers. When you write a piece it should have a feeling. It should give the reader a feeling. A serious piece should have tension. A comedy should feel light hearted. It's weird when you are writing a romance and there's no beauty there yanno?
Well how do I do that Beasty?
So this is how I do it. Remember I have aphantasia. I have difficulty picturing things. I have to really focus but I try to imagine that I am the person who's POV I am writing from. I feel their emotions and write them down. And you don't want to tell you want to show. And then the reactions of those around them.
Today we are going to examine a fic who's plot I still don't know but it is straight vibes. This is how you make your fic not flat. This is Struggle and Strife. Chapter 1 is from Riley Mercar's POV and he is talking to Neve Gallus
His mouth was set in a hard line, mismatched irises fixed on the woman impassively standing in the doorway.
There was a challenge– a dare in the way the corner of her lip quirked up as she gazed at him through the lace of her hat.
Ok look first two paragraphs I grab and hook you. I set the tone for this whole piece. The push and pull back and forth. You can drag your fingers through the tension. He's bound up and she's like 'come get me big boy'. (And if you read the accompanied dialog it is a verbal sparring match)
He did not flinch at the reproach in her tone, the slight flex of her hand in anger as venom dripped from her words. Instead he turned, grabbing a decanter off the shelf as he poured two glasses of his favorite whiskey. Neat of course, nothing extra nothing added, just like this raw conversation as he sat his offering down before her.
Push and pull again. This time she is annoyed and he is at ease. Think of what would be in a rich man's office. What he would do to distract himself. And use that as a theme throughout
He would not lie; he was impressed with how well she maintained her composure. Her greatest secret had just been revealed, yet her face remained neutral as she held her ground.
Maker, she was infuriating. And driving him mad as the scent of her settled into his chest. He had to lean back, before he did something truly foolish like bury his face against the enticing softness of her skin.
This is an enemies to lovers. One of the more difficult things to write. Because they have to hate each other and also be attracted. And you can't just run into that headlong you have to drop crumbs and lead them there
He could have groaned at the drop of amber that clung to her lips as she spoke, the liquid clawing at him to taste as he pushed those thoughts away. She was a problem, one that needed solving. And temptation made real as she met him at every turn with wit as sharp as his own.
Remember how I said use things around throughout? I used the whiskey and the rain outside as a theme multiple times throughout this to tie in the tension. You wouldn't want it to be a sunny happy day if they are having this verbal sparring match
He knew he had her when she turned her face to his, noses so close they almost brushed as she murmured, “What time and where, big guy?”
“Seven. City Hall. And if you care for my preferences… you look beautiful in green.”
And lastly if you create all this tension you want to ease it. Please do not edge your readers and not bring them down from the high
Continuing to absolutely LOVE this week! And not just because it means so get to see so much Neve (though as anyone who knows me would agree, that absolutely will hold my interest), but because I’ve seen so many awesome works with Tarquin, the Viper, various Rook Mercars, and the whole gang!
Yes yes yes.
Thanks so much to @shadow-dragon-week for putting all this together!
For my contribution for Day Six: Rebellion | Reform, I wrote a short Tarquin POV fic taking place during the Maevaris v. Dorian choice. No beta read on this, so all errors belong to me personally. 🙂↕️
(Awesome divider from @kogarashi-art!)
Tarquin watched warily as Mercar — Rook, he supposed, these days — stood in the corner with Gallus. For once, his face was serious. He was giving this some thought. They all were, Tarquin guessed.
Where did they go from here?
He knew what he’d told Rook, when the other man had asked. And he’d meant it. They needed to gut the whole thing. When the foundation and beams of a house were rotting, you ripped it down to nothing and built a new one. Something that infested couldn’t be fixed with small changes.
Tevinter was rotting. Had been his entire life and several lifetimes before that. How many people would collapse under the weight of this diseased structure if they tried to move along without taking hammer and axe to the thing?
Tarquin could feel Ashur watching him. Knew what he’d say, if Tarquin were to ask.
How many innocent people would die when the walls and the roof were gone before they could build a new one? And, in their haste to give people a home, would the building of it be shite again?
Tarquin didn’t have an answer.
Maevaris Tilani and Ashur were in agreement on what they should do; no surprise in that, they usually were.
But wasn’t that the problem? The unspoken but always present spot of discomfort in everything they did? That so much of their leadership were Altus?
Tarquin couldn’t claim to know how it felt to be a highblood — not like they’d had the same experiences he had — but that was the exact problem. Most of Tevinter was like him. Like Rook and Rana, like Lorelai and Bren. The Soporati and the slaves were the largest classes in Tevinter by far, the fragile bridge of the Liberati between them more like the sleepers and the slaves than the mages. The Altus class was tiny. And, despite that, that tiny number of families — bolstered by the Laetan mages just below them and aspiring to join that coveted status — had controlled Tevinter, had shaped and ruined lives, since before the time of Andraste.
Should those same few, and their limited view of what the real Tevinter was, really get to choose for them all again?
It wouldn’t be people like Ashur or Tilani who would suffer while they all tried to convince Tevinter to overturn generations of shite by using words.
It wouldn’t be people like Pavus who would suffer if his proposed strong-armed destruction of the old ways devolved into civil war.
Funny how that worked out.
He could give credit where credit was due. Tarquin knew that even by asking for opinions from him, from Gallus, from Rook, all three of the highbloods had done something rare. Still, Tarquin wasn’t sure it was enough. For him. For the other Shadow Dragons. For the rest of the forgotten and ignored in the Imperium.
Ultimately, though no one would ever say so — probably Mercar least of it — it would likely come down to Rook. Tarquin didn’t envy him. How could one man, no matter how many dragons or gods or whatever he’d killed, speak for millions?
By the lack of ill-timed jokes and sharp sarcasm coming from the corner in which Rook now stood, Tarquin could tell the weight of his decision wasn’t lost on him.
He looked sick.
Rebellion or reform? Those were his options. From where Tarquin sat, there was only one real answer. Paint wouldn’t fix a rotted foundation.
But Tarquin knew he had the dubious luxury of his opinion not mattering all that much — what else was new? — and Rook didn’t. The outcome would rest on Mercar’s shoulders, whatever the fairness of that, and he would bear the consequences.
How many people would suffer for Tilani and Ashur’s caution?
How many people would die in Dorian’s purges and the ensuing chaos?
As Rook opened his mouth to speak, Tarquin guessed they were all going to find out together.
Hey I wrote about them kissing thought u should kno
She understood why Bellara held him in such high regard, and why she had a hard time seeing him as anything other than a famous scholar.
Even worse, Varric had put her in charge of him.
She pointed towards the eluvians they now faced, making sure he knew where they could access the Grand Necropolis, a newly blighted Treviso and their intended destination in Minrathous.
"I hate to drag you around on your first few days, but Dock Town is a safe-ish bet and Neve is an excellent guide." If stepping into a den of rebels in a city over run with Venatori could reasonably be considered their safest option.
"I relish the challenge. Do lead on," Emmrich encouraged. With a definitive nod, Veryl stepped over the magical threshold and into the Shadow Dragon hideout.
"Rook, there you are." Neve called as she turned from a conversation with someone and they entered the second room. "Professor, welcome to Minrathous."
"Detective Gallus, a pleasure to see you again." Emmrich shook her proffered hand.
"Neve, please." She gently corrected as they separated.
"Of course. And you must call me Emmrich."
"And I'm still Rook." Veryl jumped in with the awkward joke, earning an affectionate smile from Neve but a politely confused look from Emmrich.
"Don't mind her, I think she's just being cute." Neve shrugged by way of explanation. "Anyway, this is Viper and Tarquin, boys this another one of ours, Emmrich Volkarin."
Neve made quick work of pointing around the space to get their new recruit comfortable. Veryl had been sure to prep the team to receive yet another Mourn Watcher. By the time she had joined up with Varric and Harding, she had been traveling on her own for some time. Even though she hadn't made it far, it was still more than the average Watcher would have experienced. With Emmrich, it was her understanding that he had hardly departed from their shared homeland.
Veryl didn't want to patronize a fully grown man but also didn't want to assume.
"I'm meeting a contact today that I need some coverage for, Tarquin pulled some strings and he'll be pissed if we miss our only shot." Neve griped as she stepped onto the glowing enchantment that would opened the entrance to the hideout. The runes came to life under their feet and vibrated as the wall moved aside, Veryl noticed the way Emmrich watched it all happen, a little extra interest in his expression.
"Different than how they do it in Neverra?" Neve asked, leading them out once the door had cleared.
"Not really," Emmrich sounded almost disappointed. "Though I do one wonder why they chose those particular runes. I would have perhaps done it a little differently, it would have been smaller that way."
"You'll have to give them some tips." This time it was Emmrich that received the same indulgent smile Neve often reserved for her.
“Stay with me Rook, and don’t touch anything. Milo here will take it as a sale, and you can’t afford his prices.”
Rook slowly drew his hand back from where it hovered over a sleek obsidian dagger. It had caught his eye on the way though the upper markets. He didn’t realise he’d stopped following Neve.
The shopkeep glared at Neve from across his counter and muttered she’d just cost him business. She rolled her eyes, Rook felt the air grow a little colder, “Milo what have I told you about troubling my friends?”
—————
“Stay with me Rook. And keep your coin purse covered. The mime’s good but her job is to distract you while her thief friends go to work.”
Rook rechecked that his was still tied to his belt and covered by his tunic as looked over the square. Neve laughed at the show as she tossed some coins in the bowl before her.
Now, Rook was less worried about thieves, and more concerned about the troubling possibility of increased mime shows in his future. Fuck, he was a sucker for her laugh though.
—————
“Stay with me Rook. That’s not a street to wander down if you want to keep your virtue intact. Unless you’re after an education?”
Rook whipped his head back round his face burning and he took a step back from the turn he’d been about to take. Down what was apparently (and now obviously since he’d had a second look) Dock Town’s red light district. He could hear the smirk in Neve’s voice. “I, what? No! My what? I’m not, I mean... I’ve…”
Neve’s turned back to face him, her eye raked over his form, “Oh I don’t doubt.” Impossibly he felt his face grow hotter. “But we don’t exactly have time to be getting into that kind of trouble right now do we?”
—————
“Stay with me Rook. Elek may like you but he won’t make an exception for you counting cards at his tables.”
Rook pouted and followed her out the pub. “He wouldn’t have caught me and I was going to use it to treat you to dinner at Hal’s.”
Neve grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the next alley way they passed. “You’re sweet, but I’d rather you didn’t go to the trouble of starting a gang war just to treat me.”
—————
“Stay with me Rook! On this path. The catacombs have never been fully mapped. We go any further I don’t know if I can find a way back for us.”
Rook looked down. Her hand gripping his was less surprising than the slight hint of panic in her voice. He squeezed her hand and walked back towards the entrance they’d came through.
“Stay on the same path as the Neve Gallus? No trouble at all.” And if she didn’t want to let go of his hand that wasn’t any trouble either.
—————
“Stay here Trouble, this coat is new. I’m not getting it wet.”
Rook looked down at his foot, frozen fast to the pier, stopping him from falling further into the Nocen Sea.
He’d always have a soft spot for the dock, seeing as it where they first kissed. It still knocked him senseless every time since. Though seeing as he couldn’t swim, they really needed to find a safer place to do this.
—————
“Stay here trouble. With me. I, can’t.., Just stick close she’s here.”
Rook didn’t hesitate. He drew his sword, readied his shield and stepped up to her left to cover her more vulnerable side when she was casting.
Footsteps were beginning to echo down the tunnels, towards them. “I’m with you Neve. All the way. No one will touch you.”
—————
“Stay here Trouble! Don’t you dare do this!”
Rook spluttered awake, the bitter tang of elfroot flooded his mouth. “M’alright, did it get you?”
“You idiot.” Neve’s palms slid into the tear in his tunic. One healing, one numbing the pain in his ribs. “Don’t do that again, I can make barriers remember.”
—————
“Stay here Trouble! Please! You said you’d find you way back! You said you’d try!”
Rook’s ears were ringing and his grey barren prison was starting to fill with light, blinding him. Someone had hold of him, he couldn’t tell if they were pulling or pushing him. It too was disorienting, too much sensation.
He tried to focus, closed his eyes and took a breath, then another. When he opened them he looked down, saw a hand still clutching his. They may have been battered and bloody but he’d recognise that teal colour anywhere.
—————
“Stay here Trouble, it feels like we haven’t seen each other in weeks.”
Rook had wanted to let Neve sleep, they’d both been working flat out to help rebuild Minrathous. He didn’t even hear her come home last night, and he needed to be at the docks early to supervise supplies coming in from the Anders.
He heard the bed dip behind him, her arms draped round his neck. Pressing up against him, nuzzling into his neck. “Come on, Trouble.” He kicked his boots back off and spun round to pin her to the bed. “You win.”
Neve finally broaches the subject on a certain memento in Rook's room.
A set of broken chains—Radek was sure his companions found it an odd choice of decor for the room he’d claimed as his in the Lighthouse. At a glance, it seemed out of place among the Elven draperies and other personal items that made the place more inviting. He knew his companions were nosy, so it would only be a matter of time before someone asked about them.
Unsurprisingly, it was Neve who was the first to bring it up in conversation. It was on an evening when they were comparing notes of the day’s missions over a bottle of brandy.
“Bit of a morbid trophy there,” she commented with a gesture toward the table where they rested.
Radek finished pouring her drink and handed it over to her. “Not nearly as grisly as some of the bits and bobs I’ve seen on Emmrich’s shelves,” he protested.
Neve shrugged. “I’m not judging, Rook,” she said. “Believe me: I understand the urge to collect mementos from a case.”
“I take it you want to know the story behind it.”
“Only what you’re willing to tell.”
Radek nodded toward the broken chains. “They’re from the mission that led me to Varric,” he said. “The slavery ring in Nessus. In a way, it was also the mission that gave me the chance to meet all of you.”
Neve snorted, nudging him in the ribs. “I knew you were a complete sap.”
“Ha ha,” Radek said, rolling his eyes and nudging her back. “It didn’t start that way. You know we salvage chains to melt down for scrap metal.”
“Oh, so it was purely for practical reasons,” Neve drawled. It was clear she didn’t believe him. “You just hadn’t gotten around to finding a use for them.”
“You jest, but that’s how it went down. Before I could even check in at the pawn shop after, I had The Viper swooping down from the rooftops and telling me I had to leave the country.”
Neve looked over at him, a softness around her eyes so different from her usual probing gaze. “So you hung onto them, the whole time you were on the road.”
“I did.” Radek fell into silence as he contemplated the broken chains again. Neve didn’t press him to elaborate right away, for which he was grateful. Like any good Shadow Dragon, she was patient and observant, and she didn’t make a move if it wasn’t the right moment. He could certainly learn a thing or two from her.
“I could’ve sold them during my travels,” he continued when he’d fully collected his thoughts. “Or crafted them into something we needed. But I didn’t. I suppose… I kept them as a reminder.”
Neve nodded, a look of recognition on her face. “You needed tangible proof that what we do is worth it. That for every Venatori scum that gets away, or for every Altus that bribes their way out of punishment, there is someone who is spared the auction block or the knife.”
Radek gave her a tired smile. “Something like that.”
He had his own reasons, of course. Ones that he wasn’t sure he’d be willing to share even in the safety of the Lighthouse.
Neve gently nudged his shoulder with her own and lifted her glass.
“Well, to making a difference, no matter how small,” she said.
Radek chuckled, clinking their glasses together. “To bringing the light.”
A few weeks after Isabella thwarted his plans for becoming First Talon, Illario has been working to prove that he is worth her mercy and forgiveness. However, a letter from his cousin comes in after the sky has turned an ominous crimson to let him know that his love has been taken by one of the gods and trapped in a prison of his making. Without anything else to lose, Illario rushes to find a way to the Fade to be there for his love.
And this is my last installment for Illarook 2026! Thanks for reading! This was a blast!!
AO3
Illario,
There is no easy way to write this, and I have tried several times. It is best if I just write the words down.
Isa is trapped in the Fade prison the blighted gods and Solas were trapped in.
I wish I could tell you that she's simply stuck somewhere in the lighthouse or the Fade that's easily accessible, but I cannot. Prof. Volkarin and Ms. Gallus are both hard at work trying to get her out, but we do not have an estimation of time of when she will be free again.
To make matters worse, Solas is loose because of this. I have written to Viago about this as well, but something happened when Ghilan'nain was struck down. Isa was pulled in and Solas appeared in her stead. The mages can explain it better, but they are busy as I'm sure you can understand.
Solas is in reality and Isa is trapped in the gods' prison.
Say nothing of this to Caterina if you want Isa found. Our grandmother will likely try to pressure me into returning to Treviso to assume my role before we find Isa. I still have one more god to kill, and maybe two if Isa gives me permission. Solas is responsible for her being trapped right now, and I would gladly sever his head from his shoulders. That said, this is still Isa’s contract, and I will abide by her rules.
I will write again when I have news.
Lucanis
Illario barely finished reading the letter before he rushed off to the Diamond. He had been granted some privileges back, such as leaving the villa, due to his help decimating the remaining Venatori in Treviso. More so since the sky turned red and the moon covered the sun.
Viago was barking orders when Illario reached the Diamond, shouting and demanding answers as Crows rushed around. Teia was doing damage control where she could before she noticed that Illario had entered. She paused before walking over to him with a sigh.
"I assume you heard?" she asked in a soft voice. Illario nodded before handing her the letter Lucanis wrote to him. Teia skimmed over it before shaking her head. "That's about what Viago and I received as well."
"What's being done?" Illario asked as Teia lifted her shoulders.
"Exactly what Lucanis told us. We need to bolster our defenses here to make sure that the gods can't take advantage of Antiva and Treviso. Lucanis and the others will find Isa," she replied before Illario shook his head.
"That's not good enough," Illario insisted, clenching his jaw. Teia grimaced, knowing how hard he had been working towards impressing her.
The last time Isabella had seen Illario had been when she had spoken to him about their relationship. She had been to Treviso since then to see to Ivenci, but she hadn't the time to see him since they needed to rush off to face the gods. He had assumed that she would be right back to see him.
Regret started to bubble in his chest as Teia stared at him.
"Viago will cut you at the neck if he hears you say that," she warned. Illario closed his eyes and calmed himself. He knew that the Talon was correct. Viago was likely just as distraught as he was, but Viago still had a job to do with responsibilities.
However, Illario didn't have such restrictions.
"How do I use the eluvian?" Illario asked as Teia stared at him in disbelief.
"You aren't supposed to leave Treviso, let alone go through the eluvian," Teia scoffed. He rolled his eyes, gesturing to the letter in her hands still.
"Bella needs me," he insisted as she grimaced.
"We don't know what she needs," Teia argued.
"I want to be there when she comes out of that prison. I need to be there for her," Illario insisted.
Teia took his measure, realizing that he would likely try to run through the mirror regardless of what anyone told him. She exhaled and shook her head.
"It's been sealed, but Viago has had mages working on it. Once it's been taken care of, he was going to the lighthouse. I would try to speak with him about letting you go with him," Teia suggested before handing him back the letter. As he grabbed one edge, she held on tighter to catch his attention. "Do not anger him, or you will not get to go, Illario. I want you to be there for Isa, but I cannot convince Viago to let you go. You have to do it."
"I understand," Illario replied with a nod. Teia exhaled, releasing the letter before she walked away.
Convincing Viago had been no easy task, but Illario had time since the de Riva mages needed time as well to crack the seal on the eluvian. Eventually, Viago caved, wanting to spend more energy on getting to his sister than arguing with her weird situation of a boyfriend.
Teia said nothing, but she was glad that both of them were going to help Isabella. She had wanted to go as well, but someone had to stay and make sure that the Crows still had a working leadership.
There wasn’t exactly a welcome party when they arrived at the lighthouse, but it was good that Lucanis was the one who showed up first rather than anyone else. Viago would have been welcomed, but Illario would have likely been detained at best by anyone else there. Illario kept Viago between him and his cousin as a buffer.
“Mierda,” Lucanis hissed before the Warden came in behind him. Illario smirked as Viago stepped forward.
Davrin still brandished his sword with his griffon by his side. Lucanis gestured for the Warden to lower his weapon, knowing that Viago wouldn’t bring Illario here if his cousin was a danger to them.
“How the hell did you get here?” Lucanis muttered as Viago gestured toward the eluvian room behind them.
“The de Riva Crows employ excellent mages,” he explained as Davrin smirked, sheathing his sword. Illario was glad to see that the Warden at least had a sense of humor. “They were able to unlock the eluvian, but the Caretaker has informed me that it is quite secure again.”
“Great,” Lucais sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to being stuck with his cousin and fellow Talon.
“Why are you here, though? Not much to do here,” Davrin remarked before Assan started squawking, confused by the commotion. Viago and Illario stared at the griffon as Davrin sighed. “Ignore the griffon.”
“Kind of hard to ignore,” Illario pointed out as Lucanis shot him a glare. Illario shrugged, only speaking to the truth.
“We’re here to help with finding Isa, or at least do something,” Viago answered as calmly as he could. Illario nodded once while Lucanis stared at him. “Staying in Treviso was accomplishing nothing, and Teia can handle things in my absence.”
After a moment, Lucanis exhaled, shaking his head. Viago and Lucanis talked for a moment as Illario waited, knowing that the Warden was watching his every move.
“And you thought that bringing Illario would be a good idea?” Lucanis wondered, folding his arms. Viago exhaled and ran a hand through his hair as Illario glared at his cousin.
“He was too persistant and I am too tired,” Viago complained before Illario rolled his eyes.
“And I am tired of waiting for Bella to come home. She shouldn’t even be dealing with the gods in the first place!” Illario nearly shouted before he took a deep breath. This was the gods’ fault. No one else. Even if he blamed Viago a little, it wouldn’t help here. “I want to be here when she comes back.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t moved on,” Lucanis remarked as Illario sneered.
“You know nothing,” Illario growled. “Why write me at all if you thought that I would move on?”
“It had been Neve’s idea. She had thought that I should send you an update, too. It seems like she was right,” Lucanis sighed, relaxing a little. Illario continued to glare, but his cousin shook his head. “There’s not anything we can do right now except to wait for now. The mages are still working on getting them out, but we’re hoping that they’re getting closer.”
“But there’s been no progress?” Viago sighed as Lucanis shook his head.
“Emmrich says he’s seeing glimpses and glimmers, but I don’t know what that means,” the Talon answered before Isabella’s brother folded his arms.
“Well, I told her that I would drag her out of the Fade if she died, but since she’s only trapped, I figured the sentiment would stay the same,” Viago grumbled as Illario did his best not to roll his eyes.
“Well, it seems that you’re stuck here since the Caretaker closed the eluvian behind you,” Lucanis mentioned with a sigh. “We don’t have a whole lot of room, but we have some options for sleeping and resting.”
Illario followed the Warden and the Talons out of the lighthouse and into the courtyard, and Illario understood why Isabella enjoyed spending her time in the Fade. It was gorgeous, even if the sky was dyed the awful crimson that looked like spilled blood.
Lucanis showed them around the lighthouse area while Illario remembered where everything was that Isabella talked about. Where she would eat, where she would climb, where she would relax. She would tell him such stories about this place until they had caught up with Zara. That was when things had gone downhill, but they had tried to start again.
He took a deep breath, knowing that he had turned a new leaf. He was here to help in any way he could along with her brother and his cousin. Illario would make sure that Isabella came home, even if he had to rip the Fade open with his bare hands.
Illario helped Neve most of the time with going back and forth from her study to Isabella’s room to gather supplies and such. Emmrich was lucky that his room was next door and his skeleton was there to help. Illario was more than willing to help as Viago and Lucanis strategized in the dining hall for when Isabella got out.
Illario knew better, though. Isabella wasn’t going to be ready to jump into the fray the moment she returned. She would want to, but she would need a minute. He could feel it. Isabella always needed a moment to gather herself after something intense like this, and Illario just hoped that spending weeks on end in the Fade prison wasn’t horrible. Or deadly.
He had fallen asleep on one of the couches down in the main area of the lighthouse’s library when he heard shouting coming from Isabella’s room. Illario sat up as he blinked for a moment before the words registered in his mind.
We found her.
Illario shouted for Lucanis, Viago, and Davrin to hightail it back before he dashed up the stairs to the meditation room where Neve and Emmrich had been working tirelessly for weeks. Taash was there as well, still wary of him, but they let Illario in just the same.
In the room, Illario could see a large, silvery fissure in front of the fish tank. He stood just behind the two mages, staring at the strange shimmery thing in front of him, and he wondered what needed to be done. He would gladly jump in if they believed that would be helpful.
It wasn’t long before Lucanis, Viago, and Davrin filtered in as well. Emmrich turned to the four of them and nodded. It was nearly time, not that any of them knew what was going to happen next.
“It’s not going to be easy, but we can do it. Just wait for my mark,” Emmrich instructed carefully. The group inched closer before the necromancer nodded once. “This way. It’s thinner here!”
“You better be right,” Davrin huffed as a few of them started to move forward to throw their hands into the fissure.
Illario rushed up to the break in reality into the Fade and threw his hands in, feeling for anything that would be solid. He couldn’t feel anything as he cursed under his breath.
“Isa!” Viago shouted, hoping that he could draw her nearer to them.
“There!” Neve pointed out as something appeared in the fissure that was different from before. “A light!”
“It has to be something, get ready!” Lucanis shouted before Illario grimaced.
Then he felt something- no, someone- grab his arms. Illario pulled back as hard as he could, refusing to let go of the familiar leather that he knew all too well. Taash grabbed his torso before they started to pull him back as well.
“Heave!” Taash shouted before the rest of the group helped Illario pull Isabella out of the Fade Prison within.
“Cariño!” Illario screamed as he pulled, hoping to call out to her.
Within a moment, the fissure in the Fade gave way, and something slipped out from the Fade and on top of Illario. He was knocked back as the group got out of the way as they saw Isabella return to the lighthouse in front of them.
Illario sat up a little just as Isabella wrapped her arms around him like he had been her only chance at life. He hushed her, brushing her hair back before glancing up at Emmrich and Neve. Emmrich frowned before shaking his head.
“She’s in shock,” the necromancer answered before grimacing. “She’ll be alright, but I think it’s best that we give them some space.”
“But-” Viago went to argue before Emmrich shook his head at the Talon.
“I don’t think prying Isabella off of Master Dellamorte right now is a good idea, Master de Riva. Once she comes to, I think she will ask to see you first, though,” the necromancer reassured before he and Neve ushered everyone out of the room.
Illario watched for a moment as the door clicked behind them before looking down at the woman that clung to his shirt like a lifeline. He leaned forward to kiss the top of her head before she grumbled in response.
He chuckled, shaking his head. Illario wondered if he would have any luck getting her to the chaise, but he figured that she could move once she was more lucid.
Soon enough, her grip on his shirt loosened little by little, and Illario was able to take her hand and kiss it. Isabella relaxed after that, and Illario noted that she only had one glove on. It troubled him that she would be caught with only one on, but he would ask about that later.
“Cariño? Are you with me?” Illario whispered as Isabella blinked as she turned to him.
“Ari? Are you really here?” Isabella asked in confusion. His heart soared when she used his nickname. He nodded as she tried to sit up a little.
“I’m really here, Bella,” Illario answered before holding her closer to his chest. “I’m here with you, mi vida. I promise.”
“Oh, grazie a dio che non sta cercando di uccidermi,” Isabella whispered through a sob as she threw her arms around his neck. Illario rubbed her back as he pressed face into the crook of her neck. “I was so afraid I was going to be stuck in there forever.”
“As if I would leave you in there alone,” he whispered. He felt her laugh more than he heard it.
“I am glad that you are here. I would have thought you might have decided that I wasn’t worth the effort in the end. That I might have asked too much of you,” Isabella whispered before Illario pulled back to cup her face so she would look at him.
Tears streaked down her face as she stared at him. Illario shook his head, shocked to hear those words leave her mouth at all.
“I would never hear such doubt leave your lips again, cariño,” he informed as she scrunched her face with emotion, more tears pouring down. “You are worth more to me than the stars in the sky, than the water in the canals, than all of the jewels and gold in the world. I love you, Isabella, and while I have completely fucked up, that will never change.”
Isabella sobbed, leaning into him as he gently held her, whispering sweet nothings as he kissed her hair.
“I heard terrible things while I was in the prison,” Isabella whispered after a few minutes once she had control of her voice again. “I heard your voice saying that you regretted meeting me. That I had become an obstacle, a threat. That you wanted to do away with me.”
“Never, Bella. Never. That forsaken prison was meant to play with your mind. It was meant to hold gods, yes? It was going to try to hold you as well,” Illario reminded, thinking back to his cousin’s letter. Isabella nodded, taking a moment.
“Do you promise me that I will never become an obstacle to you? Or a threat? Because your cousin and grandmother did, and I am still having a hard time with that,” Isabella whispered, staring at him with her big, green eyes. He ran a thumb over her cheek as he smiled gently.
“I promise and give you my word that I will never ever intend to do you any harm. You will never be viewed as an obstacle or a threat to me or my plans. If anything, I would have included you in them, but I am changing my ways, cariño,” Illario answered as Isabella watched him carefully. “Only for you.”
“People don’t change, Ari. You can’t change for me,” Isabella whispered, furrowing her brow. He pressed his lips together before smirking.
“Well, my ambitious and devious nature won’t go away, but I can guarantee that you will never be harmed by me, cariño,” Illario answered as she relaxed a little. “You are my everything and losing you even for the few weeks had been a nightmare.”
“I missed you, t- wait, a few weeks? Ari, it hasn’t been that long, has it?” Isabella panicked, staring at him. Illario nodded as she stared at him. “You waited for me at the lighthouse for weeks? You mean that you didn’t just get here because you heard the news?”
“Yes, I’ve been here with everyone for weeks, Bella. Viago is here, too, unfortunately,” Illario hummed with a teasing voice. Isabella turned to stare at the door before she looked at the floor for a moment. “What is it?”
“I didn’t… I didn’t expect you to stay here for weeks waiting for me. Not after our fight,” Isabella answered as Illario rolled his eyes. “It was a big fight.”
“Mujer ridícula,” he muttered before holding her face gently to bring it in for a kiss.
His lips met hers with passion, and Isabella froze in surprise before she relaxed into him, bringing her hands back over his neck to lean into him. Illario wanted nothing more than to kiss her worries away, but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. It could be a start, though.
“I am yours, my cielo. I’m not going anywhere unless you kill me yourself,” Illario answered dramatically. Isabella leaned back in a little bit of a daze. She knew that he would keep his distance if she demanded it, but she understood his sentiment. “Forever, if you wish it.”
“As long as you don’t try to kill your family anymore, I’m more than happy to stay at your side, cuore mio,” Isabella answered, brushing his hair back. “Would that mean I should figure out how to move into the Dellamorte villa? I don’t know how you and Viago would live under the same roof.”
“Are you alright living with Caterina?” Illario wondered as Isabella shrugged.
“I think she likes me well enough now,” she remarked with a hum. He brightened, realizing what she was saying.
“Really? Once the gods are good as gone, you will live with me?”
“It’s a promise, amore.”
“Then how do we kill those hijos de puta?” Illario asked with excitement as she chuckled, resting her head on his chest.
“Give me a few hours and then we can plan,” Isabella asked before he nodded.
“I was going to give you a few days, mi amor. You are in no condition to fight anything, as eager as I am for it to end,” Illario exhaled, holding her against him again. “But once this fight is over, I hope you know that I will make good on my promises.”
“I’ll hold you to it, amore. Remember, you are the one who decided to fall for a poisoner’s protégé,” she teased light heartedly with a lining of truth behind it. Illario chuckled, hearing the gentle threat loud and clear. He would whether whatever storm as long as it kept his cielo with him wherever he went.
