Eating Crow, Chapter 29: The (After) Life of the Party
Pairing: Lucanis x Rook
Summary: Rook sees a different side of Illario. Lucanis helps Rook see a different side of intimacy.
Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! chapter specific warnings in AO3 notes.
─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───
“Sit down.”
Illario thrust Rook towards the bed in one of the casino’s dimly lit guest rooms, her knees buckling as their backs hit the worn mattress. With a frustrated growl, she pushed herself up, only to be shoved down again. After two more tries, she remained seated, glaring at him as fury simmered in her gaze. He returned the look and folded his arms over his chest.
“Please.” She smoothed the anger coating her voice into something more desperate, her eyes pleading. “You brought me the man you believed responsible for my father’s death all those years ago. You knew how much I needed revenge, more than anyone. But you gave me the wrong man. And now the one truly responsible is within reach and you’d deny me retribution? He’s a threat to the Crows, to everyone we care for-”
“You are in no state to confront anyone, Fiammetta. You’re too emotional, you’ve had far too much to drink-”
“Since when did you become rational?” She sneered, wrapping her fingers around the carved ridges of the bedpost, and pulling herself to her feet. The tips of her fingernails dug through the wood’s finish as she carefully slid one foot forward, her heel scraping across the marbled floor with a screech. Her attempt to move with seductive grace was spoiled by the four glasses of champagne that swam in her blood, nagging at her joints and blurring the corns of her vision. Her former friend remained impassive, one eyebrow raised in skeptical amusement.
“Since you decided you have a death wish, apparently.”
“I’m as good as dead anyway, Illario. Not all of us will survive the gods.”
“You doubt yourself so much, and yet you fight anyway?”
“I trust my team. And I know I can make the sacrifices necessary-”
“So what? You’ve assembled an escort to your own suicide? Is that what this is, Fiammetta? All of this because you just can’t endure any longer?” He scoffed and let his hands fall at his sides, hitting his thighs with a dull slap. “And what of my cousin? You’ve let him believe he’ll have you in the end just so you can yank the rug out from under him?”
“You saw what happened when Cortez took him. I am a distraction. I nearly cost him-”
“And what will it cost him once he’s lost you? Grief is just as much a distraction as love. You should know, Fiammetta, you’ve thought of little else in your entire miserable life!”
“As if you don’t wallow in self pity yourself!”
“Spare me, Fi. It’s not the same. I don’t dwell on the past. But you… you live there.”
Rook opened her mouth, desperately searching for words to shout back. Verbal weapons to silence him, to shake him to his core, but she came up empty.
“He’s never loved anyone, Fiammetta,” Illario pleaded, “Not like you. Don’t do this to him.”
“As if you care-”
“Of course I care!” He charged forward and seized her shoulders, his face an inch from hers as his fingertips bruised her bare skin. “I thought I was doing him a favor. Zara twisted my mind until I truly felt only death could spare him from the fate of becoming First Talon. I was wrong, and it cost me my family. And Lucanis… it cost him everything . He will be an abomination for the rest of his life because I believed Zara’s lies. I betrayed him, my own blood.”
Illario began to tremble, and his grip loosened as his eyes fell to the floor. Shame was etched over every crease in his face, the hollow, dark rings under his eyes.
“Don’t make him suffer like that again,” he whispered, “Don’t lead my cousin on, only to throw yourself on the pyre and make him watch you burn. Spare Lucanis that fate, I beg you. Because I cannot take back the damage I have already done. He has somehow learned to trust despite my failure, but if you betray that trust… no one comes back from that.”
Rook blinked rapidly, her breath hitching as her eyes shimmered and burned. “Why tell me this?”
“I think you may be the only person left in Treviso who would believe me capable of remorse.” Illario released her and angled his head towards the window, unable to bear the weight of her gaze.
“For once in your life, Fiammetta, just do what Viago asks of you and be patient. Ivenci will fall, but politics never move quickly.” A bitter huff of air escaped Illario’s nose, and he shook his head, staring at one hand as he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “Rich, coming from me, I know.”
Rook narrowed her eyes. “Am I to believe you’re done scheming your way into power? That blood magic won’t corrupt you the way it has every other mage that has dared to touch it? If we survive, what happens to you when this is all over?”
Illario turned and yanked the door open, stepping into the hall.
“You forget, Fiammetta, I am not a mage.” He said over his shoulder. “As for your second question… I don’t know. I hear Dairsmuid is nice this time of year.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Relationships: Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook, Viago de Riva/Rook, Lucanis Dellamorte/Viago de Riva, Lucanis Dellamorte/Viago de Riva/Rook
Warnings : Rook is dealing with C-PTSD, mental health issues. Implied/referenced self-harm, mentioned medical trauma, intimacy issues. Feel free to check all the additional tags on the ao3 version !
Summary:
Rook, previously named Dawn de Riva, has always kept her composure pristine. Taught to be strong at a young age by her mentor turned colleague, Viago de Riva, she is used to never show her weaknesses. Unfortunately for her, once the gods are deafeated and her contract is fullfilled, she realizes that she is dangerously bordering on the edge of falling apart. As she tiptoes around her blossoming romance with Lucanis Dellamorte, The Demon of Vyrantium, she founds herself bound by years of trauma that are catching up to her. She learns how to be herself again, eventually, and discovers what life truly has to offer beyond the dark and the grim.
Chapter 1 : Another contract
It’s during dinner that she feels the first pang of panic in her chest. They are all assembled in the dining hall of the Lighthouse, sharing a well-deserved moment of peace after weeks and weeks of hard battle and planning. Tomorrow, they will put away their belongings and depart. Neve has planned to help reconstruct Minrathous as soon as possible, and Bellara, as loyal as ever, having found a new love in the arms of the charming mage detective, accompanies her. Davrin is determined to help Assan and the other griffons adapt to Arlathan’s forest. To say goodbye, at least for some time. Emmerich, in hopes of talking with Strife, has agreed beforehand to go with the Warden. Taash said she would ‘hang out’ with Isabela and help in the Hall of Glory for a while. Lucanis needs to prepare his next position as First Talon. Harding…Well, Harding is gone. Dead. Rook knows that very well. There is no reason to believe otherwise, to try to convince herself that she is still alive, because she has seen her die. Rook knows that Solas isn’t there anymore. Sh knows that he can’t pull a Varric move on her again, to try to make her see a flesh and blood Harding when her dwarf friend isn’t even there. After all, he doesn't need to. The gods have been defeated.
The fight is over. They came out victorious, and Solas has gone through the Veil with the Inquisitor. Rook should have been calm. Sad and torn apart by grief, yes, but not on the brink of a panic attack.
The weight of leadership that has strained her shoulders for months is just starting to alleviate. Not that she didn’t like her role as a leader. But during all this time, she had to put a lot aside to make sure their mission succeeded. Her own emotions, her own worries. It had always been kind of like this with the Crows, but not with such high stakes. In any case, the job was done. Contract fulfilled, as she would often say to Viago.
It's no wonder then that she freezes when a plate of bean casserole stew is being placed in front of her. She grips her fork, her knuckles a shade of white death. Looks at her plate. The voices of her companions, engaging in sparse discussion, come to her ears from far, very far away. Glad to be victorious, but tinted with the obvious strain of grief and exhaustion. She barely notices it. Doesn’t listen.
Rook was never really good at regular stuff outside of contracts. Enjoying the moments of peace. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to find herself. To have the strength to get back to herself. Contracts had kept her alive. But after that, she feels different.
It's as she took a way to strong, way to effective kind of drug. Avoiding herself had been made so, so much easier. Now that the fight is over, it's another piece of cake. The moment Solas disappeared through the Veil, an icy fear had started to pervade her. An intuition. The knowledge that, after such a big job, the contracts will not be able to keep her afloat anymore.
She knows then that she has to leave the dining hall. Go to the main building. Take the stairs. Go back to her room. The steps present themselves clearly in her mind, and it’s all she can hang onto to not break down right then and there. She focuses her mind on it. She knows that from the outside, her composure is perfectly smooth. Or as good as can be. She has been trained well.
She stands up and mutters that she has some small business she forgot to attend to, that she’ll be back soon. She doesn’t pay attention to their reaction. Most swallow up the lie like it’s honey. However, Neve looks nonplussed. And a light of alarm immediately goes off in Lucanis’ head. He feels Spite rouse inside him.
When Rook reaches the entrance, she is interrupted by the opening of the door. She almost rushes, nodding in distracted acknowledgment.
“Viago.” she salutes her superior before passing through.
The door shuts close.
“What’s the matter with her?” asks the Fifth Talon.
“I’ll go.” Lucanis says, already standing.
Viago nods. Rook has always been strong. He had taught her how to master one’s composure, how to never let one’s weaknesses show. But that, that’s new. The look on her face that he saw as he was entering the place. Not good. Not one bit.
Soon enough, the door opens again and Teia follows him into the dining hall.
“What’s with Rook ? ” she asks. “She looked…”
“I thought the same," Viago answers.
He doesn’t say the rest out loud, but Teia understands it : this doesn’t look good. As usual, Viago doesn't dwell on things. He clears up his throat.
“For the final arrangements,” he says to the rest of the team. “Neve, we have gathered Crow forces to help with Minrathous.”
~~~
Rook is shaking. She scolds herself for being this way. This isn’t supposed to happen. She’s supposed to deal with stuff in a normal way. Not crumble at the first opportunity, or whatever the hell this is.
She takes gulps of air but that doesn’t seem to help.
She knows, acknowledges her situation from a distance.
“Rook ?”
Shit.
Lucanis' voice is worried. She hears him approaching carefully, coming to a halt almost behind her. She sees him crouch from the corner of her eye. Her mouth opens, but only a few ragged breaths come out of it.
“Rook, look at me.”
She barely manages to do that. His hand comes to support her chin, lifting it gently towards him. Helping her look at him.
“Breathe. That’s it. In, and out,” he demonstrates.
Tears well up in her eyes. Gods, he can’t see her like this.
“Come back to me, Rook. I know you can do this.”
She follows his movements, the way he shows her how to breathe. When she gets there, she finally manages to speak.
“I’m sorry.”
Lucanis shushes her.
“No apologies, just breathe. I’ve got you.”
She lets herself go slack in his arms. He holds her. His warmth immediately envelopes her, and the cold ice stone under them is left nothing more than a detail. Time passes.
“I’ve never seen you like this, Rook. What is it?”
She doesn’t even know what to say. How to explain it. If there’s even something to explain, at all. Everything is all scrambled up in her brain. When she feels his fingers graze against her scalp, she closes her eyes. Her head is shaved, there’s not a strand of hair on it, but she still feels the pleasurable shivers when he passes his nails along her buzzcut.
“I don’t…I’m not like…”
His fingers pause, then resume their grazing.
“I have these moments, sometimes. I always make sure no one sees.”
Against her, Lucanis doesn’t move, providing a welcoming support for her.
“I never…It never happened like that. I always had things under control, or I dealt with it privately.”
“Until now,” concludes Lucanis. “Something is eating at your mind.”
She turns to dive into his deep, lovely brown eyes.
“What happened with the Antaams before I took this job is still not forgotten. I don’t know where to go from there. I still have to stay low for a while, and that’s okay, but…”
She doesn’t finish her sentence.
“We killed gods, Rook. You made it happen," Lucanis expression is focused on her, full of...what, pride ? "Why would the Crows continue to keep you at an arm’s length ? You’re not fired. If anything, you deserve a raise.”
She laughs at his words.
“You know it’s not like that.”
“It can be.”
He doesn’t say it, but she understands the meaning behind it. He’s First Talon. He won’t let her be cast aside.
“Do you remember what I told you? As long as my duties don’t call to me yet, I’ll be by your side. And even then, I’ll always be by your side.”
They turn towards the Fifth Talon, now standing at the entrance of Rook’s room. Lucanis reprimands himself for not closing the door sooner.
We’re not…Rook wants to protest, but she stops herself. She has a very specific point of view concerning these things. Of course, she loves Lucanis. She would die for him. And she knows that Lucanis loves her too. Unfortunately, there’s a limit that she cannot allow herself to cross. The night they shared together, before the final fight with Elgar’nan, could have been a night of…well, something more. But Lucanis had noticed her reluctance, and they had just made out and enjoyed each other’s company, hoping to still be alive at the end of all of this. She still doesn’t know how he feels about it.
“We have a meeting tomorrow with some of the houses. I’ll expect you there,” Viago adds, interrupting her train of thoughts.
Her mind grows calmer again. She processes the information. He doesn’t need to specify the place. The Cantori Diamond.
“And, Rook?” he adds. “You should go see a healer.”
She nods distractedly.
“Thanks, Viago?”
She knows she won’t take his advice. She has bad history with healers in general.
~~~
When she first shaved her head, Rook was fourteen. She never liked her strawberry blond curls. Not that they were ugly, but it didn’t match with her. She always had them at about chin’s length, long enough to cover her cheeks and maybe a part of her neck, but never more than that.
It hadn’t been a long time since she was taken in by the Crows. She still went by the name of Dawn. The training had been hard that day, and that was the first time that she felt that something in her was amiss. Not quite exactly right. That night, when she looked into the small wobbly mirror beside her bed, she couldn’t stand to look at her hair anymore.
The first try had been terrible. She’d ended up with splotches of hair scattered all around her partially shaved skull. When Teia had saw the mess she’d made of her head, she’d let out an exclamation of shock. The young woman had helped the girl get rid of the irregularities and had managed to give her a nice, presentable buzzcut. Upon seeing Dawn like this, Viago had raised a brow but hadn’t done anything besides giving her a small nod of encouragement.
Now, quite advanced into her twenties, Rook has kept up with this haircut. Although some of her battle scars extend to her scalp in quite a visible way, she is happy with it. Content. She may always have been kind of lost, but this, she has always been sure of it.
~~~
It’s a bit hard to wake up the next morning, but at least she has something to do : to assist a meeting. A smooth wave of reassurance washes over her as she gets ready to go to Treviso. Lucanis is behind her when they pass through the Eluvian, and Rook can’t help but flash a smile at him when they arrive in their city.
“Good to be home?” Lucanis says with a glint of adoration in his eyes.
She nods, humming the air. Cobblestone, dewy ivy, wood. Floral scents from the bushes nearby. The smell of the night is still lingering.
“Good to be home,” she confirms.
They get to the Diamond without waiting any further. When they enter the meeting room, a space adjacent to the main hall, everyone seems to be already there. Heir, sat next to an expectant Jacobus, gives a polite nod to Rook. Part of De Riva’s house is there as well, some sat on chairs around the big stone table coming up from the ground, others standing on the sides, leaning on the wall. Teia and Viago are waiting right next to the entrance.
Rook cannot escape the look Viago gives her. It’s a blue, ice, cold color. Even though she knows there’s a question in there, she doesn’t try to decipher it further. She’s not in the same state as she was in the last evening. She’s okay and functional now. Let’s get to it.
“Everyone is there,” Viago says, looking at both Rook and Lucanis this time.
Rook knows that look. It’s an easy one: you’re late. Weirdly enough, for a strictly-trained assassin, she sometimes manages to not arrive in time for things. She holds her smirk in. Teia’s voice comes cutting through, diving straight into the subject.
“Although Treviso has been badly affected by the Antaams and Ghilan’nain archdemon, Minrathous needs some more help rebuilding. As you all know, we have gathered a team for this. House de Riva and part of my house will be sent there.”
“Will there be operations in Treviso?” Jacobus asks.
“Of course,” Viago answers. “But we must be a bit more careful there. What’s left of the Antaam army will not go down smoothly. They’ve got their own network. We’re working on a plan.”
“This meeting is for the distribution of contracts,” Teia adds, retrieving a pile of parchments from under a small desk. “All of the previously appointed Crows from House De Riva, here.” She places a smaller pile of paper on the table. The Crows serve themselves. “House Cantori : Egoram, here is the quarter of the town that you're attached to. Take the trainees with you.”
“Maggie, you’ll go to Dock Town. You’ll find Neve Gallus there. Tina and Gregor, at the frontier.”
"Yrina, you’ll make rounds around the Cobbled Swan in search for any Venatori strays. I’ve heard some of them have found a hiding amongst bards and artists.”
Jacobus scoffs, quickly masking his laugh as a raspy cough.
Teia continues to distribute the papers until there’s none left. Heir and Jacobus are assigned to Treviso, which makes the young boy almost complain. He really wanted to travel to Minrathous.
"Jacobus Egrativi," Heir gently scolds as they stand up.
“That leaves us with the both of you,” Viago says, turning to Rook and Lucanis.
Rook is glad that the panic doesn’t knock at her ribcage when she hears it. No need to worry. You will have a contract. You will get busy.
“Obviously, I guess that you have some updating to do with your family, now, Lucanis. You’re First Talon, after all.”
Rook looks at Lucanis. His silky, raven hair shines under the oil lamps. For a moment she almost forgets herself, lost in the admiration of his smooth locks. She looks away, trying to push down the newly arisen thoughts. He’s beautiful. Hot. Kind. That big pleading look he gives me sometimes? Fuck. She shakes her head.
“Rook ?” Teia says.
Her head almost snaps back up, but she controls the movement just in time. She has been lost in thought regarding Minrathous and Treviso, obviously. Not thinking about Lucanis, at all. She was simply planning their next course of action. Not basking in his scent of coffee, and berries, and…
“We think it better for you to stay here a while,” Teia informs her cautiously.
The rest of the Crows are gone. They’re the only four left. At Teia’s call, Rook arches a brow. She resists the urge to scratch her neck in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“Here, in Treviso,” Viago specifies while closing the door. “Unless you still have matters to attend to with your team.”
“No, I don’t.”
She’s surprised the topic is even broached.
“Perfect,” he responds.
“What do you need me for, exactly? Am I allowed to retire?” she says with a smirk, knowing full well how Viago will react.
“No, Idiot. It’s a surveillance mission.”
“Okay. What is it?”
There’s a pause, almost imperceptible. But Viago continues:
“You must be prepared. Let me warn you…”
“Viago is worried,” Teia interjects, a smile on her lips. “He didn’t want you to take the job at first.”
Viago gives Teia a bad look.
“Worried? Damn, Viago, that’s not like you,” Rook says, hands on her hips.
“Take this seriously! That’s not me personally worrying over you. It’s way bigger than that. If you don’t do this correctly, the Crows could take a blow to their side.”
Rook isn’t convinced. She catches Lucanis from the corner of her eye: he’s just as confused as her.
“Not to sound arrogant, but we just killed gods,” she says. “I’m sure your new contract will be in reach of my abilities.”
Teia and Viago share a look. Oh-oh. Rook falters.
“Okay, get it out,” Lucanis intervenes. “What is it?”
It almost seems like Viago doesn’t want to open his mouth and say the words. When Teia finally speaks, giving him the chance to stay silent, Rook doesn’t register the words at first. Lucanis places a warm hand on her shoulder.
Levito’s Healing House. Levito’s Healing House. Levito’s…Healing…House. You must investigate around Levito’s Healing House. That’s the name. She hears it, reverberating in her skull, jumping around like a rubberball. Levito’s Healing House. They’re planning something. It’s our chance to root them out of the city for good, but we must have someone investigating around here first.
Rook doesn’t let herself stumble in front of them.
“Why?” she asks, gaze lost in front of her. “Do you need me to infiltrate the place as a spy?”
“No,” Viago reassures her. “Not to that extent. Just observing from afar. Gather information. As I’ve taught you.”
Even though she’s relieved at hearing she won’t have to go back inside this…thing, her throat locks.
“Why me?” she asks.
Her voice is neutral. Not a shake in it.
“Viago thought you’d be the best suited for it, in the end. You have...history, back there.”
Teia looks sorry as she says it. Rook glances furiously at her mentor.
“What? And you don’t even want to tell me yourself? Teia has to be the one saying it? She just said you didn’t want me to take the job!”
“Rook…” pleads Teia. “We’ve tried to find someone, but we know it will be fruitless if it isn’t someone who knows their way of operating.”
Rook takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“So, observing.”
“Yes.” Viago nods. “Rook, I need you to confirm to me that you will not get into this personally. As I said, if you do something rash, I don’t know if the Crows will be as forgiving as they were with your little run-in with the Antaam.”
She nods.
“I need words.” Viago adds sternly.
Rook raises her head to plunge her eyes in his. Ice, blue, cold. Fresh snow. Cooling.
“Okay.”
“Did I miss something?” Lucanis asks.
“It’s Rook’s story to tell,” answers Viago.
“Do you know what Levito’s Healing House is?” Rook asks him.
“I…vaguely remember. It’s a place of healing.” Viago rolls his eyes. Lucanis feels Spite snicker inside of him. “For matters of the mind, as they say themselves,” he adds.
Rook nods.
“Well, I was in there for a part of my childhood. Don’t remember it a lot, but what I remember is…not good.”
“They don’t do healing, obviously.” Teia says, her mouth a crisp line.
Lucanis doesn’t need to ask further details. He knows, now, he remembers, the whispers about the place. This shady mental institution in Treviso. The kids who manage to escape from there, the things they manage to tell, if they're not rendered mute from traumatism.
“You told me about it, once, after Weisshaupt” he says, thoughtful. “That you grew up in this sort of place.”
Rook nods.
“Not for all my life, but yes.”
He wants to know what happened to her in there, but he knows it's not the right time for this.
“You have all my support, in whatever you do, Rook. Remember that.”
“Thank you,” she manages to smile.
Her hand comes to find his, and squeezes. He can see the way her jaw untightens at the contact. He squeezes back.
When they leave, Teia turns to Viago.
“She took this surprisingly well. I mean, she seemed a bit stunned, but that’s to be expected. What do you think of it?”
“Her reaction?” says Viago. “She’s obviously bluffing. But I’ll take her word on this. I trust her.”
“So you think she will take it upon herself? If she’s bluffing, that means she’s affected.”
“She will. She’s strong like that, Teia.”
A pause.
“I know.”
They look at each other, Teia almost reaching to caress Viago’s wrist. He doesn’t seem disturbed, but she notices how he’s still a little bit paler than usual.
“You are not making it easy for me to be a gentleman, Fiammetta.”
She slipped one bare leg from under the sheets and wrapped it around his waist. “What gave you the impression I wanted you to be?”
“Maker.” Lucanis growled, his restraint giving way as his hand skimmed up the back of her thigh. “You’re worse than Spite.”
“We have shared interests.” She said, tugging impatiently at the clasps holding his shirt together. He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he cocked his head to the side. A dim violet presence flickered, disappearing before Rook could be certain if it had really been there at all.
“Do you?”
Pairing: Lucanis x Rook x Spite’s bad intentions
Summary: Lucanis calls Rook's bluff. Smut ahead. Part of my larger fic but could be read as a standalone chapter if you're just looking for some brief smut.
Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! warnings: SMUT. PIV. Oral sex, fingering. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).
Read on AO3
─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───
Weary-eyed, Rook lifted her head, squinting to make out Lucanis’ figure by the hearth. Just barely illuminated in the soft lilac glow of predawn, he sat with one leg crossed over the other in his chair, brows pinched together in concentration. Over the crackle of the dying fire, his pen scratched against the page of his logbook. Outside, the rain had ceased, water dripping from the tree branches and dragging the windowpane.
“Did you even sleep?” Rook asked, holding the sheets against her chest as she pushed herself into a seated position. Lucanis’ pen froze mid-stroke, and he glanced up in surprise, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I never sleep.”
Abandoning his worn leather notebook, he strolled across the room and joined her on the edge of the mattress. With her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he moved her head from side to side, examining her neck.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better.” Rook said as he gingerly ran a knuckle over the column of her throat before withdrawing his touch.
“You look it.”
Curious, Rook smoothed her own hand over her skin, where the bruises and cuts from the evening before had now vanished. Impressed, she slinked closer to Lucanis, allowing the sheets to fall around her waist.
“I’d love to have the name of your tonic supplier.” She purred, bracing her palms on the bed and leaning in. With a smile, Lucanis ghosted his parted lips over hers, lingering just close enough for the anticipation to become agonizing.
“You should see what he charges first.”
“Why are you complaining? It’s not as if you can’t afford it.” Rook whispered, before she tugged at the collar of his shirt, collapsing back onto the mattress and bringing him down with her. Lucanis feigned incredulity, a hoarse laugh escaping his throat as he threw his head back, staring at the ceiling.
“You are not making it easy for me to be a gentleman, Fiammetta.” His hair fell around his face as he gazed back down at her, the ends brushing her cheek. She slipped one bare leg from under the sheets and wrapped it around his waist.
“What gave you the impression I wanted you to be?”
“Maker.” Lucanis growled, his restraint giving way as his hand skimmed up the back of her thigh. “You’re worse than Spite.”
“We have shared interests.” She said, tugging impatiently at the clasps holding his shirt together. He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he cocked his head to the side. A dim violet presence flickered, disappearing before Rook could be certain if it had really been there at all.
“Do you?”
Without warning, Lucanis called her bluff and flipped her onto her stomach, pinning her between his legs. Mouth slightly ajar, Rook turned her head to watch as he rose to his knees behind her, lifting one eyebrow and dropping his shirt on the floor.
“Did I misread your intentions?” He asked as his hands drifted to his trouser claps, waiting for her response. She shook her head, and with a smirk, he slipped out of his pants and crawled over her. Rook inhaled sharply as Lucanis’ knees bracketed her body, his teeth scraping the side of her neck, following the trail of warmth his hand left down her side.
“Rook, Rook, Rook…” he hummed, gathering a fistful of her hair in one hand. “What am I going to do with you?”
His fingers slid between her legs, teasing the arousal that had gathered there. He murmured something incoherent against her skin with fervent reverence before he slipped inside of her with a low moan. Rook uttered a needy mewl and squeezed her eyes shut.
“You’re quiet. Have I lost you?”
She could hear the mischievous smile on his face as he spoke, setting an agonizing, measured pace before he hauled her against him, her back pressed to his chest as his lips skimmed her jawline.
“It’s hard to speak like this, isn’t it?” His teeth grazed the shell of her ear before he pushed her on to her hands, gathering the wetness that escaped her toward her clit, drawing rough and perfect shapes with deft fingertips as he fucked her. Rook collapsed onto her elbows and moaned into the pillows, one fist curling in the sheets.
Something between a laugh and a harsh groan of satisfaction rumbled in Lucanis’ throat as he reached forward and threaded his fingers through hers, wrapping her hand around an iron rung on the headboard.
“I know, I know,” he cooed as the frame thumped against the wall. Rook let out of a sob of pleasure, her hands sliding down the rungs in surrender. She clenched herself tight around his cock and Lucanis cursed, pulling out and prying her grip from the headboard. He rolled her onto her back, sliding a calloused hand between their stomachs.
“It kills me to tease you, Fiammetta…” he whispered against her lips as his fingers returned to her clit, “but you seem to enjoy it so much…”
“Lucanis-”
“She speaks,” he mumbled against her skin as he kissed the base of her throat. “Go on, Rook. Don’t just give me pretty sounds that leave me guessing.”
He inserted two fingers inside of her, curling them and assessing her reaction.
“Fuck-“ she managed with a guttural choke. Her cheeks burned a bright pink as her unfocused eyes stared into nothingness above them.
“You’re close, aren’t you? Should I help you finish?”
Rook whined and dug her nails into his back, arching her hips towards him, desperate for more contact. Lucanis smirked and put his fingers, wet with her arousal, in her mouth as he kissed a trail down her abdomen.
“Keep those warm for me.”
He dipped between her legs, spreading her thighs apart and dragging his tongue slowly up her center. Rook’s moan was muffled as he popped his fingers from between her lips, bringing them back inside of her. He worked her clit with his mouth, holding her gaze with heavily lidded eyes.
Rook’s body went warm, and she felt the familiar shock of pleasure burn through every nerve. Her vision blurred, and she bucked her hips, grasping for his hair. Lucanis reached up and pressed his hand against her stomach, fingertips creating soft indents in her skin as he dragged them down her belly, pinning her to the sheets.
Once her legs were trembling and her hair was stuck to her forehead atop a sheen of sweat, Lucanis pulled his fingers free and pressed his lips to her inner thigh. He crept back over her and kissed her, allowing her to taste herself for a second time as he teased the wetness he’d left between her legs with the tip of his erection, just barely stretching her entrance enough to make her whimper. She tugged at his hips eagerly, her tongue seeking his, and he took it as eager permission, groaning into her mouth and pressing forward to sink back inside of her.
“Is this too much?” He asked as Rook broke away from the kiss. She drew in a shaky breath, readjusting to the size of Lucanis while he held himself above her. With a shake of her head, she rocked her hips against him insistently.
“I want to feel it when you-“
Lucanis cut her off with a rough kiss, finding a quicker, but more ragged, pace than before.
“Maker, Rook.” He buried his face in her neck, pulling her body close. With a string of bitten off Antivan curses and words of veneration, he spilled himself inside of her with a strangled cry, muffled by his pillow case.
Lucanis sagged, catching his weight on his elbows, taking a moment to catch his breath. When he pulled back to meet her gaze again, his features softened as he searched her face.
“You okay?”
Rook wet her lips and nodded.
“You?” she breathed, unblinking.
“Never better.”
Lucanis slid off of her and collapsed onto the mattress with a contented sigh. Rolling on his hip, he traced her waist with his fingertips, eyes sparkling with amusement as she shivered. Her attention flicked towards the window, the sun’s orange and yellow rays peeking through the tree branches that tapped against the pane.
“Escort me to the casino? Viago will be impatient to hear about Ivenci.”
“So soon?” Lucanis arched an eyebrow. “After all that?”
Rook kissed his cheek, winked, and rolled out of bed, padding to the fireplace and to retrieve her dry clothes. Lucanis draped the sheets over his lap and watched with a frown as she slipped into her leathers.
“You’re in a hurry. Usually, you at least wait a few minutes before vaulting out of bed.” He rolled off the mattress and searched the floor for his clothes. “Is it so unbearable that I actually care for you, Fi?”
Guilt stirred in Rook’s chest as she watched him tug on his pants, fastening the buttons while he attempted to mask his disappointment.
“It’s not…unbearable.” She averted her gaze and retrieved her boots. “Just…inconvenient timing.”
Lucanis pulled his shirt over his shoulders and shook his head. He crossed the room and seized her face in his hands, kissing her intensely before letting his touch slide down to her chin.
“What’s this about, mm? What have I done to make you so distant again?”
“Lucanis, it’s just - I can’t let Vi down. And besides, we’ve been away from the Lighthouse for too long, and the team-“
“Ah, your duty calls, but I’m supposed to walk away from mine as First Talon because you asked nicely.”
“That’s not…” her chest tightened. It was. It was exactly what she’d asked of him. Demanded, even.
Lucanis let his hands fall away and sat down in his chair, tugging his boots on.
“You can’t be with me if I remain First Talon, can you?” He pulled his laces tight with a swift motion, the threads audibly squeezing against the leather with a violent snap. “You couldn’t stomach it.”
“I could learn...” Rook protested. “If it was what you really wanted…”
“And if it was just what my duty demanded of me? If I can’t walk away from something my grandmother sacrificed everything for?”
“You don’t owe her-“
Lucanis stood and moved in front of her, hands reaching up to adjust the buckles on her chest piece, fingers finding the fastenings with ease.
“Is my fight so different from the one you inherited from Varric?”
Rook froze.
“That’s different. Varric is….”
“I know.” Lucanis’ expression softened, and he ran his thumbs over her temples, smoothing her hair back. “I should not have taken things there. I apologize.”
He kissed her forehead and passed her coat to her, taking his logbook from the chair and pocketing it. Drawing his cloak over his shoulders, he nodded toward the door.
“Come. Let’s find Viago.”
Please take a moment to like/kudos/comment here or on AO3 if you enjoyed and have a moment to spare, it would mean a lot to me!
He turned, his hand instinctively gravitating towards her leg. Behind his eyes, the spirit of determination’s presence hummed with impatience, desperate to touch her as his fingertips brushed her thigh.
“I’ll follow you anywhere, Rook. As whatever you want me to be.”
She touched her thumb to the cut on his bottom lip before letting her hand fall away.
“Have you ever just done something you wanted? For your own sake?”
Lucanis leaned back against the couch, toying with a loose thread on the frayed hem of her nightgown before raising his head to meet her gaze.
“A couple of times,” he said with a coy smile, “In recent memory.”
Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???
Summary: Lucanis plays the role of damsel in distress.
Word count: 4.7k
Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! warnings: sexual content, blood/gore, graphic violence, death, angst, Dellamorte Drama™
notes: if you have not read Teia/Viago's story in Tevinter nights, there may be some missing context, and I highly recommend reading it if you can! If you need a summary, its in the AO3 summary. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).
Read on AO3
─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───
Citizens ambled through the busy Cantori Diamond, occasionally brushing against the shoulders of Rook’s coat as she weaved through the crowd on her way to Viago’s office. Scowls and shouting came from betting tables, while in the darker corners of the casino, men inconspicuously received handjobs or head. Behind her, a drunk was thrown out by the collar of his shirts.
What a lovely place to conduct business.
Reaching the security staff in front of the stairs, she nodded with impatient acknowledgment. With a grunt, two men stepped aside and let her pass before resuming their post.
Lucanis had disappeared after their talk in the kitchen, save for a brief interaction where Spite found her in the courtyard, feet dangling over the edge into oblivion. She hadn’t needed to recognize the familiar gait behind her.
“Hello, Spite.”
“You. Have a prison. Like Lucanis.” He had said. “Shame. Loneliness. Resentment. Crows. Hurt you.”
“They hurt Lucanis, too. ”
Spite went silent then, eyes shifting back and forth as he stared into the nothingness below, searching for a way to articulate his thoughts.
“He is afraid. Of losing. Rook.”
“I belong to no one.”
“Lucanis. is not. Prison!”
Frustrated, the demon began to pace. It couldn’t be easy, Rook thought to herself, for a spirit to possess so much knowledge, but have such difficulty communicating through its host. Was he searching through Lucanis’ thoughts like one would a stack of files? Was every motive shared, or could there be secrets kept between the two?
“Lucanis let you in. To HIS prison . Now YOU let HIM in!”
After the outburst, she quickly excused herself from the encounter and went to bed, eager to think about anything else. To her relief, Spite had not followed. Three days had since passed, and when Bellara hadn’t noticed even one stray coffee mug during that time, Rook had a sinking feeling something was terribly wrong.
“Fi!”
As Rook reached the top of the stairs, Teia jumped down from where she’d been sitting on Viago’s desk, pulling her friend into a tight embrace. Over her shoulder, Rook scanned the room, noticing to her dismay that Lucanis wasn’t present, but his cousin was. Legs crossed on a nearby couch, Illario cocked his head with interest as their eyes met.
“When are you coming home?” Teia asked, pulling back and gripping Rook by the front of her coat. “You can’t just abandon me here with these two again!”
“Eventually…” Rook glared at Illario until he shamefully redirected his attention to stare at the opposite wall. Carefully, she pried Teia off of her and glanced around the room. “Has Lucanis been by?”
“A contract came in two days ago requesting him specifically.” Viago said, flipping through a newspaper on his desk. “The money was too good to turn down, and he had the time. Apparently, you don’t keep him busy enough.”
“What kind of contract?” Rook asked warily, “Hopefully not one your new assistant is involved in?”
“You think I set him up?” Illario called from his seat, smiling and feigning disbelief as he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Enough.” Teia chastised, stepping between them and putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “Illario is being rehabilitated. Don’t provoke him.”
“I didn’t know you took in strays.” Rook said innocently, returning Illario’s scowl with a mocking smile. “Tell me about Lucanis’ contract.”
“I wasn’t privy to details,” Viago said irritably. “Enzo Cortez requested a meeting.”
“If it’s so easy, why hasn’t Lucanis completed it yet?”
“Vi, after what happened at the summit with Emil, you don’t think a request for an audience with the First Talon is a reason for concern?” Teia asked.
Her cousin paused, placing a finger on the news page to hold his place.
“Enzo doesn’t share his grandfather’s ambitions, and he’s half the assassin Lucanis is. Unless you think his passenger could cause issues.”
“It’s not Spite I worry about,” Rook said, glancing at Illario. “Does the Cortez family ever dabble in blood magic?”
He examined the tip of his glove disinterestedly. “They prefer being mixed up in Antaam business.”
“You failed to mention that.” Viago growled, shaking his head and taking his cloak from where it was draped over a nearby chair. “Forget professionalism. I’d like to check in on this contract .”
“Wait up.” Teia said, grabbing her knives from the desk.
“You coming?” Rook asked Illario.
“Is that an invitation?”
“It’s an order.” Viago said, thumping the back of his skull and falling in step beside Teia.
─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───
“For someone who claims to have cut ties with the lowlives of this city, you knew exactly where to go,” Rook muttered as Illario led them through Treviso’s warehouse district.
“It’s in the contract, Fiammetta. Unless you’ve forgotten how to read. Is that why you had to change your name to Rook? Fewer letters?”
“Enough. Both of you.” Viago shoved between them and cracked open a metal door. It creaked loudly before falling off the hinges onto the stone floor, sending a resounding slam throughout the rest of the warehouse.
“Announcing your arrival? I like your style.” Teia said, stepping over the rubble and checking the perimeter of the room.
“It’s too quiet here.” The Fifth Talon unsheathed his daggers. “This was supposed to be an easy job.”
As they rounded a corner, they were greeted by several bodies. Rook nudged one with her foot, noting that despite being in full rigor, the corpse hadn’t been cold for more than a day. So, Lucanis had passed through here…but where had he gone after?
“Over here.” Illario hissed, peeking through a crack in another door. Rook joined him, stepping out onto another rooftop and watching her breath in the cold night air as she surveyed the horizon. She followed Illario’s outstretched finger to a beam connecting two unstable platforms and suppressed a groan of annoyance. Lucanis was never one to take the conventional way in. Which was what made it even more surprising he could be caught at all. Why was this the job he fell short on?
One by one, the four Crows held out their arms for balance and crossed the beam, hopping off and descending a trellis to the streets below. A large manor towered over them, illuminated from within.
“This was Emil’s former residence.” Viago noted, dragging a gloved finger over the house number. “Perhaps the warehouses were used by the Antaam.”
“Let’s not bother knocking.” Rook said, pressing her ear to the door and ensuring there was no one on the other side before picking the lock. With a soft click, the knob shifted, and she turned it and slipped inside.
The Cortez villa held the same strange eloquence that its members carried in their personalities, beneath its state of decline. Lit candles lined the halls, where hand-painted wallpaper peeled where it met the water-stained ceiling. The wooden floors were scuffed and cracked, and the house smelled as if its condition had been deteriorating for some time.
Silently, Viago motioned for them to follow down a vacant corridor to the right. Daggers drawn, he descended a set of stairs that creaked softly underfoot, no matter how expertly each of the Crows stepped. A damp, sour smell permeated the air and when Rook pulled her hand from the railing, she noticed a smudge of something green and moldy on her gloves. With a grimace, she wiped it on Illario’s jacket, earning herself a dirty look.
Water dripped from the support beams above their heads into puddles strewn across the floor, causing the foundation of the home to rot. Rainwater and canal overflow had been seeping through so long she wasn’t sure how the house was still standing at all.
Suddenly, Viago stopped in his tracks, staring at something against the wall.
A support beam on the ceiling had given way at some point, collapsing in a corner. Wrists chained to it, Lucanis’ unconscious form was prone on the floor. As Rook tried to dart forward, Viago caught her by the arm and shook his head.
“It could be a trap.”
“Then you deal with it.” Rook said, tearing herself from her cousin’s grasp and rushing to Lucanis’ side.
On her knees beside him, she pressed her ear to his chest, feeling its ragged rise and fall and the crackling sound accompanying his every breath. Rook cupped his face in her hands and examined his injuries. He had a black eye and a gash along his cheek that she reached for apprehensively. Lucanis roused at her touch, his eyelids fluttering open, widening in recognition.
“You…shouldn’t be here.” He rasped.
“I thought you were untouchable.” She said, blinking back tears as she ran a thumb over his bloodied bottom lip. Her hands moved over his torso where his shirt was splayed open, revealing a bruised and lacerated chest in the dim light.
“Got sloppy.” He said, as he winced, staring over her shoulder at the stairs to where the others stood. “Enzo Cortez’s men are upstairs. And Antaam.”
Rook looked back at Teia and Viago, who nodded and retreated to the second floor, dragging Illario along with them.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” Rook said, propping him up and fumbling with the chains binding his wrists. His chin dipped as he lost consciousness, Spite surfacing under a veil of violet. Slowly, the demon lifted his head, his presence visible in Lucanis’ irises as he assessed her impatiently.
“Body. Too weak to FIGHT .”
The demon sounded like a caged animal. It only made sense, after all. A powerful spirit was only physically as strong as its host, and Lucanis had suffered far too many blows and lost too much blood to even stand on his own.
“I don’t need him to fight.” Rook said, her voice cracking as she carefully melted a rusting link in the chain with her fingertips. “I need him to live.”
Upstairs, she heard scuffling against the floorboards and cries of surprise that turned to silence just before a fight broke out. The link finally snapped, hot metal singing her index finger before she flinched and threw the chains across the room. They scratched against the baseboards as she cursed and squeezed her fist tightly. She pulled Lucanis’ arm around her shoulders and struggled to her feet, staggering under his weight until she was able to brace him against the doorframe, smoothing his hair from his face. His skin was clammy underneath her palm.
“You’re supposed to run away from danger.” He turned to spit blood onto the floor. “Not towards it.”
“I thought you knew me better than that.”
He huffed weakly, barely mustering the energy to open his good eye to look at her. ”You’re right. You never do what you’re told.” He tried to push her away, but failed, letting out a sharp breath and clutching at his broken ribs. “Most Crows die from mistakes like this.”
“Not you. Not today.” She said, maneuvering him towards the stairs. “We still have a contract.”
“Is that…all…we have?” he asked, his words punctuated by gasps of pain.
“Lucanis…” she warned, leaning on the wall with his weight against her while she caught her breath. “Don’t do this here.”
He winced again, bracing a hand on the eroding bricks as he reached for her face with a bloodied palm.
“I’m…sorry.” He pulled back as he examined his filthy hands. “I should have told you…about Caterina…”
The sound of perfectly cobbled boots echoed down the steps and their heads snapped towards Illario, smirking down at them as he leaned against the railing.
“Cousin, you’re still making Fi do all the work? Is this how you plan to lead as First Talon?”
Lucanis groaned, his body trembling with the effort to remain upright. “What is he doing here?”
“Helping, believe it or not.” Rook murmured.
“You used to be strong, cousin. Look at you now. Relying on Fiamma to carry you out of here like a damsel in distress.” Illario crossed the room and wrapped his cousin’s arm around his shoulders. Lucanis tried to resist, but Illario delivered a sharp jab of his elbow to his ribs and he coughed, relenting.
“I’ll take him to the Villa and call for a healer.” Illario said, eyes sweeping over Rook’s body. “Meet you there.”
“You expect me to trust you? ”
“Looks like you’re lacking alternatives.” Illario’s smirk faded as Spite’s presence flickered in and out of Lucanis’ expression, displeased by his rescuer. With an irritated sigh, he waved one hand towards the chairs. “Go, I’m not stupid enough to choose the losing side twice.”
Rook clenched her jaw. “If he doesn’t survive this, I’ll ensure Caterina doesn’t have a single heir.”
Illario smirked. “Careful, Fiammetta. Don’t reveal all your cards just yet.”
Rook gave him one last stern look before tearing her gaze away and venturing deeper into the house in search of Viago and Teia. It wasn’t difficult to follow the trail of blood.
When she reached the two of them, Emil Cortez’s eldest grandson sat calmly in a chair behind his desk as Viago leaned over it with a menacing snarl.
“Your House’s reputation was already in the dirt, you just ensured it would be buried.” Viago said through gritted teeth. Teia stood behind him, arms folded as her eyes flicked towards Rook with concern when she passed through the door.
“I care neither for House nor reputation.” House Cortez’s heir countered, “Only justice.”
“This is your idea of justice? Luring, imprisoning, and torturing your First Talon?” Viago spat. “You and your grandfather were fools for even looking in the Antaam’s direction.”
“How are you enjoying your gift from the summit?” Enzo nodded towards Viago’s sleeve, where his grandfather’s Death Adder had infamously bitten him a few summers ago.
“Cousin, accompany Illario while he takes Lucanis back to the villa.” Rook said suddenly, a warning in her voice as her eyes lingered on House Cortez’s heir. “I will handle this.”
“This is Crow business.” Viago snapped, “You do not outrank me, and you’re in no position to give orders.”
“Vi. Let her.” Teia said, reaching for his bicep. “If you’re the one to end an entire House line, you’ll be accused of conspiracy by the other Talons.”
He flinched, but removed his hands from the desk, rocking back on his heels. Viago was almost as wary of politics as he was of poison.
“So I should let my kin do it instead? How would anyone even know if it was me?”
“Fi is already acting outside of Crow custom. It’s revenge, or insurance, for Lucanis, whatever way you want to see it. She gains nothing, politically. As Talons, however, you and I could be accused of setting up a coup.”
The two exchanged a long look before he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
“Formalities.” he said, glaring at Rook from the corner of his eye as he left the room, the heels of his bloodied dress shoes clicking against the hardwood. “Do what you must.”
“You made a grave error tonight, Cortez.” Rook said, pulling her sword from her belt and letting the golden hilt catch in the light. Crow Killer, perhaps that would be a fitting name for it. She’d have to write the title down before Viago used it to name one of his poisons.
“I do not fear death.” Enzo said, sitting up straighter and crossing his legs. She watched him, anticipating a sudden movement or trap, but there was an air of acceptance around him, rather than smugness.
“Will you humor me then?”
“Sure. I always liked your father, Little Flame. He knew how to work outside the constraints of politics to get things done.”
She ignored what he surely meant as a compliment and traced the blade of her sword with one finger.
“Just two questions. Why? And how?”
“To carry out my grandfather’s legacy, of course.”
“And what legacy is that?”
Cortez snorted. “Amongst the Antaam, you will find a man named the Butcher. I think he would like you. And I think you would find his love for Treviso transcends any Crows’.”
“No Antaam gets to claim love for my city.”
“A small-minded approach, but I can’t fault you for it.” Cortez replied. “Tell Lucanis I send my regards, and that this was nothing personal. My grandfather always adored Caterina. If they would have just let Illario become heir, this could have all been so much simpler.”
Rook exchanged a glance with Teia.
“As for how…” Enzo continued, “The Demon of Vyrantium is notoriously good at what he does. But now he has weaknesses.”
“Spite.” Rook said instinctively.
Enzo shook his head and grinned.
“No, no. The spirit is an asset . But you … ” his voice suddenly took on a note of saccharine sweetness. “All I had to do was mention your name . He hesitated - just for one second - and that was all I needed to incapacitate him. No blood magic, no traps. Just… you .”
Rook froze, unable to keep her expression from falling.
“Every House witnessed it at that shit show of a meeting that Illario called. Love is weakness, my dear. A man with a target on his back knows it better than anyone.”
In one swift movement, Rook slid her sword into Enzo’s throat, holding it there as he sputtered and smiled, blood staining his teeth as his face slackened and paled. She tore the blade out of his neck, half decapitating him and sending long streaks of blood in every direction. Maroon splattered against the walls and painted her face.
“A waste of such a nice jacket,” Teia lamented, rubbing her sleeve between her thumb and forefinger where blood splatter had reached it. Rook swept the back of her hand over her face, and it came back wet and dripping in what remained of the Cortez line. Her kills were always messier when she was angry.
“You get it all out of your system?” Teia asked.
“Yeah.” Rook said, wiping both sides of her blade on Enzo’s jacket and sheathing it at her waist.
“Let’s get out of here.”
─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───
Lucanis lost consciousness somewhere around Heart and Central, and woke, to his surprise, in his room at Caterina’s villa. With a grunt, he pushed himself into a seated position, staring down at his chest. Without his shirt, he could see the faint scars left behind where someone had magically repaired a gash in his abdomen. His ribs no longer felt like shattered glass, and he suspected that if he checked his reflection, he’d find only traces of the black eye he’d sustained from where his Antaam captors had struck him in the face with the chains they used to bind him.
Torture was nothing new, but Lucanis hadn’t expected to survive his injuries. The Venatori kept him captive because he was useful to them alive. To House Cortez, his death would have been a strategic, political gold mine.
“They. Threatened. ROOK!” Spite said, referencing Enzo’s casual comment that the Antaam were looking for her. It had been enough to distract Lucanis, for his insides to clench with terror and his body to instinctively freeze. It nearly cost him his life.
Lucanis shuddered and ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the last remnants of his disorientation, before crawling out of bed. In the bathroom, he scrubbed a layer of dirt and blood from his skin, carefully working a brush under his fingernails as well, before he dressed in a pair of clean trousers and a button-down shirt. Shrugging on his cloak, he retrieved his weapons from the nightstand, strapped them to his belt, and ventured downstairs.
In the den, he found his cousin staring with a bored expression at the fire, one leg casually crossed over the other, left cheek resting on his fist. He didn’t acknowledge Lucanis when he entered the room, but from the way his body tensed, it was clear he’d sensed his arrival.
“Caterina’s letting you back inside her house already?”
“She couldn’t just turn me away. I had her favorite grandson in tow.”
Lucanis took a seat in the chair across from him, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward.
“Where is she?”
“Caterina? In the kitchen with Viago and Teia.” Illario stood up and crossed the room, clasping his hands behind his back as he stared through the window at the moonlit gardens outside. He spared a glance over his shoulder and grinned. “But you’re not asking about our grandmother, are you?”
Lucanis’s answer came in the form of a withering glare.
Illario shrugged and returned his attention to the window. “She stormed in about an hour ago announcing she’d ended the entire Cortez line with one slip of her blade and gave Caterina a look I’m surprised didn’t earn her a throat slitting on sight. After she checked your condition, she left without another word.”
Lucanis braced his hands on his chair arms, but Illario was faster, shoving him back into the cushions before he could leave. Invisible bruises on his chest ached in protest as he coughed, glaring at his cousin.
“Don’t leave just yet. We haven’t had a chance to catch up. Why don’t you tell me how I couldn’t best you, but Emil Cortez’s idiot grandson could?”
“Still plotting your revenge?”
“I’m past that.” Illario said, releasing his hold on his cousin and adjusting his sleeves. “Time away from bad influences has really made me rethink my choices.”
The sound of Caterina’s cane thumping against the floor cut their verbal jabs short, and Lucanis slumped in his chair as Illario stepped away.
“An embarrassment to our House.” Caterina pounded her cane against the floor for emphasis. “This is the reputation you want as First Talon? That you can be captured and held hostage-“
Lucanis held up a hand to cut her off.
“If I recall, someone in this room held you hostage for weeks, and none of the Crows batted an eye about your reputation.”
Caterina’s mouth fell open, and she raised her cane menacingly. “Ungrateful-”
“Don’t fall for the act, Lucanis.” Teia said, appearing in the doorway with Viago. “She was beside herself with worry before the healer got here.”
Lucanis stood and gestured down at himself.
“Well, I’m healed. So I’ll be on my way.” He said, walking towards the door.
“We are not done here!”
“I think we are.” Lucanis said, passing his grandmother without so much as a second glance.
“That demon inside of you makes you reckless! Your actions are not befitting of a First Talon!”
“Feel free to take it back,” Lucanis said casually, pulling the front door open. “But I thought you liked when they called me a demon.”
The door slammed shut behind him, and Lucanis closed his eyes as the cool night air hit his face, feeling Spite’s presence flare up in excitement at the prospect of finally being able to leave the cramped villa.
He made it about one city block before Viago’s voice carried through the open air, calling out his name. Lucanis turned into an alley and waited for his fellow Talon to catch up.
“If you give up your seat, who is going to pardon Fiammetta for killing a Talon?”
Lucanis scrubbed a hand over his face. “It was a personal matter. Caterina wouldn’t pursue it.”
Viago stepped closer, pressing a finger into the center of Lucanis’ chest.
“I’m not willing to put my cousin’s life in your grandmother’s hands. And if you… care for her, you wouldn’t be either.” He snarled. “Fiammetta can defend herself against a rogue assassin or two. But if someone pointed every Crow in her direction? You, me, Teia - we couldn’t possibly stop them all. Hold your seat. At least until we know what the future holds for the Crows.”
Lucanis narrowed his eyes, gaze dropping to Viago’s finger. When he raised his head, his voice was low and measured.
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m giving you advice.” Viago lifted his hands in the air and took a step back before adjusting his gloves. “The second you put Fiammetta’s life in danger, I won’t waste my time with threats. I’ll take action.”
─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───
Footsteps in the meditation room woke Rook from her sleep on the couch, and her dagger slipped from her fingertips where her hand had been hanging over the side. Disoriented, she jolted forward, leaning over and scrambling for it as it clanged against the floor.
In the darkness, Lucanis moved slowly, with his hands up in a placating manner.
“Just me.” He said, eyes drifting from her blade to her face.
Rook blinked away her disorientation and set the knife down, resting a palm on her forehead and catching her breath. For a moment, Lucanis stood above her, hesitating, before he joined her on the sofa, angling himself so he wasn’t directly facing her.
“You were drug into my mess again.”
“I sought it out this time, actually.”
A beat of silence passed between them before Lucanis spoke again.
“Rook. I owe you. For my life, my freedom. Again.”
He reached out to touch her, but redirected the movement and rested his palms on the couch cushions, staring at the floor.
“You deserved better. Still deserve better. From the Crows, from me. Things will change, or I will leave Treviso with you. I give you my word.”
Rook folded her legs underneath her and leaned forward as she blinked in disbelief, wondering if this was a dream.
“Hold on-”
He turned, his hand instinctively gravitating towards her leg. Behind his eyes, the spirit of determination’s presence hummed with impatience, desperate to touch her as his fingertips brushed her thigh.
“I’ll follow you anywhere, Rook. As whatever you want me to be.”
She touched her thumb to the cut on his bottom lip before letting her hand fall away.
“Have you ever just done something you wanted? For your own sake?”
Lucanis leaned back against the couch, toying with a loose thread on the frayed hem of her nightgown before raising his head to meet her gaze.
“A couple of times,” he said with a coy smile, “In recent memory.”
She watched him for a long moment before shifting her position, crawling over him and straddling his hips. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she leaned forward and rested her head in the crook of his neck. Lucanis stiffened in surprise before letting his hands drift to her waist, fingertips lightly trailing across the silk back of her nightgown and digging into the fabric as he buried his face in her hair. He let out a slow, warm stream of air through his nose and lingered there, cherishing the moment.
“I don’t want First Talon. I never have. But I want you. To be by your side. I am in your debt.”
Rook nuzzled the place between his neck and shoulder, shaking her head. “There’s no debt-“ she protested, her words muffled against his jacket.
Lucanis lifted a hand, wrapping a dark lock of her hair around his fingers and toying with it.
“You’re going to argue with me now that you got what you wanted?“ he chuckled, tilting his head to the side to give her better access. “Just give me time to figure out how to tell Caterina, mm?”
“You want to follow me all over Thedas?” She asked, nipping at him gently. The stubble on his neck was rough against her lips, his facial hair soft where it rested just above her cheek. “And here I thought we were just good friends.”
“Mmm.” Lucanis responded, his hands slipping lower to tug her forward so that her hips were pressed flush against his. “I’m not sure friends is going to cut it, mia amata. ”
Rook bent down to kiss him, feeling him suppress a flinch as her mouth grazed a cut in his lower lip. She pulled away and brushed a thumb along his cheekbone instead.
“Sleep here?”
Lucanis raised his brows, his gaze drifting down and lingering on the swell of her breasts in her nightgown. “With you? Like this?”
“Did you have something else in mind?”
His eyes followed the curves and planes of her body, the silk of her nightgown sliding softly under his touch. Hands on her thighs, he inched the fabric of her gown higher.
Summary: Teia and Viago's enagagement party has everyone on their worst behavior.
Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! chapter specific warnings in AO3 notes.
─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───
Rook stared at her reflection, frowning as she smoothed her hands over the front of her dress. Bellara had wholeheartedly assured her the slit in the thigh was “totally okay for an engagement party”, and yet Davrin had done a triple take of her in the courtyard as she walked past to her chambers. Tugging the silt down uncomfortably, she groaned and returned to her wardrobe, sifting through her belongings for something that wouldn’t draw too much attention. As she searched, two hands snaked around her middle and lifted her off the floor and back in front of the mirror.
“You know better than to sneak up on an assassin like that,” Rook warned, admiring their reflection as he held her. They looked good together.
“I shouldn’t have been able to get that close,” Lucanis chastised softly in her ear. “At least you know someone’s watching you back.”
Rook shivered as his lips brushed her neck, their eyes meeting in the mirror’s reflection.
“You’re overthinking,” He murmured against her skin, “Keep the dress on.”
Letting her head fall back onto his shoulder, she stared at the vaulted ceiling of her chambers, tracing the paths of the ancient carvings there.
“Only if you promise to take it off of me later.”
Lucanis chuckled and spun her around, taking her right hand and smoothing his thumb over her knuckles.
“What’s on your mind?” Rook asked, watching his smile fade to a frown as his brows pinched together in thought.
“I was curious if you’d let me entrust something into your care again.”
“Lucanis-”
His hand dipped into his pocket, retrieving a small box that he pressed into the center of his palm.
“No Caterina, no strings,” He murmured, kissing her temple before retreating. “It suits you far better than me.”
Rook carefully lifted the lid, and inside the familiar opal ring refracted the light from the meditation chamber window, a spectrum of color dancing across its surface. Her mouth suddenly felt dry as she traced her fingertip over its edges. Lucanis tore his gaze from her hands and cleared his throat.
“I’ll see you at the casino,” he said, his voice distant, his nod curt. With a quick, cordial nod, he left the room in measured, silent strides. Conflicted, Rook stared after him as he rounded the corner, disappearing down the stairs.
What, other than Spite, would possess Lucanis drop something like this on her not even an hour before Teia and Viago’s engagement party was due to begin? And how could such a small family heirloom feel so heavy cradled between her hands?
Still undecided, Rook closed the lid on the box and set it on her dresser. Teia was expecting her to stop by before the party and help her prepare, and she’d need to break her abstinence from alcohol this evening with at least four glasses of champagne before she could make a decision. She threw her cloak over her shoulders and snatched the box again at the last moment, slipping it into her pocket before she left her chambers for the eluvian, holding her breath as she passed through the library, praying to the Maker Lucanis wasn’t watching from the shadows.
Lucanis reached for her cheek, guiding her gaze back to his. “Don’t look away,” he purred, keeping his pace, “Spite likes to watch this part.”
─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───
Pairing: Lucanis x Rook
Summary: Lucanis makes Rook dinner... amongst other things.
Warnings/of note: 18+ fic, MDNI! This chapter contains a LOT of smut. Please check AO3 for chapter specific warnings.
Read on AO3
─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───
Fresh from the bath, Rook descended the stairs to the kitchen in a button-down she’d snuck from Lucanis’ dresser. It hung off her shoulders, clinging to the swell of her breast and curves of her hips, settling just short of her mid thigh.
“You’re wearing my shirt. I was worried my clothes were beneath you.”
Lucanis stole a glance at her from his place over the stove, mouth twitching as she rounded the corner.
Careful not to slip on the freshly waxed marble floors as she padded past him, Rook dragged a fingernail across his lower back. “This one isn’t so bad.”
Unphased, Lucanis chuckled and rolled his sleeves to the elbow. His cloak and vest were already removed, hanging from the coat rack by the door to the gardens. Half a bottle of wine rested on the counter, while the rest simmered in a pan over the flames, bubbling around a tender cut of beef.
Rook hoisted herself onto the counter, letting her legs sway beneath her. “Half a bottle of wine gone so soon?”
Lucanis removed the pan from the fire, setting it aside, and wiped his hand on a towel.
“It pairs well with the rosemary, and the mushrooms absorb the bite,” he reached up to retrieve a pair of glasses from an overhead shelf and filled them carefully. “Don’t worry. I saved enough for us.”
Rook’s eyes swept past him to the window, where the winds picked up, whipping up leaves from the bushes and scattering them against the sill. Lucanis returned the empty bottle to the counter, the soft scrape of it catching her attention. She looked up as he slotted himself between her legs, wine in hand, and pressed a glass into her hand.
“I used to visit a vineyard south of here, but recently caught word that it had burnt to the ground. Caterina ensured the families were taken care of, and when we presumed her dead, I was doing the same. They had sent a few surviving bottles in appreciation.”
Rook lifted it to her lips, watching him over the rim as she took in the notes. The liquid stung her senses, her eyes watering slightly as she tipped it back, letting it flood her mouth. It was warm, earthy, full of spice and, without a doubt, Antivan. Lucanis studied her intently as he drank, gaze catching on her waist as the wine’s heat lingered in the back of her throat.
“I like it.” She angled her hips forward, body sliding against his as she descended from the counter. “Too bad we can’t buy a case.”
Flustered, Lucanis took a step back and pushed a hand through his hair. He turned back to the stove, dividing their dinner on to separate plates.
“I’ll fund the replanting of the entire vineyard if it makes you happy.”
Rook idled close enough to drive him mad, tugging at his shirt, untucking and ruffling it. Lucanis looked over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes playfully, nodding toward the dining room to encourage her on. Wine glass held high, Rook exited the kitchen and took a seat beside the head of the table. As Lucanis set her dinner in front of her, she ran a finger along a napkin. Silk. Of course.
“For you,” he murmured, kissing her bare shoulder where the shirt had fallen open and taking his seat across from her. A candle at the table’s center slowly spilled wax down its length, illuminating how meticulously he’d laid everything out. She hadn’t taken long in the bath. He must have worked quickly.
“Have you fantasized about this, Lucanis Dellamorte? Seducing me with dinner in your big, fancy house?”
“While you drink my favorite wine, with my clothes hanging off of you like that? Often.” He picked up his fork and knife, making a cut into his food. “Although I’d always imagined you’d have the decency to wear something underneath so I could have the pleasure of removing it later.”
Rook stilled in surprise, and he snuck a look at her with a wry smile as he chewed. Raising both eyebrows, he nodded to her plate.
“We can flirt later. You deserve an uninterrupted meal, for once.”
Food had always come as a second thought for Rook. Her meals were so inconsistent during childhood it was best to not think about eating at all. But Lucanis wouldn’t have gone to the trouble to orchestrate a meal if it wasn’t important to him. So she picked up her fork as he watched her, poorly concealing his eagerness, and began to eat.
Rook held his gaze as she chewed thoughtfully, and he set his silverware down, reaching across the table to brush a thumb over the corner of her mouth. She smirked as he leaned back and returned his attention to his own plate.
“How long have you been planning this?” She asked, picking up her wine. It sloshed against the sides of its glass as she swirled it in one hand.
“I went to the market after you left the villa and spent the morning prepping. I’d hoped you’d come around.”
“You put a lot of faith in me.”
“I find you to be more worthwhile of my faith than the Maker.”
“Careful, Lucanis, the Chantry frowns upon blasphemy.”
Lucanis blotted his mouth with his napkin and laid it back across his lap. “I don’t answer to the Chantry.”
“Right. You don’t answer to anyone anymore, First Talon.”
“That’s not true.” He said quietly, meeting her gaze, “I answer to you.”
Rook blinked and quickly returned her attention to her food, finishing their meal in silence. Lucanis’ words had stolen the rest of her appetite, but she pushed through anyway. Only the sounds of fine silver scraping against Caterina’s bone china accompanied the remainder of their meal. When she was finally finished and her wineglass was empty, Rook folded her napkin and nudged her plate forward, rising from her seat.
Lucanis regarded her carefully as she circled the table towards him, dragging one finger across the surface. When she reached him, he pushed out his chair, pulled his napkin from his lap and dropped atop his plate. Rook straddled his lap, holding his face between her hands.
“Thank you for dinner,” she murmured, threading her fingers in his hair and combing it back thoughtfully. “Are you going to make me do the dishes?”
Lucanis closed his eyes and hummed pleasantly. “I’ll let the staff take care of them later. The perks of being First Talon.”
“Are there other perks?” Rook asked, her skin heating as one of his hands moved up her thigh. He opened his eyes and carefully enclosed his other hand around her throat.
“Yes.”
He pulled her mouth to his, controlling the intensity with his thumb under her jaw. Rook slung her arms around his neck and his calloused palms each gripped one thigh. With an impatient groan, he broke the kiss and lifted her as he stood, pivoting and pressing her to the nearest wall.
Artwork rattled in the frames on either side of them, and Rook tightened her legs around his waist as she began to slip. Lucanis pinned her with his weight, keeping his focus on the shirt now hanging off of her by what felt like a single thread. There was tension in his shoulders, a slight tremor in his hands as he struggled with the buttons, far more than an assassin of his caliber should.
“You’re on edge,” Their hands collided as she assisted, kissing down his jaw, “What’s troubling you?”
“You. I think of little else.”
Clumsy and flushed, Lucanis sighed through his nose, eyes searching her features for something. Finally appearing satisfied, his mouth was on hers again — hungry, needy— as he pushed her harder into the wall.
“I only planned as far as dinner,” he panted against the base of her throat, “you decide where the evening goes from here.”
Rook reached between them, his belt buckle clinking as she deftly worked it loose and plunged one hand between his trousers and his skin. He inhaled sharply as her thumb grazed the wet tip of his cock, freezing only for a moment before dragging his mouth over her neck, teeth scraping her skin.
“This,” he gasped between kisses, “this isn’t just… fuck! Rook—”
With a growl, he tore her from the wall, kicking aside a chair from the dining table and laying her across its empty half, shielding the back of her head with one hand. His lips found one of her breasts, teeth firm against her flesh as he took a mouthful, tongue lashing over its peak as he unbuttoned her shirt the rest of the way. One hand came to support it, thumb cradling it from below as his fingertips drug along her rib cage. Touch trailing from her breasts to her waist, his palm splayed against her stomach as it slid down her torso, stopping at the crest of her hip.
“If I told you I loved you right now, Fiammetta, should I expect to be slapped again?” He whispered against her skin.
“Anything to get you off,” she bit out, squeezing her eyes shut to fight the overstimulation of pleasure, forcing herself to relax into every place his touch lingered on her body.
“Anything?”
Lucanis swung her legs over the side of the table and dragged her across the surface, her sweat-slick bare skin squeaking in protest against the wood. Her hair skimmed the backs of Lucanis’ knees as he slung her over one shoulder, blew out the candle with one buff, and carried her from the dining room and up the stairs. Blood rushed to her head as she swayed, laughing and clawing for his opposite shoulder to drape herself across his back. Lucanis tipped his head to the side, watching from the corner of his eye with a grin as he nudged his bedroom door open.
The fireplace in the corner still burned as brightly as it had when she’d left, his desk still meticulously organized, stacks of unopened letters remaining untouched for weeks. Perhaps Lucanis had been so eager to take this contract with her because killing gods was somehow more leisurely than the agenda his grandmother typically had arranged for him.
The mattress dipped under her weight as he deposited her onto the bed, standing over her as he loosened his collar and unrolled his sleeves.
“Lose the shirt,” he said, discarding his own. Rook shrugged hers off obediently and fumbled for his trousers again. Lucanis smiled, crawling over her, and he shoved his hand between them, dragging her hand aside and impatiently unfastening them himself, letting them slip from his hips to the floor. Rook gasped as he guided her wrists over her head and shoved her up against the pillows.
“Let someone else take care of you for once, Rook,” he murmured, one hand slipping between their sweat slick bodies as he lined himself up with her, teasing her entrance. She whimpered, and his eyes swept over her face as she adjusted to the size of him.
“Stay with me,” he cooed, “I’ve got you.”
Between her legs, he circled her clit with one achingly dexterous finger, staring down to watch with a curious smile. Rook forgot to breathe as he rolled his hips back into rhythm.
Finally, he dropped his forehead to hers, breath hot and broken as he ground his hips, sinking deeper. With a soft thud, Rook dropped her head against the headboard and clawed at his back, nails dragging down his shoulder blades so hard she swore she might have drawn blood.
Spite’s low rumble of approval was just barely audible as Lucanis grasped her jaw and squeezed.
“You know better than that,” he chuckled.
Rook tilted her head. “Do I?”
His responding thrust was so hard she nearly saw stars.
She writhed desperately underneath him, her breaths coming in rapid, whiny gasps. Lucanis shushed her, kissing her again, moaning into her mouth to subdue his own pleasure as he moved inside of her.
Every nerve in her body came alive, and her heart seemed to stutter in her chest as she lost track of time. She turned her head to the side, clenching her jaw shut as she resisted the urge to scream. Then again, if the staff had been dismissed for the evening, would it even matter?
Lucanis reached for her cheek, guiding her gaze back to his.
“Don’t look away,” he purred, keeping his pace, “Spite likes to watch this part.”
At the mention of their demonic voyeur, Rook cried out, arching off the bed. Lucanis’ hand kept steady pressure on her clit as he muffled her screams with a kiss. Rook’s orgasm sparked through her, and Lucanis moaned low, the sound of it raw and unguarded as his hips stuttered, then froze as he spilled himself inside of her.
He wove a hand through her hair, grazing his mouth over her hair, her jaw, her temple, as if to check if she were still intact. Sweat mingled between their bellies as he pulled back with a look of surprised smugness, looming over her. His eyes pinned her in place before he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
“You don’t seem anxious to leave,” he murmured, sliding down the length of her until he was kneeling at the foot of the bed. “Did you get everything you needed?”
Dazed, Rook hummed and reached for a pillow behind her, folding it against her chest. As she rolled onto her stomach, Lucanis slipped between the silk sheets next to her, draping them over his lower half as he sprawled onto his side.
“You’ll stay then?”
She nodded, and his fingertips found her spine, lazily exploring its ridges before he became distracted by a scar on her back he hadn’t seen before. Intrigued, he leaned forward and traced it with a reverent touch.
“I should kill the person who gave this to you, if they’re not already dead.”
“A twelfth birthday gift from my father,” Rook said, turning her head on the pillow to look at him. “A test, to see if I would falter in a fight. Unlike you, I didn’t have someone my own age to practice with. Viago refused to lay a hand on me as a child.”
Concern creased Lucanis’ forehead, his hand stilling. “Rook-”
“Don’t let it ruin this,” she said, not unkindly, lashes fluttering as her eyes fell to the sheets, “he took enough from me.”
Lucanis frowned, but didn’t say another word. Instead, he drew one of her hands from beneath the pillow, kissing her wounded knuckle before spreading his palm against hers, splaying their fingertips wide and intertwining them. Rook watched with a dazed expression, allowing herself the opportunity to enjoy the moment.
“Lucanis?” She asked suddenly, her gaze shifting to his as she pulled back.
He bent his head, offering an uncertain, nervous smile. “What is it?”
“I…”
Her voice trailed off, and she rolled over, staring at the nightstand. Outstretching a hand, she traced the gold-painted spine of a thick, leather-bound volume on his nightstand.
“Read to me? I like the sound of your voice.”
Lucanis chuckled and reached over her. With a grunt, he retrieved the book she’d been admiring and settled back against the pillows. He drew her closer, draping one arm around her, and she rested her head against his shoulder.
“This was my mother’s,” he said, folding back the cover, “she said someone gifted it to her in Orlais, but that it exists in different translations and interpretations throughout Thedas.”
The pages fluttered open, and he thumbed to the first chapter, brushing his fingertips over the words. His free hand absentmindedly reached beneath the covers, drawing circles on Rook’s hip.
“Seventy Winter Nights,” she read out loud, “Is this one of your romance novels?”
“Most consider it a classic.”
“No classic I’ve ever heard of.”
“In its defense, you did mention you were not particularly well read.”
Rook narrowed her eyes, digging her thumbnail into Lucanis’ ribs. He winced, suppressing a smile as he bent to kiss her, catching her lower lip between his teeth and admonishing her with a playful bite.
“It’s many stories within a very long one,” he explained, giving her a quick peck and pulling away. “It tells of an assassin sent by a rival court to kill the king’s daughter in retaliation for an act of war.”
“Daughters always pay for the sins of their fathers,” Rook mused.
Lucanis solemnly hummed in agreement, remaining silent for several beats.
“What happens next,” she asked, suddenly eager to avoid the topic further, “in the story?”
“As the princess puts her younger sister to bed, the assassin waits outside her door, but becomes entranced by a story she tells. When her sister falls asleep, she leaves it unfinished. He follows her to bed and demands she tell him the ending, under the condition that he will spare her life until the end. She agrees, but quickly begins a second story as soon as it ends. The assassin listens until sunrise, and the next night, returns so that she might finish it.”
Rook wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, intrigued, and snuggled closer. “I’m listening.”
“The assassin returns every night for weeks, and every night she begins a new story and leaves it unfinished so that he must spare her again and again. In the end, he falls hopelessly in love with her, and instead of killing her, they run away together.”
“So it is a romance.”
“Would you like me to read it to you, or do you prefer critiquing my tastes?”
Rook entwined her legs in his, pulling herself closer. “Just until I fall asleep. You can pick up where you leave off tomorrow.”
Lucanis chuckled and kissed the crown of her head, resting his chin there and setting his eyes to the first line of the book.
“Winter was good for killing, for when blood ran cold, it did not spill so much. But if an assassin’s heart were to become warm, could his blade strike true? Would his resolve falter, if the face of his victim brought him to his knees…”
“You live in a casino. Let us make a game of this. I will become what the gods want, welcome their whispers. Meet me and show me if the Crows deserve my city…”
A flash of violet flickered between them, and the Butcher struck it away as quickly as it appeared. Lucanis skidded to a crouch on all fours beside her, gritting his teeth as Spite’s wings flared behind him.
“Get your hands off of her.”
“Ahh. the Demon of Vyrantium. You Crows have such grand names for yourselves.” The Butcher tightened his grip around Rook’s throat.
“I admire you for stepping out of your father’s shadow. Trading the Little Flame for Rook. I prefer things short and sweet.”
He drug her to the railing, forcing her to her knees in front of the canal.
“I wonder…” He purred in her ear, “Can such a little bird swim?”
Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???
Summary: Rook finally meets the Butcher. OR my headcannon for why Rook swims like shit.
Word count: 3.5k
Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! warnings: drowning, blood/gore, graphic violence, trauma, death. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).
Read on AO3
─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───
“Fight back, Fiammetta!”
Dunked beneath the surface of the Treviso canals, she thrashed desperately, hands scrabbling uselessly above her head as she reached for anything to pull herself free. Perhaps if she caught the edge of a gondola, she could catch her breath, get far enough away to swim downstream. She could hoist herself onto the other side of the street and run for miles. If she reached Teia’s, the Cantoris would wrap her in a warm towel and feed her a warm meal. But what business did she have taking food from their plates? They lived in the dirt too, after all.
Relief came as her head finally bobbed into the air again, her father’s disappointed frown immediately visible as he hauled her up by her hair.
“Have you forgotten how to swim?”
“I…can.” She panted, dizzy and seeing stars. Her stomach ached from the canal water she had swallowed. “Just not when you hold me under. You’re too strong!”
“You think the Antaam will go easy on you?” Dante de Riva demanded, thrusting her back under before she could catch a breath in time. She considered going limp, letting herself drown. Twelve years was a long life for a Crow, after all.
She heard muffled shouting from the surface, a flicker of hope igniting within her. With renewed determination, she splayed her hands wide and opened her eyes underwater, watching sparks dance along her fingertips as she wrapped them around her father’s arm. He released her involuntarily, and she threw herself towards the side of the canal wall, clawing at the edge and gasping for breath. Someone pulled her onto the street and flipped her sopping wet hair back from her eyes.
“Are you okay, Fiammetta?” Viago asked, scrutinizing her features. She shook her head, but didn’t dare let a single tear fall. Her cousin’s skinny arms came around her protectively as he glared back at her father.
“You nearly killed her!”
“She is more than capable if you would stop treating her like she needs rescuing!” Her father barked back. “Are you always going to be there to protect her when she doesn’t know how to defend herself?”
Aunt Viama came flying across the bridge from the direction of the apartment. It was then that Fiamma felt the eyes of their neighbors on her. People pretending to hang their laundry, or smoke on their balconies, watched with bated breath. People usually had to go to the theatre to find this kind of entertainment.
“What part of Crow training do you call this, Dante?” Aunt Viama demanded, pointing to where Fiamma cowered in her cousin’s arms. “She doesn’t have to experience death to know how to evade it!”
“She will never be a Crow.” Her father growled, “But she will learn to survive. Just because you want your son to make his father proud enough to look in your direction again-”
“Sling old insults all you want, Dante. I won’t let your paranoia kill my niece. Gemma is probably rolling in her grave at what you’ve subjected her daughter to.”
“Don’t you dare-”
“I will speak my sister’s name whenever I please!” Viama shrieked over her shoulder, kneeling in front of Fiamma and looking her over.
“You’re going to come live with Viago and me. Your father is sick, Fiamma. This isn’t normal! I refuse to watch while he continues to-”
A shadow fell over them as Dante hovered threateningly. Towering over most of the men in Treviso, her father’s demeanor alone could send his enemies running.
“Stay away from them!”
Viago drew his blade, slicing it through the air as a warning. It caught the skin of Dante’s wrist, leaving a small cut behind. Her cousin blinked in surprise, as if he hadn’t anticipated his own bravery, before the back of her father’s hand struck his face, throwing him onto his back. Dante stared, equally surprised by his own actions.
“Viago, I-”
“How dare you lay a hand on my son!” Viama cried. She slapped Dante across the face, but he didn’t react. Instead, he stared at his nephew, stunned and remorseful.
“Viama…it was instinct.”
“Come, Fiammetta.” Her aunt instructed, extending her free hand as she pulled Viago along with the other. But Fiamma looked at her father, all alone, and froze. How could a man, whose humming filled the kitchen as he cooked dinner at night, who stole her roses from the market, who used to carry her on his back, tuck her into bed, and read her to sleep, ever mean to hurt anyone?
“I can’t.” She squeaked.
Dante de Riva’s face crumpled as his daughter stepped forward and took his hand.
“It was an accident.”
“It’s never an accident, Fiammetta.” Viama replied as she led her son away. Viago clutched his bruised cheek, his eyes pleading with Fiamma to follow, but she remained rooted beside her father, feeling the weight of dozens of judging eyes and the shame of their scrutiny as she squeezed his hand, leading him back to their small apartment.
─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───
When Lucanis returned from the kitchen, Rook was no longer asleep on the couch where he’d reluctantly left her. Five minutes, he’d told Spite, five minutes to cross the courtyard, make her coffee, and return. He’d planned to wake her up gently, spend the morning enjoying one another’s company. He could even try that position from the most recent book Bellara had lent him…
To his disappointment, Rook was fully dressed and lacing her boots when he arrived, looking troubled and in no mood for enjoying anything at all.
“Oh. You’re up.” He said, trying not to sound defeated as he stood in the doorway with two steaming mugs of coffee.
“Sorry, did I wake you this morning?” Rook asked, rising to her feet and taking a cup from him. She cradled it in her hands, staring down into it with a distant expression.
“Not at all. You were fast asleep when I left.” Lucanis replied with a frown. Something was bothering her, but he knew asking too many questions would scare her off. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course.” She said, sipping her coffee and setting it aside. “I just…need to see Viago.”
“About the Butcher?”
“Yes...the Butcher.” She said quickly, “I’m going to see if Taash wants to come along. They know Antaam, and have been pushing to do more…’Crow Stuff’ lately.”
SOMEONE HAS BEEN IN ROOK’S HEAD!
Lucanis watched her go before he responded out loud.
“What do you mean, Spite?”
“LIES. TRICKERY. DECEIT.” The demon snarled. “CLAWING AT HER MEMORIES WHILE SHE SLEEPS.”
“Solas? He’s in her dreams?”
“NIGHTMARES. ASLEEP. AND. WAKING!”
“You’re being cryptic. Speak clearly.”
“ALL IS NOT. WHAT IT SEEMS. BUT ONLY. TO. ROOK!”
─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───
The top floor of the casino was more crowded than usual as Rook stepped into Viago’s makeshift office. Two people, a teenage boy, and an older bald individual who looked vaguely familiar, were arguing with her cousin when she entered, and Rook paused in the doorway, feeling Lucanis’ hand come to rest on her lower spine as he surveyed the room. Teia was beside Viago, clearly agitated, while Illario lounged on a couch behind them, watching the exchange with an amused expression.
“I can’t believe you’re defending him!” the boy exclaimed.
“I am not defending anyone, Jacobus.” Viago said impatiently.
“My cousin died because the Governor didn’t stop the Antaam from-”
“Jacobus!” Teia snapped.
“No! I’m not going to stand around and listen to this,” He said and stormed off.
“Well, now that that unpleasantness is dealt with, it’s time I share my piece.” The Governor said, “I told you Crows to stay out of this. If we had a stronger civil government instead of a bunch of circus criminals, the Antaam wouldn’t have a foothold in the first place!”
“Governor Ivenci.” Lucanis said in a charming voice, stepping around Rook to join the conversation.
“Lucanis Dellamorte, back from the dead. Am I to refer to you as your majesty now, or will First Talon suffice?” Ivenci sneered.
“There’s no need for formalities. We’re all friends here.” Lucanis’ voice was heavy with dangerous charm. Ivenci’s gaze fell upon Rook, and something in his expression shifted. They regarded her with interest and spoke in a slightly more respectable tone than they had with the others.
“And Fiammetta de Riva, all grown up. I heard you deserted the Crows. Did I misjudge in thinking you’d be more sensible than your cousin?”
“Treviso is still my home.” Rook said, “And Viago is my family.”
“Your father would be disappointed to see you here, still playing vigilante and flirting with death.” Ivenci said, eyes darting to Lucanis.
“What would you know about my father?”
“I suppose you were quite young the last time we met. I hired your mother for protection on many occasions before her untimely death. My belated condolences, what a tragic end for both of your parents.”
“While I appreciate your kind words, I’m here to deal with other matters.” Rook said coolly, turning to address Viago, “I got your message.”
“We have a contact who offers access to the Butcher and privileged information on the gods. It turns out your Butcher goes by a name I’ve been tracking for some time…Daathrata. A leader amongst the Antaam with a more traditional discipline. His numbers keep growing, but he is…odd.”
“How so?”
“He gives daily speeches about how the occupation is somehow merciful.” Teia explained. “And the way he talks it’s…familiar? It’s like he thinks he belongs here. And I won’t have it.”
Rook glanced at Viago. “Can’t call daddy in on this one?”
“The king would say to call on us. The price for being patriots.”
“The gods care about taking Treviso?”
“The Butcher wants Treviso. The gods may just want the Antaam.”
“But Antaam distrust magic and outright fear demons. They should be enemies.”
“Power can turn anyone against their own interests.” Viago suggested. “Their own people.”
“Not even your First Talon is immune to your infighting,” Ivenci jeered. From his seat, Illario scowled and uncrossed his legs, leaning forward.
“Something you’d like to say, Governor?”
Viago cleared his throat and shot Illario a warning look before returning his attention to Rook.
“I’ve secured a meeting for you with our contact in the market.” He said, “You are to go alone, but I’d bring backup to wait nearby. Take Dellamorte.”
“Need my help again already?” Illario purred from the couch.
“The other Dellamorte.” Viago growled, nodding at Lucanis.
“This should be left to the leaders of this city to handle!” Ivenci protested.
“They asked specifically for Rook.” Viago said sternly, “it would be inadvisable to send anyone else.”
“Well then, I suppose it’s been a pleasure reacquainting with you, Fiammetta. If you come to your senses following your little meeting, find me.” Ivenci said, crossing their arms. “Perhaps we can work out an arrangement that would have made your parents proud. Do not forget that they did not wish to see you become a Crow.”
Rook bristled, but before she could reply, Lucanis wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“Excuse us.” He said, holding the Governor’s gaze as he guided Rook from the casino.
“What’s their deal?” Taash asked from the doorway as they made their way downstairs.
“The politicians here long to control Treviso, but the Crows rule Antiva.”
─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───
“Antaam.” Taash said through clenched teeth as they reached the market. Two guards blocked the path to the cafe courtyard, one grunting and pointing only to Rook.
“Wait here.” Rook commanded, nodding at both of them before approaching the guards alone. Lucanis shifted forward, but stayed in place as Taash rested a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
The guards stepped aside, giving Rook a full view of an Antaam man hunched alone over a table entirely too small for him. As she moved closer, he rose to his feet with a smile she would almost consider…charming.
“Butcher.” She said, eyes wide with surprised. “You’re the informant?”
“And you are, Rook. I’ve been waiting.” He waved to dismiss his guards and extended a hand towards the chair across from him, inviting her to sit.
“Please.”
Teia was right. He acted so…familiar.
She took her seat, palms braced firmly on the table. He chuckled, giving her a glimpse of unexpectedly perfect teeth.
“So tense, Fiammetta. I promise. I’ll signal if we are to fight.”
“You know who I am?”
“I know so much about you…who your mother was, who your father was. I know your hate for the Crows, just as I know your hate for the Antaam. You fault us for your father’s fate, but can you be so sure the Antaam are responsible? I would like to present you with the truth, and after you’ve heard me out…I will give you the information you’ve come for.”
“You won’t sway my opinion of the Antaam. Just tell me where the gods are holding their ritual.”
“I need to know where your alliances lie. You think I couldn’t just march on the Crows? Scattered Antaam flock to me. I have the numbers to raze your casino and every inch of this city. But I did not conquer Treviso to watch it fall into the hands of corrupt politicians.”
“Are you talking about Ivenci?”
“I am talking about a thousand Ivencis. Opportunists, looking for power. Betraying their city, holding it ransom while they worship their own purses!”
He slammed his fist down on the table, staring at his hand before raising his head to meet her eyes again.
“But you…you’re different.” He spoke more quietly now, with reverence. “Crows stay true to their roles. It means something when you die. And you’re no typical Crow. It is your own internal compass, not their teachings, that guide you. You’re as much a work of art as this city.”
“Careful, where I’m from, that’s called a compliment.”
He grinned. “Tell me, Rook. If I give you the information you’ve come for tonight, what will you do once you’ve defeated the gods? Will you return to this city? Care for it? And how? As a citizen? Or as mistress to the First Talon?” He shook his head with disappointment. “It would be such a waste for you to become like your parents, serving those they do not even respect.”
“It is the Antaam’s actions that orphaned me.”
“Is that what you think, Rook? What if I told you the lies that poison this city are embedded so deeply in your personal history that not even those closest to you could have predicted the truth? I’ll share a secret with you: it is not the Antaam that snuck lyrium into Treviso to tempt mages, but the politicians that sought to destabilize the strongest of the Antivan Crows. Your mother had nothing to do with the Antaam, but she did frequently find herself hired as personal protection for an uprising politician’s family. I believe he is a governor now…”
“But my father was certain it was the Antaam-it is why he-”
“Another caught in a political web of lies. A fool, misguided by grief, looking for anywhere to point his finger. A tip given to him by his late wife’s client. In one move, they pitted the Crows and Antaam against one another, and killed two birds with one…gem? That’s what they called your mother, after all.”
Rook scowled. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because you are capable of thinking for yourself. Don’t tell me this story doesn’t match your reality more than the one that was fed to you. Your mother’s death was labeled a poisoning, making her a martyr, not an addict. Those who knew the truth, chose to keep it a secret. When he took his revenge, the Flame of Treviso was not sloppy. He did not leave survivors. The Antaam were the perfect scapegoat.”
“Who killed my father, if not the Antaam?” Rook demanded.
“I don’t know if it was Governor Ivenci himself who placed that Crow where your father’s head once was, but I do know he sent Manius Casini to warn him the Antaam were coming. It made a good headline - Antaam killing the beloved Flame of Treviso. And the poor orphaned Little Flame, quickly forgotten, only to become another victim of Crow tradition.”
Rook clenched her fists under the table.
“Why tell me all of this?”
“Because I need your hate channeled in the right direction, if I am to hand you my city.”
“If you truly love Treviso as you say, then tell me where the gods are holding their ritual.”
The Butcher smiled, a deep growl rumbling in his chest as he inhaled, exhaling a thunderous laugh.
“Mmm. The gods!” He said, holding his fists in the air. “They give strength.”
He lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning across the table so close Rook nearly flinched.
“But all they ask in return is everything. I can feel their corruption. I can hear their whispers. They’re calling for a ritual. If I give in, I’ll know what you need to know. But I will lose my jewel. My city!”
He smashed his hands on the table, breaking it in two, and rose to his feet, towering over her. One hand came to wrap around her throat, squeezing only hard enough to keep her in place.
“You live in a casino. Let us make a game of this. I will become what the gods want, welcome their whispers. Meet me and show me if the Crows deserve my city…”
A flash of violet flickered between them, and the Butcher struck it away as quickly as it appeared. Lucanis skidded to a crouch on all fours beside her, gritting his teeth as Spite’s wings flared behind him.
“Get your hands off of her.”
“Ahh. the Demon of Vyrantium. You Crows have such grand names for yourselves.” The Butcher tightened his grip around Rook’s throat.
“I admire you for stepping out of your father’s shadow. Trading the Little Flame for Rook. I prefer things short and sweet.”
He drug her to the railing, forcing her to her knees in front of the canal.
“I wonder…” He purred in her ear, “Can such a little bird swim?”
The Butcher didn’t give her a chance to reply. With a sudden, brutal shove, he thrust her over the edge. The weight of her boots felt like anchors, reducing her breaststrokes towards the surface to desperate thrashes as she sunk further into the depths. This time of night, there was no light strong enough to break through the murky water's surface, and the canals ran deeper this time of year from the rains. With little air in her lungs, she would soon drown.
Fight back, Fiammetta! Have you forgotten how to swim?
Pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth, she forced her lips shut so she did not take in water as the current flipped her backwards. Reaching down, she fought to keep a clear head and tugged her boots off, carrying them in one hand as she kicked towards the surface. She stretched her arms wide, feeling for the side of the canal, only knowing up from down by the pull of the water.
You think the Antaam will go easy on you?
Time suspended until she broke the surface, gasping for air. As she reached for the ledge, someone caught her by the wrist and pulled her out. Face cradled in his palms, Lucanis smoothed her hair back as she coughed and blinked rapidly to clear the water from her eyes.
“Are you alright?” He asked urgently. “It looked like you hit your head.”
Behind him, Taash finished off two Antaam guards, but the Butcher wasn’t in sight. She’d traveled far enough downstream that they were no longer on the cafe patio, but near the bridge. Caught in the canals much longer, and she might have met her end in the sewers.
“I’m fine.” She panted. “We have to find him.”
“Give yourself a minute to catch your breath first.” Lucanis said, pulling her against his chest.
“I can’t stop.” She whispered, water clinging to her lashes as she denied herself an opportunity to cry. “If I slow down for one second, I’ll-”
“I understand.” He said, rising from his crouch and pulling her to her feet. “Let’s finish this together.”
“For what it’s worth, that guy is totally into you.” Taash panted, jogging over to them. Lucanis’ head snapped in their direction.
“What?”
“He offered her a chair and tried to drown her. Trust me. It’s a Qunari thing.”
Lucanis scowled. “And now I have two reasons to kill him.”
Summary: Breakfast with the detective and a pair of Dellamortes. What could go wrong?
Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! chapter specific warnings in AO3 notes.
Read on AO3
─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───
Rook woke to blue-green light kaleidoscoping across the ceiling. Slow-moving shadows crept along the stone walls of the meditation chamber as she reached across the couch, finding nothing but an empty impression of the body that had laid beside her last night. She pushed herself up on one elbow, head pounding, throat dry. The memories returned in a slow, aching blur: the party, Ivenci, Illario’s shame, the sharp edge of humiliation… and Lucanis crouched before her, leading her through the crowd, falling with her through the Eluvian. The warmth of his arms as he carried her back. How he’d held her without expectation.
Her heart fluttered, uncertain.
She slid her legs from the pelt he’d tucked around her and searched the wardrobe for clean leathers, tugging them on with sluggish hands. Her knuckles ached, every joint in her body tight as she tugged on her boots and slipped into the hall.
The corridor outside her door was dim, vacant. As she crossed the courtyard, she could smell coffee and the faint hint of roasted garlic. Judging by the silence, her companions were likely as slow to rise as she was this morning. With luck, someone else would have embarrassed themselves far worse than she did last night.
The kitchen door creaked softly as she pushed it open, peering inside. Lucanis bent over the counter, dark hair slicked back, still damp from the bath, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He carefully diced a red onion with deadly precision as the cast iron hissed on the stove. Though he didn’t raise his head when she entered, she noticed a subtle change in his posture.
“You’re awake.”
His casual tone didn’t hide the glance he snuck in her direction. A quick, careful assessment, perhaps a shadow of self-doubt. Rook crossed the room slowly, observing his work.
“You’re cooking.”
“I’ve been known to,” he replied, sliding the onions into the pan.
“I never asked. Where did you learn?”
“I used to help the kitchen staff in the villa when I was a boy.” He said, a nostalgic smile tugging at one of the corners of his mouth. “It gave me something to do between lessons with Caterina.”
“Viago’s cooking barely passes as food, but he never eats anywhere outside of his apartment. Too paranoid about poisons. Is that why you wanted to learn?”
“I mostly just wanted to know how to make churros.”
Rook settled against the edge of the long table, arms braced behind her as she watched him stir the pan with a wooden spoon, adding a splash of cream from a bottle on the counter.
“About last night...” She began.
“Did you sleep well?”
“I…” Rook’s brow furrowed as she realized she’d had a dreamless sleep. “Surprisingly, yes.”
“Spite didn’t sense your Dread Wolf prying at your thoughts. I’m not sure if his absence is a good or bad thing.”
“Probably bad.”
After a pause, he glanced at her again. “Hungry?”
“Famished,” she muttered.
Lucanis gave a soft, satisfied hum and wrapped a towel around the pan’s handle, removing it from the heat and leaving it to cool on the counter. He strolled casually towards her and Rook straightened, heart pounding in her chest as she slid off the table. Lucanis reached for her wrists, pulling her in and kissing down her neck slowly. Agonizingly.
“You always leave before I wake,” she said, stifling a moan as his lips brushed the shell of her ear, “and yet you’re so testy when I won’t stick around.”
He paused, pulling away with a guilty expression. “I have trouble staying still for too long.”
“I think you’re still afraid to fall asleep.”
Lucanis averted his gaze and stepped back, retrieving breakfast from the counter instead of acknowledging her observation. Eggs and ham in a white sauce. Not typical Antivan cuisine.
“Did Illario give you any trouble last night?” He asked, setting it at the center of the table carefully.
Wanting to be useful, Rook stretched to get plates from the top shelf of the cabinet. “Did he say he did?”
“He told me where I could find you and stormed off. I assumed you verbally degraded him until his ego couldn’t take it anymore.”
As she strained to reach the edges of the plates, Rook inadvertently pushed them backwards with her fingertips. They scraped against the wood and she cursed, lowering her heels before trying again.
“You weren’t worried?” she asked in a tight voice.
Lucanis grinned, watching her struggle for another moment before reaching up behind her and sliding the plates within reach.
“You can handle yourself.”
“That she can.”
They both startled, their heads snapping to the door as Illario strolled through the kitchen and took a seat at the head of the table, kicking his feet up on the surface with a heavy thud. Lucanis and Rook tensed, exchanging a look.
“Nevarran?” Illario asked his cousin with a smirk, nodding at the eggs.
“Orlesian.” Lucanis corrected curtly. “Get your boots off the table before I feed them to the griffon.”
Illario grunted and pulled his legs down. Rook begrudgingly set a plate in front of him, narrowing her eyes.
“How’s the hangover, Fi?” He asked, helping himself to a ladleful of eggs.
She iced him out as she sat two seats’ distance from him, just out of reach. Lucanis remained by the stove, assessing his cousin carefully.
“If it’s half as bad as mine, she’s in trouble.”
Neve wandered in through the cracked door, looking more disheveled than Rook had seen her in some time. Illario’s gaze snapped in her direction as she poured herself a cup of coffee and perched on the countertop, glaring at him over the rim of her mug as she blew on the steam.
“Rough night, detective?” He asked, pushing his plate aside. Rook noticed his charming smile faltered a bit when Neve didn’t deign to respond.
“Bringing you here once was not an open invitation to show up whenever you feel like it,” Lucanis interjected. “This is not your home.”
“Ah, no. But I come with good news.” Illario reached into his pocket and retrieved an envelope that he flicked onto the table. Rook snatched it, tearing it open as he returned his attention to his breakfast.
Fiammetta,
My sources did some digging after the party. The governor plans to release stolen qamek around the city to “pacify violent seditionists.” This will undoubtedly spread to the rest of the Treviso as well. Teia and I will lead the Crows against Ivenci’s forces in the city, but you need to find and stop them while we do. We move tonight.
One more thing - we have not seen Jacobus since he stormed off after confronting Ivenci before you met with the Butcher. Look out for him, would you? Teia has a soft spot for him and perhaps he reminds me of a certain vengeance-fueled fledgling I once knew.
My apologies for sending Illario in my stead. The skeleton you keep in your Lighthouse is very unsettling.
-V
Rook passed the note to Lucanis, who frowned as he skimmed the page. Behind him, Neve hopped down from the counter, reading over his shoulder with all the subtlety of a nug in a potions shop.
“They won’t do this to Treviso. Not my city,” Lucanis growled.
“We need to find where he’s keeping the qamek. Before nightfall. People could die. What is he thinking? If he poisons the mind of every Trevisan, what is left to rule?”
“Blind, obedient sheep.” Neve paced toward the hearth with her mug cradled in her hands. “I couldn’t help but notice your cousin didn’t give a location.”
Illario kicked back his chair. “I can help with that.”
“You’re not coming.” Rook said.
“Oh,” he feigned a pout, “you still don’t trust me?”
She stared. “No.”
“Why not?”
“You have a talent for sticking knives in backs and getting on my nerves.”
“Aw. I didn’t know you cared.”
“I don’t.”
Neve snorted quietly into her empty mug.
“Think that’s funny, detective?”
“Enough. My cousin comes with us. Bickering amongst ourselves won’t save our city.”
A familiar expression haunted Lucanis’ face as he braced one hand on the mantle, staring into the hearth. He worked his jaw, closing his eyes slowly.
Spite was throwing a fit.
“He has a point,” Neve said. “I’ll come too. I owe you one for helping with Aelia.”
Illario rose from the table and taunted Rook with a smile. “See you tonight.”
“Not staying for breakfast?” Neve asked.
“Perhaps tomorrow, if there’s room for me in your bed, detective.”
