Day 2: Antonia de Riva - Poison|Treviso|Resistance
Ficlet for Rook Appreciation Week, many thanks to @rookappreciationweek for organizing the prompts!
In less than six months she's been widowed and exiled from her home, but Antonia de Riva knows she has no choice but to keep moving. (Also on AO3)
She could sense her brother’s presence slightly behind and to her left. To her right stood the matriarch of House Dellamorte, dressed in a fine but severe looking black down, black lace draped over her iron gray hair. To the old woman’s right stood Illario Dellamorte, his gaze distance, like he wasn’t quite seeing the pyre set before them.
Antonia de Riva wore a gown and lace mantilla similar to Caterina Dellamorte’s. Her gloved hands were clasped in front of her as she watched with a somber expression as her husband’s remains were set aflame. She was careful to keep her cheeks free of tears. Crying in public was not a luxury afforded to the widow of Lucanis Dellamorte.
Viago had agreed to the alliance between House de Riva and House Dellamorte with some reluctance. It had been a marriage of convenience, but she’d grown at least fond of Lucanis in the year they’d been married. She thought he’d been fond of her too. With Lucanis gone, though, she didn’t know what would become of the alliance.
Antonia had learned that Caterina Dellamorte never did anything without a reason. The woman had survived to an age few Crows, let alone Talons, ever saw, and she’d survived the deaths of her entire family save two of her grandsons. It took a woman of steel to do that.
She knew Lucanis must have been set up for the Venatori to get the drop on him, but thus far no one, not Caterina or Viago, had entertained her thoughts on the matter. She kept her expression grave as she watched the flames consume her husband’s body, even as a flame of rage remained buried within her own heart.
******
Four Months Later
“You reckless fool,” Viago cursed at his half sister as he glared at her. “Do you have any idea how many plans you’ve ruined by blundering about the Antaam like a hurricane?”
Antonia’s face, fresh scars like lighting cracking across her skin from the backlash of a powerful spell, remained impassive as she listened to the Fifth Talon and head of House de Riva rage. She was not going to apologize for saving the captives from the Antaam. Too many people, both common and even Crows had vanished from the streets of Treviso since the Antaam had invaded the city. Friends she’d seen only weeks before were gone, either in Antaam custody or dead.
“What do you want me to say, Viago?” Antonia asked. “The Antaam crawl about our city like cockroaches, threatening civilians and Crow alike. There were fledglings in that group of prisoners. I couldn’t leave them to the Butcher.”
“You might have talked to me before you attempted some daring rescue,” Viago snapped. “There are multiple missions that had been planned that all have to be scrapped now.” He clenched his fists. “You’re lucky the other Talons aren’t calling for your head, Antonia,” Viago shook his head. “Caterina would be well within her rights to call for your death or your imprisonment.”
“Which is it to be then?” she asked.
Viago glared at her. “It so happens that two of the captives you saved need help with a job. Maker knows why, but Varric Tethras has asked for your help specifically.”
Antonia looked at him blankly. “The author?”
“And member of the Inquisition and former Viscount of Kirkwall,” Viago snorted. “They’re looking for another former member of the Inquisition, Solas. You’re going with them. It took a lot of talking but I managed to convince Caterina to sentence you to temporary exile. Think of this as a contract. If you succeed, maybe you can begin to get back into the Crows' good graces.”
“What about your good graces?” she asked softly.
He sighed. “Just go pack your things, Antonia. You’re going to be away awhile.”
She watched her brother stalk away then closed her eyes and turned mechanically towards her rooms in his townhouse. If what Viago told her was any indication, she was going to be on the road for some time and she’d need to pack light.
She’d just swung her pack onto her back when Andarateia Cantori appeared in her doorway. The Seventh Talon’s expression was sympathetic as she regarded Antonia. “You know he’s only sending you away because he must, Toni,” she said gently.
“Better he send me away than Caterina ask for my head,” Antonia replied humorously. “Any good will she might have still had for me is probably gone now.”
“Perhaps,” Teia hazarded. “But you know Viago will miss you, no matter how he yells at you now.” Teia then moved her hand from behind her back and presented Antonia with an athame. “You will need this, since you lost yours in the fight against the Antaam.”
Mages weren’t common among the Crows, and the spellblades they used were not cheap. Antonia stared down at the athame in surprise then back at the Seventh Talon. “Teia, I can’t..”
“Yes, you will,” Teia told her firmly and pressed the blade into Antonia’s gloved hands. She waited for the mage to sheath the weapon before she hugged the taller woman. “Be careful, Antonia. Viago or I shall write to you when you may come home.”
“Thank you, Teia,” Antonia whispered into the elven assassin’s hair.
Varric Tethras and Scout Lace Harding of the Inquisition were waiting for her on the street outside of the de Riva townhouse.
“Welcome to the team,” Varric greeted her with a grin. “You’ll remember Harding.”
“Nice to meet you, now that your fingers aren’t crackling with lightning,” Harding offered a wave. “You ready to go?”
She’d lost her husband and her home in less than six months. Now that she’d been exiled, it didn’t really matter if she was ready or not, she had to just keep moving forward.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Antonia shrugged. “I think the sooner I get out of Treviso the better. Most of the Crows are furious with me.”
Harding glanced briefly over her shoulder as if looking to see if there were any Crows lurking nearby. Antonia knew her brother and Teia were watching from the windows of the townhouse and she could make out the shape of at least one Crow on a nearby rooftop.
“”Right, let’s go then,” Varric suggested. “Off we go, Rook.”
Antonia lifted her brows. “Rook? The the bird or the chess piece?”
“Probably the bird?” Harding suggested?
“Could be,” Varric told them, “But I’m thinking of the chess piece. The Rook is a piece that people underestimate. But later in the game, it’s often one of the most powerful pieces on the board.”
“I just fucked up several operations and pissed off at least half the Talons,” Antonia snorted. “I don’t think Rook really fits me that well.”
“Trust me, Rook, it will,” Varric promised as he clapped her on the shoulder. “It will.”
Clarification: This little short fic exists within my unreasonably massive and complex multi-protag universe (all 6 wardens + Hawke + all 4 Inquisitors + all 6 Rooks exist here). Why does this universe exist? Because I hate myself.
Word Count: 1,785
Evabas Aldwir pushed open the door to Bellara’s little study in the Lighthouse. It was useless to knock, Bellara never heard it when she was working. And if she wasn’t “working,” she was either sleeping or not there. But as they pressed their face into the narrow gap - their horns, cut off as they were, would not fit unless they opened the door wider - they could hear the sounds of Bellara tinkering. They wet their lips nervously and then pulled back to push the door open the rest of the way and walk inside. Thankfully, Bellara never seemed to mind when people just showed up in her room.
And there she was, sat on a stool and bent forward over some bit of ancient elven technology. Evabas would probably recognize it if they could see it more clearly, but that was not why they were here. They were going to take a moment to enjoy the sight though. The gentle slope of Bellara’s shoulders, the less gentle flare of her hips, the endlessly long brown hair she kept piled on top of her head. Those wide, dramatic, beautiful brown eyes that seemed utterly incapable of deception or dissembling. There had never been anyone who made them feel like Bellara did. Oh, they had carried around crushes before, pined a bit over girls back home in their Clan. Not their Clan. The Clan. Just because they carried the clan’s name did not mean they were one of them. But Bellara. Bellara was so beautiful, and smart, and talented, and funny, and thoughtful. Oh, she could be forgetful and absent-minded, but that was okay. No one was perfect, but Bellara was close. And the way Bellara looked at them, like they were worth looking at, worth listening to. Like they mattered.
It twisted them upside in a way they had never felt before.
Evabas cleared their throat awkwardly, fidgeting with the large roll of paper in their hands. Bellara did not move away from her work, muttering to herself in Dalish. It brought a new nervous smile to their lips and they shifted their weight. Bellara always seemed happy to see them, no matter what reason they had for intruding, but it was still hard to interrupt. The fear that they would eventually overstep was overwhelming. Evabas forced themselves to remember Taash and Laidir, or even Rook and Harding. Taash was bold, and so was Laidir, and look how happy they both were? Rook was more subtle, but still told Harding how she felt. They could be bold too.
“Bellara?” Evabas finally spoke up, and Bellara straightened up with a jolt. The elf twisted around on her stool, her face brightened with a wide smile as soon as she saw Evabas. It made Evabas’s heart melt and their stomach twist, their nervousness getting both better and worse somehow. Bellara’s smile could light up the darkest cave, banish the night, chase away the worst of their fears. Evabas could hang all of eternity in the depthless light of those beautiful brown eyes. Even if they never became more than what they were right now, Evabas was happy just to be in Bellara’s orbit.
“Oh! Evabas! I did not hear you come in,” Bellara’s voice broke through Evabas’s thoughts and they smiled back at her. When Bellara did not get up from her stool, Evabas stepped closer, still fidgeting with the roll in their hands. They hesitated for a minute. What if Bellara did not like it? It was not even complete, a half gift. No, no. Bellara would like it. She loved things like this. And besides, they were still going to finish it, they just really wanted Bellara to see their latest progress on it. Bellara had said she liked taking things apart and putting things back together, but also that she liked watching new things come together. She would like this. Evabas felt almost like someone else was taking over their body as they lifted their hand to offer the large rolled up paper to Bellara.
The elf’s eyes predictably lit up with interest, and Bellara picked it up easily from Evabas’ outstretched hand. She gave Evabas a curious look, and then pulled at the little strips of leather holding it together. Evabas was holding their breath as Bellara started to unroll it. A happy little gasp escaped Bellara’s lips and the elf stepped easily off her stool and turned to the counter. Evabas relaxed a little and stepped up behind Bellara, watching as she carefully unrolled the full map. It was a large sheet, too wide for Bellara to easily hold open with just her hands. Evabas had much longer reach, and height, and they had not considered that when deciding on the size. But Bellara did not seem bothered, planting a heavy piece of Arlathan metal on one edge and drawing the other out with her delicate fingers.
“It’s a map of Arlathan Forest,” Bellara said, wonder and appreciation obvious in her voice. “Incomplete but, I have never seen one in this style!” Evabas leaned in over Bellara’s shoulder as the elf examined the pristinely clean lines. Different portions of the map varied from being full of carefully rendered details, to barely drawn lines, and even an entire corner of the map that was untouched. After a moment, Bellara turned her head to look back and up at Evabas. “Where did you find this?”
“Oh,” Evabas answered awkwardly, heat flooding to her face. “No, I um… I made it. Well, I am making it. It’s not finished yet.” The heat intensified as Bellara just blinked at them in stunned silence. Creators, they were going to die from the scrutiny. But what a way to die, having surprised Bellara Lutare to silence.
“You made this?” Bellara asked, the question curious but not accusatory.
“Yes. I’m really good at remembering what things looked like. I was trying to recreate the map I destroyed, to give to Strife. And then I thought,” Evabas could feel the heat in their face darkening their skin and they pulled back, standing straight and uncomfortable. They had not taken into account how much Bellara liked to ask questions. “I thought I could make a map of this too.”
“A map of all of Arlathan Forest?” Evabas still could not find any judgment in Bellara’s voice, just that pure curiosity that was ever-present.
“Well, no. Not all of it. Just…” they fidgeted again and then stepped up beside Bellara, so they could reach the map. “Just… the important parts.” Evabas pointed to one of the most detailed spots on the map, in the far corner. “This is where you encountered the bubble that protected the Nadas Dirthalen.” Evabas looked sidelong at Bellara to study her face for a second. Without even looking at the map, their fingers moved easily to the next spot. “Here is where the Veil Jumpers are camping now.” They knew every important point on the map by pure muscle instinct at this point. “And here is D’Meta’s Crossing. These are the places I-” they faltered a little on their words. “The places we helped you stabilize artifacts. And then over here, I am still working on this part, but this is where we found Cyrion.” Evabas’ voice was small when they said it, knowing the subject was still sensitive for Bellara.
A silence hung in the air for several heartbeats.
“So this is a map of,” Bellara stopped. Evabas could not tell if she was upset or trying to figure something out. It could be both. They hoped they had not overstepped, said or done something wrong. The idea of Bellara being upset with them, or hurt by their actions, was more painful than they could express even in their own thoughts. If it became a reality they might not survive the pain. They might not want to.
“Is this a map of us?” Bellara asked, looking up from the map to meet Evabas’ eyes. Evabas wanted to look away so badly, but they could not. They never could look away from Bellara, not that they ever truly tried. Evabas searched Bellara’s face though, and found only the question there. Again and again Bellara proved willing to see them without judgment, without distance. But there was a tenderness there, a nervousness, that they rarely ever saw in Bellara. Maybe…
“Yes,” they answered, the word so small even they could barely hear it. Bellara’s face changed, the nervousness and curiosity giving way to something new. An open acceptance, a happiness, that stole the breath from Evabas’ body. There was nothing they could do as Bellara turned fully away from the map, spinning in place in the small space left between Evabas’ taller bulk and the counter. Bellara was on the taller side for an elf, but Evabas was a qunari. That did not stop Bellara from reaching up to grab Evabas by the shoulders. Evabas could not be certain if they bent down to meet Bellara, or if Bellara had simply lifted herself up using them as a scaffold, but suddenly they were eye to eye.
And lips to lips.
Evabas felt an energy move through their entire body that was more pure and electric than any magic. Without even thinking about it, they slipped an arm around Bellara as the elf kissed them. It was everything they ever could have imagined. Just the simple, warm press of Bellara’s lips against their own. It managed to both set them on fire and cool them like a balm. But before Evabas could drown in the contradiction, Bellara’s lips were gone. A fleeting kiss, but still a feast in the face of their starvation. Evabas found themselves blinking, not able to remember when they had closed their eyes. Bellara was still there, not a dream, and smiling so softly at them with something like love in their eyes.
“You are very sweet,” Bellara said softly. “Thank you.”
“I have never-” Evabas blurted, eyes widening in shock and embarrassment at the half-disclosed admission. Creators, they were ruining this perfect moment.
“Been kissed?” Bellara asked, the shock clear in her voice and her eyes. Evabas started to pull their arm away, burning now with humiliation instead of passion and excitement. They needed to get away, from this moment, from this mistake, from whatever Bellara was now thinking of them. Maybe they really did deserve to be alone. Maybe Bellara would still let them come around to talk. But Evabas was stopped before their retreat could even begin, Bellara’s gentle hand on their arm, not trapping it but encouraging Evabas to leave it where it was.
Aldwir ✦ de Riva ✦ Ingellvar ✦ Laidir ✦ Mercar ✦ Thorne ✦ Balazar|Free Day ✦ All
Calico Aldwir for Day 1 of @rookappreciationweek (Maps)🌸
As an ex-shaper from Orzammar, she loves ancient artifacts, runes and map making to update old documents as a Veil Jumper~🌸
Timelapse& Sketch⤵
Have a little spoiler of the other Rook and Non-Rook characters I've planned for the rest of this week! (I drew them all on the same CSP file🙈)
I went for a painterly rendering as I imagine all those pieces to be drawn in Thedas by my self-insert <3
Kind of a "multiverse of World States" collage😂
