#taash dav

[lightan117]

A Deal with a Spirit of Determination

I haven't been feeling well the past few days, so I've been able to play catch up on a lot of my WIP. Here are just some interactions between Daisy and Spite; there's no timeframe of when they take place, but the last scene occurs when Lucanis sleepwalks after you choose which city to save, I believe?

Pairing: Lucanis x (F) Mourn Watch Rook

Warnings: None except from brief threats from Spite but nothing major. Lots of fluff and cute interactions.

Please let me know what you think! Comments and likes are always welcome!

The first time Daisy met Spite unofficially was when Lucanis momentarily lost control.

It was an unremarkable evening in the camp's modest kitchen—a rare quiet moment between battles. The scent of simmering stew curled through the air, mingling with the faint smokiness of the fire. Daisy leaned against the counter, watching Lucanis stand by the stove, stirring the pot with practiced ease. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he was making small talk, his voice steady, casual. It was one of the few times they'd spent together outside of combat, and though they weren't exactly friends yet, a familiarity was growing between them.

Then, out of nowhere, an eerie, gleeful voice cut through the calm. "NOT SPICY ENOUGH. MAKE IT HURT. HURT GOOD, HE-HE." Daisy stiffened, her sharp eyes snapping to Lucanis. His entire posture changed—his grip on the spoon tightened, his jaw clenched, and his free hand instinctively pinned the bridge of his nose. It was the kind of movement someone did when accustomed to handling a particular kind of frustration. She placed the plate she had been holding onto the table before stepping toward him.

"I'm fine, Rook," Lucanis muttered before she could say anything. He exhaled through his nose, waving a dismissive hand in her direction. "Spite slipped in for a bit." Daisy ignored the gesture and moved closer, tilting her head slightly as she studied him. Her expression wasn't pitying, nor was it fearful—just… concerned. That was strange. Most people in their ragtag group wanted nothing to do with Spite. They avoided acknowledging him entirely, pretending he didn't exist, or they treated Lucanis like he was moments away from snapping. But Daisy didn't flinch, didn't waver. If anything, she looked mildly intrigued.

"Was his voice too loud?" she asked, her tone quiet but steady. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Lucanis huffed, shaking his head, but the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed any actual irritation. "I'm fine, Rook," he repeated, but this time, there was amusement in his voice rather than exasperation. "Really."

Daisy didn't look entirely convinced. "Does he slip in more often these days?"

Lucanis rolled his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. "Only when I haven't had enough coffee," he admitted. Then his eyes flicked back to the pot—and widened in horror. "Mierda, Spite!" Daisy followed his gaze and snorted as she saw the disaster before them. The once perfectly balanced stew was now practically glowing red, a mountain of powdered hot pepper sinking into the broth like some hellish ingredient offering.

Lucanis groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "We can't eat this."

Daisy chuckled, the sound light and genuine as Lucanis resigned himself to starting over. She leaned against the counter again, arms crossed, watching as he muttered under his breath and reached for a new batch of ingredients.

For all the chaos Spite brought, Daisy thought, moments like this weren't so bad.

~oOo~

The next time Daisy interacted with Spite, she was alone in the library.

It was hard to tell what time it was in the Fade. The sky above the Lighthouse remained suspended in a perpetual dusk, the colors bleeding between twilight and something darker, something endless. You didn't wake with the sun or sleep with the moon—time moved as it pleased, and you rested only when exhaustion dragged you under when your body refused to push forward any longer. That was dangerous. Losing track of time while fighting gods? Never a good thing.

Daisy sat curled in one of the high-backed chairs of the library, a book propped open in her hands. The Lighthouse's so-called library doubled as their meeting room, but in these quiet hours, it was just her and the books the Fade had seen fit to provide. Some were familiar—ones she had read in school, even ones she had owned in her house before she left. The fact that the Fade could recreate them so perfectly was fascinating, though she would be far more impressed if it could conjure up a halfway decent bedroom. Maybe then, sleep wouldn't be such a dangerous luxury. No wonder Solas was so damn irritable. He had waged an entire rebellion without so much as a proper bed. Ugh. The thought of Solas and a bed made Daisy want to retch. She turned a page, suppressing the urge to scowl, when she felt it—the shift.

Subtle, but distinct.

A presence in the air, pressing in from just behind her. Watching. Not with the quiet curiosity of someone approaching a friend but with the weighted stillness of something gauging the moment, waiting to see what she would do. Daisy didn't tense. She didn't even look up from her book.

A cerulean butterfly flitted into existence beside her, its delicate wings glowing faintly in the dim light. She exhaled slowly, watching it dance around her fingers before fading into nothingness. "Where are you going, Spite?" Her voice was even, casual as if she were asking about the weather.

A beat of silence. Then—

"Not going. Watching."

That was new. Spite wasn't usually this forward. Cautious, yes. Snide, certainly. But this? This was curiosity. Daisy flicked her gaze up just enough to catch the movement from the corner of her eye. "Oh?" she murmured, shifting her grip on the book but not closing it. "And what exactly are you watching for? I half-expected you to leave."

The shape behind her moved. Not away, but closer. Around the corner of the couch where she sat, stepping into her line of sight. Lucanis—or rather, Spite in Lucanis's body. Daisy had seen this before, but that didn't mean she wasn't wary. Spite may have worn Lucanis's face and moved with his body's natural ease, but it was different. The posture, the weight in his stare—it wasn't him. It was something older, sharper, and a little too pleased with itself.

She would never admit it to anyone except maybe Harding, but Lucanis was… very easy to look at. Even when possessed by his insufferable demon, that fact didn't change. He was a sight on the battlefield—strong, deliberate, poetic in his brutality. And he gave himself far too little credit for his skill. Not to mention, his food was excellent.

But now? Now it was Spite standing there, wearing Lucanis's skin, watching her with a glint of amusement that was all wrong for him.

Daisy remained where she was, her grip on the book steady, though her muscles coiled in anticipation. Cautious but not fearful. That was the key.

Another butterfly appeared, this time fluttering beside Spite. His gaze flicked to it immediately, watching how it danced in the air before vanishing into nothing. He tilted his head slightly. "Strange," he murmured.

Daisy huffed a quiet laugh. "You're calling me strange?" Spite didn't respond right away, but his fingers twitched at his sides, restless. "Alright," she sighed, shutting the book with a quiet thump and tilting her head. "You've got my attention. What do you want, Spite?" She wasn't sure if she imagined it, but the smile that tugged at Lucanis's lips—Spite's lips—looked just a little too entertained.

"Can't leave," Spite said. The words were simple, but the weight behind them made Daisy frown.

She tilted her head slightly. "Lucanis is keeping you locked away?"

Spite's lips curled in something that was not quite a smile. "Buried. Held too tight." His fingers curled into fists at his sides. "I am meant to roam. I am meant to take. But he holds. Always holds."

Daisy took a slow breath, letting his words settle. She had never thought much about it before—she had assumed Spite came and went as he pleased. But no, Lucanis and him were contained, restrained, and trapped together. She studied him, thinking, "That sounds… frustrating." Spite narrowed his eyes slightly as if trying to determine whether she was mocking him. But Daisy wasn't mocking. She was thinking. Spite was trapped. Lucanis was exhausted from constantly keeping him there. Neither of them was winning this fight. "You don't want to cause harm, do you?" she asked gently. "You just want freedom."

Spite didn't answer immediately. He just watched her. Another butterfly flickered into existence between them, its wings fluttering gently. Spite reached out, but it disappeared like smoke before he could touch it. His expression darkened, but not in anger—fascination.

Daisy exhaled softly, then leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Then let me help," she said.

That made Spite blink. "Help?"

She nodded. "You're stuck in there, but Lucanis is exhausted trying to keep you locked away. If you work against each other, nothing changes. But if we make a deal, maybe we can find something that works for both of you."

Spite tilted Lucanis's head slightly, intrigued. "A deal."

"To a point. You let Lucanis sleep," Daisy said. "No taking his body elsewhere, no keeping him awake. In exchange, I'll spend time with you. Talk to you. Let you exist outside of just being locked in Lucanis's head."

She didn't rush, didn't push. She let the offer settle, and Spite processed it on his terms.

Finally, after a long, measured silence, Spite's expression shifted—not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. "Deal."

Daisy nodded, exhaling as the tension in the room eased. She had no idea if she had just made a mistake, but she would rather try to understand Spite than keep him trapped in an endless battle he could never win.

"You have to behave, Spite; that's part of it also," Daisy said, leaning forward. "If you behave, I will ask Lucanis if we can allow you to leave with me for a bit."

Spite growled but, in the end, nodded his head. A single butterfly flickered into existence between them, landing gently on the edge of Daisy's sleeve. Spite watched it with sharp, violet eyes.

Progress. She could work with that.

~oOo~

Daisy chuckled into her tea, the kitchen's warmth settling over her like a familiar blanket. She swirled the liquid absently, gaze distant as she thought back. "Alright, here's one," she said, smirking slightly. "I was about...eighteen? Maybe twenty? I was studying the effects of certain ingredients with spells, nothing crazy, mind you. But...something might have gone wrong one day?"

Spite leaned forward slightly, intrigued. "What did you do?"

Daisy sighed dramatically. "I may have... messed up a spell."

Spite snorted. "Of course."

"I was trying to practice illusion magic. Harmless, right? Just a simple charm to change the color of my robes for fun. I'm not the greatest at it, so I wanted to better myself. But apparently, I forgot one important step in the incantation. Instead of changing the color of my robes, I changed the color of my hair. And not just mine."

Spite tilted his head. "Whose?"

Daisy grinned. "My sister, Alilya’s."

Spite actually barked out a laugh. "What color?"

"Mine turned mulberry," Daisy groaned, tugging at a strand of her hair for emphasis. "Alilya's was pink. Bright, vivid, impossible-to-ignore pink."

Spite's eyes widened with something that was very close to delight. "I like this."

Daisy huffed. "Alilya did not. She screamed so loud that Ti'Lan thought the house was under attack. Then she chased me all through the halls, swearing she was going to shave my head while our mother was furious that I would mess up something so trivial while ma-Lady Kitty was next to her trying so hard not to die from laughter."

Spite grinned wickedly. "And your brother?"

Daisy rolled her eyes. "Ti'Lan thought it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. He tried to convince me to do it again—just to someone else. He said I should have turned his hair blue so he could pretend to be some Fade-touched warrior with mystical powers."

Spite laughed, a rough, amused sound. "Your family is chaos."

Daisy smiled, shaking her head. "You have no idea."

Spite leaned forward, eyes bright with mischief. "I like this. The screaming. The chasing. The too many people. Fun. Loud."

Daisy chuckled, "I figured you might."

Spite nodded. "Chaos is lively. Noisy. Feels... full." His expression darkened slightly. "Not empty. Not still."

Daisy tilted her head, studying him. "You really think that's fun?"

Spite crossed his arms and gave her a look. "Pink hair. Screaming sister. Running. Yes."

Daisy burst out laughing. "I should have expected, but I guess I should've known you'd approve."

Spite smirked. "You are stuck. With the hair."

Daisy sighed dramatically, running a hand through the strands. "Yeah. Alilya's didn't turn back either but it faded to a much paler pink color, not really that bright like it was. She got over it...eventually."

Spite leaned back, looking far too pleased. "You should do it again."

Daisy laughed. "Not happening."

Spite huffed. "Coward."

They fell into a comfortable silence, the warm air of the kitchen wrapping around them. Daisy took another sip of her tea, shaking her head at Spite's idea of fun. He was ridiculous.

~oOo~

The Lighthouse was quiet that night, the kind of quiet that settled deep in the bones. Outside, the sky remained in its perpetual state of dusk, the Fade swirling lazily beyond the glass. Most of the others had gone to their respective corners, seeking rest or distraction, but Daisy remained in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, her fingers coated in melted chocolate.

Spite sat on the counter nearby, watching her with an unusual level of patience. Usually, he lurked in the shadows, observed from a distance, only speaking when he felt like unnerving someone. But tonight, he was here, watching intently as she worked. "What are you doing?" His voice carried that rasp of curiosity edged with something unreadable.

Daisy glanced up, amused by the sight of Lucanis's body slouched against the cabinets, purple eyes sharp beneath the glow of candlelight. "Making candles."

Spite scoffed, tilting his head. "You cannot. Eat candles."

Daisy smirked, dipping a spoon into the glossy melted chocolate. "Not regular candles. But these? These, you can eat."

Spite's eyes narrowed. "You lie."

"Do I?" She lifted the spoon to her lips, tasting the chocolate before setting it aside. "These are chocolate candles. Edible. Sweet. They look like real ones, but no wax, no burning—just chocolate."

Spite considered this for a moment, his expression shifting between skepticism and intrigue. "...You make fake candles. To eat."

"Essentially."

"Hmm." He tapped his fingers against the counter, watching her carefully set out small candle-shaped molds on the counter. "I will help."

Daisy blinked. "You want to help?"

"I want to see if you lie." His lips curled as if daring her to prove him wrong.

Daisy chuckled, shaking her head. "Alright, Spite. Come here." She gestured for him to move closer, and he listened without complaint for once. He slid off the counter and stood beside her, eyes flicking over the ingredients. She placed a spoon in his hand, her touch light, guiding his fingers. "First, you have to stir the chocolate gently—don't just stab it."

Spite's grip tightened around the spoon. He made one slow, exaggerated stir before looking at her expectantly. "Like this?"

Daisy snorted. "Less murder-y." She placed her hand over his, adjusting his movements. "Like this. Smooth, steady." He huffed but followed her lead, moving the spoon in careful circles. "Good," Daisy said encouragingly. "Now, take the mold and pour just enough to fill it. Not too much, or it'll overflow." Spite did as instructed, pouring the chocolate with surprising precision. For a spirit born of bitter survival and spiteful existence, he was oddly meticulous. His brows furrowed as he focused, and Daisy resisted the urge to tease him for how serious he looked. "See?" She nudged him playfully. "Not so hard."

Spite exhaled sharply, glancing at her. "It is still foolish."

"Maybe." Daisy shrugged. "But you're still doing it."

A long pause. Then—"...Yes."

Daisy grinned. As the molds filled, she reached for a small dish of white chocolate shavings, sprinkling them carefully over the tops like wax drips. "Now we let them set, but I'll use some magic to speed up the process. Then we pop them out, and you can try one."

Spite eyed the cooling chocolate candles with suspicion. "If they are disgusting. I will tell you."

Daisy laughed. "I'd expect nothing less." They stood silently for a moment, the weight of their usual dynamic shifting into something… different. Softer.

Spite crossed his arms, tapping his fingers against his bicep. "Daisy."

She looked up. "Yeah?"

"You are strange."

She smirked. "So are you."

He considered that then let out a low, amused hum. "Hmm." And for the first time since she met him, Spite didn't argue.

The chocolate candles had finally set, their smooth surfaces gleaming under the warm glow of the kitchen lanterns. Daisy carefully popped them from the molds, arranging them neatly on a tray. Spite stood beside her, watching with that familiar sharp-eyed intensity, arms crossed, purple eyes flicking between the candles and her face.

"Now we eat them," he said, almost impatiently.

Daisy smirked. "Hold on."

Spite's eyes narrowed. "For. What?" Without answering, Daisy lifted a hand, a flicker of magic dancing at her fingertips. With a quiet whoosh, a tiny flame sparked to life above one of the chocolate candle's edible wicks. The flame was soft and warm, casting flickering golden light against the rich brown of the chocolate. Spite blinked. His arms slowly dropped from their crossed position, his gaze locked on the tiny, flickering flame. He leaned forward slightly, eyes reflecting the glow like molten gold. "It burns," he whispered, his voice softer than Daisy had ever heard. "Not real. No pain."

Daisy tilted her head, watching him. "Nope. Just light."

For a moment, Spite didn't speak. He reached out, his fingers hovering near the flame. He wasn't afraid—it wasn't in his nature to be afraid—but there was something else. Fascination. Maybe even wonder. "It is… pretty." His voice was still quiet, almost thoughtful.

Daisy smiled, nudging the tray closer to him. "And now, you get to eat it."

Spite straightened, his brief moment of awe dissolving back into sharp curiosity. He plucked one of the chocolate candles from the tray, inspecting it as if it might betray him. Then, he bit into it. The crunch of the outer shell gave way to the smooth, rich filling inside. Spite stilled. His expression didn't change at first—just a slow blink, a pause as he processed the taste.

Daisy watched expectantly. "Well?"

Spite swallowed, then turned to her with an unreadable look.

"…Acceptable."

Daisy laughed. "That's it? Just 'acceptable'?"

He took another bite, chewing slower this time. "...Maybe good."

Daisy crossed her arms, grinning. "Just admit you like it."

Spite huffed, finishing the chocolate before licking his fingers in a far too smug way. "You only want to hear praise."

"Only when I deserve it."

Spite considered her for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. It is good. Happy?"

Daisy chuckled, picking up her own chocolate candle and taking a bite. "Yes. I am."

Spite looked at her for a long moment, then at the candle tray. Without a word, he reached for another. And that, Daisy decided, was the highest compliment he could give. Spite finished his second chocolate candle, chewing slowly as he studied Daisy. She was watching him again, her eyes warm, lips curved into an easy smile. "Why are you looking. At me?" he asked, licking a smudge of chocolate from his thumb.

Daisy tilted her head. "Because I'm happy."

Spite frowned. "You are… happy?"

"Mhm." She popped a piece of chocolate into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. "Because you enjoyed something. You tried something new, and you liked it. That makes me happy."

Spite squinted at her as if she had just spoken in a language he didn't understand. "Strange thing. To feel happy about."

Daisy laughed, shaking her head. "Not really." She placed her hands on the counter, leaning forward slightly. "You don't get it, do you?"

Spite crossed his arms, his expression both skeptical and intrigued. "No."

She sighed, but it wasn't annoyance—it was patient. "Happiness isn't just about what happens to you. Sometimes, it's about what happens to the people around you. When you care about someone, their happiness adds to yours."

Spite stared at her, processing that. His purple eyes flickered, searching her face as if trying to find some hidden trick in her words. After a long pause, he scoffed. "Foolish."

Daisy grinned. "Maybe."

Spite tapped his fingers on the counter. "Smile more."

That caught her off guard. "What?"

He leaned in slightly, his smirk lazy but his gaze sharp. "You. You do not. Smile enough. I want you to." Daisy blinked, thrown by the sincerity hidden beneath his usual teasing. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing quite came out. Spite tilted his head, watching her closely. "Strange," he mused. "Now you do not understand."

Daisy shook her head, biting back a chuckle. "You really are something else, Spite."

Spite smirked. "Yes. I am."

And as Daisy watched him sneak another chocolate candle from the tray, she smiled again—without even thinking about it.

~oOo~

"Lucanis." Daisy's voice barely carried past the quiet hum of the Lighthouse. She had checked the kitchen first, his usual haunt, but he wasn't there. That wasn't a good sign. A flicker of movement caught her eye—a wisp, faintly glowing, curling through the air like a ribbon caught in an unseen current. It lingered near her, its form shifting restlessly, emitting a low, sorrowful wail before darting off. Daisy stiffened. Wisps didn't just cry.

She followed.

She went down the stairs into the eluvian room and them. Lucanis—or rather, Spite—was trying to leave.

Harding and Taash stood in his way, bodies tense, weapons ready. Taash planted their feet like an immovable wall while Harding shifted slightly, eyes calculating. Purple light burned in Spite's gaze as he regarded them, shoulders squared, muscles coiled with restless energy.

"Back, demon!" Harding called her bow already in hand. "No further! Isn't standing up to them supposed to work?"

"Let Lucanis go! Don't make us hurt either of you!" Taash challenged, voice sharp as a blade.

Daisy stepped into the room. "What's going on here? Lucanis?"

"It's not Lucanis! It's the demon," Harding snapped, eyes darting to her. "It's taken him over—he's trying to leave!"

Spite inhaled deeply, a twisted sort of amusement flickering across Lucanis's features. "It smells like jam and brimstone." He grinned at Harding as if tasting the air. Harding grimaced. She turned to Daisy, her expression shifting to something more urgent—Fix this.

Daisy exhaled, stepping closer. "Spite, stop. You are not taking Lucanis through the eluvian."

Spite's gaze flicked to her. "I would. If you'd move."

He took a step forward. Taash didn't back down. Harding tightened her grip. "So you can take him where? Off a cliff? Or worse?" Harding demanded. Spite didn't like that. His sneer sharpened, and in an instant, he moved—fast, too fast—rounding on Harding. But Daisy was already there. He grabbed her, shoving her back against one of the stone columns. A knife—Lucanis's knife—flashed in his hand, the blade pressing against her throat, just beneath her jaw.

Harding and Taash shouted, but Daisy lifted a hand—wait.

Purple eyes locked onto green, a silent battle of wills. The blade pressed just enough for her skin to sting, but she remained still. Steady. Spite's breath was shallow and sharp. His body was tense and trembling—not with rage, but with something deeper, something caged. "Let me out," he rasped. "I go. Out."

Daisy kept her voice low, calm. "Where would you go, Spite?" She ignored the blade, ignored the sharpness of his breath against her skin. "You can't leave with Lucanis. You'd be in danger if anyone took you."

Spite flinched at the word took. His lip curled, baring teeth. "I could hurt you. Hurt him. Hurt everyone." The knife pressed a fraction deeper. His voice crackled, desperate. "Want. Out. I. Want. Out."

"You are out, Spite." Her hand moved, slow and deliberate. He tensed, tried to bite her—sharp like an animal—but she didn't stop. Fingertips brushed his face. A simple touch. A gentle one.

His beard was rough beneath her fingers as she ran her thumb across his cheekbone. A soft pulse of magic seeped from her hand, cerulean light against the violet hue of his eyes. It was warmth, a tether, a presence.

Spite shuddered. A hiss escaped him, but it wasn't anger. It was-something else. Something familiar. A memory, buried beneath layers of bitterness and fire.

For Spite, Daisy smelled of the Fade—peaches, honeysuckle, summer. Warm. Real. Alive. "Where do you think you are, Spite?" Her voice was a murmur, barely audible.

He shook. The knife trembled in his grip. "Not here. Trapped. Keeps us. There," he mumbled, voice thick, fraying at the edges. He looked at her—not with hatred, not even with amusement, but with exhaustion.

Daisy pressed gently. "Where are you, Spite?"

His fingers twitched. A flicker of something vulnerable passed through his expression, but then his face twisted—pained, torn. "Make him—ugh." The knife clattered to the floor.

Hands clenched in hair, Spite let out a raw, guttural growl before collapsing into silence. Daisy caught his shoulders as his body sagged, gripping steadily. Then— A sharp inhale. His weight shifted.

Lucanis was back.

His eyes, his eyes, blinked in confusion. "Daisy?" His voice was hoarse. His gaze darted around. "What is going on?"

Harding exhaled, lowering her bow. "You… tried to walk through the eluvian in your sleep."

Taash's voice was flat. "Spite wanted out."

Lucanis groaned, rubbing his face. "I need coffee."

Daisy's patience thinned. "Coffee is not going to fix everything, Lucanis."

"This… could be better," he admitted. "It's hard for Spite to take control when I'm awake."

Harding shot him a look. "You can't stay awake forever! That can kill you."

Daisy nodded. "We have to—"

Taash cut in. "What do you mean 'more careful?!' Spite held a knife to her throat!"

Lucanis turned, guilt flashing across his face. "Taash! I'm fine!" Daisy interrupted before he could say anything else. Lucanis stepped closer, lifting a hand toward her neck, but she tugged the high collar of her robe up, covering the mark. "I said I'm fine." Her voice was firm. "I drew Spite's attention. He wouldn't hurt me like that."

Harding's eyes narrowed. "He's a demon, Daisy."

Daisy's jaw clenched. "He's a spirit who doesn't understand what happened to him."

Her voice was quieter now, but every word held weight. "How would you feel if all you knew was one purpose, one direction—and suddenly, everything you knew was gone? If you were trapped, tortured, forced to survive, twisted into something you never intended to be?" Silence. Lucanis swallowed hard. Daisy exhaled, her magic flaring softly as she healed the shallow cut on her neck. Harding reached for her, but Daisy pulled away.

"Daisy—"

She shook her head. Then, without another word, she turned and left.

She would not abandon Spite—not when he was already drowning.

Lucanis found Daisy alone in the kitchen, staring at an open book, though it was clear she wasn't reading. Her fingers idly traced the rim of a half-finished mug of tea, her expression distant. He hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. "Daisy—"

"If you're here to apologize, don't." Her voice was calm, but there was something beneath it, something layered in quiet frustration. She didn't even look up.

Lucanis frowned. "I should. Spite held a knife to your throat."

Daisy finally lifted her gaze, her green eyes sharp. "And yet, here I am, perfectly fine."

Lucanis' jaw tightened. "That's not the point."

"No, the point is that Spite was lashing out because he's trapped," she shot back. "He wants to leave, but he can't, and that's frustrating for him. Wouldn't it be frustrating for you?"

Lucanis opened his mouth to argue, but that familiar, grating presence crept in before he could. The shift in the air, the weight in his chest—Spite was making himself known, pushing forward just enough to be heard. "I wasn't going to hurt her." His voice slithered into the space between them, mocking but with just the barest hint of truth beneath it. Lucanis exhaled sharply, his patience already thinning. "Don't start, Spite."

Daisy folded her arms, unbothered. "You don't believe him?"

Lucanis turned to her, his brows knitting together. "Daisy—"

"I know more about spirits than you do." Her voice had an edge to it now. "I know how they think, how they shift and change. So why don't you trust me that I know what I'm doing?"

Lucanis faltered. His lips parted slightly, but he had no immediate response. His hands curled into fists before slowly releasing.

Spite chuckled darkly. "Ooooh, that's a good question, Lucanis. Why don't you trust her?" His tone dripped with mock innocence, but Lucanis could feel the smugness curling underneath. Lucanis clenched his jaw. "Shut up."

Spite ignored him, continuing with a taunting lilt. "She sees me. She listens to me. She doesn't shove me into the dark like you do." There was venom in that last part, a pointed jab. "Maybe she's the one I should be talking to more." Lucanis' hands twitched. "Spite." His tone carried a warning.

Daisy exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. "Spirits above and below, would you two stop bickering for one second?"

Lucanis turned back to her. "I just don't want you to get hurt." His voice was quieter now, more measured.

"And I don't want him to be hurt either," Daisy countered, tilting her head slightly. "I don't want either of you to get hurt. He lashes out because it's the only thing he knows how to do. But that doesn't mean he's beyond understanding."

Spite scoffed. "You hear that? Understanding. As if you'd ever try, Lucanis." Lucanis pinched the bridge of his nose. "Daisy, you're too patient for your own good."

She smirked, but there was something softer in her expression now. "Maybe. But patience gets results."

Lucanis sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine. But if he even thinks about pulling a knife on you again—"

"Yeah, yeah, you'll threaten your own spirit. Got it." Daisy waved him off before taking a sip of her tea.

Spite hummed, clearly entertained. "You know, I like her."

Lucanis groaned, rolling his eyes. "You would."

[pompkween]

Taash? TAASH. taash

(I've been waiting for this moment since 2009)

[wrdn-tabris]

sorry i just love them both so much

(spoilers for stuff with taash)

[lightan117]

I will wait, no matter how long - Part 1

Guys, I had to break up this massive chapter. It took me forever and tons of rewrites. 12k words just for part 1 alone. And I'm not even done yet! Please let me know how you guys like this! I worked really hard on this and to bring up more of Daisy's past.

Pairings: Lucanis/ (F)Mourn Watch Rook

Warnings: Some violence, drinking, ghosts, and mentions of abuse. There is also a lot of pining, fluff, and Lucanis/Rook being fools in love but can't express how they feel.

~oOo~

Daisy had never moved so quickly in her life. One second, she was in the pantry with Lucanis, and the next, she was almost taking Harding's door off its hinges. “I’ve fucked up.”

“I’m sorry?!” Lace’s head shot up as Daisy barged into her conservatory room, sending a ceramic pot teetering dangerously on a ledge. Her eyes went wide when the curse word fell from Daisy’s lips. “What in the Maker’s name—Start from the beginning!”

Daisy wheezed, trying to form a coherent thought, but her brain was still soup. Her whole life was about staying composed in tense situations—handling wayward spirits and working through magical problems with a steady hand. She was supposed to be calm. She was supposed to be rational. So why did it feel like she had just sprinted through a battlefield naked while screaming her deepest, most shameful secrets? She grabbed Lace by the shoulders. “I made a mistake.”

Lace stared at her. “Did you set something on fire?”

“No.”

“Did you accidentally invite a demon into the Lighthouse?”

“No!”

“…Did you finally tell Lucanis you like him, and it backfired spectacularly?”

Daisy made a strangled noise and smacked her hands over her burning face.

Lace howled.

“Oh, this is better than I hoped. Keep talking.”

Daisy flailed. “I didn’t mean to! I was just—Spite took over, right? So I talked to him, trying to keep things from getting worse—”

“Of course you did,” Lace muttered.

“—And then Lucanis took control again, and he was all broody and apologetic and tragic-looking, and I was just trying to be supportive, but then—then things happened—”

Lace leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “What things?”

Daisy whimpered. “He—he cornered me, Lace.”

Lace nearly fell off her chair. “Excuse me?”

“Against the pantry wall! He—he put his hand next to my head and looked at me and—and his voice got all deep and serious, and I—I said stupid things—”

Lace grabbed her arm. “How stupid?”

Daisy sucked in a breath. “He said, ‘This isn’t a good idea.’ And I—I told him—” She gulped.

Lace shook her. “What did you say?”

“I told him… ‘Sometimes a bad idea is better.’”

Lace screamed.

Daisy screamed with her, shaking her by the shoulders in sheer secondhand horror. “No, no, no, it gets worse—” Daisy babbled. “He said I liked walking too close to the edge, and I said, ‘So do you,’ and then he said, ‘At least I know I’m doing it,’ and his voice dropped, and Lace, I thought—” She gasped for air. “I thought he was going to kiss me!”

Lace was already standing up. “Did he?!”

“NO!” Daisy wailed. “He just stared at me, like he was debating all of his life choices, and then he walked away!”

Lace clutched her head like she was in physical pain. “HE DID WHAT?!”

“I DON’T KNOW, OKAY?! I’VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE; I PANICKED, HE PANICKED, WE PANICKED, AND NOW I’M DYING.” Daisy flopped onto the floor, groaning into her hands.

Lace exhaled sharply and rolled her sleeves up. “Alright, I’m getting my crossbow.”

“Lace, no!” Daisy latched onto her waist.

“Oh no, no, no. He pulled away?! After that kind of tension?! What, does he think he can walk off a near-kiss like it was a casual chat about the weather?! I’ll show him weather—”

Daisy clung harder. “It’s fine—”

“IT IS NOT FINE.”

“I JUST WANTED TO VENT, NOT INCITE A MURDER.”

Lace gritted her teeth, arms crossed. “Alright, fine. No murder. Yet.” She sat back down, hands still twitching. “But what’s the real problem, Daisy? Because I know that face, and that face says, ‘I’m spiraling into an existential crisis.’”

Daisy sniffed. “…What if I imagined everything? What if he doesn’t actually like me that way?”

Lace gawked at her. “Are you joking? Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

Daisy frowned. “But what about him and Neve?”

Lace groaned like she had been physically wounded. “Daisy. Please. You’re smarter than this.”

Daisy buried her face in her hands again. “I feel so stupid.”

Lace softened, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not stupid. You’re just… catastrophically in love for the first time and have no idea how to process it.”

Daisy whimpered.

Lace sighed, standing and offering her a hand. “Alright. Get up. We’re going for a walk.”

Daisy peeked through her fingers. “A walk?”

“Yes. Because if we don’t, I’m going to march straight to Lucanis and tell him to fix this before you combust.”

“…Fair.”

As they left, Tassh appeared at the top of the stairs. “Uh. What’s happening?”

Lace pointed. “Daisy’s in love and suffering.” Daisy's face grew red with every glare sent in Lace's direction.

Tassh nodded sagely. “Ah. Been there.”

“Want to join us?”

Tassh shrugged. “Why not? Watching Daisy have a meltdown sounds entertaining.”

Daisy groaned. “I hate both of you.”

Lace slung an arm around her. “No, you don’t.”

“…Fine.”

"We should go to the Hall of Valor. Isabella owes Rook a few drinks for helping out. Besides, the company isn't bad, and the Lords are fun to party with." Taash offered. It wasn't a bad idea, but...Daisy wasn't best friends with alcohol, and the few times she does have any, it's minimal moderation. Varric gave her some fruity Orleasian wine the last time, where one could hardly feel intoxicated until they stood up. Then, the feeling would slam them up against a brick wall.

"What's going on?" The group turned toward Neve, and Bellara approached them.

Before Lace could open her mouth Tassh jumped in, no stopping them. "Lace and Rook want to drink at the Hall with the Lords. Wanna join?"

"There are plenty of places in Minrathous, but is there something about the Hall that's more exciting, Taash?" Neve asked, and Bellara quickly jumped in with excitement over the idea.

"The Hall has free drinks and no venatori. What more could we ask for? We all deserve a drink." The three of them started to plan for the night, which was settled on that very evening, while Lace looked up at Daisy for some sign of discomfort. Lace had never seen Daisy take such a quiet stance before, and the far-off look behind her eyes was worrying.

"Daisy? I know how you are with drinking." Lace whispered, and Daisy shook her head, her ear cuffs jingling softly.

"It's fine Lace. I have you watching out for me, right?" Daisy's smile didn't reach her eyes. Lace nodded, speaking the word always before squeezing her arm while the three members of their party planned the night. "Besides, one drink won't hurt. It might kill any leftover embarrassment I have."  

No time like the present. Daisy barely had time to protest before Bellara, practically vibrating with excitement, grabbed her arm and dragged her from the Lighthouse. The energy was infectious, but Daisy could only manage a half-hearted chuckle as they stumbled forward together. Behind them, Lace hurried toward Emmrich’s quarters, knocking sharply before slipping inside to inform the necromancer of their plans. They wouldn't be gone long, just enough time for a needed reprieve from the constant weight of their reality. Meanwhile, Taash was already deep in conversation with Neve, pouring over the list of drinks with a mischievous glint in their eye. If all went according to plan—or horribly awry—they could always crash at their mother’s house should the need arise.

Daisy tried her best to keep up appearances, her usual mask in place. She smiled; she laughed at the right moments, but the effort was exhausting. She felt Lace’s perceptive gaze flicker toward her every now and then as if trying to decipher the emotions lurking beneath the surface. But Daisy was a master at misdirection, and Bellara, with her boundless enthusiasm, made for an excellent distraction. She seized every opportunity to steer the conversation toward Bellara’s latest experiments, her magical advancements, and all the questions Daisy had been meaning to ask but never quite remembered at the moment. Bellara, ever the

inquisitive person was happy to oblige, her voice animated as she shared her knowledge.

Daisy had spent much of her early life feeling like an outsider. Raised by two human women in a world where bloodlines mattered, her elven heritage had been a mystery—at one time, she was desperate to unravel. Now, she just wanted to know more about what she was missing. Learning the language had been a struggle; each word clawed from the depths of an identity she was only beginning to grasp. Even now, the scars of old prejudices lingered, reflected back at her every time she saw her...ruined pointed ears in the mirror. She had been judged for them, scorned by those who saw her as neither fully human nor entirely elven but something in between—something lesser. A half-breed. A mutt. A weed.

Meeting Bellara had been a turning point. The Dalish elf carried the weight of her people’s traditions with pride, and she had been more than willing to guide Daisy toward the answers she sought. When their paths eventually crossed with Davrin, a seasoned Gray Warden, Daisy had another mentor willing to help her navigate her tangled heritage. Davrin had taken her under his wing with an ease that had startled her, offering not just guidance but acceptance.

For the first time in her life, Daisy wasn’t an outsider looking in. The rag-tag group she had assembled—Taash, Davrin, Lucanis, Lace, Neve, Bellara, Emmrich—had become more than allies. They were her family. Not one she had stumbled upon in the shadows of Nevarra, not one she had been abandoned to by fate, but one she had built with her own hands. It hadn’t been written in the stars. It hadn’t been some grand destiny. It had simply happened. And she had never been more grateful.

When they arrived at the Lords, the night of celebration was in full force.

Laughter rippled through the warm night air, mingling with the scent of salt and spirits. Daisy sat with the others around a long wooden table, a half-empty mug in her hands. The glow of lanterns cast flickering shadows on their faces, and the sound of waves crashing against the distant shore provided a steady, rhythmic backdrop to their revelry.

Bellara and Lace were already deep into their drinks, each engaged in an unspoken contest of who could down more without slurring their words. Neve leaned back in her chair, eyes glinting with amusement as she sipped from a delicate glass, while Taash, already flushed from the alcohol, animatedly recounted a story of a battle in a jungle, arms waving dramatically. "You should've seen it," Taash boasted, their grin wide. "This thing was bigger than a druffalo, with scales like darksteel and teeth like daggers—"

"—And yet, here you are, still in one piece," Neve drawled, smirking over the rim of her glass.

"Obviously," Taash said, feigning offense. "What do you take me for? Some common soldier?"

Isabella snorted. "We take you for someone who embellishes their tales more with every drink. Take it from someone who embellishes often."

Lace laughed, slamming her mug down. "If she’s lying, at least it's entertaining!"

Daisy chuckled along with them, warmth blooming in her chest—not just from the alcohol but from the ease of the moment. It had been too long since they'd all had time like this, where battle and duty didn’t weigh down on their shoulders. Here, they could just exist in a pocket of laughter and camaraderie, away from the expectations that usually hung over them. But even as she smiled, something in the back of her mind buzzed with unease. She shifted in her seat, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shake off the sudden prickling under her skin. Daisy...a whisper of her name more than once caught her attention, shifting her eyes to look over her shoulder. She ignored it, mistaking her real name being mentioned instead of her normal Rook.

When she started to feel it, Daisy was perhaps two or three drinks in.

The night around her buzzed—too warm, too loud, too much. Even outside, the air felt thick, pressing in on her skin like a smothering embrace. Voices blended into a single, overwhelming hum, layered with laughter, cheers, and the occasional clink of mugs. Even the spirits of Adventure, those boisterous echoes of old stories and grand exploits, seemed to swell in volume, their ghostly voices bouncing off one another like a chorus inside her head. The heat crawled up Daisy’s neck, settling behind her cheeks. The alcohol left her limbs floating and buzzing at the same time, like she wasn’t fully anchored to the ground. Her fingers tightened around the half-full mug in her hands—whatever they had given her was more potent than she anticipated. The Lords around her continued their endless tales; their excitement was palpable, their pasts bleeding into the present as if time had unraveled for them. Isabella was chatting with Neve and Taash, their laughter cutting through the thick air like a blade. Bellara and Lace had disappeared and were likely off to get another drink.

And Daisy… Daisy was alone.

The thrill of it sent a tremor through her chest. And yet, so did the fear.

Every sip made it easier, loosening the iron grip she kept on herself. The last time she had drunk this much, it had been with Lace and Varric by a crackling campfire, the stars sprawling overhead like tiny, unjudging eyes. She had been reluctant then, hesitant in the way only someone raised to fear indulgence could be. But Varric had made sure she drank, nudging her toward a lovely Orlesian wine that had hit harder than she expected.

That night, the weight of years had spilled from her lips. The War of Banners. Her family. The orphans she had cared for as penance, as repayment. The chains she would wear until her last breath. Her memory loss. By morning, she had been dizzy and aching but lighter.

The ocean breeze brushed past her, but it wasn’t enough to cool the fire in her skin. "Having fun?" Daisy flinched. Neve leaned against the overlook beside her, drink in hand, sharp eyes watching.

Daisy willed herself to stay steady, gripping the railing as if it could anchor her to the moment. "Just… thinking," she managed, the words heavy on her tongue. "Needed to step… away. Got hot all of a sudden."

The ocean stretched before them, the salt air tangling in her hair. Beautiful, as always, but the thought of sand sticking to her boots was enough to sour the scene. "Everyone seems to be having a great time, though," Daisy added, voice slightly distant. "Glad we could do this. Gods, can you imagine if Davrin were here? I’d pay to see who could drink more—him or Taash."

Neve hummed. "My money’s on Taash. But Davrin did mention Wardens drink a lot. Could be close." Daisy nodded, grateful for the distraction. But Neve’s gaze lingered too long. "You do remember I’m a detective, right?" Neve said, her voice light but her meaning sharp. "It’s my job to notice what’s missing. Find the problem. Or—" She stepped closer. "understand why something happened." Daisy’s stomach twisted. "You wouldn’t happen to be thinking about a certain assassin who lives in our pantry now, are you?"

Her breath hitched. "I am not…" The denial came too quickly, her voice too tight. She refused to look Neve in the eye, afraid her expression would betray her.

Neve chuckled. "You know he likes you, right? More than likes you."

Daisy’s heart tripped over itself.

"I’m sorry?" Her tongue felt clumsy, too thick.

"For such a strong leader, you might be a bit blind when it comes to someone having feelings for you." The words were casual, but they slammed into Daisy with the force of a war hammer. "What could possibly be the problem between you and Lucanis that makes you look like the world just ended?" Daisy’s grip on her mug tightened.

"Lucanis and I… nothing is going on between us!" The words rushed out, too high-pitched, too defensive. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the sound of waves. "You and Lucanis are—I mean—the way you two flirt, I assumed…"

Neve raised an eyebrow, and Daisy felt herself unraveling by the second.

"He rejected me," Daisy admitted, cheeks burning. "I thought it was because he was with you. If I had known you were, I wouldn’t have…"

"Developed feelings?" Daisy made a strangled noise, her entire body thrumming with heat. Neve laughed, sipping her drink. "Sunshine, nothing is going on between us. Sure, he’s handsome, and the flirting is fun, but when he looks at you… it’s different." Daisy wanted to melt into the ground. Or vanish. Or throw herself into the sea. Neve’s voice softened. "Should I have stopped flirting when I noticed? Maybe. Maybe I was still bitter about your choice of city to save. But now… I understand. You did what you thought was right. And I have to deal with the aftermath."

Daisy opened her mouth, guilt rising in her throat, but Neve lifted a hand.

"Don’t," she said simply. "I don’t need an explanation. I just wanted you to know—there’s nothing between Lucanis and me. What we have is a shared love of our homes. We’re good friends. But you? You’re different. And if he rejected you… maybe he just got cold feet."

"Cold feet?" Daisy echoed, barely above a whisper.

Neve tilted her head, eyes sharp. "Have you ever been with someone, sunshine?"

Daisy’s breath hitched again. The room—the night—everything felt too close—the warmth of the alcohol, the weight of Neve’s gaze, the pounding in her chest. "Neve…" she pleaded. "Please stop looking at me like that. I think I’ve had too much to drink."

Neve smirked. "Go figure—the two people utterly smitten with each other, both too blind to see it, are both virgins." Daisy nearly choked on air. Neve leaned in, her grin wicked. "Adorable." Daisy groaned again, resting her face in her hands as Neve gave her head a soft pat. "Talk to the man and tell him how you feel since he can't tell you himself. Words are good. Actions can always come later."

"Thanks, Neve," Daisy muttered softly.

"Anytime, sunshine." She was gone, leaving Daisy alone. Without much thinking, Daisy downed the rest of her mug in one go. The burning made her quickly regret the small burst of courage, but she held it down. Daisy would talk to Lucanis once she was sober enough. Once she had the courage to confront him and tell him her honest feelings. That even if it took forever to admit his own, she would wait.

She felt it then.

Eyes.

Someone was watching her.

The sensation crawled over her skin like icy fingers, squeezing the breath from her lungs. Her stomach churned—not just from the alcohol, though the burn of it swayed her movements and made the world tilt dangerously.

Daisy…

She turned too fast, nearly stumbling. The tavern spun in a haze of dim lantern light and smoke, but none of it could blur what stood before her.

A spirit.

A ghost.

A person who should be nothing more than the rotting bones of a memory, yet here she was.

Watching.

Seething.

Daisy’s breath hitched. The spirit’s lips never moved, but the voice slithered into her ears, coiling around her brain, slurring through the alcohol clogging her thoughts.

Found you.

A sharp jolt of terror cut through her stupor, but her body lagged behind her mind. She lurched sideways, her shoulder hitting a table, glasses rattling. Someone cursed. Strapped to her back, her staff clipped a mug—amber liquid sloshed, drenching the table. Someone shoved her. Laughter? A shout?

The spirit moved.

Not walked—moved. Gliding, reaching, her presence stretching toward Daisy like something cold and wet curling around her throat.

She ran. Her pulse thundered. Footsteps stumbled beneath her, too sluggish, too clumsy. Behind her, the spirit turned, those hollow eyes locked onto her, a silent promise that made Daisy’s veins run to ice. She ran past Lords, who were drinking joyfully, not paying any attention to one lone person who seemed to be too many in their cups. Daisy's companions were nowhere close, and she wasn't sure if what she saw was real.

So she ran.

And she didn't stop.

~oOo~

Daisy staggered through the crossroads of the Rivan eluvains, her mind drowning in a haze of memories and shadows. The world spun around her, uneven beneath her feet, and she barely registered the rough scrape of stone and sand against her palms as she caught herself from falling. No, no, she could not have been here. The face she had seen—so familiar, yet impossibly distant—could not have been real. It couldn’t be. Faces like hers existed only in nightmares, in the twisted corridors of dreams she dared not walk, illusions that flickered and vanished like candlelight in a storm.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, the air too thick, pressing down on her chest like unseen hands. Her stomach twisted violently—not just from the alcohol burning in her veins, but from the knowing. A terrible, clawing knowing that something had shifted, something had changed. But what?

Sand clung to her skin, gritting beneath her nails as she dug her fingers into the ground, desperate for something solid. But even the earth betrayed her, shifting, slipping, reminding her of everything she could not hold onto. The hum of the Fade pulsed around her, seeping into her bones and pressing against her skull. She felt it in every pore, every breath, every panicked heartbeat. It was an itch she could never scratch, a voice just beyond the Veil, whispering things she couldn’t make out.

Her hands shook.

No.

Her hands weren’t hers.

Daisy let out a strangled gasp, reaching up instinctively to claw at her throat, her fingers searching for the cold bite of metal that wasn’t there. But she felt them—tight, constricting, chains digging into her skin, wrists bound, movements sluggish as she fought against invisible restraints. Her pulse roared in her ears, a frantic drumbeat of terror, the weight of something unseen dragging her back into a place she refused to return to.

She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.

She tried to stand, but her legs refused to move, too tangled in past and present, in fear and liquor, in a reality that felt paper-thin. Her vision blurred, and for a moment—just a moment—she swore she saw her again. A glimpse of dark eyes watching, waiting.

A ghost. A memory.

A whisper. A shift in the air.

And then, they stood before her—spirits of Adventure and Madness.

"We need your help! They will die without aid!" The Spirit of Adventure seized her hand, its ethereal grasp cool yet urgent, pulling her toward the Rivan Coast gate. Daisy clawed for breath as her head swam, her senses oscillating between sharp clarity and thick, muddled fog. She barely registered that she had moved, had passed through the eluvain, and now stood upon the ruined fort they always appeared at. "This way!"

Daisy did not resist. She knew better than to fight fate when it called.

Possession was nothing new to her. She had long since mastered the art of housing spirits within her, allowing them to speak and feel without relinquishing complete control. She had safeguards and rules—she would not let rage consume her or let vengeful spirits take the reins. She had learned that lesson well. Daisy followed silently, gaining back control of her body once they were close enough. The spirits had explained that their friends were to meet them on the beach with refugees but were met with ill fate. Antaam pirates, if you could call them that, had sunken their ship and were going to take them to be slaves. Madness cackled and spoke of cracking of bones, splitting of skulls, and...familiar faces?

Daisy gave Madness a look before trying to slowly shake away more of the fog that continued to cloud her mind. Within a moment, they hid among the trees lining the coast. There, Daisy could see clearly that this would not be an easy fight. Twenty-five antaam pirates stood, weapons gleaming beneath the crimson kiss of the rising sun. Behind them, fifteen captives knelt in the sand—elf, human, and qunari alike. Some sat defiant, their gazes hard, while others bowed their heads in silent resignation. Madness and Adventure murmured silently about their plans of help, but Daisy was already deep within her plan.

Before stepping onto the sand, Daisy raised her hands, weaving an illusion with magic. The air thickened, the shadows stretching unnaturally around her. Her form elongated, her fingers turned into clawed, blackened talons, and her eyes glowed with spectral, inhuman light. The whispers of the Fade amplified, swirling around her like the wails of the damned. From the vantage of the antaam pirates, what approached them from the jungle was no mere human—it was a monster born from nightmares.

"Let them go! They belong to me!" Daisy used magic to throw her voice, making it errie and echo along the shore.

"Come on out! Fight us, demon!" The pirates stiffened, some gripping their weapons tighter, others shifting uncertainly. One took an involuntary step back. Fear flickered in their expressions, uncertainty gripping them in their hands. It wasn't enough.

"Where are you going?!" The Spirit of Adventure pressed urgently while the Spirit of Madness merely laughed, coaxing her forward.

"To kill the antaam pirates who hold those people captive. Don’t worries, I’ll... hick... be fine." Daisy slurred, shaking her head to clear the fuzziness, though it did little good.

Then, with a slow, deliberate step, Daisy let the illusion flicker and twist, just enough to keep them in suspense before stepping fully into the open.

The jungle gave way to golden sands, her bare feet sinking slightly with every step. The scent of salt and blood thickened the air, warning of the carnage to come. The antaam leader, a hulking qunari with a face carved by old battles, sneered. "You think a drunken human and her foul magic can stop us?"

Daisy did not answer. She stepped forward, slow, deliberate, the wind catching the edges of her dark cloak, making it billow like the wings of a shadowed specter. With measured calm, she drove her staff into the sand. The earth trembled. Shadows coiled around her feet, slithering outward like ink in water. From the depths, skeletal warriors clawed their way free, their hollow eyes burning with spectral fire.

The antaam hesitated. Then, with a bellow, they charged.

Fools.

The battle erupted in a symphony of steel and sorcery. Daisy wove between them, necrotic energy crackling from her fingertips. A pirate lunged—she sidestepped, whispering a curse that sent him crumbling, his own shadow snaking up to choke the life from his throat.

A skeletal warrior met another attacker, its spectral blade driving deep into quivering flesh. A pirate swung wildly at her—she raised her hand, impaling him through the jaw with a flick of dark magic. Yet even as she fought, she knew that she would be in trouble if they charged all at once.

She called to the dead, and they answered.

The fallen antaam rose, their lifeless eyes turning on their former comrades. Panic rippled through the remaining pirates as their own slain brothers turned against them. The antaam leader roared, hoisting his Warhammer high. Before he could bring it down, Daisy let out a terrible, inhuman wail. The Fade surged, swirling into a necrotic storm that crackled and burned, consuming all in its path. The captain screamed in terror and pain as slowly his skin started to decay, turning black and green, melting away. The remaining pirates broke, their courage shattered, and fled into the wilds.

As the storm dissipated, Daisy swayed on her feet. Her breath was ragged. With a mere wave of her hand, the captives' bonds unraveled. "You are free," she murmured. "Go before the tide claims the dead."

The last echoes of battle faded, and the dead returned to their slumber beneath the sand one by one. Daisy, too, felt herself unraveling. Her body ached as though she had run for miles. Her limbs trembled from exhaustion, and the world tilted dangerously.

"By all the Gods of the dead... Daisy, is that you?" She turned, her vision swimming. A qunari stood before her, his face familiar yet blurred by the drunken haze still clouding her senses. But his voice—that voice she would recognize anywhere.

"Ti'Lan? That... you?" she whispered, the last shreds of strength slipping through her fingers like sand. Darkness swallowed her. She never felt herself falling, never felt the impact of the ground.

But she was caught.

Strong arms lifted her, cradling her against a broad chest. A low chuckle rumbled through the night. "Easy, sister. I have you." As she drifted into unconsciousness, she barely registered his following words, though they carried the weight of a grin. "Oh, I can’t wait to tell the others how drunk you got."

~oOo~

Lucanis felt like such a fool.

After leaving the pantry, he strode toward the walkway beside the kitchen, trying to steady his breath. He only realized then how tightly he had been holding it in, how his chest ached from restraint. He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face, but it did nothing to shake the burning fire beneath his skin.

Spite, ever-present, roiled with frustration in the back of his mind. Coward, the spirit snarled, its anger a reflection of his own. Lucanis ignored it. He had enough of his thoughts clawing at him.

Daisy deserved more.

More than an assassin tainted by a demon of Spite. More than a man whose hands had done far too much harm, whose past was stained with blood he could never wash away. Daisy, with her kindness, her patience, her warmth—she was light, and he was the shadow at her heels.

But Maker, he wanted to kiss her.

That moment had been perfect, painfully perfect. It was as if it was out of Bellara's serials that she was writing how her eyes met his, unwavering and filled with something unspoken but understood. The way she had answered him—not with fear, not with hesitation, but with certainty, with want. Every small inch she moved closer sent his heart into a frantic rhythm, a sound so loud in his ears he swore she must have heard it too. And then—

He froze.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to close the space between them, to press his lips to hers, and finally let himself have this one thing. But the weight of it crushed him. If he kissed her, if he allowed himself even a sliver of what he longed for—what then? What happened when Spite reared its head at the wrong moment? What happened when the past he carried became a weight she had to bear? Spite had lost control and put one of his daggers against her throat. The fear that he could lose control could harm her...

He couldn’t do that to her.

So, instead of leaning in, instead of taking what he wanted, he pulled away. He left her standing there, looking at him with something he couldn’t bear to name. He told her he needed to clear his head and walked away. Like a fool. Like a man who did not know what to do with something precious when it was offered to him freely.

Gifts like her...

Lucanis braced himself against the wood railing, gripping it tight enough to make his knuckles ache. His hands curled into fists. He could still feel the warmth of her presence, the ghost of where their fingers had nearly brushed, the space between them so small he could have—should have—closed it.

Spite simmered, its presence crackling through his veins. She wanted you, it hissed, low and knowing. And you ran.

Lucanis closed his eyes. He knew.

And yet, despite the torment in his chest, despite the pull he could not fight, he still wasn’t sure if he had made the right choice. Because even now, as the cool fade air failed to steady him, all he wanted to do was turn around, find her, and finish what he couldn’t bring himself to start.

"Enough Spite. I don't want to hear more of it; I made a choice."

A foolish choice. Spite stood beside him, its presence a flickering distortion in the dim light, pressing close enough that Lucanis swore he could feel its breath—if the thing even breathed. Its sneer curled like a knife at the edges of his thoughts. She likes us. Wants us. And you let her go! Go. After. Her!

Lucanis winced as Spite’s voice crescendoed, each syllable pounding against his skull like hammer strikes. He pushed himself away from the railing, rolling his shoulders as if he could shake off the demon’s weight and the lingering regret clinging to his skin. He turned, forcing his feet to move, leading himself back into the kitchen, where the scent of smoldering embers and barrels of coffee beans greeted him.

The fire still burned low in the hearth, its golden light licking at the edges of the stone walls. The silence was thick, save for the occasional pop from the wood. The kitchen, once filled with the warmth of company, now felt empty. He had no hope that Daisy would still be here. That didn’t stop his pulse from leaping for a foolish second before the quiet confirmed what he already knew.

Disappointment gnawed at his ribs.

With a steady breath, he reached for the coffee grinder, pouring dark beans into the worn wooden bowl. The rhythmic scrape of the handle twisting against the coarse grounds gave his hands something to do, something to focus on other than Spite’s simmering irritation. The demon materialized fully before him, its form purple flickering with embers of its agitation. Anger was etched deep into its expression, its sharp features twisted in frustration. It muttered under its breath—dark, crackling words Lucanis refused to acknowledge. He kept his gaze downward, watching the rich, ground coffee collect in the vessel below.

His thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to Daisy. To the way she had looked at him, eyes searching, lips parted just so—an invitation, if only he had dared to take it. His fingers tightened around the mug as he poured steaming water over the grounds, watching the deep brown liquid swirl. A creak of the dining room doors pulled him from his trance. He blinked, realizing he had been staring into the fire, fingers curled around his cup like a lifeline.

"Seems like it's just you, me, and Emmrich tonight. The others have gone off with Rook for something." Lucanis turned as Davrin strode in, his usual easy manner in place, though his sharp gaze flicked over Lucanis with something keener. Assan followed at his side, the griffon letting out a short, expectant squawk. Lucanis absently ran a hand over its feathered head, earning a satisfied huff.

"They left?"

"Maybe an hour or so ago? I just ran into Emmrich, who told me." Davrin studied him. "Daisy didn’t tell you?"

Lucanis cleared his throat, forcing himself to keep his expression still, unreadable. "No, I haven’t seen her in a while. I thought she was researching with Emmrich." The lie slid out smoothly, easily—a believable one. Davrin didn’t buy it.

His brow furrowed, and Lucanis could feel the weight of scrutiny settling over him. "Look, Lucanis, I know we’re not on the best terms, but you sound off. Is everything alright? Is it Spite?" Lucanis exhaled slowly, fingers flexing around his cup. The warmth of the coffee did nothing to thaw the cold coiling beneath his ribs. Davrin crossed his arms, watching him closely, then tilted his head with a knowing smirk. "Ah. I see now. This isn’t just about Spite, is it?"

Lucanis stiffened slightly. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." He lifted his cup and took a slow sip, feigning disinterest.

"Right, sure. Because you always look like a kicked mabari when someone leaves without telling you." Lucanis shot him a glare over the rim of his mug. "Let me guess," Davrin continued, undeterred. "It’s Daisy, isn’t it? You’ve got that whole brooding, ‘I could have kissed her but didn’t’ look about you. I bet you—" His words trailed off as realization dawned on his face. "Oh. Oh, I was joking, but... that’s it, isn’t it?"

Lucanis sighed, running a hand through his hair before setting his coffee down with more force than necessary. "Meirda, drop it, Davrin." Spite was beside Davrin, making crude gestures, which Lucanis rolled his eyes at.

"Gods, I was just messing with you, but you actually—" Davrin let out a low whistle, shaking his head with amusement. "Lucanis, you really are a piece of work. You like Daisy, but instead of doing anything about it, you just… skulk around in dark corners and wallow in self-loathing?"

"I don’t skulk."

"Oh, you absolutely skulk. Or brood. It’s like your second nature." Lucanis shot him another glare, but Davrin just grinned. "Look, I get it," Davrin said, his tone shifting from teasing to something softer. "She’s different. She has this whole kind-hearted, ‘probably too good for an assassin with a demon in his head’ thing. But if you think pushing her away is going to make things easier, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought."

Lucanis clenched his jaw. "It’s not that simple."

"It never is," Davrin agreed, shrugging. "But here’s the thing—if she really didn’t care about you, she wouldn’t care about you as much as she does. She wouldn't look at you like she does. And don’t even try to pretend you don’t know what I mean." Lucanis didn’t respond, but the muscle in his jaw twitched. Davrin smirked.

"See? You do know. Not as blind as I thought."

Lucanis sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Even if that’s true, it doesn’t change anything." His voice turned hoarse, thick with something he couldn’t quite voice. "Daisy is… she’s light. She’s warmth, she’s kindness, even when she has every reason not to be. She looks at people and sees their worth, even when they don’t deserve it. He prays over the dead when they just tried to kill her." He let out a slow breath, running a hand down his face. "And me? I’ve got blood on my hands that’ll never wash away. I’m...tainted, Davrin. I’ve been tainted for so long that I don’t even remember what being whole is like. And Spite—" He let out a humorless chuckle. "You think Daisy deserves a man who’s possessed by a demon? Who can’t even trust his own mind?"

Davrin leaned against the table, arms crossed. "You know, for someone who thinks so highly of her, you don’t actually give her much credit." Lucanis frowned, glancing up. Spite turned back to Davrin, glaring at the warden. "If Daisy is as strong and kind and good as you say, then don’t you think she’s capable of making her own damn decisions? Don’t you think she already knows what you are and cares about you anyway?"

Lucanis opened his mouth, then closed it. His chest ached, and for a moment, all he could think about was how Daisy looked at him in the pantry. The way her breath had hitched, how her fingers had rested on his chest, the warmth of her hand through his clothes. He had wanted to kiss her. Had wanted it so badly it hurt. But instead, he had pulled away. Just like he always did.

Davrin sighed, shaking his head. "Look, all I’m saying is—stop being an idiot. If you want her, do something about it. If you think she deserves better, be better." Davrin watched him carefully, then shook his head with a laugh. "You’re hopeless. But hey, if you ever decide to stop being a coward about it, let me know. I’d love to see what happens when you actually act like a person instead of a brooding shadow."

Lucanis shot him one last glare before picking up his coffee again, but Davrin just chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked off.

"You so like her," he called over his shoulder. "Yell if you need any help, assassin."

Lucanis groaned. This was going to be a long night.

~oOo~

Daisy felt like the dead.

Truly, like the dead.

Her skull throbbed with the force of a Mourn Watch guard hammer, each pulse a fresh wave of agony that made her groan into the scratchy fabric beneath her. The taste in her mouth was an unholy mix of stale wine, sand, and regret—like she had been chewing on old parchment dipped in seawater. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth, dry and sluggish as she smacked her lips, immediately regretting it when nausea twisted in her gut.

From what she could tell she was residing in, the tent around her was stifling, the canvas trapping the heat of the morning sun, making the air thick and heavy. A dull glow of daylight filtered through the fabric, far too bright for her pounding head. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a pathetic whimper, rolling onto her side, only to feel sand shift beneath her. That was the second worst thing—sand. Everywhere. Stuck to her skin, gritted between her fingers.

Oh, Maker. She remembered. She had passed out on the beach.

Her stomach twisted as fragments of memory drifted back—staggering through the Rivan eluvains, the flickering glow of the Fade pressing against her mind, voices she wasn’t sure were real. She had run. From what, she wasn’t entirely sure. A face? A shadow? The past? It was all muddled in the thick haze of alcohol and exhaustion. She reached up, her fingers grazing her throat instinctively. It was too hot, and for a brief, terrifying moment, she swore she could feel the weight of chains that were no longer there. They had been gone for years, but in her drunken haze, the memory clung to her like a phantom pain. She clenched her fists tighter as if grounding herself in the feeling of sand slipping through her fingers would somehow bring her back to reality.

Outside, the rhythmic crashing of waves only made things worse, a constant reminder of the poor choices that had led her to this exact moment of misery. A distant noise—footsteps crunching on the sand, the tent's flap shifting in the breeze—made her groan and bury her face deeper into the makeshift pillow.

If anyone tried speaking to her right now, she might actually die.

“Well, now, I see that you aren’t dead.” Daisy cracked an eye open; her vision blurred and wobbly, but she recognized that voice—steady, warm, and tinged with an affectionate tone. The face hovering above her was familiar in a way that loosened the knot in her chest, a balm to the ache in her head. “Come now, little sister, drink this.”

A cup was pressed to her lips, and Daisy drank greedily, the cool liquid easing the desert dryness of her throat. She tried to gulp more than Ti’Lan allowed, chasing the brief relief, but he pulled the cup back with a soft chuckle. “Ti’Lan?” she croaked, her voice a rasp. “Is that really you?”

“A home in life, a berth in death. A house of many mansions. How long has it been? A year?” He set the cup down beside her makeshift bed and lowered himself to the sand beside her, his long limbs folding comfortably as if he’d sat by her side a thousand times before. “Gods, where did you come from? I did not expect you to rescue me when I asked the spirits to get help.”

“Was…drinking…” Daisy muttered, the admission slurring slightly.

“Oh, I can see that from how you reek of it—not to mention you fighting pirates drunk!” Ti’Lan’s voice rose, exasperated, and Daisy winced at the spike of pain his volume sent through her head. Immediately feeling bad, he softened, his expression shifting to one of gentle concern. “Sorry.” He reached out, and his hand threaded through her tangled hair, untangling a few knots with the tender familiarity of someone who’d done this since she was small. His touch was grounding, soothing, a reminder of simpler days when their biggest worries were stolen sweet rolls or whose turn it was to help with the washing.

Daisy blinked slowly, trying to piece together the tangled mess of memory and dream. “You...you were really in trouble?”

“I was,” Ti’Lan confirmed, his hand never stilling in its comforting strokes. “But it seems the spirits saw fit to send me a bedraggled, sand-covered sister instead of a rag-tag group of Lords.” His lips curled in a grin, eyes dancing with amusement. “Not that I’m complaining. I’d take you over anyone any day.”

A tiny, fragile smile broke through Daisy’s hangover misery. “I’d fight pirates for you any day. Just…maybe not while drunk.”

He laughed softly, the sound rolling like the waves outside. “I’d prefer that. But you did well despite the state you were in. You have to teach me that one spell at the end with the captain later.” He reached over to dab a cool cloth at her temple, soothing the sweat and grit. “Besides, when I saw it was you, I knew you'd be ok. You always come through when it matters.”

Daisy groaned again, rubbing her temples. “What were you even doing as a captive?”

Ti’Lan let out a slow breath, his expression turning more serious. “Helping the Lords of Fortune. We were smuggling people out—those who escaped the Antaam.” He leaned back slightly, absently tracing patterns in the sand. “Our ship was caught.”

Daisy pried open one eye, attempting to focus. “So… you were captured for helping people?”

“Essentially,” he said with a slight shrug. “But that’s not the only thing.” His tone grew hesitant, and she could tell something weighed on him. “There’s a matter I need to discuss with you—about one of the captives. A little Qunari girl.”

Daisy squeezed her eyes shut as another wave of nausea rolled through her. “Can’t talk until the world stops spinning. But I promise to talk about her when I can...think clearly.”

Ti’Lan chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough. Rest up, little sister.” He reached out, ruffling her already messy hair with the same affectionate ease he always had. “I’ll check on you in a bit.”

She groaned in response, curling into the thin blankets, while he chuckled again and stood. As he slipped out of the tent, the scent of sea salt and cooling embers drifted in, mixing with the lingering haze of alcohol in her mind. Daisy exhaled slowly. Whatever he had to tell her could wait. For now, she just needed to survive her hangover. Daisy’s eyes fluttered closed, the tension in her body slowly unwinding under her brother’s gentle care. “I missed you,” she murmured, the confession slipping out like a secret.

“I missed you too,” Ti’Lan replied, his voice softening with an ache that mirrored her own. Feeling safe and loved, Daisy drifted back into the dark, the warmth of her brother’s presence anchoring her through the storm.

The next time Daisy woke from the darkness, the sky was painted in strokes of red and orange, the sun dipping low over the water. The salty breeze carried the mingling scents of roasting meat and the sand beneath her. Her head still ached, but the world wasn’t spinning nearly as much. She groaned, pushing herself upright, her fingers digging into the fabric of the tent for balance before she finally got to her feet.

Outside, the battle remnants had been cleaned up, and the remaining captives had formed a small camp. A few fires flickered against the twilight, and around the largest, Ti’Lan sat turning a spit, the savory scent of cooking meat wafting through the air. The soft murmurs of conversation filled the space, punctuated by occasional laughter—an attempt at normalcy after everything. Daisy’s gaze landed on Ti’Lan, who was calmly rotating the spit, his large frame steady and familiar. But what truly caught her attention was the tiny figure clinging to his legs. A little girl with silver hair and small, barely developed horns peeked out from behind him, her large eyes darting around curiously.

When Ti’Lan spotted Daisy, he grinned and waved her over. “About time you woke up. Hungry?”

"Starving." Daisy took a few steps forward, her legs still shaky but stronger than before. Her gaze dropped to the child, who pressed herself closer to Ti’Lan’s leg but continued to watch Daisy with quiet interest.

Daisy knelt, offering a gentle smile. "And who is this beautiful princess standing next to you?"

"This is Demihan, but everyone calls her Demi." Ti’Lan rested a large, protective hand on the girl's head, ruffling the soft strands of silver hair between her small, growing horns. “Demi, this is my little sister, Daisy. Can you say hi?”

Demi hesitated, her tiny fingers curling into the fabric of Ti’Lan’s pants. After a long pause, she managed a small wave, her expression uncertain but curious.

“She’s still a little skittish,” Ti’Lan explained, watching the girl with something like affection—guarded but genuine.

Daisy chuckled. “That’s okay. The big teddy bear you’re holding onto was skittish, too. He used to crawl into my bed during thunderstorms just so I could chase them away.”

Ti’Lan groaned, rolling his eyes. "Hey now, I remember you came to me a few times too."

“Yeah, the one time,” Daisy shot back playfully, winking at Demi. The little girl’s lips twitched, the first hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She slowly peeked out from behind Ti’Lan’s legs, her small horns catching the last light of the setting sun. Daisy took a moment to take her in properly—she could be no more than four, her horns still round and stubby, her gray skin peppered with freckles.

Daisy sat down on the sand, stretching her legs in front of her. “I’m guessing she’s the one you wanted to talk about?”

Ti’Lan exhaled, his expression shifting to something more serious. He glanced down at Demi, his hand resting lightly on her head. “Demi is... special.”

Daisy raised an eyebrow, looking between her brother and the little girl. “Special, how?”

Ti’Lan hesitated before answering, his expression unreadable, his fingers tightening briefly on Demi’s head. “She’s a mage.”

Daisy exhaled sharply through her nose. “Yes, and?”

“I need you to take her home with you.”

Daisy blinked, her exhaustion giving way to sharp irritation. She ran a hand down her face before fixing Ti’Lan with a look. “I can't take her with me, Ti'Lan.”

“What do you mean? Of course, you can,” he said, his voice edged with impatience. “You bring kids home all the time.”

Daisy scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Ti’Lan… when was the last time you were home?” Her tone shifted, more pointed now, a warning laced beneath her words. “I haven’t seen you in over a year.”

His jaw tensed, and for the first time, he looked uncomfortable. “I shared a few letters with Alilya and Ma, but… not for a while.”

Daisy let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Of course you haven’t.” She shook her head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Listen to me, I was sent away from the Mourn Watch. There was an uprising—a war called the War of Banners. I was… able to stop it, but it resulted in me being practically banished. I can’t go home until they allow me.”

Ti’Lan’s eyes widened. “What? That can’t be true.”

“Oh, it’s true,” Daisy said, her voice thick with sarcasm. “And you would know that if you ever bothered to check-in. But no, you’re off doing gods-know-what, and I’m the one left to pick up the pieces because that's what I do. I fix everything and continue to put back pieces that should remain broken, but I'm too stubborn to say no.”

Ti’Lan had the decency to look guilty, but Daisy didn’t stop. “And for your information, brother dear, for the past year, I’ve been helping Varric Tethras hunt down Solas—yes, that Solas—the one who just happens to be Fen’Harel, an ancient elven mage trying to bring the Veil down and return the world to the time of the ancient elves. And guess what? I interrupted his ritual! That little act of heroism unleashed two elven gods—Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain—from their prison, and now Solas is trapped in the Fade.” She threw up her hands. “And the best part?! Almost every time I sleep, I get to see his ugly, annoying face staring at me from the other side.”

Ti’Lan was staring at her like she had grown a second head. “Daisy…”

“Oh, I’m not done.” Daisy gestured around them wildly. “The spirits you called to help found me leaving an eluvian, which—by the way—is an ancient mirror that lets people travel through the Crossroads inside the Fade itself. My friends had to drag me away because of—well, let’s just say reasons—and I left because I’ve been remembering things from that time.” She let out a breath, rubbing her temples. Ti’Lan was silent, his brows furrowed in concern, but Daisy wasn’t in the mood for his judgment or shock. She was exhausted and aching, and now, somehow, he expected her to take in a kid when she barely had control of her own life.

She sighed, dropping her hands to her sides. “So tell me, dear brother, where exactly in that mess do you see room for me to take in a child?”

Demi pressed herself closer to Ti’Lan, watching Daisy with wide, nervous eyes. Daisy felt a pang of guilt but pushed it aside—she needed Ti’Lan to understand that this wasn’t a simple request. Ti’Lan exhaled, running a hand over his horn. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Daisy said dryly, “Shit.” She let herself fall back onto the sand, the fine grains sticking to her sweat-dampened skin. The world was still tilting slightly, but the cool breeze from the ocean helped settle her stomach. She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply before exhaling in a long, tired sigh. “I can send a letter home and see if someone could meet us at the Necropolis, but that’s as far as I’ve been allowed to go. The higher nobles still hate me, and I still hate them. I saved lives, and what do I get? A big fat ‘fuck you,’ as Iishka would say.”

Ti’Lan let out a quiet chuckle. “Gods, Iishka would curse them to the Void and back.”

“She probably already has,” Daisy muttered, rubbing her temples. Ti’Lan sat beside her, Demi still clinging to his leg as he absentmindedly ran a hand over her silver hair. The little girl watched Daisy carefully, trying to figure out if she was safe.

“Well, where are you staying?” he asked after a moment. “If it’s okay, I’d like to stay with Demi until we hear back. I promised her father I would look after her.”

Daisy cracked an eye open, glancing at the girl again. Demi’s tiny hands were curled into the fabric of Ti’Lan’s trousers, but her gaze had softened just a bit. “Everyone else gone?” Daisy asked.

“Yeah,” Ti’Lan confirmed, his expression darkening. “I promised I would watch over her and give her training once she was old enough. She’s sensitive, Daisy—really sensitive. She can sense spirits before even I can.”

Daisy lifted a brow. “That’s impressive.” She waved a hand vaguely. “And everyone else? Where did they go?”

Ti’Lan exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. “No idea. We were supposed to dock at Kont-aar, but I’m not even sure where we are now.”

Daisy sighed, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “Well, good thing I’m here then. I can escort everyone somewhere safe. My friend Isabela will be able to get them where they need to go.” She looked to Ti’Lan then. “After that, I can take you to the Lighthouse. That’s where my friends and I have been staying. It’s the safest place for us while we figure out how to stop the gods.”

Ti’Lan’s brows lifted slightly. “Gods… gods are real, then.”

Daisy let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, you have no idea. And they’re ugly.”

Ti’Lan snorted, handing her a piece of roasted meat. “Ugly, huh?”

“Elgar’nan looks like he was carved from rage and bad decisions, and Ghilan’nain? She’s a nightmare with too many tentacles and not enough mercy.” Daisy took a bite of the meat, sighing at the taste. “And those are just the two I know of."

Ti’Lan shook his head, staring into the fire. “Shit.”

Daisy’s nerves buzzed beneath her skin, an uneasy restlessness that refused to fade. From what she could gather, it had been a full day—maybe two—since she had left the Lords. Time had slipped through her fingers like sand, and though she had no way of knowing what was happening back at the Lighthouse, she prayed that nothing catastrophic had erupted in her absence. She ran through the plan again in her head, trying to find some comfort in its structure. If all went well, getting everyone through the eluvian would take half a day, and then she could make the return trip to the Lighthouse before nightfall. Ti’Lan and Demi would bunk with her until she received a letter back from her mothers. They would be safe there—at least, safer than wandering unfamiliar lands with nowhere to go.

The rest of the night was spent huddled close to the fire, laughter breaking through the heavy weight of exhaustion. Daisy and Ti’Lan took turns sharing stories, weaving images of mischief, daring escapes, and childhood memories. Demi hung onto every word, her silver eyes wide, her small hands clenched in excitement. When Daisy exaggerated a tale about Ti’Lan getting stuck in a tree while trying to impress a girl, the little girl let out a breathless giggle, covering her mouth as if she wasn’t supposed to laugh.

The warmth of family, of shared history, settled something deep in Daisy’s bones. By the time sleep came, Demi was nestled between them, her tiny frame curled close to Daisy’s side, her fingers tangled in Daisy’s shirt as if afraid she might disappear by morning. Daisy lay awake for a while, listening to the rhythmic sound of Ti’Lan’s breathing, the soft crackle of dying embers, and the distant hush of the waves against the shore. She shut her eyes, willing herself to rest, knowing that tomorrow would come too quickly.

~oOo~

The morning was a blur of movement, tension, and unspoken emotion.

The camp stirred before the sun had fully risen, the air thick with the scent of smoldering ashes and damp sea breeze. People moved with a quiet urgency, rolling up bedrolls, securing packs, and dismantling makeshift shelters. The weight of departure pressed down on them, heavy but necessary.

Daisy moved through the motions, checking supplies and ensuring no one was left behind, all while keeping a careful eye on Demi and Ti’Lan. The little girl clung to her brother sleepily, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists, her freckled face scrunching as she tried to shake off the last remnants of sleep. Daisy exhaled slowly. Today would be long, but if everything went according to plan, it would at least be the first step toward something better for all of them.

The journey back was slow but steady, and as the hours passed, Daisy felt the remnants of her hangover gradually loosen their grip on her. The sluggishness remained, clinging to her limbs like a heavy fog, but at least the pounding in her skull had dulled to a manageable throb. The spirits of Madness and Adventure lingered close, their presence a steady, guiding hum. They whispered warnings when needed, alerting her to any dangers that lurked ahead.

Thankfully, only one threat stood in their way. A wandering group of antaam had blocked their path, but they barely posed a challenge. Daisy and Ti’Lan made short work of them, their movements fluid and practiced, a silent rhythm between siblings who had fought side by side before. By the time they reached the eluvian, Daisy felt the first stirrings of relief settle in her chest. Handing Demi over to Ti’Lan, she stepped forward first, placing a cautious hand against the cool, glass-like surface of the mirror—the magic within thrummed beneath her touch, sending a ripple through the Veil as she passed through. The world bent and twisted around her, and then—silence. The Crossroads stretched before her, an eerie and endless expanse of pathways and ancient structures. She scanned the area; her muscles were tensed, her senses sharp, but nothing stirred.

Satisfied, she turned back, watching as her brother hesitantly stepped through with Demi clutched in his arms. His face morphed from suspicion to awe, his golden eyes widening as he took in the surreal landscape. "By the gods…" he whispered.

Daisy smirked. "Worth the trip, huh?"

He huffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve been traveling through this?”

“Among other things,” she said, guiding them forward toward the Hall of Valor eluvian. The short walk was enough to allow Ti’Lan to gather himself, though his grip on Demi remained firm as if he feared she might slip through his fingers in this strange realm. What Daisy didn’t expect was Isabella storming at her when she approached the main area. The pirate queen did a double take once she saw her, an uncharacteristic look of concern shadowing her usually mischievous expression. Isabella’s sharp eyes locked onto her, scanning her from head to toe.

“Where the hell have you been?” Isabella’s voice was edged with worry, but her posture remained guarded. “Your friends have been looking for you everywhere. You ran out of the Hall like you saw a damn ghost, and then—nothing. No word. Nothing.”

Daisy parted her lips, struggling to find the right words, but Ti’Lan spoke before she could. “She ran because of me.” His voice was steady, carrying the weight of quiet authority. “She found out I was in danger and didn’t hesitate. She had no time to waste.” Daisy swallowed, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt. That wasn’t the whole truth, but it was close enough. Close enough to shield her from the real answer—the one she couldn’t bring herself to say. That she had run not just because of her brother’s plight but because of the face she had seen. A face from a long-dead memory, one that shattered her resolve and sent her fleeing like a coward.

She had felt the weight of chains that no longer existed, their phantom grip tightening around her throat, dragging her back into the abyss she had spent years clawing her way out of. How could she explain that?

She couldn’t.

Instead, she exhaled, forcing a wry smirk onto her lips. “You know me, Isabella. Always running headfirst into trouble.”

The pirate queen didn’t look entirely convinced, but she let it go with a shake of her head. “You’re a damn headache, you know that?”

Daisy grinned. “Wouldn’t want to be anything less.”

Thankfully, Isabella had other priorities. When she learned of the refugees, she immediately offered her help, her usual roguish charm slipping back into place as she took command of the situation.

With a plan in place, Daisy let herself breathe. Just for a moment. Because soon enough, she would have to face everything she had been running from. As Isabella took charge, she wasted no time in assessing the newcomers. Her sharp gaze flicked over Ti’Lan, appraising him with obvious interest. A slow, knowing smirk curled her lips as she sauntered closer, placing a hand on her hip.

“Well, well,” she drawled, her voice dripping with amusement. “Daisy, you didn’t tell me you had such a charming company. You keeping him all to yourself?”

Daisy groaned, already regretting every choice that led to this moment. “Isabella, don’t—”

“Oh, hush, sweetheart. I’m just being friendly.” She turned her full attention to Ti’Lan, her smirk widening. “So, tell me, tall, dark, and handsome, do you happen to have a taste for pirate queens?”

Ti’Lan blinked, momentarily taken aback, before chuckling. “I appreciate the compliment, but I’m very married.”

Daisy nearly choked on her own relief as Isabella feigned a wounded gasp, placing a hand over her heart. “Oh, tragic! Another good one taken.” She sighed dramatically, but the twinkle in her eye showed she wasn’t truly disappointed. “Tell me, does your wife happen to be the jealous type?”

Ti’Lan smirked. “Extremely.”

“Shame.” Isabella winked before stepping back, clearly enjoying herself. “Well, if she ever decides to throw you overboard, do let me know.”

Daisy rubbed her temples, her annoyance peaking. “Are you done?”

Isabella grinned. “For now.” She gave Ti’Lan a final, exaggerated once-over before turning back to business.

Ti’Lan simply shook his head, amused but unfazed. “Is she always like this?” he asked, glancing at Daisy.

“You have no idea.” Daisy crossed her arms, eyeing Ti’Lan with open suspicion. “But before we leave—married? Since when?”

Ti’Lan chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “For a little while now.”

Daisy gawked at him. “A little while? You’ve been gone for over a year! When exactly were you planning on telling your favorite sister?”

"You are certainly not my favorite." He shrugged, clearly enjoying her reaction. “I figured I’d tell you when I saw you.”

Daisy threw her hands up. “Unbelievable! Do I at least know this person?”

Ti’Lan’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smirk. “You might.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s all you’re getting for now,” he teased.

Daisy groaned in frustration. “Oh, you are horrible.”

Isabela, still within earshot, let out a low whistle. “Mystery spouses? How intriguing. Now I have to know who was lucky enough to tie this one down.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Ti’Lan, but he only chuckled.

Daisy jabbed a finger at him. “We will be talking about this later.”

Ti’Lan grinned. “Looking forward to it.”

The journey back to the Lighthouse was eerily quiet, the hum of the Fade surrounding Daisy and Ti’Lan as the boat carried them through the shifting mists. The air crackled with magic, the reflection of distant, shattered eluvians flickering in the distance like dying stars. Demi clung to Ti’Lan’s cloak, her small hands gripping tightly as she peeked over his shoulder, wide-eyed at the strange, weightless movement of the boat. Daisy, still drained from the remnants of her hangover, pressed a hand to her forehead and exhaled slowly, trying to center herself. As they neared the Lighthouse’s dock, the familiar sight of its ruined stone archway wrapped in roots was a relief. Daisy stepped out first, her boots crunching on the gravel path leading to the main courtyard. Daisy helped Demi out of the boat first, holding her tightly while trying to keep her distracted until Ti'Lan stood beside her.

Just ahead, movement caught her eye. Two figures—Lucanis and Emmrich—emerged from the opposite dock, deep in conversation. Daisy’s heart leaped at the sight of Lucanis, a mix of relief and something deeper settling in her chest. She took a step forward, calling out, “Lucanis! Emmrich!” She handed Demi off to Ti'Lan.

She barely had a moment to breathe before he was suddenly there. One second, he was across the courtyard, and the next—Lucanis, or perhaps Spite, had closed the distance in the blink of an eye. His arms wrapped around her with a force that nearly knocked the air from her lungs, holding her tight—as if afraid she might vanish if he let go. The sheer intensity of it stunned her, and for a moment, all she could do was grip his coat, grounding herself in his warmth.

“Are you alright?” Lucanis’s voice was rough and urgent, with the faintest tremor beneath it. His breath was warm against her temple, and his grip was unrelenting.

Daisy blinked up at him, her hands instinctively coming up to cup his face, thumbs brushing over the sharp lines of his jaw. His skin was cool to the touch, his warm brown eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite place—relief, concern, and something raw beneath it all. “I’m fine,” she murmured, searching his face. “Are you? Has something happened to Treviso? Is everyone ok?” For a moment, he just stared at her as if committing her to memory, as if he hadn’t been sure he’d see her again. Then, finally, he exhaled, his shoulders loosening just a fraction, but he didn’t let go.

Lucanis gripped Daisy so tightly that it almost hurt, his arms like iron bands around her as if he were afraid she might slip through his fingers. His breathing was uneven, and she could feel the tremor in his body as he held onto her.

“Daisy,” he rasped, his voice raw with something she couldn’t quite name—fear, relief, anger, all tangled together. “Where the hell have you been?” Lucanis’s grip was firm, tense, his fingers pressing just a little too hard into Daisy’s arms as he held her. He was breathing steadily, but there was something controlled about it, too measured—like he was forcing himself to stay composed. His dark brown eyes flickered over her, sharp and assessing, taking in every detail—her disheveled state, the exhaustion lining her face, the way she swayed just slightly from the remnants of her hangover. “You vanished,” he said, his voice low and taut. “No word. No sign. Just—gone.”

Daisy met his gaze, trying not to flinch under the weight of it. She could feel the tension in his grip, the effort it took for him to keep his touch from bruising. Lucanis was always careful, always in control—but right now, that control felt like it was on the verge of snapping. “I had to,” she said, barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t—”

Lucanis’s fingers twitched against her arms before he exhaled sharply through his nose. “You ran,” he muttered like he was trying to make sense of it. “You never run.”

Daisy swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. Not knowing if there was anything she could say that would make a difference. Then Lucanis’s gaze flickered past her, his body going still as he finally took note of Ti’Lan standing at her side. His grip on Daisy loosened slightly, but the tension in his frame only deepened. “Who,” Lucanis said slowly, his voice like a blade sliding from its sheath, “is that?”

Daisy barely had time to open her mouth before Ti’Lan, ever the opportunist, clapped a hand on her shoulder and grinned. “Me? Oh, I’m Daisy’s husband.”

Daisy choked. “Ti’Lan—what the fuck?!”

Lucanis went completely still. His eyes darkened, a flicker of purple flashed before it disappeared, his expression unreadable—but there was something almost lethal in how his jaw tightened. His fingers flexed at his sides like he was resisting the urge to reach for a weapon. Ti’Lan, the absolute menace that he was, just grinned wider. “What? No ‘dear husband’ for your beloved spouse?”

Daisy smacked his arm hard. “I swear to every god listening, I will drown you in the ocean.”

Ti’Lan finally laughed, holding up his one free hand in mock surrender. “Alright, alright—she’s my sister.” He winked at Lucanis. “Though if you saw the look on your face just now—priceless.”

Lucanis exhaled slowly through his nose. “Charmed,” he said flatly.

Daisy groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Lucanis just crossed his arms, glancing between them. “So this is your brother?”

Ti’Lan extended a hand. “Ti’Lan. A pleasure.”

Lucanis eyed the offered hand, then, after a moment, shook it briefly before releasing it. His gaze flickered back to Daisy, unreadable. “We’re going to talk later.”

Daisy sighed. “Yeah. I figured.” Before Daisy could recover from the absolute humiliation of Ti’Lan’s little joke, another voice cut through the tension.

“By the spirits. Ti’Lan Ingellvar.” Daisy turned to see Emmrich standing behind them, arms crossed, his sharp gaze assessing. His usual stern expression softened only slightly, though his tone carried something bordering on approval.

Ti’Lan straightened, his posture shifting instinctively into something more formal. “Professor Emmrich. It’s been some time.”

Emmrich gave a slow nod. “It has. Last I heard, you were working with Professor Klous. I take it that didn’t go as planned?”

Ti’Lan exhaled through his nose. “That would be putting it lightly.” He hesitated, then inclined his head. “It’s good to see you again. I didn’t expect to find you among Daisy’s allies. I thought Mourn Watchers never leave Nevarra?”

Emmrich arched a brow. “Some of us do travel. And I didn’t expect one of my more promising students to turn up needing rescue. Life is full of surprises.”

Daisy, at this point, was entirely done. She had reached her limit between Lucanis, Ti’Lan’s nonsense, and now Emmrich sizing up her brother like a disappointed father figure. With a dramatic sigh, she shifted Demi in her arms and turned on her heel. “I swear to every spirit listening before I deal with any of this—any of you—I am having a bath.” She pointed a firm finger at Ti’Lan, Lucanis, and Emmrich. “You can all stand here and analyze each other to death, but I smell like a damn sewer of Minrathous, and I refuse to do anything else until that changes.”

Ti’Lan merely nodded. “Understood.”

Lucanis gave the slightest twitch of his lips but said nothing.

Emmrich, however, smirked faintly. “Still as dramatic as ever, I see.”

Daisy didn’t bother looking back. “And still dealing with too many men talking at once.” With that, she strode off toward the Lighthouse, Demi tucked securely against her chest, leaving them behind to their quiet assessments and unspoken judgments.

[lightan117]

I will wait, no matter how long Part 2

Here is part two!

And for the Anon who sent me a lovely rude message instead of being a nice, positive person, here ya go, buddy! I made sure to add the "Keep reading" that I forgot!

Pairing: Lucanis X (F)Mourn Watch Rook

Warnings: None, just fluff and feel good. Lucanis and Daisy sort of admit the feelings, but not fully.

One of the few places in the Lighthouse besides the Library that Daisy truly enjoyed was the stone bathroom. Despite having to share it with the others, she found it undeniably beautiful. The walls were made of smooth, dark stone, polished over time, and the floor was lined with cool tiles that felt refreshing beneath bare feet. A large stone tub sat in front of a stained-glass window, which cast colorful patterns across the room. The scent of lavender and a mix of soaps lingered in the air, remnants of previous use. It was a small sanctuary within the otherwise eerie Lighthouse.

On her way to the washroom, Daisy briefly stopped at her room, grabbing a fresh set of clothes for herself and searching for something Demi could wear for the time being. She hesitated for a moment, sifting through her belongings, inspecting the state of her garments. Some were worn thin, frayed at the edges, while others had stubborn blood stains that refused to wash out. Still, she found something suitable, though she made a mental note to mend the more tattered pieces later. As they stepped out of the room, Ti’Lan found them, his presence as composed as ever, with Emmirch walking beside him. The two caught up with ease, their movements fluid and unhurried. As they passed, Emmirch casually mentioned that he would gather everyone in the dining hall for dinner and introductions. Daisy felt a wave of relief at his words and gave a grateful nod, flashing a small wave to Manfred, the ever-present skeleton.

To her mild surprise, Demi didn’t seem unsettled by him. There was no fear in her expression, no startled flinch—just quiet observation. If anything, she almost looked calm, as though Manfred’s skeletal form was nothing unusual to her. Daisy couldn’t help but wonder what exactly the young girl had seen before arriving here.

Inside the bathroom, steam curled in the air, thick and fragrant from the herbal soaps left behind by previous users. The water was already hot, the surface rippling as Daisy, Ti’Lan, and Demi stepped in, letting the heat soak into their travel-weary bodies. The stone tub was deep, large enough for the three of them to comfortably sit with room to spare, no shame between them. Daisy sighed as the warmth worked away the stiffness in her limbs, while Demi settled in with an almost cautious excitement as though she weren’t used to such luxuries. Daisy poured some soap into the water, allowing bubbles to form to keep the small child entertained.

Daisy wasted no time getting to work, lathering soap into Demi’s tangled hair, her fingers gentle yet firm as she tried to remove the layers of grime that had accumulated over time. The water darkened as dirt and old oils were washed away, revealing strands of hair that had a natural sheen beneath it all. Demi sat still, allowing Daisy to scrub, though her gaze wandered across the room, watching Ti’Lan as he busied himself with polishing his horn bands, the metal glinting in the dim candlelight.

At some point, Ti’Lan made an idle remark about Daisy’s short hair. His tone was light, but a thread of curiosity was woven in. Daisy glanced at her reflection in the water, running a hand through the damp strands before offering a casual response.

“I cut it after the War of Banners,” she said, her voice steady. “Left my grave gold at home, too. Didn’t feel like I deserved it.”

Ti’Lan gave a quiet hum in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable as he continued working on his bands. He didn’t press the topic further, but his hands stilled as he lifted his gaze. His golden eyes locked onto her ears—bare, unadorned, and unmistakably damaged. His expression tightened, a flicker of something sharp crossing his face.

“…Has anyone noticed?” he asked after a moment, his voice quieter than before.

Daisy exhaled slowly, reaching up as if she could shield them from his gaze. “Only Lucanis and Emmrich,” she admitted, tilting her head slightly. “I wear cuffs over them most of the time.”

Ti’Lan’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling around the tub’s edge. “And no one’s said anything?”

She shrugged. “Lucanis was...kinda when he found out. He promised not to say anything unless I spoke first about it. And Emmrich… well, he knows it’s my story to tell.” There was a ghost of a smirk on her lips before she looked away. “It’s easier this way.” Ti’Lan didn’t respond immediately. He only stared for a moment longer before looking down at the water, his fingers gripping his cloth a little too tightly. The silence between them lingered, heavier than before. Scars were easier to hide...ears not so much for an elf.

Ti’Lan spoke, changing the topic, his voice slow and measured, as though unspooling the memories before her. After his fight with their mother, he left, wandering the world with no real destination. The Spirits of Adventure sought him out, pulling him into their quests, asking for help where he could give it. His travels had taken him to distant lands—Minrathous, with its towering spires and oppressive magic; Antiva City, lively and unpredictable; Kirkwall, where history seemed to seep from every brick; and even Orlais, a place of masked intrigue and hidden daggers. He had learned new spells, met fascinating people, and carved out his own path. His voice softened when he spoke of Alilya. He had crossed paths with her near the Nevarran border, but despite how close he had been to home, he had let his pride keep him away. The admittance was quiet, almost shameful, but Daisy didn’t push.

When it was her turn, she spoke of the War of Banners, of how she had led a small force to victory—though victory had come at a cost. She had been sent away, her accomplishments overshadowed by politics and the weight of expectation. She glossed over her time with Solas, keeping the details sparse, before delving into what had occupied her time since.

She had been to Adamant Fortress, the seat of the Grey Wardens, a place heavy with duty and sacrifice. She had helped Isabella of the Lords of Fortune, a woman as dangerous as she was charming. She had helped the Veil Jumpers navigate the mysteries of Arlathan Forest, delving into places most feared to tread. And, of course, she had returned home to aid the Mourn Watchers in the Necropolis, standing once more as a guardian among the dead.

Through it all, there had been no rest. She had battled the antaam in Treviso, fought Venatori remnants in Minrathous, and held the line against darkspawn in places where the light barely reached. Above it all; she had clashed with gods who sought to reshape the world in their own twisted image; their ambitions stretching beyond mortal comprehension. Not to mention that they had dragons under their control. As she spoke, the steam curled around them, thick and heavy, as though absorbing the weight of their stories. The water, once clear, had turned cloudy with soap and dirt, a quiet testament to the past they were washing away, even if the scars remained.

They dressed in silence, the warmth of the bath lingering on their skin as the cool air of the stone bathroom wrapped around them. Daisy pulled one of her long-sleeved, high-collar dresses over her head, the familiar weight of the fabric settling against her shoulders like armor. It was well-worn but dignified, the dark material covering the scars she never wished to explain. Demi, meanwhile, swam in one of Daisy’s nightgowns, the oversized garment nearly swallowing her small frame. Daisy knelt, carefully gathering the excess fabric and tying it at Demi’s waist to make it easier for her to move. The child grinned, giving a small twirl as she tested Daisy’s handiwork.

Ti’Lan, standing nearby, dressed in the clothes he had carried with him. His tunic was simple but open enough to reveal his face fully—a rarity for him. But what caught Daisy’s attention was his face, arms, and neck. He bared his skin freely, exposing the deep, dark chain marks that marred his skin. They matched her own, the telltale remnants of a past neither of them could erase.

“I’ve learned that I’ll never be rid of them,” Ti’Lan said quietly, flexing his fingers as though testing the weight of something unseen. “No point in hiding them forever.”

Daisy didn’t respond right away. Instead, she stepped forward, pressing her forehead lightly against his shoulder. Ti’Lan hugged her, his arms strong, steady, warm. He kissed her forehead, and Daisy let out a slow breath, nodding against him as she blinked away the tears threatening to form. They didn’t need to say anything more. When they finally left the bathroom, Demi was in much better spirits. She darted ahead with boundless energy, her eyes flickering over every strange detail of the Lighthouse as Daisy led them through its halls. She showed them around, pointing out the grand library, the winding staircases, and the peculiar, shifting architecture that made the Lighthouse feel almost alive.

Eventually, they stepped into the courtyard. The air was different here—thicker, charged with an energy that didn’t belong to the waking world. The sky above was an endless swirl of color, streaks of blues, purples, reds, and golds stretching into infinity. But it was the edge that drew Ti’Lan’s gaze, where the stone abruptly cut off into nothingness.

He stepped forward, peering over the side. Below them was no earth, no sea—only a vast, unending drop into the Fade. The abyss stretched downward forever, shifting and undulating like a living thing, speckled with distant flickers of light that could have been stars or could have been something watching. Daisy stood beside him, observing his reaction.

Ti’Lan exhaled, shaking his head in disbelief. “We’re not in Thedas anymore.”

“No,” Daisy murmured, “We’re not.”

The warm hum of conversation carried through the heavy wooden doors as they approached the dining hall. Laughter, the clinking of plates, the occasional scrape of chairs—a sound Daisy hadn’t realized she had missed. But as she stood before the door, hesitation gripped her. The familiar weight of nervous energy settled in her chest, and she clenched her hands into fists, willing herself to breathe. Ti’Lan noticed. He always did. His hand, warm and steady, was placed against her back. His golden eyes held a quiet understanding. “You’re home,” he murmured. “They’ll be glad for it.”

Daisy swallowed hard, nodding as he withdrew his hand.

She exhaled, steeling herself, and pushed the door open.

The moment she stepped inside, all conversation halted. Eyes turned to her, and no one spoke for a brief, frozen second. Then, in an instant, the tension cracked. Relief flooded the room. Voices overlapped as people rose from their seats, their concern plain on their faces. Some had already started moving toward her—Bellara, Lace, even Neve—but she lifted a hand, stopping them in place.

“Sit,” she said, her voice firm yet soft. “Please. I promise to explain everything.” A few exchanged glances but obeyed, settling back into their chairs, though their gazes never left her. Daisy’s eyes flicked to Lucanis, the ever-calm assassin watching her intently. He didn’t rush toward her like the others, didn’t ask if she was all right. Instead, he simply nodded, his expression unreadable. But in his gaze, there was something unspoken—a quiet understanding, a shared history neither of them had to voice. Daisy gave him a small smile.

Before anyone could say anything more, a sudden flurry of movement caught their attention. Assan bounded forward with a chirping trill, his large paws barely making a sound as he dashed across the hall. Daisy barely had time to brace herself before he nearly barreled into her—but at the last moment, his attention snapped elsewhere. Demi. The little girl, eyes wide, squealed before instinctively turning to run. The chase had begun. Assan, clearly delighted, let out a playful screech and took off after her, his small wings flapping excitedly as he followed her around the room. Demi shrieked in laughter, ducking behind chairs and weaving between people as the baby griffon pursued her with single-minded joy. The tension in the hall lightened instantly, smiles breaking out even among the most serious faces. Davrin tried to rein him in as Demi tried to hide behind Daisy's legs before taking off again.

Daisy exhaled, a small smile tugging at her lips. Despite everything and the worry she could still feel radiating off them, there was warmth here.

There was home.

Laughter rippled through the room. The once-heavy atmosphere softened, smiles replacing furrowed brows. Daisy’s lips twitched into a smile of her own as she moved forward, scooping Demi up as she ran past. The little girl squealed in delight, legs still kicking as she clung to Daisy. Turning to the room, Daisy finally made the introductions. “Everyone, this is my adopted brother, Ti’Lan,” she said, nodding toward him. “And the little one is Demi.”

Ti’Lan inclined his head with a charming smile; the silver rings on his horns catching the candlelight. Still in Daisy’s arms, Demi peeked out shyly from her shoulder, though her earlier laughter suggested she was quickly warming up.

Daisy motioned toward the gathered faces around the table. “Meet my friends—Bellara, Lace, Neve, Davrin, Assan, Taash.” She glanced at the two men at the head of the table, her voice softening just slightly. “And, of course, you’ve already met Lucanis and Emmrich.” Nods and smiles followed, hands raised in greeting. Ti’Lan and Demi returned the gestures. She led them to the table, ensuring Demi was seated comfortably before excusing herself. As she moved toward the serving area, she already knew who would be waiting.

Lucanis.

He was setting out plates, his movements efficient, precise. He didn’t glance up as she approached, but he had known she would come. “You didn’t have to come get them,” he murmured, his voice quiet as he passed her a plate. “I would have brought them over.”

Daisy accepted the plate, letting her fingers brush against the rim before taking another. “Yes, but I always help you put the plates on the table,” she said, her voice dipping into something softer, more familiar. A quiet joke between them. “I don’t want the cook to think I’m slacking now.”

Lucanis finally looked up, a small, knowing smile curling at the corner of his lips. “Of course not. Although…” His voice took on a teasing lilt. “You have missed a few dinners.”

“I promise to catch up,” Daisy replied, though something in her chest tightened as the words left her mouth. A beat of silence passed before she hesitated, shifting the plates slightly in her hands. “Do you…” Her voice was quieter now, a rare uncertainty creeping in. “Do you still want to sit next to me?”

Lucanis’ expression didn’t change at first, but his gaze flickered—briefly—to something past her shoulder as though weighing a thought. Then his eyes returned to hers, steady, certain. "Of course.” And just like that, some of that tightness in her chest eased. Lucanis piled the plates with food, and Daisy carefully walked back to the table, serving the guests before the others, sitting down once everyone was fed. She waited patiently for Lucanis to settle in before she went on to explain the reason for her disappearance.

She lied. Partially. The beginning was a lie, and she tried to make it believable. She kept her voice even, her expression carefully controlled as she wove her words together. Her history with the Mourn Watch, her role in helping spirits—those parts were true. They made the lie easier to swallow. Daisy explained how, after speaking with Neve, a spirit had appeared, asking for help. She carefully omitted the actual topic of her conversation with Neve, choosing her words carefully. The spirit had spoken of something involving her brother. That, at least, was true. Believing it was urgent, she had left—too quickly, too recklessly, and in a drunken state, no less. She didn’t look at anyone as she spoke. It was beyond foolish to leave everyone because a simple spirit spoke about her brother. When she arrived at the beach, Daisy tried to brush off the battle...

Of course, Ti’Lan had no such reservations.

He jumped in to elaborate, vividly recounting how Daisy, half-drunk and impulsive, had charged into battle against the antaam. He spoke with his usual charm, describing each clash of steel, each spell cast, and each moment when it seemed like Daisy had bitten off more than she could chew. Much to Daisy’s horror, he relished the storytelling. She groaned, burying her face in her hands as Ti’Lan continued, his voice animated as he described how she nearly got run through, how she managed to hold her own despite her state, how she had fought like a storm even when the odds were stacked against her, summoning skeletons by the dozen to fight with her. Daisy risked a glance at Lucanis.

She shouldn’t have.

He was watching her. He had never stopped watching her. The weight of his gaze made something curl tight in her stomach, and she quickly looked away, fixing her eyes on the table as if it held the secrets to the universe. Taash, however, was enthralled. They leaned forward, practically vibrating in excitement, demanding more details. “And then what? How many did you take down? You’re leaving out the best parts!"

Ti’Lan chuckled, indulging Taash’s enthusiasm, and Daisy groaned again, sinking lower in her seat. Once the tale of battle had finally run its course, she exhaled and picked up the thread of the story again, this time more honestly. She admitted to passing out on the beach.

The leftover antaam who lingered about had been taken care of by Ti’Lan and the others while she had been unconscious. When she finally awoke, she found herself at a camp, safe but feeling the weight of her reckless choices. She spoke of delivering the survivors to Isabella, of how the pirate had told her the truth—how everyone had been looking for her. Daisy hesitated, then exhaled softly. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice quieter now, the bravado gone. “I shouldn’t have left without telling anyone.”

Lace’s voice was gentle, but the concern was evident in her expression.

“We were a little worried something had happened. Any longer, and we would have raised the alarm,” she said, watching Daisy closely. “We thought something might have gone wrong on your way back to the Lighthouse.”

Daisy offered a sheepish smile, pushing her food around on her plate before turning her attention to Demi, who had made herself quite comfortable hopping from one lap to another. “This is exactly why I don’t drink,” Daisy chuckled, scooping another spoonful of food and guiding it toward the little girl’s mouth. Demi accepted it absentmindedly, her attention shifting between the different plates on the table as if trying to decide whose lap—and meal—she preferred.

Emmrich, ever the scholar, leaned forward with a gleam of curiosity in his eyes. “You never did say what spells you were using in that fight,” he prompted.

Daisy chewed her food slowly before answering. “There was a new one I wanted to try. It’s meant for large groups, especially when you're surrounded.” She set her spoon down, her voice growing thoughtful. “I… barely held it together by the time I let it loose.”

Ti’Lan, never one to let her dwell on her own shortcomings, hijacked the conversation effortlessly. “Ah, but what she won’t tell you,” he grinned, “is how spectacular it was. I mean, you should’ve seen it! The way the spell built up, the energy crackling—just before boom—it went off in the most dramatic fashion possible.” He gestured grandly, as if casting the spell himself.

Daisy rolled her eyes, but she didn’t interrupt. She was grateful. The more the conversation shifted off of her, the more she felt herself unwind. The tension in her shoulders eased, and her eyelids grew just a little heavier. It was the first time in days that she could simply sit, eat, and be without feeling like she was bracing for the next storm.

Then Demi suddenly stilled.

Daisy barely noticed at first, still half-listening to Ti’Lan’s theatrics, but then she caught it—the way Demi had stopped eating, her small hands clenching slightly in the fabric of Daisy’s dress. The child’s eyes were wide, focused, but not on anyone at the table.

She was staring at Lucanis. No—not at him. Around him.

Demi’s bright eyes flickered, her tiny brows furrowing in concentration before she slowly lifted her hand and pointed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Purple.” The room quieted. Daisy’s heart skipped a beat. She turned her gaze toward Lucanis, whose entire posture had gone still. His dark eyes, once calm and unreadable, were now fixed on Demi with a quiet intensity.

Daisy shifted, her voice careful. “Demi… do you see someone there?”

The child nodded, her curls bouncing slightly as she pointed again—to the space just beside Lucanis.

Lucanis exhaled sharply, his voice laced with astonishment. “She can see Spite.” A ripple of surprise passed through the table.

Ti’Lan, always quick to react, grinned triumphantly. “I told you she was special.”

Daisy glanced back at Lucanis. His expression had shifted—not just shock, but something deeper, something reverent. Spite, his ever-present companion, was unseen to most. Emmrich could hear Spite. Daisy herself had only ever sensed the spirit’s presence in fleeting moments, the most time she spent around them. But Demi saw. Daisy tightened her hold on the little girl, brushing a hand over her curls in a silent, protective gesture. She knew then—Demi was more than just a lost child in need of shelter. The mage child would need a strong family to learn from. "Demi, can you hear Spite too?" There was some silence before she nodded her head.

“Amazing.” Emmrich’s voice was quiet with awe as he observed the interaction. “She’s so sensitive for such a young age, younger than I was when I started to hone my gift.

His fascination was shared by the others, all eyes locked onto Demi as she continued to gaze, entranced, at the unseen figure standing beside Lucanis. Ti’Lan nodded, his expression fond. “Both her parents were apostate mages. I met them on my travels. Demi’s mother passed from an infection, and her father died to the antaam.” His voice softened slightly. “I was hoping that Daisy might persuade our mother to allow her to stay.”

Daisy’s brows furrowed, and she instinctively pulled the little girl closer, as if shielding her from the weight of the conversation. She smoothed a hand over Demi’s curls, feeling the slight tremble in her tiny frame.

“You know she will have it rough like you did, being a Qunari,” Daisy murmured, her voice quiet, but firm.

Ti’Lan leaned in, resting his elbows on the table, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. “She won’t be alone though. She has, what, a dozen siblings now?” He waggled his brows playfully.

Daisy’s cheeks warmed as she looked away, refusing to meet her brother’s teasing gaze. “Have a habit of adopting children, Daisy?” Davrin asked, amusement lacing his tone.

“A habit?” Ti’Lan scoffed before Daisy could answer. “I’d call it a full-fledged hobby at this point—one she’s had ever since she was old enough… or should I say, brave enough, to stand up to our mothers. If it wasn’t for her putting her tiny foot down when we were…” He hesitated, catching himself, and corrected his words. “When Daisy found us, we would’ve died on the streets.”

Daisy let out a slow breath, her fingers tightening slightly around Demi’s small frame. “I can’t help everyone,” she admitted, “but I try.” She glanced around the table before adding, “The Mourn Watch is still heavily mage-dominated, so one of the conditions for the children I bring home is that they must have some sensitivity to magic.”

Ti’Lan scoffed. “Mother and her high standards.”

“At least Ma—” Daisy caught herself, quickly correcting, “Lady Chastain softened her up a bit.” She internally cursed her slip-up, knowing her choice of words didn’t go unnoticed. Bellara took the conversation in a different direction, launching into eager questions about Demi’s abilities, pulling Ti’Lan into a discussion on magical sensitivities. Daisy let the conversation drift around her for a moment before her gaze flickered toward Lucanis.

She found him watching Demi, his usual carefully guarded expression unsettled, though he hid it well. Daisy tilted her head slightly, a smirk playing on her lips. “Seems like Spite might have a playmate for a bit, Lucanis.”

Lucanis didn’t react immediately, his eyes still focused on Demi as she carefully crawled onto his lap, her tiny fingers resting on his sleeve. His whole body tensed at first, as if unsure how to react, but he slowly exhaled and allowed her to settle, though the wary edge remained.

His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “I don’t know if I trust him or not with her.” His fingers twitched slightly against the table. “What if Spite harms her?”

Daisy’s eyes narrowed, her voice unwavering. “Spite wouldn’t.”

Lucanis finally looked up at her, his expression unreadable. “Or else our agreement would no longer be valid.”

Lucanis blinked, then frowned. “What agreement?”

Daisy’s smirk widened as she leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice just enough for only him to hear. “Just an agreement between me and your demon.” As expected, Lucanis stiffened, his jaw clenching. His head snapped slightly to the side as if listening to something Daisy couldn’t hear before his sharp gaze swung back to her. Daisy only smiled wider, the challenge in her eyes unmistakable.

~oOo~

The days at the Lighthouse passed with unusual warmth, a sense of temporary family forming around Demi as they all waited for word of who might claim her. It would take roughly one to two weeks before any real answer came, but for now, Daisy ensured the child had a place where she was wanted. A quick trip to the Necropolis with Emmrich and Bellara allowed Daisy to pass along a letter to her family. The response she received from Myrna was expected—her siblings were already involved in calming some of the unrest their family had begun to notice. Myrna also mentioned she was relieved to hear Ti’Lan was safe and hoped he would stay out of trouble. Both women agreed that was unlikely.

Back at the Lighthouse, there was a shift in the atmosphere—an almost unspoken hope fluttering through the air. Demi had quickly become a beloved addition, her presence bringing a lightheartedness that had been absent for some time. She was constantly passed from person to person, each taking time to entertain her in their own way. Bellara introduced her to ancient elven technology, guiding her small hands over glowing scripts and intricate mechanisms. Lace led her through the gardens, tiny hands brushing against fragrant herbs and vibrant flowers, her eyes alight with curiosity. Davrin carved small figures for her, simple animals and birds that she clutched tightly. At the same time, Assan took to her like an overzealous older sibling, chasing her in delighted circles around the courtyard. Taash managed to acquire old clothing from their mother, making sure Demi had something comfortable to run about in.

Emmrich took a more silent role, watching from the background with a quiet sort of approval while he helped Daisy with their hunt for the gods. Instead, it was Manfred, the skeleton who had long since become part of their strange household, who took to Demi most unexpectedly. The two were inseparable, Demi unafraid of his skeletal form and Manfred seemingly delighted by her company.

Then there was Neve. Neve’s room was a place of quiet study, where soft candlelight flickered against the walls and the ever-present glow of wisps drifted lazily through the air. The small, ethereal lights moved with a mind of their own, floating and weaving around the stacks of books and parchment that littered her desk. Normally, Neve found their gentle presence soothing, but today was different. Today, she had a visitor.

Demi had found her way into the room, drawn in by the glowing wisps. The little girl giggled as she chased them, tiny hands swiping at the air, though they always managed to stay just out of reach. The spirits responded to her presence with amusement, darting away but never fully retreating, almost as if they were playing along.

Neve tried to focus, her quill scratching against parchment as she worked through a clue, but it wasn't easy, with Demi’s delighted squeals filling the air. She sighed, glancing over to find the child now standing on her toes, arms stretched as high as she could manage in an attempt to catch one of the wisps hovering just above her reach. “Alright, alright,” Neve muttered, finally setting her quill down. She turned in her chair and held out her arms, motioning for Demi to come closer. “Come here, little shadow.”

Demi hesitated for only a second before padding over. Neve lifted her effortlessly, settling the child onto her lap. “You’re not going to catch them, you know. They like to tease.” Demi tilted her head, still watching the wisps as they hovered near, curious and amused. Neve sighed again, but this time, there was a softness to it. She reached for a small bundle of charcoal sticks on her desk and held one out to Demi. “Here,” she said, guiding the child’s hands toward a blank sheet of parchment. “Draw something for me.”

Demi’s fingers curled around the charcoal hesitantly, looking up at Neve for confirmation. When Neve nodded, the little girl finally pressed the tip to the parchment and began to draw—at first with slow, careful strokes, then with more enthusiasm as she lost herself in the movement. Neve watched in quiet amusement, letting Demi create whatever shapes her mind conjured. Meanwhile, the wisps drifted closer once again, drawn not just to the child’s playful spirit but to the quiet hum of magic that always lingered in Neve’s room. Demi, engrossed in her work, barely noticed when one of the wisps settled gently on her shoulder, its glow casting a faint shimmer over her curls. Neve did, however, and for a brief moment, she wondered if perhaps the spirits saw something in Demi that the rest of them had only begun to understand.

But the ones who intrigued Daisy the most were Lucanis and Spite. Despite her limited speech, Demi had taken to Lucanis with an undeniable fascination. Where most interactions with her involved spoken words or gentle touches, with Lucanis, it was different—mostly hand signs and gestures. She pointed, and he responded with careful consideration, his normally unreadable expression softening ever so slightly around her.

Ti’Lan had found a few children’s books in the Lighthouse library—an odd occurrence but not entirely unusual, given the mysterious nature of the place. Daisy explained that the Lighthouse sometimes provided things without explanation as if knowing what was needed before anyone asked. Ti’Lan used the books to encourage Demi’s speech, but her true obsession remained Lucanis. And Lucanis, despite himself, let her stay close.

By the fourth day, Daisy had returned from assisting the Veiljumpers, her body aching but her mind alert. She expected the usual noise upon entering the Lighthouse—the soft murmurs of conversation, the occasional clatter of movement, maybe Demi’s delighted squeals as she ran about. But tonight, there was only silence. A rare thing. She stripped off her light armor, rolling the stiffness from her shoulders before going to the kitchen for something to eat. She didn’t expect to find much this late, but what she did see made her stop in her tracks, breath catching in her throat.

Lucanis was at the stove, sleeves rolled up, focused on whatever meal he was preparing. But that wasn’t what made Daisy’s heart clench. It was Demi. The little girl stood beside him, perched on a stool so she could reach the table, an oversized apron tied snugly around her small frame. Her hands, covered in flour, pressed into the soft dough Lucanis had given her, her fingers curling as she tried to mimic his movements. He guided her gently, voice low as he gave her patient instructions. She was speaking, too—small, half-formed words escaping her lips, fragmented but determined.

Lucanis didn’t rush her, didn’t correct her too quickly. He nodded along, encouraging her with the softest smile Daisy had ever seen on him—a bittersweet and aching warmth bloomed in Daisy’s chest. The scene pulled at something deep inside her—memories of standing in the kitchen at home, sleeves rolled up as she helped the cooks knead bread, sneaking bits of dough when no one was looking. The quiet nights where she made food for new arrivals at the Necropolis, those too anxious to sleep in unfamiliar beds. The comforting weight of routine, of care, given without expectation. Then, Demi snapped her head to the side, looking past Lucanis with a sharp glare before loudly proclaiming, “No mean! Bad!”

Daisy blinked, surprised, before realizing exactly who the child was talking to. Spite. Lucanis sighed, amused but exasperated. “Ignore him,” he muttered, rolling his eyes at the unseen entity. Demi huffed, crossing her arms, making it very clear she disagreed with whatever Spite had said. Daisy bit back a laugh, pressing a hand to her mouth. Of course, Demi was standing up to Spite. The stubborn little thing had no fear.

Her gaze drifted back to Lucanis, watching how he interacted with Demi, the careful ease with which he handled her, and how his normally guarded expression softened around her. He rarely spoke of his upbringing, of the things he and Illario had endured, but Daisy knew it must have been harsh. She had only seen glimpses of what had shaped him into the man he was now.

And yet, here he stood—patient, kind, offering warmth in a way she wasn’t sure he even realized. She swallowed, something tightening in her throat. I’m grateful for you, she thought. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

Demi’s head snapped up the moment Daisy stepped into the kitchen. Her bright eyes locked onto Daisy’s face, and in the next instant, she let out a delighted squeal. “Sister!” Before Daisy could react, the little girl had launched herself off the stool, her tiny feet pattering against the floor as she ran full force into Daisy’s legs. Daisy barely had time to laugh before scooping her up, arms wrapping securely around the small, warm body pressed against her. She didn’t even care that Demi’s dough-covered hands smeared flour across her cheek and into her hair.

“Hello, my little one,” Daisy murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Demi’s head. “Are you helping make dinner?” Demi nodded furiously, the words tumbling from her lips in an excited, jumbled mess. Daisy just smiled, nodding along as if she understood every bit of it. She lowered Demi back onto the stool, brushing a stray curl from her face. “And what’s for dinner?” she asked, shifting her gaze toward Lucanis.

He barely spared her a glance as he focused on stirring the simmering pot on the stove. “Pasta with clams,” he answered. “I wanted to use them before they went bad, and Emmrich can eat it.”

Daisy hummed in approval, stepping a little closer, breathing in the familiar scent of garlic and herbs. “It smells wonderful.”

Lucanis let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Flatter me all you want, but you’re still on dish duty.”

Daisy laughed, shaking her head as she leaned against the counter. “Fair enough.”

Lucanis spared her a glance, his expression shifting as his voice dropped. “How did it go?”

Her shoulders stiffened just slightly before she sighed. “Good. Bellara met with her brother, and we helped some of the Veiljumpers.” She hesitated, glancing down at the flour-dusted counter, tracing an idle pattern with her finger. “I’m worried about Bellara, though. I hope we can save her brother.”

Lucanis didn’t hesitate. “You'll find a way.” His voice was steady, certain like it was the only truth that mattered. Daisy’s breath hitched slightly at the quiet conviction in his tone, her gaze lifting to meet his. The moment stretched between them, thick with something unspoken, something more.

And then, his voice softened further, a hesitant edge creeping into it. “Daisy, about before… in the pantry…” Her heart stuttered in her chest. She knew this conversation would come. She had spent the past few days thinking about it, replaying the moment over and over again in her mind—his touch, his breath warm against her skin, the tension that crackled between them like a live wire.

She stopped him with a smile—soft, patient, full of understanding. “Please, Lucanis, I haven’t forgotten.” She took a small step forward, not enough to crowd him but enough to close just a fraction of the space between them. “I’ve been thinking about it, and if you’re not ready, I won’t push you.” Lucanis swallowed, his grip tightening just slightly around the wooden spoon in his hand. “I would very much like to talk about what happened,” Daisy continued, voice gentle but firm. “I do have feelings on the matter— not bad! But I would like to discuss it.”

Lucanis exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as his lips parted. His next breath was almost shaky. He nodded, the ghost of something unreadable flickering across his face. “Thank you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes met hers, steady now, open. “I… would very much like that, too.”

Daisy let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Her hands fidgeted at her sides, and the warmth in Lucanis’s eyes wasn’t helping her steady herself. “Me too…” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. But then she realized what she said, and her face burned. “I mean—ah—need any help?”

Lucanis’s lips quirked into an amused smile—slow, knowing, utterly unfair. His eyes flickered with something that made Daisy feel unreasonably warm. “Yes, actually,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice making her heart stutter. Before she could react, he placed the wooden spoon in her hand, his fingers brushing against hers, lingering just a second too long. “You’re on stirring duty. Don’t let it stick.”

Daisy nodded too quickly and focused on the pot like it held the secrets of the Fade itself. Anything to keep her mind off the way her pulse had suddenly decided to race. Lucanis turned back to Demi, helping her finish rolling the pasta. He talked as he worked, his voice smooth and easy, telling them about his day. Daisy half-listened, stirring the pot with more focus than was probably necessary. “Spite has been bugging me less,” Lucanis admitted after a while. “A little bit. His attention is… elsewhere.”

Daisy arched a brow. “You mean on someone who can actually see him?”

Lucanis huffed a laugh. “Pretty much. He’s fascinated. I think he’s trying to determine whether Demi is a threat or a curiosity.”

Daisy smirked. “She is both. Tiny and chaotic.”

As Daisy stirred the pot, her attention drifted—not to the food but to Lucanis’s hands. They moved with practiced ease, strong fingers kneading the dough, guiding Demi’s smaller hands as he shaped it with careful precision. His touch was steady, sure, and patient, making Daisy’s stomach twist with something unfamiliar. She swallowed hard, watching how his hands flexed, the dusting of flour clinging to his skin, the slight curl of his fingers as he rolled the dough into smooth ribbons. Focus, Daisy. But it was impossible when her gaze kept flickering back to him. The way his sleeves were pushed up, exposing his forearms—toned, lined with faint scars that told stories she didn’t yet know. How his fingers pressed firmly, then gently, shaping the dough with a kind of tenderness she wasn’t sure he realized he had. Daisy felt warmth creep up her neck, her face heating against her will. She clenched the spoon tighter, stirring with a little too much force. The soft bubbling of the pot was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Lucanis must have noticed something—perhaps the way she had gone quiet—because he glanced up, catching her staring. Daisy’s heart stopped. His lips quirked, slow and teasing. “You OK over there?”

She definitely stirred too hard. Heat flooded her cheeks as she snapped her gaze back to the pot. “Fine! Just… concentrating.”

Lucanis hummed, clearly amused. “On cooking or something else?”

Daisy nearly choked. She shot him a glare, but it held no real bite, and Lucanis’s smirk only widened. She turned back to the pot, desperate to regain some composure. “You’re insufferable.”

Lucanis chuckled, rolling another perfect strip of pasta. “And yet, you keep staring.”

As if on cue, Demi finished the last of the pasta and immediately darted away, racing off to gather everyone for dinner. The kitchen suddenly felt quieter without her, and Daisy found herself hyper-aware of the way Lucanis moved beside her and of the space—or lack thereof—between them. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to focus on laying out the plates once he took over at the stove. Her hands felt clumsy, her mind still tangled in the lingering warmth of Lucanis’s touch, the way his voice had dipped just slightly.

She swallowed hard. Maker, this was going to be a long dinner.

~oOo~

Daisy was expecting someone else, anyone else.

Not her mother to come waltzing into the Lighthouse with Alilya and Myrna standing beside her. The sight was so unexpected that Daisy momentarily forgot how to breathe. Her mother carried herself with her usual regality, her Mourn Watch robes flowing effortlessly as if she had stepped out of a grand hall rather than the rugged path leading up to the Lighthouse. Alilya looked as beautiful as ever, the years never seeming to touch her, though the unfortunate odd coloring of her hair—a striking, unnatural pink—was a glaring reminder of childhood events. Daisy took some responsibility for its current state, but her own locks had also suffered a similar fate. Still, on Alilya, the pink stood out far more, an unspoken but undeniable mark of their latest misadventure.

"Ma, I didn’t expect you to come!" Daisy said, her voice bursting with joy as she rushed forward to embrace the woman.

When they pulled away, Lady Catalina—Ma to her children, Lady Kitty to her closest friends—rested her hands against her child’s face, her fingers cool and gentle, as if reassuring herself of Daisy’s presence. "I haven't seen you since... well, when you were injured, and we couldn't be there in person." Lady Kitty’s voice wavered, her usual composure cracking. Her lips pressed together as she fought back emotion, but the memory was too powerful. She had knelt beside Daisy’s healing bed, unable to hold her child, unable to offer comfort beyond whispered words through a magical barrier. The anguish of that helplessness still lingered in her eyes.

"I promise I'm alright." Daisy leaned into her mother's hands, a smile easing onto her lips. "I've improved with close combat and learned new spells for dealing with large groups. Besides, you’ve met some of the others. I have a good team looking out for me."

"Ah, that reminds me—where is Lucanis? I would very much like to thank him in person." Lady Kitty’s tone shifted, warmth returning as she suddenly smushed Daisy’s cheeks together, making her daughter flail in protest.

"In the kitchen making lunch for everyone since Myrna was kind enough to give me a heads-up," Daisy managed to say after wresting free from her mother’s iron grip.

"I figured you would appreciate a warning and that you would have the child ready for departure," Myrna chimed in, amusement twinkling in her eyes as she observed the affectionate chaos.

"Where is our new baby sister?" Alilya interjected, her excitement evident. Josie and Eloise picked out all her clothing already. I brought a new dress for her to wear on the way back."

Daisy’s expression sobered slightly. "I believe she's hiding with Manfred, Emmrich’s skeleton ward. I told her she would be leaving, and she got upset. I explained she would be going to my home, but I don’t think she understands."

A beat passed, and then Daisy suddenly remembered something—an important piece of information she had conveniently neglected to share earlier. "Oh, Ti’Lan is here." Silence stretched across the room like a drawn bowstring. Alilya and Lady Kitty both turned sharply to stare at her. The air in the Lighthouse seemed to shift, charged with something unspoken but unmistakably dangerous. "Ti’Lan!" Daisy called out, her voice carrying through the halls.

From Emmrich’s room, a figure emerged, stepping onto the upper landing. Ti’Lan leaned over the railing, his face a mixture of apprehension and resignation. His sharp eyes scanned the gathered women, then locked onto one in particular. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words barely formed before he was forced to lurch to the side. A bolt of lightning crackled through the air, barely missing his head. Alilya stood, her hand outstretched, her face a perfect mask of cold fury. Static energy danced at her fingertips, the remnants of the spell she had just cast still shimmering in the dim light.

Ti’Lan swallowed hard. "Alilya... you’re here..."

"Where have you been, dear husband of mine?" The words dripped with venom, her hands crackling again with barely restrained power.

Ti’Lan let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he took an instinctive step backward. "Now, love, let’s not do anything hasty—"

Another bolt of energy snapped past him, sending the smell of singed fabric into the air.

"Hasty? Hasty?!" Another bolt shout out. "You left me two days after our wedding?! And all I received were letters of apology and that you were still alive!" She rounded the corner for the staircase to stalk her prey slowly. "You refuse to come home while I've been patiently waiting for you!"

"Did she just say husband and wife?" Daisy asked out loud to no one in particular.

"Apparently, while you were away, the two met you and married in Antiva, and then I proceeded to comfort your sister when she told me how your brother left her," Lady Kitty said, crossing her arms over her chest. And he will receive no help from me! You are fortunate that your mother is not here!"

"Fortunate?!" Alilya screeched. "I'm about to become a widow shortly."

Another crackle of energy lit up the air as Ti’Lan backed further against the railing, sweat beading on his forehead. "Now, Alilya, dearest—surely we can talk about this like civilized—" A third bolt shot forward, sending Ti’Lan scrambling down the staircase in sheer panic.

Daisy watched in a mixture of horror and amusement as her married siblings tore through the room like overgrown children, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. Ti’Lan dodged a chair Alilya had nearly kicked over in her haste to catch him, his silver-streaked hair a blur as he pivoted sharply. Their game of cat and mouse came to a sudden halt when Ti’Lan seized his wife by the waist, spinning her into a deep dip before pressing a firm, passionate kiss to her lips. Alilya’s protests faltered, her flustered expression warring between indignation and adoration. She huffed against his lips, her hands braced against his chest, but before she could say anything, she pulled him down to her level and kissed him just as fiercely.

Daisy made a loud, exaggerated gagging sound. "Ugh, can you two do that somewhere else?" Her mother swatted the back of her head, muttering something about minding her own business, but Daisy only grinned, rubbing the spot where she’d been hit. The commotion had drawn the attention of their companions, some watching with amused grins, others raising their brows at the spectacle of Daisy's siblings.

Ti’Lan finally pulled away, breathless but smiling. His golden eyes softened as he met Alilya’s gaze. "I never really intended to leave," he admitted, his voice low but sincere. "I was a coward. I knew I could never say no to the woman who has held my heart for so long. If you had asked me to crawl home, I would have." He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, thumb brushing against the warmth of her flushed skin. "But I still wanted to keep traveling. To learn, to see more of the world." Alilya opened her mouth to argue, but Ti’Lan silenced her with another kiss, slower this time, as though trying to pour all his unsaid words into her. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. "You would have followed me," he murmured. "And I didn’t want you to be without a home for so long. You would have wanted to return sooner than I would have liked."

Alilya’s foot tapped impatiently against the stone floor, arms crossing over her chest as she arched a brow. "And you bringing home a child is reason enough?"

Speaking of the child, the doors to the library creaked open, and Demi stepped in hesitantly, her small hand clutching tightly onto Emmrich’s. The towering man moved with slow, measured steps, his usual confidence tempered by the delicate presence of the child at his side. Demi’s dark eyes darted around the room, filled with uncertainty, and at the sight of so many unfamiliar faces, she shrank back, pressing herself behind Emmrich’s legs as if they could shield her from the world. Daisy’s expression softened. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and crouched slightly, offering a warm smile. "Hey there, little one," she said gently. When Demi didn't move, Daisy reached out, her hands steady and patient. After a moment’s hesitation, the girl allowed herself to be lifted into Daisy’s arms, though she still clung to Emmrich's sleeve until her tiny fingers slipped away.

Daisy carried her back toward the others, her tone light but firm. "Everyone, this is Demihan but we've been calling her Demi for short." Lady Kitty was the first to step forward, her movements slow and careful as if approaching a skittish animal. She knelt slightly, giving the child a warm smile. "Hello, little one," she greeted in a gentle, melodic tone.

Demi’s fingers curled into Daisy’s tunic, her grip tightening, but she peeked up at Lady Kitty through her lashes, her expression wary yet intrigued. Alilya, ever perceptive, lowered herself to the girl’s eye level, her sharp features softening as she studied the child. "Demi," she murmured, testing the name with a small nod. "That’s a strong name." She let a beat pass before adding, "You must be very brave." The little girl said nothing, only shifting in Daisy’s arms, uncertain but listening.

Daisy adjusted her hold on Demi, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "You don’t have to be scared," she whispered, her voice meant only for the child. "This is my ma and my big sister. They're going to be apart of your family now just like me and Ti'Lan."

Demi didn’t respond, but for the first time since entering, her tiny fingers loosened their grip on Daisy’s tunic. It was the smallest shift, but Daisy took it as a victory. Seizing the moment, she offered a cheerful distraction. "How about we get some lunch?" she suggested, her voice light and inviting. Demi hesitated, glancing up at her uncertainly, but the idea of food seemed to pull her from her nervous silence. Daisy took that as a silent agreement. Turning to her gathered companions, who had all been watching with varying degrees of curiosity, she smirked. "You lot look nosy enough—why don’t you all come along?"

With murmurs of agreement, the group made their way toward the kitchen, their collective footsteps echoing softly against the stone floors.

Inside, Lucanis was busy pouring himself a cup of coffee, his usual sharp focus fixed on the task—until he sensed the sudden influx of bodies flooding the room. He turned, mug halfway to his lips, blinking at the unexpected crowd now filling the kitchen. Before he could react, Lady Kitty slipped forward, stepping into his space and wrapping her arms around him in a warm embrace. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she murmured a soft "Thank you." Lucanis stiffened slightly, caught off guard, but as she pulled away and inclined her head toward where Daisy was gently helping Demi onto a chair, understanding dawned in his dark eyes. He gave Lady Kitty a small, almost imperceptible nod in acknowledgment.

A moment later, he was at Daisy’s side, his presence calm but grounding. His hand settled on her shoulder, a quiet gesture of support. "Want to help me pass out lunch?" he asked.

Daisy grinned, rolling up her sleeves. "I thought you’d never ask."

Plates were soon distributed, filled with warm, hearty food that sent the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread through the air. As people dug in, voices filled the space with conversation and laughter. Thanks and compliments were passed around, many directed at Lucanis. Though he gave only short nods and gruff acknowledgments, there was no mistaking the way his ears turned slightly red under the attention. He was never one for the spotlight, but for once, he took the praise in stride—especially when he caught Demi taking a cautious first bite, her expression shifting from wary to something softer, something almost resembling comfort.

As Lucanis passed out the last plate, his sharp eyes drifted toward Demi. She was still quiet but no longer withdrawn as she listened to Daisy talk. There was something different now—the way her shoulders weren’t as tense, the way she no longer flinched when someone spoke too loudly. A little light had returned to her eyes. She was happy. Still, that tightness in his chest didn’t ease.

"I don’t understand." Lucanis didn’t even need to look to know Spite had appeared beside him again. The demon was perched lazily on the counter, arms crossed, his purple eyes narrowed in confusion. "She's happy and now she’s leaving?"

Lucanis sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "She’s not just leaving. She’s going to Daisy’s family. She’ll have a real home there."

Spite scoffed, slunking further into a pout. "So? She has home here." His gaze flickered toward Demi, who was now tentatively smiling as Daisy nudged her playfully. "She’s happy. She’s safe. Why change that?" Lucanis didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes lingered on the scene before him—Daisy, laughing as she ruffled Demi’s hair, the girl scrunching up her nose in protest but not pulling away. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to something else entirely. A vision, hazy yet persistent, surfaced in his mind. Not just Demi, but more. Children with Daisy’s bright eyes and mischievous smile, running through a sunlit field. A home filled with warmth, laughter, and something he’d never thought he could have.

His grip tightened around the edge of the counter. Why was he thinking about that now?

Spite turned his head, staring at him with something between amusement and genuine curiosity. "What was that?" he asked, tilting his head. "Daisy was there. Since when do you dream of things. Like. That?"

Lucanis exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "It doesn’t matter."

Spite grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim kitchen light. "Oh, but it does," he purred. "You're actually thinking about a future. Your future." He gave a mock gasp. "How unlike you."

Lucanis shot him a look. "Shut up."

But Spite only laughed, his form flickering before vanishing into the shadows once more. Lucanis turned back to the table. Demi was smiling now, a real, bright smile as Daisy continued talking, completely at eas.

She would be okay. And as for him…

Maybe, just maybe, he’d be okay too.

Goodbyes were always hard, and this one was no exception. Demi was passed from one set of arms to another, each embrace lingering just a little longer than necessary. Tears were shed, though no one wanted to call attention to them. Even Lucanis, who had remained quiet through most of the farewell, ruffled Demi’s hair in a rare show of affection before stepping back, his expression somewhat sad. Demi sternly but sadly told Spite to be nice, Emmrich chuckling at whatever the spirit had answered her with. Demi clung tightly to Daisy when it was her turn, her small hands fisting in the fabric of Daisy’s tunic. "No go." she mumbled against her shoulder.

Daisy sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of the girl's head. "You're not going forever, bug," she reassured her, rocking her slightly. "You’re going somewhere safe, somewhere where you can pratice your magic."

Lady Kitty stepped in then, her voice gentle but firm. "And you won’t be alone, sweet one." She glanced at her son, giving him a look that left no room for argument. "Ti’Lan will be going with you."

Ti’Lan, who had up until now been watching in relative silence, straightened, eyes widening slightly. "Wait, what?"

His mother turned fully to him, her hand resting on his arm. "She’s going to need time to adjust, and having another Qunari with her will help. She trusts you already," she reasoned. "You can help ease her transition, help her feel like she belongs."

Ti’Lan’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering to Daisy as if hoping she would object. But Daisy, to his dismay, nodded in agreement. "She's right," Daisy said. "And besides, with the gods spreading their power, you'll be safe in Nevarra. It’s better that you go home for now."

Ti’Lan crossed his arms, clearly resisting. "You need me out here," he argued. "I should be with you."

But Daisy didn’t waver. She reached out, gripping his forearm. "I need you home more." Her voice was firm, but there was something else in it—something that told him this wasn’t just about Demi. "If anything happens, I need to know the others have you there. I need someone I trust watching over them."

"Not to mention you have a beautiful wife that would like some time with her husband for once." Alilya wrapped her arms around his,

Ti’Lan looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a heavy sigh, he relented. "...Fine. Only because I'm outnumbered here."

Daisy smiled, though there was a hint of sadness behind it. "Good."

Demi sniffled, rubbing her face against Daisy's tunic before pulling back, looking up at Ti’Lan with red-rimmed eyes. "...You too?" she asked softly.

Ti’Lan gave a small, reassuring nod. "Yeah, kid. I’m coming too."

That seemed to comfort her, at least a little. One by one, the final goodbyes were said. And as Demi finally stepped away, her small hand slipping into Ti’Lan’s, Daisy let out a slow breath, willing herself to believe that this was for the best. Because in the end, protecting the people she loved meant sometimes having to let them go.

~oOo~

That night, Daisy mustered up the courage to seek Lucanis out. He was where he usually was, leaning over the fireplace, deep in thought, "Lucanis, do you have some time to talk...about what happened?" Lucanis stiffened where he stood by the fire. "If you're not ready, I can wait."

Lucanis was quiet for a moment, his eyes flickering in some unknown doubt, raging inside before he spoke softly. “Would you like something? I can make it for you.”

“Ciccolada calda? If that’s not too much to ask?” Lucanis’s eyes crinkled at the sides with his smile; wordlessly, he nodded in response. He made her favorite drink in silence as Daisy sat in the front of the fire, the heat warming her nervous bones. Wordlessly, Lucanis came back, setting down two cups on the table. There was silence. Daisy wrapped her hands around the warm cup, focusing on the heat bleeding into her fingertips. She could feel Lucanis’s gaze on her, but she kept her eyes on the dark liquid inside the cup, swirling it gently to distract herself.

Lucanis sat across from her, his movements careful, measured—as if he were holding himself back. The tension between them was thick, nearly unbearable, and Daisy swallowed hard before finally speaking. “Lucanis…” Her voice was softer than she intended. She cleared her throat and tried again. “About what happened… in the pantry.”

Lucanis inhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening around his own cup. His shoulders were stiff, the firelight casting flickering shadows over his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his features. For a long moment, he said nothing. Daisy fidgeted, gripping the ceramic tighter, her nerves hammering her heart against her ribs. The silence stretched, and she felt the creeping weight of doubt settle in. "I can wait, Lucanis; we don't have to discuss it.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but she meant it. She wasn’t about to force this conversation if he wasn’t willing.

Lucanis’s fingers tapped against his cup—a slow, rhythmic movement, betraying the battle waging inside him. Then, he exhaled, long and controlled, before finally looking at her. His eyes softened, but the hesitation was still there, lingering. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “I just…” He trailed off, his jaw working as he struggled to find the right words. “I don’t want to ruin this.”

Daisy’s breath hitched. “Ruin what?”

Lucanis gave a dry chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Us.”

The admission sent a shiver through her. She hadn’t expected him to be so blunt, but Lucanis was nothing if not honest when it truly mattered.

Daisy licked her lips, setting her cup down so she wouldn’t crush it with how tightly she was holding it. “You wouldn’t ruin anything, Lucanis. Not with me.” He looked at her then, really looked at her, as if searching for any sign of doubt in her expression. When he found none, his tension eased just a little. "I meant what I said before. I have feelings about what happened—not bad ones.” A soft, nervous laugh escaped her. “Spirits, not bad ones at all.”

“You make it sound easy,” he murmured, voice laced with something unspoken.

Daisy smiled, though her heart was still racing. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be so complicated."

Lucanis let out a hollow chuckle, shaking his head, but there was no humor in it. It was just something to fill the silence, something to keep the inevitable from settling between them. “Nothing about us has ever been simple, Daisy. I’m a man possessed by a demon of spite.”

His voice was rougher now, carrying an edge that hadn't been there before. He wasn’t warning her—he was pushing her. He needed her to understand, to see the truth he had been living with every day. The weight of Spite curled in his bones, waiting, watching, whispering things he couldn't always drown out. But Daisy, as always, didn't flinch. “As if that’s supposed to scare me away?” she said, her voice steady, unwavering. “Spirit or not, I don’t see anything wrong with you."

Lucanis clenched his jaw. She should be afraid. Not because he wanted her gone—gods, never—but because he couldn't let himself have this. Not when the thing inside him was still there, still part of him. It was reckless. Selfish. You are a fool, Spite muttered in his mind, annoyed.

Lucanis ignored him.

"You should," he told Daisy, his voice quieter, but no less firm. "You should see something wrong with me. I won’t let you—” Let her what? Be with someone who loves her? Spite’s voice curled around the edges of his thoughts, unimpressed. We love her. Lucanis stiffened. "I'm not going to let her be with someone possessed by a demon." I won’t hurt her. Spite’s tone was calm, certain. Why are you making this so difficult? Lucanis gritted his teeth. "Because it is difficult. She deserves more than this—more than me."

Daisy crossed her arms, her brow furrowing. "Spite I am talking with Lucanis, once we are done I will be talking to you about this too." Daisy softened her tone, "Please Spite, for me."

Spite was quiet. Lucanis inhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before glancing away. "How do you get him to listen to you?" Spite had lashed out at Daisy. Once. But he had never tried to harm her. If anything, the spirit tolerated her in a way that should have been impossible. But that didn’t mean it would always be that way.

"Because I treat him like I would anyone else. Sometimes cautious but I treat him as if I was speaking to you." Daisy placed her cup on the table. "With kindess, patience, and sometime a stern word." His eyes flickered to hers, the firelight casting golden reflections in her gaze. She was looking at him as if he was just a man. Not something cursed, not something to fear—just him. Her fingers twitched at her side, a small movement, barely noticeable. But he caught it. She wanted to reach for him. She always did. And he wanted to let her.

Then let her. Spite’s voice was almost gentle now, as if he couldn’t fathom why Lucanis was resisting this. Let us.

Lucanis exhaled sharply, shaking his head. No. He couldn’t. Daisy lifted her hand, just a fraction, hovering above his arm, so close he could feel the heat of it. A breath away. She hesitated for a moment, watching him carefully, as if waiting for him to pull away. But he didn’t. “Let me start small,” she whispered.

Lucanis swallowed hard. Spite sighed in his mind, amused and exasperated. You make things. So. Difficult. Maybe he did. But he had spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, so long convincing himself that he was too dangerous, too far gone. And yet, Daisy had never cared about what he thought he deserved. So for once, just once, he didn’t pull away.

Lucanis swallowed, his throat bobbing, and nodded once—hesitant but willing. Slowly, carefully, she let her fingertips brush against his sleeve, tracing the fabric with the lightest touch. He didn’t pull away. Emboldened, she let her fingers slide lower, past the cuff of his sleeve to graze his wrist. His pulse jumped beneath her fingertips. Lucanis inhaled sharply. Daisy froze. “Too much?” she asked softly.

He shook his head, his eyes locked onto hers. “No… just—different.” His voice was hoarse as if he were struggling against something unseen. “Good different.” Her heart clenched. Maker, he was trying. She turned her hand, slowly threading her fingers through his, giving him a way out if he wanted it. But instead of retreating, Lucanis squeezed her hand, just barely—uncertain but holding on.

Daisy’s lips parted, a slow warmth curling through her chest. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” she murmured. “I just want to know what you’re comfortable with.”

Lucanis exhaled like he had been holding his breath. His free hand twitched at his side before he brought it up, hesitating for only a moment before brushing his knuckles against her cheek. Daisy leaned into the touch instinctively, her eyes fluttering shut for a heartbeat. When she opened them again, Lucanis was watching her like she was something fragile and precious all at once. “I don’t want to mess this up,” he admitted, his thumb ghosting over her cheekbone.

Daisy smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. “Then let’s take our time.”

Lucanis’s lips parted like he wanted to say something else, but instead, he let his forehead rest gently against hers. Their breaths mingled, the space between them almost nonexistent. Neither of them moved to close the final distance, both lingering in the charged silence, waiting—savoring. “You have a choice, Lucanis, one I will always respect,” she asked, her voice softer now, as if afraid to shatter the fragile moment between them. “I care about you. As a friend, a part of this team, and as something more.” A small, hopeful smile tugged at her lips. “I’d like to explore that part with you. But I’ll understand if you’d rather we stay… friends.” The thought tightened her chest, but he deserved to choose, and she would never take that from him. "I'll tell you honestly that I've never...been with anyone in any... capacity." Daisy's eyes couldn't leave the floor. "But I would very much like to...be or hopefully be....with you. To experience this feeling with you."

“I care about you, Rook,” he murmured, his dark brown eyes as earnest as they were conflicted. “More than I can say. I…you should be with someone who knows what to do.”

Daisy couldn’t help but giggle, the sound light and warm, and Lucanis’s smile grew—just slightly, just enough to make her heart ache. It was fleeting, barely there, but real. And gods, she wanted more of it. “If I wanted anyone else, Lucanis,” she said, voice steady with quiet certainty, “I wouldn’t be here with you, sharing my feelings with someone I trust wholeheartedly.”

His lips parted, his breath hitching as if the words physically stopped him. As if he couldn’t quite believe them, couldn’t let himself believe them.

“Could you really be that patient?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Relief rushed through her, filling every space inside her heart. Lucanis wanted this. Maybe he couldn’t say it yet, maybe he was still fighting himself, but the longing was there, flickering behind his guarded expression. If he needed time, if he needed to take this one step at a time, she would be there. Step for step. No matter how long it took.

She smiled, warmth pooling in her chest as she reached out—not to take his hand, not yet, but to let her fingers rest just close enough for him to choose.

“With you?” she murmured, her voice soft but unwavering. “Always.”

Lucanis stared at her, searching her face as if waiting for some sign of doubt, some hesitation. But there was none. Daisy tilted her head, giving him a small, knowing smile. “And besides, I am a Mourn Watcher. There are rituals that take months to do properly. Being patient when it’s worth it in the end? I’ll wait as long as it takes if it means you’re comfortable. Nervous, maybe,” she teased gently, “but never uncomfortable.” Lucanis let out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders loosening, just a little.

Daisy lifted her cup of cioccolata calda again, savoring the last sip, the rich sweetness coating her tongue. She sighed, content yet restless, the moment settling between them like something sacred. When she looked back at him, she found his dark eyes studying her—intense, searching, filled with something profound. Something that made her pulse quicken. Lucanis tilted his head, and for the first time, he didn’t look at her like he was afraid to want this. He looked at her like she was something fragile, something precious—something worth holding on to.

“You are certainly worth it,” he said, voice hushed, as though the words were a secret meant only for her. Her breath hitched. The way he looked at her—like she was the only thing in the room, the only thing that mattered—sent warmth curling through her, pooling low in her stomach.

“So are you,” she murmured, softer now, almost afraid to shatter the fragile moment between them. “Believe it or not.”

His lips parted slightly as if her words had surprised him. Then he laughed, a real, rich laugh that sent a delightful shiver through her. It was the kind of sound that could melt away the weight of the world and made her ache with the need to hear it again. “There you go again,” he said, shaking his head, something warm and wondering in his gaze.

“Oh? Am I parting your clouds of doom again?” she teased, though her voice was breathier now, her heartbeat too loud in her ears.

“I’m starting to find that I’m enjoying it,” he admitted, eyes still locked onto hers. Then, more quietly, more reverently, “One I can hardly believe I deserve.” Her heart twisted at the uncertainty in his voice. How could he not see what she saw? His smile was soft, almost hesitant, and it felt like he was holding himself back, balancing on the edge of something neither of them quite knew how to name.

“I have kept you long enough,” he said, although he didn’t move. “We both should get some sleep.” He reached for the empty cup in her hands, fingers barely brushing the ceramic as his voice became a whisper. Instead of pulling away, he stilled—then, slowly, hesitantly, his other hand reached up, covering hers.

Daisy forgot how to breathe.

His touch was warm, solid, and grounding. Daisy could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, and she wondered if he could feel hers.

Time slowed.

She searched his face, looking for doubt, for hesitation, for the mask he had tried to wear earlier. But there was none. No walls. No defenses. Just Lucanis—open, raw, standing before her with the same aching want that thrummed through her veins. The moment stretched between them, trembling, fragile, endless. His thumb traced a slow, tentative arc across the back of her hand, and she shivered at the barely-there touch. It was nothing—just a whisper of contact—yet it set her whole body alight.

One breath. Two. Three.

She wanted more. Needed more. But this—this delicate, unspoken thing between them—was enough.

For now.

After a long, aching moment, he exhaled and gently took the cup from her grasp, breaking the connection. She let out a slow, unsteady breath and saw how his shoulders dropped as he did the same. Lucanis picked up his empty cup and got to his feet, lingering just a heartbeat too long before he spoke. “I agree with your plan,” he said.

Liesl tilted her head, her pulse still unsteady. “And that is?”

“To figure this out,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “Together.”

Something in her melted.

Her smile turned shy, her giddy excitement tempered by something deeper, something more decadent. “Ah,” she murmured. “Of course.” Their eyes held, the air between them still charged, still humming with something unspoken.

Then, just as he turned to leave, he hesitated.

Daisy barely had time to register the shift before he turned and leaned down, slow and uncertain, giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn’t move. She couldn’t. His lips brushed her cheek, featherlight and fleeting yet somehow more intimate than if he had kissed her mouth. The warmth of it lingered, sinking into her skin and setting her entire body alight.

By the time she opened her eyes, he had already stepped back.

“Thank you, Rook,” he murmured, his voice lower and rougher than before. "Good night." Then he turned and walked away, his steps lighter, his shoulders less burdened. Daisy sat there, frozen, her fingers brushing absently over the spot where his lips had been. She let herself sink back onto her chair, eyes fluttering shut, heart pounding. Daisy could still feel the warmth of his touch, hear the quiet, reverent way he had said her name, and see his eyes had darkened, the longing he had tried and failed to hide. She smiled to herself, breath uneven, heart full.

Yes. This was worth the wait.

[lightan117]

Daisy the Sunshine Necromancer Masterlist:

Here is my masterlist for my Mage Mourn Watch Rook Daisy!

This series is a work in process, so some parts will not make sense until I make them. Standalone fics but all together make up Daisy's journey of fixing the world while falling in love with a touched-starved crow who needs someone to love.

Daisy's background: Here and Template

AO3 Series Link: Daisy the Sunshine Necromancer

During Veilguard:

Part 1: Coffee with Crows and Butterflies

Part 2: A Softer Gentle Touch

Part 3: Chains that Bind and Break Us

Part 4: A Deal with a Spirit of Determination

Part 5: Unquiet Grave in Necropolis

Part 6: Come back to me

Part 7: May I cut in?

Part 8: A Bloodbath of Crows

Part 9: I will wait, no matter how long - Part 1

Part 9.5: I will wait, no matter how long - Part 2

Part 10: Inner Demons Do Not Define Us

Part 11: Cake

Post Veilguard:

Coming Soon......

Other Links:

Ti'Lan and Alilya: Link