The Dellamorte Villa was steeped in quiet. Moonlight slipped through the lace curtains, striping the bed in pale silver. Somewhere outside Treviso still breathed, but inside the room, everything felt contained.
Rook should have been asleep. Instead, she was very much awake… and deeply invested in the scandalous little romance novel balanced in her hands. She turned the page carefully, lips pressed together to keep from smiling too hard. The prose was dramatic enough to make even a seasoned bard blush.
Beside her, Lucanis slept on his side, dark hair falling messily across his forehead. Without his usual grimace, he looked softer. His breathing was slow and even, one hand resting loosely near Rook’s hip like he’d fallen asleep mid-guard.
Rook glanced down at him. Then back at the book. Then back at him again. “…You would hate this,” She whispered.
Lucanis did not respond, sleeping soundly beside her.
Rook relaxed and flipped the page and the arm at her waist suddenly tightened. She startled, the book nearly slipping from her fingers. “Lucanis—”
“You’re awake,” he murmured. It wasn’t an accusation, just an observation.
Rook lifted her chin defensively. “You’re supposed to be unconscious.”
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I am resting.”
“You’re reading.”
Rook hesitated. “…quietly.”
Lucanis stared at her for a long moment, expression flat and unimpressed in that very particular Crow way. Then his arm slid more firmly around her waist. And pulled.
Rook barely had time to make a dignified noise before she was tugged down from her propped-up position, the book abandoned somewhere in the blankets as their back met Lucanis’s chest. “Lucanis,” Rook protested weakly.
“Sleep,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep. His grip tightened just enough to keep her there, one arm banded securely around her middle in a firm big-spoon hold that made escape extremely unlikely.
Rook tried not to melt….. She was only moderately successful.
Lucanis’s breath ghosted along the back of her neck. Rook’s shoulders went very still. For a moment, Lucanis said nothing. Just breathed slow and warm against her skin, like he was deciding something. Then softly, his lips brushed the side of Rook’s neck.
Rook’s breath hitched. “…Amore mio,” She warned softly, though there was no real heat behind it. Lucanis planted another soft kiss, slower this time.
Rook forgot the rest of the sentence entirely. Heat curled low in her stomach as Lucanis shifted closer behind her, the line of his body fitting along hers like a puzzle piece. “…You’re doing that on purpose,” Rook said, her voice betraying her in a softer than intended tone.
Lucanis’s arm tightened around her waist in silent satisfaction, pulling her more securely back against his chest. His thumb brushed once, slow against her side through the blankets. Possessive in the quiet way he preferred.
“… Amore mio?,” Rook murmured.
Lucanis didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifted just enough to coax Rook to turn slightly in his hold. Their noses nearly brushed. Sleep still softened his expression, but his gaze had sharpened in that dangerous, focused way Rook knew too well.
“You’re still awake,” he murmured.
“Whose fault is that?” Rook whispered back.
That earned the faintest flicker of amusement from him. His hand slid up, fingers coming to rest lightly at the side of Rook’s jaw, not trapping, just there. Giving her plenty of time to pull away.
Lucanis leaned in the rest of the distance. The kiss was slow and drowsy, more warm than urgent. Rook softened into it almost immediately, one quiet breath leaving her as the last of her resistance melted away.
Lucanis hummed faintly, clearly pleased, and deepened the kiss just a fraction, still gentle, but unmistakably intentional. Sleepy, but not unfocused. Never unfocused. When they finally parted, it was only by a breath.
Rook’s forehead tipped lightly against his. “…You are absolutely insufferable,” She whispered.
“Mm,” Lucanis said, already sounding half-gone again. His arm tightened once more around Rook’s waist, drawing her firmly back against his chest like he had every intention of keeping her there. This time, Rook didn’t even pretend to protest. The abandoned romance novel lay forgotten near their knees. And with Lucanis’s breathing evening out behind them, Rook finally let her eyes drift shut.
Josephine Montilyet’s office was exactly what one would expect of Skyhold’s chief diplomat, calm and orderly. Josephine sat poised as ever, quill gliding across parchment with practiced grace, though the faint crease between her brows suggested she had been at this far too long.
She didn’t notice the Inquisitor slip inside until the door clicked softly shut behind her. “Tell me,” the Inquisitor’s voice came low and amused from across the room, “do you ever stop working?”
Josephine’s quill halted mid-stroke. She looked up quickly, and the moment she saw who it was, a soft flush bloomed across her cheeks.
“Inquisitor,” she said, trying very hard to sound composed and not at all flustered. “You should be resting.”
“Mm,” the Inquisitor hummed, already prowling closer with unhurried confidence. “I had a better idea.”
Josephine swallowed. It was subtle, but not subtle enough.
The Inquisitor rounded the desk slowly, gaze openly appreciative as it swept over Josephine’s perfectly arranged hair, the elegant line of her posture, the ink smudge she had once again missed on her fingers “You’ve been hiding in here all evening,” the Inquisitor murmured.
“I have responsibilities,” Josephine replied, though her voice had gone noticeably softer. “Diplomatic matters cannot simply—”
The rest of the sentence vanished when the Inquisitor planted her hands on the desk on either side of Josephine’s papers and leaned in. Close. Very close.
Josephine froze, breath catching, eyes wide and bright. “Inquisitor…”
“You say my title like that,” the Inquisitor said quietly, a teasing edge in her voice, “and you expect me to behave?”
Josephine’s composure wavered spectacularly. Her fingers tightened lightly in the fabric at the Inquisitor’s sleeve, not pushing away….never pushing away. “You are being extremely unfair,” she whispered.
“Probably,” the Inquisitor agreed easily, and then, gentler but no less certain, she slid one hand to Josephine’s waist and guided her smoothly to her feet.
Josephine made the softest, most breathless sound. There was something delicious about the way she tried to stay dignified even as she stepped closer, even as her hands came to rest against the Inquisitor’s shoulders. “You will be the death of my professional reputation,” Josephine murmured.
The Inquisitor smiled slowly. “Worth it.” And then she kissed her. It wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t particularly polite, either. The Inquisitor kissed Josephine like she meant to thoroughly interrupt every diplomatic thought in her head.
Josephine made a soft, startled noise that turned, very quickly, into something far more pleased. Her fingers curled into the Inquisitor’s collar as she leaned in, returning the kiss with growing warmth, all that careful polished restraint slipping piece by piece. When the Inquisitor’s hand tightened slightly at her waist, Josephine let out a quiet, breathy sound that absolutely encouraged further misbehavior.
They broke apart only briefly, Josephine visibly flushed now, lips parted, eyes bright and a little dazed. “Inquisitor,” she breathed.
The Inquisitor tilted her head, thoroughly pleased. “Yes, Ambassador?”
Josephine opened her mouth. Closed it. Then, very bravely for someone so flustered, she leaned in first this time.
The Inquisitor laughed softly against her lips and pulled her closer, one hand sliding warm and steady along Josephine’s back as the kiss deepened again, slower now, but no less certain. Josephine melted into it with a quiet, breathless sound, fingers tightening in the Inquisitor’s collar as her carefully maintained composure unraveled piece by piece. When she shifted closer her hip bumped the edge of the desk.
The neat stack of papers slightly becoming unorganized. The Inquisitor noticed and her mouth curved against Josephine’s in a way that promised absolutely no mercy. “Well,” she murmured, voice low and pleased, “that’s not very organized of you, Ambassador. Before Josephine could muster a proper protest, the Inquisitor’s hand swept deliberately across the desk.
Parchment scattered in a soft rush, letters and reports fluttering to the stone floor in complete and utter diplomatic ruin. Josephine gasped, pulling back just long enough to stare at the mess in wide-eyed disbelief. “Inquisitor—! Those were—”
Her breath hitched sharply when the Inquisitor’s hands settled firmly at her waist and guided her backward in one smooth, decisive motion. Until the back of Josephine’s knees met the desk. Until she was pressed down onto the polished surface. Josephine’s composure shattered all at once. “Inquisitor,” she breathed, voice already soft and unsteady, “this is… highly inappropriate…”
“You’re not stopping me,” the Inquisitor said quietly.
“Inquisitor,” Josephine whispered, scandalized and flushed from throat to cheeks, “this is my office—”
“I’m aware,” the Inquisitor said calmly. Which was somehow worse.
Josephine’s hands fluttered uncertainly before settling against the Inquisitor’s shoulders, her breath already uneven. “Someone could come in—”
“They won’t,” the Inquisitor murmured, leaning in close enough that their noses brushed. “And if they do… I outrank them”
Josephine made a soft, helpless sound that was definitely not a refusal. Her hands had already slid up to grip the Inquisitor’s shoulders, fingers curling into cloth as if for balance. Her chest rose and fell too quickly now, eyes bright and unfocused in the candlelight. “I should stop this” she whispered, breath warm and uneven between them.
The Inquisitor held one hand firm at Josephine’s waist while the other slid slowly up her side until her fingers curved gently along Josephine’s ribs. The touch was careful but confident, grounding and possessive all at once. “But you won’t,” the Inquisitor murmured.
Josephine’s lips parted on a shaky exhale. That was answer enough. The Inquisitor kissed her again, deeper this time, more insistent, her control unmistakable. Her hand at Josephine’s waist tightened just enough to pull her closer against the edge of the desk while her other hand drifted higher, fingertips brushing lightly along Josephine’s side before settling warm at the small of her back.
Josephine made a soft, breathy sound into the kiss, shoulders relaxing despite herself as she leaned fully into the Inquisitor’s hold. One of her hands slipped from the Inquisitor’s shoulder to her neck, fingers trembling slightly as they curled there, thumb brushing unconsciously along warm skin.
The reaction was immediate. The Inquisitor’s breath deepened, and she angled the kiss more firmly, slow and thorough in a way that made Josephine’s next inhale catch sharply, “Maker…” Josephine whispered against her mouth, the word barely formed.
The Inquisitor hummed softly, clearly pleased, and shifted closer between Josephine’s knees, one steady hand spreading warmly at her waist while the other slid up along her spine in a slow, grounding stroke.
Josephine shivered, her head tipped back just slightly when the Inquisitor’s mouth trailed briefly from her lips to the corner of her jaw, warm and lingering enough to draw a soft, helpless breath from her. “You are…”Josephine tried again, voice breathy and uneven, “…absolutely terrible for my concentration…”
The Inquisitor’s answer was a quiet, satisfied huff of laughter as she lifted her head just enough to look at the thoroughly flustered ambassador beneath her.
Josephine’s hair was no longer perfectly arranged. Her lips were flushed, breathing soft and uneven, hands still lightly gripping as if she’d forgotten how to let go.
The Inquisitor leaned in once more, voice a low murmur against Josephine’s mouth. “And you,” she said softly, thumb brushing slow and reassuring at Josephine’s waist, “are very clearly not asking me to stop.” The Inquisitor pulled back just enough to look at her, clearly enjoying the sight. “you’re still holding on,” the Inquisitor mumbled.
Josephine then seemed to realize her fingers were, in fact, still curled firmly into the Inquisitor’s collar. Her cheeks went scarlet and with a soft, scandalized huff, she lightly smacked the Inquisitor’s arm. “You are insufferable,” she breathed, though the words lacked any real bite.
The Inquisitor only grinned wider, entirely unrepentant, and leaned in close enough to rest her forehead against Josephines.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Soooo I’m back!! And I’ve been replaying DA:I, so enjoy this ‘little’ Josephine fic.
Hi! I’ve been working on my Thesis as I’m in my last year of undergrad! But! I plan on making my come back, possibly going to write some for Mass Effect & Dragon Age Inquisition!
The grand hall of the Dellamorte Villa in Treviso was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the flickering flames casting long, delicate shadows across the polished marble floor. The air was rich with the scent of old books and leather, a sense of history lingering in every corner of the room. The night outside was still, but inside the villa, the only sounds were the crackling fire and the soft shuffle of footsteps.
Rook, her dark hair falling in loose waves around her face, leaned casually against the pillar, her eyes studying Lucanis. There was a teasing glint in them, something that suggested she wasn’t simply admiring the ancient beauty of the villa. she was admiring something (or rather, someone) much more intriguing.
Lucanis stood a few steps away, his posture rigid and guarded, as it always was. But tonight… tonight something was different. The quiet of Treviso seemed to strip away some of his usual defenses, leaving him feeling more exposed than he cared to admit.
Rook pushed herself off the pillar, her boots making a soft sound as she moved toward him. “You know, Lucanis,” she said with a sly smile, her voice low and teasing, “I think the grand look of the villa suits you.”
Lucanis glanced at her with a raised eyebrow, trying to keep his cool. “I’m sure you say that to every noble or rich man.”
Rook’s smile only deepened. “Oh, I don’t, but you… you’re different.” She closed the gap between them, her breath warm against his neck as she stood far too close. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”
Lucanis was aware of the heat building between them, but he remained composed, not wanting to give Rook the satisfaction of seeing him lose control. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
Before he could blink, Rook’s lips were against his ear, her voice a soft whisper. “It means… I’ve been thinking about what happens when I get you alone.”
Lucanis’ breath hitched at the sudden closeness, the way Rook’s presence seemed to envelop him. He fought the involuntary urge to step back, to put some distance between them, but her teasing grin held him in place. Her lips moved lower, grazing the edge of his jaw with a feather-light kiss.
“Rook—” Lucanis started, but the words caught in his throat as Rook’s lips brushed against the sensitive spot on his neck, the one he hated to admit made him feel… something. He tried to hold back the rush of heat, but it wasn’t long before a soft giggle slipped from him.
Rook pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes full of mischief. “Did I hear that right? Did you just giggle?”
Lucanis’ face flushed a deep shade of red, and he quickly turned his head away, cursing under his breath. “I—no. I didn’t.”
“Oh, you did,” Rook teased, leaning in closer, her lips dangerously close to Lucanis’ neck again. “And I think you’re ticklish.”
“I’m not!” Lucanis protested, but there was no hiding the uncertainty in his voice.
Rook’s smirk deepened. “You are. And it’s adorable.”
Before Lucanis could react, Rook’s lips trailed down his neck once more, this time with more intent, pressing soft kisses along the sensitive skin. Lucanis’ resolve crumbled, and another giggle escaped him, this one louder than the last.
“Rook!” Lucanis gasped, his body tensing as he instinctively tried to pull away. “Stop! I’m—I’m not ticklish!”
Rook’s laughter bubbled up as she pulled back, her dark eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re so ticklish. This is going to be fun.”
“Don’t you dare,” Lucanis muttered, his voice shaky as he fought the urge to laugh again. But before he could say anything else, Rook leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek, then traced a teasing line down to his jaw.
Lucanis bit his lip, doing his best to stay serious, but Rook was relentless. She kissed the side of his neck again, a delicate, lingering touch that sent a shiver down his spine. And once more, his lips betrayed him—another giggle slipped out, and he couldn’t stop it.
“Rook!” Lucanis breathed, mortified now. “I swear, I can’t—stop!”
“Oh, I’m not stopping,” Rook purred, her voice low and warm, as she slid her fingers up to gently tip his chin so their eyes locked. “This is too much fun.”
Lucanis could feel the flush creeping down his neck, but something else was happening too—a warmth that had nothing to do with the teasing, with the playful laughter between them. It was the way Rook was looking at him now, eyes soft with something that wasn’t just mischief.
With a sudden change in the air, Rook leaned in once more, her lips pressing against Lucanis’ in a soft, lingering kiss. The laughter died away, and for a moment, there was nothing but the feeling of their hearts beating in time, the soft heat of Rook’s lips against his.
When Rook pulled back, her expression was less teasing, more affectionate. “You’re so much more fun than you let on,” she whispered, her thumb brushing lightly over Lucanis’ jaw.
Lucanis was still trying to catch his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. “I don’t—I don’t like you messing with me like that,” he muttered, though the words were half-hearted.
Rook smiled, that same glint of mischief back in her eyes. “You do like it. Don’t lie.”
Lucanis let out a small, reluctant sigh, his cheeks still flushed. “You’re impossible.”
“Perhaps,” Rook replied with a wink, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, “but I think you like me just the way I am.”
Lucanis shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re mine,” Rook murmured softly in a purr.
Lucanis couldn’t find it in himself to argue. With Rook so close, so full of warmth and teasing affection, he knew, deep down, he was already lost to her.
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Sorry guys, not my best work!
I know I’ve been MIA for a bit, but University has me in a death grip this semester :(
Hey, glad you are back! Hope you enjoyed your break☺️ I came across a prompt idea I think you’d write sweetly 😃 Rook and Lucanis are out in town, shopping, grabbing coffee, etc., when Lucanis bumps into an old friend (probably another crow?). She is super pretty and clearly into Lucanis, though he’s oblivious. But Rook notices and gets upset, feeling insecure about herself...then some reassuring. Totally okay if it’s not your vibe! 🫶
A Moment in the Sun
The afternoon sun bathed Treviso in golden light, the breeze carrying the scent of citrus and sea salt through the air. Rook adjusted the strap of her satchel, heavy with fresh produce and spices from the bustling market. Beside her, Lucanis Dellamorte strode with casual grace, carrying a basket full of their purchases. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he glanced down at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Still can’t believe you talked that spice merchant into giving us twice the saffron for half the price,” he said, his deep voice tinged with amusement. “Remind me never to gamble against you, Uccellina.”
Rook chuckled, nudging him lightly with her elbow. “I told you, I’m good at spotting weakness. Yours just happens to be overpaying for things when you flash that charming smile and they realize who you are.”
Lucanis leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Maybe I’ll save my smiles for you, then. They seem to work better on you anyway.”
Her cheeks warmed as she gave him a playful shove. “Keep dreaming, Bello.”
~~~~
As they approached a cozy café in the corner of a sunlit square, a melodic voice rang out. “Lucanis?”
Both of them turned, and Rook felt her heart drop slightly at the sight of the woman approaching them. She was breathtaking—tall and poised, an elven woman with cascading auburn hair and emerald eyes that seemed to sparkle as they fixed on Lucanis. Her elegant outfit clung to her figure with the kind of effortless grace Rook always found herself envying.
“By the Dread Wolf, it is you!” the woman exclaimed, her laughter light and musical. She stopped just short of throwing her arms around him. “Lucanis Dellamorte, of all people. Still alive and just as handsome.”
Lucanis blinked in surprise, a flicker of recognition crossing his face before he smiled politely. “Violetta. It’s been… years.”
“Too long,” she said with a grin, her gaze raking over him. “Still getting into trouble, I assume?”
“Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t,” he replied lightly, though his tone remained distant.
~~~~
As they exchanged pleasantries, Rook felt herself shrinking back, her grip tightening on the strap of her satchel. Violetta was radiant, clearly comfortable in her skin and more than a little interested in Lucanis. It didn’t help that she seemed to command attention effortlessly, drawing the eyes of passersby with her beauty and charm.
Rook’s stomach twisted as she caught the way Violetta leaned ever so slightly toward him, her laugh lingering in the air.
Lucanis, of course, was oblivious to it all. His tone was warm but polite, lacking the intimacy he reserved for Rook. Still, it didn’t stop the nagging insecurities clawing at her chest.
She glanced down at herself—scuffed boots, scarred arms from all her battles, hair turned frizzy from the humidity. Standing next to someone like Violetta, Rook felt dull and insignificant.
“Rook?” Lucanis’s voice cut through her thoughts. He had turned back to her, his dark eyes softening as they met hers. “This is Violetta, an old… associate from my Crow days.”
“Rook,” Violetta said with a charming smile, though there was a flicker of curiosity in her gaze. “A pleasure.”
“Likewise,” Rook replied, forcing a polite smile.
Lucanis’s brow furrowed slightly as he looked between them. “Violetta, we were just about to grab coffee. Care to—”
“I should be going,” Violetta interrupted smoothly, raising a hand. “Perhaps another time, Lucanis.” Her emerald eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before she turned and walked away, her steps as graceful as a dancer’s.
~~~~
As she disappeared into the crowd, Rook turned sharply and busied herself with inspecting a nearby stall. She hated how obvious her discomfort felt, but the knot of insecurity in her chest was impossible to ignore.
“Rook.”
She didn’t turn around. “What?”
Lucanis stepped closer, his presence warm and steady. “Talk to me,” he said softly, his tone edged with concern.
“I’m fine,” she muttered, though her voice betrayed her.
“No, you’re not,” he said gently. He moved into her line of sight, his dark eyes searching hers. “I can see it, Rook. Please. Tell me what’s wrong.”
She hesitated, looking away. “It’s stupid.”
“Try me,” he said, his voice low but firm. He cupped her chin, coaxing her to meet his gaze.
Rook sighed, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “She’s beautiful, Lucanis. And confident, and perfect. And me? I’m just—”
“Stop.”
The sudden steel in his voice startled her, and she looked up to find him gazing at her with a seriousness that made her heart ache.
“Don’t you dare,” he said, his hand moving to cup her cheek. His thumb brushed against her skin, his touch achingly tender. “Don’t you dare compare yourself to her. She’s… she’s a footnote in my past. You are everything to me.”
Rook blinked, stunned. “Lucanis—”
He didn’t let her finish. “I look at you, Rook, and I see strength. I see kindness. I see the only person who’s ever made me believe there’s more to life than shadows and death.” He stepped closer, his forehead resting gently against hers. “You’re not just my partner, Rook. Sei la luce della mia vita.”
Her throat tightened, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I just… she was so…”
“She’s nothing,” Lucanis murmured, his lips brushing her temple. “And you? You’re everything. Understand?”
She nodded, her breath hitching as a soft smile tugged at her lips. “You’re too good at this, Amore.”
“Only for you,” he said, his voice warm with affection. He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before pulling back slightly. “Now, let’s get that coffee before you make me cry in the middle of this square.”
Rook laughed, the last of her insecurities melting away as she laced her fingers with his. “Deal.”
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Hi! Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy!
Fun Fact: Violetta is the name of my Crow!Rook
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Sei la luce della mia vita: You are the light of my life
The sun hung low over Treviso, casting the cobblestone streets in hues of gold and amber. The town was alive with soft chatter and the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from nearby shops. Rook walked alongside Lucanis Dellamorte, their pace unhurried, their steps falling into an easy rhythm.
Lucanis, as always, carried himself with a quiet confidence. His dark hair fell just slightly over his forehead, and his deep-set eyes—dark as a starless night—glanced at her with an intensity that made her cheeks flush. The silver detailing of his dyed leather armor glinted in the fading sunlight, but tonight, he seemed like a man enjoying stolen time with someone who had slowly begun to mean everything to him.
“You keep looking at me like that, and people will start talking,” Rook teased, her lips curving into a smile.
Lucanis smirked, a faint tilt of his head betraying his amusement. “Let them talk. Non mi importa. Tonight, it’s just us.” His voice, low and velvety, sent a shiver down her spine.
They arrived at Cafe Pietra, a warm, rustic tavern nestled near the heart of the square. Lucanis opened the door, his hand brushing hers as he gestured for her to enter.
“After you, tesoro,” he said softly, his gaze lingering on her with a rare gentleness.
The tavern’s cozy interior was alive with the hum of conversation, and the rich aroma of roasted coffee. They chose a table tucked near the open railing, where the view of the twinkling lights of Treviso framed them in golden light.
As they settled in, the barmaid approached, pen poised to take their orders.
“I’ll have coffee,” Rook said with confidence, then added, “but sweet. Really sweet. Lots of milk. And whipped cream on top, please.”
The barmaid nodded and turned to Lucanis, who leaned back in his chair, one brow raised in amusement.
“Un caffè nero,” he said simply. His voice, smooth and measured, contrasted with the teasing look he shot Rook.
Once the barmaid left, Lucanis rested his chin on his hand and gave her a slow, almost predatory smile. “Milk, sugar, whipped cream. Cara mia, you might as well have ordered dessert.”
“It’s childish,” Lucanis countered, though his voice was tinged with affection. “But fitting. You do have a way of bringing a certain… levity to things.”
She grinned, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You mean I make you laugh.”
“I mean you make my days lighter,” he said, his words quieter, almost as if he hadn’t meant to let them slip. His dark eyes softened, and for a moment, there was no teasing, no veil of sarcasm between them. Just honesty.
Rook felt her breath catch. She’d never tire of the moments when Lucanis let down his guard, when his words carried the weight of feelings he struggled to express.
Their drinks arrived soon after, the contrast between them as stark as their personalities. Rook’s cup was a decadent creation, whipped cream piled high with a drizzle of caramel. Lucanis’ was, unsurprisingly, dark and unadorned.
He raised his cup, taking a slow sip, then eyed hers with a raised brow. “Is that coffee, or did you order a dessert buffet in a cup?”
“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Rook said, her tone daring. She scooped up a spoonful of whipped cream and held it out to him, leaning slightly forward.
He sighed theatrically but leaned closer, his lips brushing the spoon as he tasted the cream. When he sat back, he rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. “Sweet. Very sweet. Too sweet for me.” His smirk returned as he added, “But I can see why you like it.”
“Because I have excellent taste, Bello” Rook replied, taking a triumphant sip from her cup.
“No,” Lucanis said, his voice softening. He reached across the table and took her hand in his, the calluses of his palm a comforting contrast to the tenderness of the gesture. “Because you are sweetness itself, Uccellina.”
The air between them shifted, growing heavier with unspoken emotion. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw something she wasn’t sure she deserved but couldn’t help wanting.
“You’re too smooth for your own good,” she murmured, though her heart raced at the way his gaze never wavered.
Lucanis’ lips curved into a faint smile. “Perhaps. But tonight, I’ll indulge in saying what I mean. Sei la mia luce.”
Her breath hitched, and she gave his hand a small squeeze. “And you’re mine. Even if you do drink the bitterest coffee known to man.”
They laughed softly, the sound low and intimate, a shared moment that felt like it belonged only to them. As the evening deepened, Lucanis leaned back in his chair, his hand never leaving hers.
“I could sit here forever,” he said quietly, his voice like a promise. “With you. Just like this.”
Rook smiled, her heart full. “Then I guess you’ll have to get used to whipped cream.”
“For you?” he murmured, lifting her hand to his lips and brushing a kiss over her knuckles. His eyes met hers, dark and unwavering. “Sempre, Uccellina.”
The moment lingered, the world outside the tavern fading into irrelevance. There, in the golden glow of Treviso, they found something sweeter than any coffee: a quiet certainty that they had each found their place in each other.
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Hey guys! I’m back after a short hiatus due to finals week and winter break! (I’m a junior in University).
I will start the fanfics back up, but I would appreciate it, if I could get some ideas of the kind of writing you’d like to see!
The chill of a late Winter morning seeped through the cracks of the grand Dellamorte villa, despite the thick stone walls and heavy drapes. Frost painted the windows, the delicate patterns a testament to the icy fingers of the season outside. But within Lucanis Dellamorte’s bedroom, warmth reigned.
Rook, wrapped in an absurd number of blankets was cocooned in the middle of the oversized bed. She had commandeered every available layer of warmth, from the soft linens to the embroidered quilts. Only her head poked out from the fortress of fabric, her hair a stark contrast against the dark, richly woven coverlets. Her sharp crow-like wit was nowhere to be found this morning; instead, her sleepy expression resembled a satisfied feline, reluctant to face the day.
Lucanis stood by the window, silhouetted against the weak light of the rising sun. His dark hair was tousled, as though he hadn’t bothered running a comb through it yet, and his sharp features were softened by an air of amused indulgence. His dark eyes flicked toward the bundle of blankets on the bed, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“You look ridiculous,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. His voice, low and smooth, carried the hint of laughter beneath its polished veneer. “I’m fairly certain this villa has never housed anyone as absurd as you.”
Rook’s only response was a faint grunt of protest. She burrowed deeper into the blankets, curling tighter like a contented bird in its nest. “Cold,” she muttered, her voice muffled. “This house is a mausoleum. I swear the Dellamorte ancestors haunt it just to drop the temperature.”
Lucanis huffed a quiet laugh. “I’ll have you know this mausoleum is the pinnacle of crow architecture. Generations of the Dellamorte family would take offense at your critique, cara mia.”
Rook peeked one pale eye out from the blankets. “The Crows didn’t invent insulation, apparently,” she quipped. “Or comfort.”
Shaking his head, Lucanis turned from the window and approached the bed. The morning light caught on the intricate embroidery of his house robe—a deep crimson velvet with black and gold trim, so perfectly tailored it was almost offensive. Even lounging in his own home, he carried himself with an effortless, lethal grace that marked him as both First Talon and assassin.
When he reached the bed, he gave a mock bow, leaning forward to press his forearms against the edge of the mattress. “If you find my family’s ancestral home so inhospitable, why don’t you simply get up?”
Rook glared at him, though her expression lacked its usual edge. “No.”
Lucanis’s smile widened. “No?”
“No,” she said again, her voice firmer this time. “This is my home now, too, and I’m declaring this bed the warmest spot in the villa. You can pry me out of here if you dare.”
He sighed, long-suffering, but there was no hiding the warmth in his expression. Lucanis leaned closer, his face hovering just above hers. “You’re lucky you’re adorable, uccellina,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate.
Rook tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. “So lucky,” she replied, voice heavy with feigned exhaustion.
Without warning, Lucanis slipped a hand beneath the mound of blankets, his fingers cold as they brushed against her side. Rook let out a sharp yelp, her eyes snapping open fully. “Lucanis!” she squawked, swatting at his arm as she squirmed beneath her fortress.
His laughter was soft but unrestrained, a sound that carried rare warmth. “It’s good to know you’re not entirely immobilized, Uccellina,” he teased, using the nickname he’d given her early in their partnership.
“You’re awful,” she muttered, but there was no venom in her words, just a grudging affection.
Lucanis settled on the edge of the bed, his smirk softening into something gentler. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her cheek. Despite her protests, she leaned into his touch, relaxing.
“You know,” he said, his tone quieter now, “if you’re so determined to stay in bed, I suppose I could join you. For the sake of preserving your fragile constitution, of course.”
Rook’s gaze flicked up to meet his, her eyes glinting with amusement. “For my sake, huh?”
“Entirely selfless on my part,” Lucanis replied smoothly, though the tilt of his lips suggested otherwise.
She sighed theatrically but shifted to make space for him, her blankets rustling as she lifted a corner in invitation. “Fine. But you’d better not steal the covers.”
With an elegance that bordered on infuriating, Lucanis slipped beneath the layers, his warmth immediately seeping into the cocoon of fabric. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him as they settled together.
For a moment, silence reigned, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. Rook nestled closer, her breath warm against his chest.
“You know,” she murmured, her voice softer now, “I could get used to mornings like this.”
Lucanis pressed a kiss to her temple, his dark eyes closing as he held her close. “So could I, cara mia. So could I.”
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