Chapter Text
Six years later …
Lucanis shut the cover of the worn storybook and turned to the child tucked into his side. “Time for bed, my love.”
“Noooo,” Cosima whined. “One more, Papa, please!”
Lucanis chuckled. “This is your third one. Surely you’re tired now, huh?”
Cosima stuck out her chin defiantly. “I’m never tired,” she declared, though the slight droop to her eyelids and the yawn she had unleashed a few moments before betrayed her.
Still, Lucanis decided to indulge her tonight. There were worst things in the world than staying up past your bedtime, after all.
“Okay, amore mio, one more. Which one would you like?” He reopened the storybook, but Cosima slammed it shut once again with a tiny hand.
“The obstreperous heroes!” She cried. Cosima was constantly picking up new words and incorporating them into her vocabulary, though not often successfully. Obstreperous was her current favorite, taken from Emmrich after she’d had a particularly notable tantrum. Lucanis had been surprised she’d been able to hear it over her wailing. He supposed he should correct her on her improper use of the word, but that was a battle for another day. Wrong adjective or not, he still knew which story she was referring to.
It was one of her favorites, a dashing tale about a motley crew saving the world from a pair of evil gods. It was an incredibly sanitized version of events, of course, first introduced by a babysitting Bellara and now in Cosima’s regular rotation of bedtime stories. Lucanis wasn’t sure if she was quite old enough to connect that the rogue with a cloak shaped like a crow’s wings and the mage with possession over life and death were her parents.Perhaps one day he would tell her the rest of it, the good and the bad, about the unlikeliest of love stories that had blossomed at the end of the world.
But not tonight. Tonight he lets himself get carried away by the familiar words he now had memorized. He’s halfway through the tale when he glances over and notices Cosima’s head slumped over onto his shoulder, chest rising and falling steadily. He carefully extricated himself from the bed and tucked her under the covers, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead and brushing her dark curls out of her face. He dimmed the lanterns and made his way out of the room, stepping carefully around the many toys littering the floor, presents from various friends and family: a carved griffon with wheels from Davrin, a stuffed dragon from Taash, and even a stuffed wyvern from Illario that made Lucanis’s chest ache whenever he looked at it.
He paused at the door and considered the still form on the bed. His daughter. Three years old already, and Lucanis was still as gob smacked at her existence as he had been on the day of her birth. She was a miracle, and every day with her was an adventure. Sometimes he worried this was all too good to be true, that one day he would awaken and find this new life of his to have been nothing more than a fleeting dream.
It had been six years since those fateful three days in Treviso. Three days that had upended his life completely and wonderfully. After leaving the Crows and Treviso, he and Rook had spent several years traveling Thedas and seeing all the wonders it held, free from duty and family obligation and the scent of death. They had eventually settled in a small cottage along the Rivaini coast, a place where the days were long year-round and the breeze always carried the faintest whisper of sea, no matter where you were.
It was there that they had welcomed Cosima.
Her skinned knees were the result of rough housing, her bruised lip bitten as she excitedly tumbled down a hill after a butterfly. She would never know the rigorous training of the Crows. She would never spend a single second doubting that she was loved beyond measure.
To her, tales of assassins and rogues were things of myth, read to her by her parents during her nightly bedtime stories. She had no idea the legacy of death she descended from. If Lucanis had his way, she would never know, although he knew such wishes were fruitless. Someday he would sit her down and explain it all. He hoped she wouldn't judge him too harshly.
He made his way down the hall to his and Rook’s bedroom, still reminiscing on all that had transpired these last six years.
Illario wrote to him occasionally, missives sent in the dead of night and encrypted in layers upon layers of ciphers. He appeared to be happy, though Lucanis knew Illario would rather drop dead than even hint otherwise if he weren’t. They were not friends, nor the brothers they once had been, but they were friendly enough.
Caterina had passed away from fever two years prior. It had been a quick illness, and he was told she didn’t suffer much. There was a small funeral, arranged by Teia.
Every day there seemed to be more and more gray around Lucanis’s temples. He found himself growing weary in ways he had never experienced before.
He was aging, and what a gift that was.
He entered his bedroom and slipped into bed beside Rook, wrapping an arm around her swollen stomach. “She’s finally asleep.”
Rook chuckled. “I wished I could say the same for your son. I think he’s going to be an acrobat,” she said, rubbing at her stomach. She sighed. “You know, we’re not going to have many more nights like this, just the two of us.”
“Three,” Spite sniped from beside Lucanis.
Lucanis rolled his eyes affectionately. Rook, reading his mind, smiled. “My apologies, Spite. The three of us.” Lucanis could feel the demon preen with satisfaction.
“What story did she ask for tonight?” Rook asked, running a loving hand through his hair.
“The intrepid group of heroes who saved the world from ruin and destruction.”
“Do you ever miss it,” Rook murmured, already drifting off into sleep. “Saving the world?”
Lucanis considered the question, though the answer was immediately obvious. How could he? He had everything he needed right here.
“Not at all.”
He had survived all of the battles life had thrown his way, clawed and scratched his way to this moment, this hard-won peace.
And now? Now that he was here, enjoying the love and the peace and the family he had fought so hard for?
Well, it turned out living was the easiest thing of all.