Chapter Text
Rook woke with a start, another dream with Solas rifling through their head. It left the mage with a headache, dealing with The Dread Wolf. Some nights Solas left them to their dreams, letting the mage relive the moments of their lives they missed, losses they've taken, nightmares that force them awake; tonight had not been one of those.
As the Veilguard get closer and closer to the Gods, Rook’s dreams become more and more horrific. The loss of the South, the death of her clan, the torture of her people, the Venatori rising… their mind was a wonderland of horrors the past few nights. Tonight, though, was a new kind of horror. The Veilguard’s dead bodies scattered around them, Lucanis held up by a single God before being impaled before their eyes, his blood splattering across their face and a blood curdling scream that wouldn't leave the mage's ears, even in the waking world.
“So,” Solas had paused their dream, taking full control of it, and leaving them screaming, “this is what you fear.”
The old mage appeared from behind them, stepping over the corpses of their allies and friends, to stop by their side and gaze up at the Elvhen God of Vengeance. Rook pants, falls to their knees and lets out a choked, bloody scream while falling to their elbows.
“Calm yourself, Rook,” the dreamscape shifted to that of fog, large green trees that touched the sky and rolling hills, the land their clan lived on, “it is not real. It has not come to pass.”
The screams that left their lips felt real enough. The blood that had splattered against their skin still felt warm and sticky, the sweat on their brow still pebbled. They were stuck.
“Rook,” Solas reaches out a hand only to be thrown back and out of their dream as the mage awoke.
Lucanis.
They needed to see him.
Needed to feel him, his lungs fill, his muscles shift, his body move. They needed to feel the heat from his skin and the smell of his cologne. They needed him.
They dressed haphazardly, tying their tunic with shaky fingers, leaving it loose against their body. Their hair was pulled back into a braid. They pulled on their pants and shoved their feet in their boots before quickly making their way out of the Lighthouse's main tower.
The sky was awash in hues of pink and orange, the signs of dawn at the Lighthouse, and Rook didn't spend any time marveling at it like they usually did. They had no time to wonder where the closest piece of land was or what was under them, if demons had the means to find them or if there were any other spirits wandering about that they hadn't found. Nothing else mattered except seeing and touching Lucanis.
Rook opened his door to find the rogue sipping on a cup of freshly made coffee next to the fireplace. Tears welled in their eyes as Lucanis looked at them, concern painting his striking features. Before Lucanis could even speak Rook was running around the dinning table to jump into the man's arms, his mug falling to the ground and breaking between the pair, coffee splattering on both their trousers.
Rook took a deep breath in, the scent of Lucanis’ musky cologne and the rich spices of the intoxicating beverage he loved to create. They felt Lucanis’ breath tickle their ear as he whispered their name, felt the movement of his muscles as he pulled them against his chest, felt the swelling of his chest as he breathed in and out.
He was alive. He was here and he was alive.
“Amor,” one of his arms stayed firmly wrapped around the mage's lower back while the other cradled their face, pulling away enough to look at them, “what's going on?”
Lucanis sounded almost panicked, never having seen Rook so vulnerable before. Rook met his gaze, their deep emerald eyes shining wet against the flickering embers of the fire, a blaze of fear, panic and hatred swirling in them. Rook chokes a bit, breath stuttering as they tried to form words with shaking lips.
“Just… hold me.” Rook tucks themselves into the rogue's neck, inhaling their scent once again, letting the aroma of coffee and cedar comfort them. Lucanis abides, wrapping his arm back around the mages body and pulling them into him, twinging his fingers in their hair. He sways them just a bit, whispers comforting words in his native tongue that left the mage crying in their lovers arms. The dream shook them more than any other had, having watched all of their friends die before their eyes before watching Elgar’nan impale the assassin. Rook curls their arms between the couple, wiping at their eyes while stuttering an apology.
“I ruined your vest.” Rook whispered as they pulled back, hand lightly rubbing at the wet spot on the purple vest.
“You could never ruin anything.” Lucanis quickly comments back, his usual smirk curling at his lips as he caresses the mage’s cheek. Rook couldn’t help but smile at his words, leaning into their Crow’s touch and humming in contentment. “Do you wish to talk, Rook?”
“I… don’t know.” Rook sighs, eyes shifting to the fire beside them. “Just a nightmare. Solas decided to add to it. Just… needed to remind myself it was a dream.”
“Of course, amor,” his thumb swipes under their eye, catching a few stray tears, “I will do whatever you need.”