Chapter Text
It was nearly a fortnight later when he found her again. Twelve days, actually. Not that she had been counting.
Rook had spent sparingly little time with Lucanis, and never alone, since whatever passed between them in the larder had ended with her palm on his chest and his swift retreat immediately after. Lingering looks were traded in the dining hall, at briefings. Dark eyes and flickers of violet following her movements every time she had taken her leave from team meetings with a smile and a nod. Nothing more.
She wasn’t avoiding him. Them? Was there even a them here?
She had simply been busy. “Networking”, Varric had called it once, before meandering into another tale of how fostering connections—even with questionable parties—had saved the Inquisitor’s hide on one occasion or another; and Hawke’s; and his own. And she could handle that. Half of a Crow’s job was blending in when the contract called for it, and that meant putting on masks. Being who the mark needed her to be to let their guard down. It was work. Work was normal.
What was wearing her down, much to her frustration, was the travel. Or lack of. That wasn’t normal.
The Crossroads and its interwoven eluvians turned days of trekking through mountains and sailing across seas into hours at most. The convenience was astonishing. But walking through one mirror at midday in the balmy Crossroads and exiting six hours earlier with her boots in the sucking muck of the Hossberg Wetlands did things to her circadian rhythm that she had not accounted for. In turn, she had practically forgotten how to sleep.
Combine the toll of objective time travel with the growing weight of steering her team as truly as she knew how, and she was beginning to feel lost in the storm. Not quite rudderless. Not yet. But her ropes were fraying and the holes in her sails were starting to show.
It was another such restless night spent tossing in her sheets with her thoughts as loud as Treviso’s marketplace criers that inevitably drove Rook from the comfort of her chambers. Though comfortable may have been too generous a word for her fishbowl of a room.
Frustrated and covered in a cold sweat, she threw her covers aside, sat up on the chaise, and scrubbed her hands over her face. She winced when a callous on her palm caught the fresh line of prickly stitches at her left brow. She kept forgetting they were there. Just like she kept forgetting to eat…or breathe sometimes.
Rook sighed and tipped her chin to stare up at the dappled globules of aquamarine and sea glass light dancing on the ceiling. She pressed the soles of her feet into the cold stone floor. That had grounded her when she had first arrived at the Lighthouse. Now all it did was make her feet feel clammy. She needed fresh air. Whatever that even meant out here in the Fade.
Forgoing shoes, she pushed to her feet, combed a hasty hand through her hair, and haphazardly tossed her overshirt on before leaving her chambers. The sound of her bare feet on the stone was almost inaudible as she padded down the curving stairs of the atrium and slipped out of the large, heartwood doors like a shadow, instantly more at ease in the twilight night the Fade provided.
She wished a cold breeze had greeted her but there were none of those to be found at the Lighthouse. Just the same, agreeable, spring-like pseudo-weather. She shouldn’t complain. It was better than a stone fortress in the Frostback Mountains.
Rook didn't truly enter the courtyard. The Caretaker's wispy glow at its center, usually welcoming, looked daunting tonight and she turned immediately left instead, skirting the massive halla statue flanking the door to skim the wall. She followed the upward sweep of the staircase along the body of the main hall to the vine choked ramparts.
Up. She needed up. Just like back home in Treviso, finding reprieve on the rooftops, it was always easier to see the big picture with a wider lens.
Drifting down the walkway, sponging her toes into patches of moss grown between the stones, she scanned the wall for the right spot. It didn't take long to find what she was looking for. An extruding brick and an especially thick cord of vine marked her starting point. She grasped the vine in both hands and used the brick to push off and begin her climb.
She had done this only a handful of times since arriving here, and surely more than one of her newfound companions would raise an eyebrow at the unofficial leader of the Veilguard climbing walls barefoot in the dead of night, but the reward was always worth it. And as she pulled herself onto the next level of ivy-encased ramparts, she felt a real breeze run fingers through her hair. Or close enough to real that she could pretend.
Rook pulled a long, slow breath deep into her lungs, savoring the tang of magic that always lingered in the air here, and exhaled in a rush. Her thoughts were already beginning to settle. They wouldn’t retreat any time soon, but at least the whirling had stopped.
Gripping the ivy covered stones with her toes, she meandered toward the sloping roof of the adjacent wing of the building and took a seat where the greenery was thinnest. With her feet dangling over the edge, and her hands folded behind her head, she laid back against the gentle incline and fixed her gaze skyward. Fade debris moved in lazy orbits through the air.
She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that. Long enough to recognize a few of the more notable chunks of archway when they made second and then third laps around her perch.
Like a twig snapping in the woods, the air shifted around her as nearby movement broke the stillness. She sat up. A whisper of charred magic, followed by a taste similar to sugared violets and dry wine hit the back of her tongue—bitter and powdery sweet in equal measure. She knew it and turned toward the source.
At the far end of her no-longer-private overlook, Lucanis, dusted in almost imperceptible flakes of dissipating amethyst, halted mid-step beneath her scrutiny. Neither of them moved for a breath. Two Crows on a rooftop, looking one another over from head to toe and back again. Assessing.
Lucanis, though still dressed in his usual boots and trousers, had loosened his collar. By which, she meant that instead of the layers of stiff fabric and leathers she typically found him in, all he wore on his upper half tonight was a loose, dark tunic tucked into his waistband and rolled at the elbows. She was helpless against stealing a glance at the slice of olive skin the split collar allowed her. And if the twitch at the corner of his mouth meant anything, he had noticed.
“Rook. What are you doing up here?” he said slowly, eyes politely trained on her face.
“Lucanis.” Suddenly and acutely aware of how deep the collar of her own shirt plunged, she flushed and quickly drew the lacing tight, closing a few extra inches of cloth over her chest. She quietly cleared her throat before countering his question, “I could ask you the same thing.”
He sent a flat look her way, brows raised expectantly. “You’re climbing the walls of the Lighthouse in the middle of the night. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t come check on you?”
Friend. Rook let out a soft laugh. Right. So that was where they stood after all.
“I appreciate the concern,” she said, turning her attention back toward the stone clusters floating idly in the distance. “But you don’t need—”
“To worry about you,” Lucanis finished for her, echoing what had become her mantra back at her with a sigh and a pointed look at her stitched brow. “So you’ve said.” He took a step closer and motioned toward the ledge she sat on when she looked his way. “May I?”
She nodded but said nothing, watching him sidelong as he closed the distance between them with measured steps and lowered himself to sit beside her. He was careful, she noted, not to bump her shoulder or touch her as he settled. He was being considerate. That was what she told herself. But something about the conscious space he kept between them stung even though it shouldn’t have.
Silence sat with them. A blessedly comfortable one, at that. The only interruptions were the occasional percussive clacks of stones colliding in the swirling ether and the faint chittering of wisps below.
The thing about this silence though was that it let her thoughts grow loud once again. More so now that she had company. Company whose presence somehow warmed the air beside her. A sensation that dragged her back to the last time they had been this close, outside of hunting venatori, poring over maps, and discussing moves with the rest of the team.
She clenched her fingers in the ivy, remembering how Lucanis had looked at her in the pantry. Dark eyes sweeping her face. The curve of his mouth when he had teased her about walking too close to the edge and she had turned his words back at him. The immediacy with which he had excused himself a breath later.
A vine snapped within her fist and she uncurled her fingers to grip the stone instead. She was being childish. Short-sighted on top of it. The world was tipping closer to its end with every day that passed and here she was worrying about whether or not she had made a fool of herself.
Lucanis inhaled slowly beside her. She knew he had consciously made it audible. It was something he did frequently when they scouted beyond the safety of the Lighthouse or the familiar rooftops of Treviso; when breaking a silence posed a risk.
“Rook—”
“Caelyse. Please,” she cut him short, more forcefully than she had intended, and began dragging her palms back and forth over the tops of her thighs, watching the thick fabric of her breeches bunch and stretch with each pass. “I’m beginning to loathe ever picking up that title.”
“Caelyse.”
His voice was pitched low when he spoke her name, drawing it out, rolling it on his tongue as though tasting it, and the sound forced her to meet his eyes. She would have happily drowned in the warm, coffee dark pools that were waiting for her. It would have been easy too with the way her breath caught pathetically in her chest.
“Lucanis,” she murmured, “why did you follow me up here?”
He smiled softly and it crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Would you believe me if I said it was Spite’s idea?”
She hummed thoughtfully, remembering the glints of violet and the taste of the demon’s magic in the air when he had arrived. “Would it be uncouth to say that answer would disappoint me?”
It was bold of her, she knew, and when his eyes widened a fraction in response she was gripped by the sudden urge to test the gravity in the Fade. Until he laughed. It was short but warm and genuine and brought a color to his cheeks she hadn’t seen before. Was he blushing?
“Uncouth?” Lucanis repeated and shook his head. “Nooo. Not you?”
He was teasing her now, the lilt of his tone a dead giveaway, and she rolled her eyes. “You’ve been speaking with Viago about me haven’t you?”
A sly smile lingered on his lips as he regarded her. “In passing.”
The look faltered for a fraction of a second, his eyes flickering away, toward his shoulder, just as quickly. A slight crease between his brows. And then he was focused on her again like the interruption had never happened.
Rook cast a quick glance in the same direction. “Spite?”
“Yes,” he said, answer carried on a tight sigh as he brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“And what is it that he’s saying?” she asked with a tilt of her head, genuinely curious.
“Nothing important,” Lucanis dismissed too quickly.
No sooner had the words left his lips and chips of amethyst sparked behind his eyes as Spite forced his way into the conversation. His voice cracked into that familiar, sharp-edged rasp. “LIAR.”
Lucanis screwed his eyes shut for a moment before throwing a glare at Spite again, now between them apparently. “Mierda,” he ground out. “I did not—”
Another flare of purple. “He liesss. Talks. Asks. Talks MORE. Never DOES.”
As the demon prattled, the furrow in Lucanis’ brow deepend until his features had twisted fully into a scowl. It didn’t suit him. But the turn in the conversation was amusing nonetheless and, despite her best efforts, Rook failed to tamp down the laugh rising in her.
When it bubbled out, she clapped a hand over her mouth but it was too late. Lucanis’ scowl had turned on her, incredulous even with the color rising in his face, and she could swear she felt Spite’s attention wash over her as well.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted. Another small laugh hiccupped out of her, almost a snort, and she felt her cheeks begin to burn.
His frustration crumbled, giving way to a weary amusement while he waited for her to regain her composure. “Are you finished?” he asked placidly, eyebrows raised.
“I’m not sure,” Rook finally eked out. “Are you two?”
He sent a shrewd look to the demon on his shoulder. “I would like to be.”
“What was that about?”
“He was getting…” Lucanis hummed as though weighing his options. “Impatient.”
“Impatient?” Curiosity ruled her now and she twisted to face him better, propping herself up on one arm. “Why?”
“Because I did come up here for a reason—” He paused suddenly, frowned, and then pursed his lips before continuing. “To clarify. At Spite’s insistence. The intention to speak with you was my own but I admit, I had planned to find you while the sun was out.”
Rook frowned. “So, Spite…”
“I was out for a walk. We saw you climbing.” Lucanis mirrored her posture and a slow quirk pulled at one corner of his mouth. “And you had no idea you were being followed.”
“Perhaps because I know it’s safe to let my guard down here,” Rook bristled reflexively. His smile fell in reply and guilt washed over her. “Shit. Lucanis, I’m sorry,” she said, dropping her gaze to where her nails worried at a tendril of greenery. “I didn’t m—”
“No, Rook,” he interjected and the warmth of his hand smoothing along her arm made her look up. His attention on her was unwavering, heavy. “Caelyse. You’re right. A sense of security isn’t something that comes naturally to Crows, you know that as well as I do.”
She felt he was dancing around what he truly wanted to say but she made a noise of regrettable agreement and conceded, “True. House de Riva is known for our poisons, after all.”
“Viago puts them in his coffee,” he groaned.
“I know,” she said with a defeated sigh.
“My point is—” Lucanis gave her arm a squeeze, sweeping his thumb over her bicep. “I trust you. And I feel as though I may have failed to properly express that to you until now.”
“Lucanis, you haven’t failed—” Her train of thought faltered when he moved his hand up to cradle her jaw.
“And there is one other thing,” he murmured, voice dipping low as he angled closer. “Before someone gets impatient again.”
She set her palm to his chest and nudged his nose with hers, laughing breathily as a wave of nerves washed through her. “I thought Spite already had what he wanted?”
“I wasn’t talking about Spite,” Lucanis purred.
Before she could fully process his words, he kissed her and she could swear she felt time pause around them. His lips were soft, despite the rasp of his beard; the slide of his mouth gentle. There was no demand, only a cautious request for more. For permission. Even now, just like in battle, he was following her lead—pushing only when she pulled.
She melted into him entirely when his fingers slipped to the nape of her neck and his other palm splayed over her side. Needy, she grazed his bottom lip with her teeth. He groaned and she felt the twig snap of magic in the air.
Pulling away reluctantly, he rested his forehead on hers and took a slow breath. She did the same. His eyes were still closed when she opened her own but his features were relaxed. More than she had seen since the last time she had her hand on his chest.
Over his heart. Which was beating steadily, though at a gallop to match her own, beneath her palm. It slowed as he exhaled. He was regulating his heartbeat, calming himself, and suddenly she understood.
When he had turned from her before, claiming he needed to clear his head, he had meant it. He hadn’t been brushing her off or rejecting her. Whatever contest of wills was raging in his mind, it was constant and far more than what he let her see on the outside.
“Lucanis,” she murmured, tone searching. His eyes fluttered open, pouring warmth, and he hummed in question. “For the record, I trust you too. Both of you.”
His brow furrowed ever so slightly as he retreated to search her face. “Are you certain that’s wise?” he asked, brushing his thumb along her cheekbone before letting his hand fall to the curve of her waist.
“I’ve been called many things in my life but wise is not one of them,” she said with a grin. Her answer earned a disapproving look and she hurried on before he could argue. “Spite’s had plenty of opportunities to cause harm if he truly wanted to.”
“Spite tried to enter the Crossroads,” he countered instantly.
“Once.” She held up her index finger between them and he huffed, rolling his eyes. “And right after getting you out of the Ossuary. Kind of a big change in scenery,” she reasoned. “All things considered, I think he’s been fairly well behaved.”
Lucanis’ hand tightened on her hip and violet glinted behind his gaze, there and then gone as quickly as a shooting star. “And what about last time?”
She never thought she would be defending a demon’s honor—for lack of a better word—to its unwilling host, and yet here she was. Even more unlikely was doing so while being involved with said host. Two points for her. Did that make her involved with Spite now too? She was going to have to chew on that later.
“Last time, he wanted to talk. To me, for some reason,” Rook told him. “Even if Taash and I hadn’t come by the kitchen when we did, Spite would have found me. To talk.”
“He would have found you alone, Rook.”
She didn’t correct him on her name. It wasn’t important right now and she couldn’t expect him to change his habits in one night.
“Lucanis, please. You said you trust me.” She slid her hand to the side of his neck and waited for his cautious nod before continuing. “So trust me when I say that I trust Spite not to harm me. Or anyone else on the team, for that matter.”
He scrutinized her for a moment, wheels turning and scales balancing behind his dark gaze, until he broke away to stare out across the courtyard with a hard set to his jaw. “Mierda,” he sighed and looked at her sidelong. “You know he’s going to be insufferable now, yes?”
“I thought he already was?” Rook snarked, unable to help herself.
“He can be worse,” Lucanis said, tone coated in the barest amusement as he faced her once more with a half smile. “I promise.”
She scrunched her face apologetically and whispered, “I’m sorry?”
He made a dismissive noise and waved her off. “Enough about Spite, please. He doesn’t need any more attention this evening.” His focus settled fully on her then, concern coloring his features. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Lucanis repeated, taking her hand. “I know this isn’t the first night you’ve spent up here. Are you alright?”
She looked down. She hadn’t realized the chill that had crept into her fingertips until they were enveloped by the warmth of his. She also hadn’t realized how badly she needed to be asked that question until it landed in her chest and chipped at the weakest point of her walls.
“No,” Rook said, smiling morosely up at him. “But I have to be. Someone has to be.”
A pained look crossed Lucanis’ face. At first she thought it was pity, but that was wrong—that was what she was used to. No. It was understanding. Empathy. And it made her throat tighten.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he offered.
She shook her head. “Not really. Not tonight.”
He nodded and ran his thumb soothingly over her knuckles. “Then, may I offer you something else instead?”
When she gave him a confused frown, Lucanis smiled softly and released her hand to gather her in his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin. She stiffened for an instant, took a tight breath, and then buried her face against his chest. The angle was awkward with them both twisted at the waist but she didn’t care and he didn’t seem to either as he drew her tighter to him and set a protective palm at the back of her neck.
She felt him take a deep breath and followed suit. He smelled like the woodsmoke of the kitchen, espresso, and the sharp, crystalline sweetness of aged molasses. And a powdery hint of violets. She pressed her nose into his shirt, trying to commit the scent to memory.
Rook couldn’t remember the last time someone had simply held her. It had been years. It felt like lifetimes. And she didn't want it to ever end.
Wrapped safely in the gentle strength of Lucanis’ arms, she could almost forget about the world beyond the Lighthouse. This moment was a reprieve. One she refused to take for granted.
“Thank you,” she mumbled into his shirt and felt him kiss the crown of her head.
“You know,” Lucanis said, voice low and velvety beside her ear, “the next time you can’t sleep, my door is open.”
She turned her cheek against his chest. “Is that a standing invitation?”
His answering chuckle ghosted through her hair. “Yes. It is.”
The surety of his tone made her chest feel tight and she shifted to look up at him. Eyes as dark and warm as the coffees he brewed were waiting for her, crinkled at the corners from the smile rounding his scruffed cheeks. And in their depths, buried like fragments of geode, pinpricks of amethyst flickered in kind.
Rook set a hand to his jaw, fingers scratching lightly at his beard as she asked, “Will there be more of this?”
Lucanis regarded her for a moment before he answered with another question, “Is it too bold to say that I would like that very much?”
“No,” she replied, heat rising in her cheeks. “Not at all. Just bold enough, I think.”
“Then I would like that very much.”
With his knuckles curled beneath her chin, he pressed another gentle kiss to her lips and hummed low in his chest. As he pulled away, she opened her eyes in time to see him spare a quick glance toward his shoulder and frown before looking at her again. The whisper of a triumphant smile tugged at his mouth.
“What?” Rook demanded.
“Spite… likes this agreement too.”