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The thing about Antaam, Venatori, and fanatic cultists of similar nature was that they never gave up. Even if they were losing a fight badly and were standing on the brink of oblivion, they fought just as hard, if not harder than they did when they had an advantage to press. It was infuriating . Sometimes, beating them in a fight became more dangerous than losing to them because their goal would switch from winning the fight to taking as many of their opponents out as they could before they died.
(“Death before failure!” Was a mantra the Venatori zealots always cried out like a prayer, but the concept applied to every elven god-infested group they’d fought thus far. An enemy unafraid of their own demise was an enemy that was hard to predict, and thus more difficult to counter.)
As it stood, their party was near one of the many canals of Treviso, about ten minutes in either direction between the Cantori Diamond and central marketplace-hub. Davrin, Lucanis and Rook, who hadn’t come to Treviso for a fight, were nonetheless engaged in a bloody conflict after being ambushed by a group of Antaam cultists. They’d stumbled into the area where a group of Antaam were placing gaatlok in a warehouse on their way to the marketplace, and the group took offense to their proximity and promptly ambushed them in the canals.
Unfortunately, Assan, who was an amazing lookout from the sky, had been left back at the Lighthouse to rest after a brutal fight against darkspawn earlier in the week left him with a sore wing. Because of this, the young griffon hadn’t been there to sound the ambush alarm in advance and, while Davrin was hesitant to admit it, if Lucanis didn’t have Spite, they would have been caught completely unawares. Even though the demon had also apparently been distracted by the conversation Lucanis was having with Rook, he still caught the malicious scent broadcasting ‘danger!’ moments before they were actually attacked.
The assailants, due to the element of surprise, had the advantage for the initial assault. Despite being at a disadvantage, once the three men had gotten over their shock and into a familiar battle rhythm, they were easily able to push back against their enemies. It’s as they’re finally gaining the upper hand on the group, having taken down three of the eight of the attacking Qunari, that things start to go awry.
Davrin takes a fire blast to the shield that throws him into a nearby wall, which stuns him momentarily, and he only isn’t stabbed point blank in the face by the same opponent because of his mage killing companion. He only has a second to notice the blade slicing towards his face before Lucanis is there, pouncing deftly on the offender. It’s this close, near-catastrophic, exchange that steals Rook’s haphazard attention and pulls his focus away from his own fight.
Due to the nature of Rook’s near death a few months prior, the other man hadn’t been in active combat in quite a while, which meant that his divided attention was extremely detrimental for his ability to stay on the offensive against such a massive opponent. The Warhammer-wielding Antaam who was now pushing Rook back with his powerful swings suddenly kicks out and hits the elf square in the chest with a massive boot- pushing him over the edge of the canal. He hits an abandoned gondola with a subconscious noise of pain and is immediately forced to roll to the side to avoid the hammer that is plunged where his head has previously been. Unfortunately, the direction he’s forced to roll is off the boat and into the canal below.
Davrin wouldn’t forget the subconscious sound of despair that punched its way out of Lucanis’ chest when Rook hit the water anytime soon. He instinctively blocks the next incoming blast with his shield, rolls backwards and springs onto his feet, using the momentum to spin all the way around and stab his new opponent in the exposed flesh of their neck.
He sputters out, “Lucanis- what-?”
The assassin flies towards where Rook last was, ignoring Davrin’s question. The Warden doesn’t take offense, simply taking off after his comrade, ready to defend his unguarded back. The Crow deftly tackles the taunting Qunari who'd pushed Rook into the canal with the tense strength of a pouncing, snarling, wolf. His blade finds home in the man’s chest at least four times by Davrin’s count before their bodies hit the water as well.
Davrin plants his shield in front of himself like a wall to defend Lucanis and Rook from the two remaining adversaries who share a victorious look and try to press their two v. one advantage. Unfortunately for them, Davrin hadn’t become a Grey Warden because he lacked the ability to handle multiple opponents at once.
By the time Lucanis resurfaces with Rook, the remaining Antaam are dead and Davrin is positioned on the gondola, ready to help.
“The Warden. About to get. Killed- Behind you, Lucanis.” Spite alerts Lucanis to Davrin’s vulnerability and he’s deftly flipping around the man he’d been engaged with to get to the Warden’s side before he can fully process what Spite even said.
His heart pounds as he witnesses the canon-wielding cultist looming above his friend wind up with his blade, ready to decapitate Davrin, who had been momentarily stunned by the initial hit he’d taken. Lucanis silently fears that he’s too far away to stop Davrin’s death, but his own sheer spite has him leaping the rest of the way to tackle the cultist. One hand wraps around the wrist that’s attached to the hand holding the blade in order to keep control of the enemy’s weapon while the other grasps for his own still-holstered knife.
Lucanis feels the wrist snap in his grasp due to his and Spite’s combined strength and as the man opens his mouth to scream, Lucanis brings his other hand forward like a striking snake. He’s tightly grasping the dagger Rook had gifted him and, with deadly precision, the blade strikes the man through the back of his throat. He’s dead before Lucanis lets go of him.
Immediately, his eyes ping-pong from the remaining enemies, to Davrin, and then to Rook, who he often found himself observing during fights regardless of the severity of the situation. His breath stutters in his lungs when he notices that Rook was being pushed in the direction of the deep canal. It wasn’t a known fact amongst their Veilguard group that Rook couldn’t swim because Rook never disclosed any weakness to anybody, and the only reason Lucanis knew the elf’s secret was because Neve told him.
Months ago, the woman had disclosed to him that Rook couldn’t swim like it was a headline she read that left a bad taste in her mouth. It was right after a group from the Lighthouse had finished an excursion into the Crossroads and someone in their troop had made a general query about what their next move should be. Taash had brought up needing to go back to the base of the Lords of Fortune on the beach to help Isabella search for something they’d dropped in the ocean and while Neve’s posture didn’t change, she immediately made eye contact with Lucanis in a conspiratorial way that was different from their normal socially acceptable, polite, conversational eye contact. The intrigue alone made the Dellamorte heir stay behind a beat after the others had started to return to their quarters.
That’s when the detective made a noise in the back of her throat akin to a cat being drenched in water, “Be careful with him,” she nodded towards Rook’s retreating back, “around deep water… He hasn’t said anything,” she answered before Lucanis could ask, “but I’ve seen him creatively avoiding the water on more than one occasion… I don’t think he can swim.”
Lucanis had felt his eyes twitch at that; all of the potential hazards to Rook’s safety, now including water, flashed in his mind all at once, “... You’re sure?”
Neve, as Tevinter as Lucanis was Antivan, had given him a borderline scathing look before she haughty replied, “I’m a detective, Lucanis .”
After that conversation, Lucanis spent even more time observing Rook when they were outside of the Lighthouse, and Spite did too. Together, over time, they silently confirmed Neve’s theory to themselves as piece after piece of evidence piled on to indicate that, no, Rook couldn’t swim. At first, out of respect to their leader, they never told anyone else but then, with the Venatori plot on Rook’s life, his inability to swim fell to the wayside as a ‘non-emergent’ issue.
That oversight turned out to be a mistake.
He thinks he hears Davrin ask what’s wrong as Rook is finally pushed into the water, but he can barely hear the other man over the sound of Spite yelling at him to move, to get to Rook. He feels the demon take partial control over him when his body isn’t moving with a speed that Spite approves of and, together, they sprint to where Rook disappeared to. He kills the Antaam responsible without a conscious thought, blade efficiently stabbing him in the heart and lungs repeatedly, and then he’s hitting the water before his brain has even processed that he’s moving.
“There! Rook. Get Rook! Down!” Spite snarls, overprotectiveness seeping through their bond from the demon’s side.
Lucanis follows where Spite is indicating and sees the faintest glow from Rook’s jewelry reflecting the firelight from above the water and he doesn’t hesitate to dive down towards the other Crow. Spite, unamused by the amount of time Lucanis is taking, immediately tries to wrestle control from him to check on Rook himself which would in no way benefit any of them. Lucanis nearly exhales completely, bubbles flying around his head, as he forcefully pushes Spite back as best he can while also actively swimming in the dark water.
Remembering how Rook, Emmrich and Taash are always talking to Spite with varying levels of cooperation, Lucanis tries mentally saying, “You taking over right now won’t help Rook.” He’s surprised to feel the demon retreat in his mind for a moment.
Even though he’s no longer fighting for control of Lucanis, Spite reappears at the forefront of his consciousness and then his glowing spectral wings fan out behind them like glowing propellers.
“Helping.” He replies to Lucanis’ internal confusion.
With the two of them working together, it can’t be more than a minute that they’re submerged before they get to Rook, who isn’t struggling and appears nearly unconscious. The second Lucanis has his hands on Rook, Spite is propelling them up with a speed that belays his fear for Rook. As they breach the water, Davrin is close enough to reach down and pull Rook out of Lucanis’ arms and onto the gondola for immediate attention. Spite snarls as Rook is taken from them, concern manifesting as rage, but Lucanis holds steady in his control over his demon long enough to get them out of the water and to Davrin’s side hovering over Rook’s prone form.
Their leader’s eyes are open, but he isn’t breathing past the water in his lungs. Rook makes a choking noise and Lucanis has only a second to feel panic, flashing back to when Rook’s blood was seeping into his knees similarly to how the water pouring off of Rook is now, before Spite is rearing back their fist and slamming it into Rook’s chest. Davrin makes a noise of protest that is drowned out by Rook finally expelling the water from his lungs and finally taking a deep, hacking breath.
When he can finally breathe again without coughing, Rook tries to wave them off with a hoarse, “I’m- I’m fine.” That is immediately overruled by him passing out in Davrin’s arms.
Lucanis is quick to check his pulse, pleased to feel a strong if fast rhythm under his shaking fingers. He exhales heavily as his own exhaustion and aches from the fight catch up to him immediately now that the danger has passed.
“Is he okay?” Davrin asks, uncharacteristically pale and probably having his own flashbacks to the same incident as Lucanis.
The Crow nods and, to both his companion and Spite, says, “He’s alive, but we should get him somewhere not…” He glances at the bodies of the Antaam around them, as if noticing the carnage for the first time, “We should get him off the street, to Teia and Viago- they’re the closest allies we have right now, and they’ll have supplies.”
The Warden nods, “I’ll carry him, you… Kind of look like you’re dying.” He grimaces at his turn of phrase, “You okay?”
Lucanis chuckles as Spite makes a rude gesture in his peripherals, “Nothing I haven’t experienced before.” He slowly eases himself up, weighted down by his waterlogged armor. “Let’s go.”
He reaches to help Davrin with Rook before he’s waved away, “He weighs less than Assan I’d wager, and Assan is constantly jumping on me. I can carry him; you just keep a lookout for more Antaam.”
They walk to the casino in silence, and Lucanis tries not to stare at his trouble-making love or listen to the demon in his head that’s sniffing for danger around them like a bloodhound.
Rook is of the opinion that waking up muddled, in pain, and confused is not an ideal start to a day. That motto applied to any day, really, but this was the second time in only a short period that he’s waking up feeling like he’d been run over by a Pride Demon… Or twelve. He groans as he opens his eyes, light from nearby candles assaulting his pounding head in a way that almost takes him back to the last time he’d been hurt, when he’d thought Varric was-
-Rook cuts off that line of thought there, not prepared to think about that particularly painful can of worms on a good day. Dazed, he squints suspiciously at a nearby window because the frame looks very… Antivan… Which is weird because he hasn’t spent a night in Antiva since Viago kicked him out to chase Varric’s contract. That was several, several, months ago.
(His mind, which had been oxygen-deprived and was already prone to over-exaggeration, immediately jumps from ‘ I’m in Antiva? Oh shit, was everything a dream?’, to ‘Or am I stuck in a time loop?’, to the more grounded thought of, ‘ Viago is going to kill me.’ , which was a more realistic thing to think, time loop, dream, or no.)
He takes as deep of a breath as he can to rid himself of those ridiculous thoughts and looks back to the ceiling which, upon closer inspection, definitely looks like the fine-detailed, ornate tiles of one of Viago’s too-expensive mansions in Treviso. Alarm bells are blaring in his head that something is wrong, but obviously not dream-time-loop wrong, so he sits up to survey the rest of the room. In an attempt to not cause more pain to his stiff, battered body, he moves delicately. Despite his care, there’s still a deep, throbbing ache in his middle to match his headache.
Once he’s sitting against the headboard, he’s able to ignore the fading discomfort while he looks around. The dark canopy bed he’s tucked into sits in the middle of one of the light purple walls, surrounded by expensive art on every side. There’s a dark mahogany desk and a few other pieces of furniture on the other side of the space and Rook blinks, once again confused, as one of many familiar rooms at House de Riva comes into full focus.
There are two expensive wooden chairs, legs shaped like adders, next to his bed and on one of them sits the bulk of his armor. The second appears to have been pushed a little way away and while no one sits in it currently, Rook can make a guess on who had been there by the lingering scent of coffee in the air. Just the thought that Lucanis was somewhere in the mansion was enough for the lingering tension to bleed from his spine and shoulders. After all, Viago and Lucanis were two people Rook would trust with everything he had, any day of the week. If he was in Viago’s house and Lucanis was also there, then he felt like he didn’t have to really worry about his current level of safety.
(It’s an added bonus that his irrational fear of a time loop is immediately put to rest when he realizes Lucanis was there… Not that he actually thought that was a possibility… He silently vows to never speak of this to anyone… but maybe Harding, who was used to crazy dreams, or Emmrich, who surely wouldn’t make fun of him.)
Finally feeling secure with where he is, he glances down at his own body to survey what the damage there was. He’s wearing a loose white nightshirt, open in the front a la Davrin and the deep scarring he’s become used to glares back, but there’s no new gashes or burns added to his torso. There are some intense bruises along his sternum and one big one on his side shaped like a boot but nothing nearly as bad as the injuries scarred over just below that at his hip.
It’d been somewhere in the realm of four months ago that he’d nearly been killed by Venatori with enchanted weapons and while his slow recovery hadn’t kept him from acting as the head of the Veilguard, it had made his friends very clingy. They’d say ‘protective’, but Rook would silently refer to them as his armed shadows for the weeks that followed the incident until they caught the group responsible. Once they were sure none of the enchanted weapons had gotten out of that small faction of Venatori, his friends finally started to ease up on the amount he was monitored. The fact that he couldn’t remember what happened that led him to being unconscious in Viago’s house was concerning but if his velcro-friends and his very overprotective demon-inhabited Crow weren’t all congregated in his sickroom, it must not have been too terrible of an ordeal.
… Probably…
He swings his legs over the side of the bed with a groan as the world spins around him and he allows himself a solid minute of sitting there with his eyes shut before he slowly stands up, testing his body’s limits. Finding minimal discomfort anywhere other than his head and chest, he proceeds to shuffle to the window. When he glances outside, the setting sun indicates that it’s later in the day which doesn’t really help his confusion about how long he’s actually been there because he still can’t remember what happened or when. He’s so deeply lost in thought that he doesn’t notice the door creak open, or that the man who’d trained him to never be caught unaware was standing in the doorway. He also doesn’t notice Viago study him with a brow furrowed in something other than anger for a solid ten seconds before nodding to himself and hardening his expression.
“I would call you an idiot,” Viago starts, relishing in the way Rook couldn’t hide his surprised flinch, “but I think that would be an insult to every other idiot in Thedas.”
Rook whirls around, and immediately has to throw out a hand to catch himself against the wall as the movement makes everything spin, “Viago-”
The other man stalks forward until his steadying hand is at Rook’s elbow, a caring gesture that lasts all of two seconds before his grip is tightening and his eyes are hardening, “Do you remember,” he starts again, “when you were a fledgling and I told you that you could not live in Treviso if you couldn’t swim?”
Lost, Rook just nods… He’s starting to connect some dots in his mind as the hazy memories begin filtering back in and he realizes he’s in for a major lecture.
Viago hums sarcastically, “Do you remember informing me that you would get that handled?”
“Yes, but-”
“-Not only did you lie to me then,” he interrupts, “you didn’t think it pertinent to tell any one of your current group that you, you fucking idiot, can’t swim?”
Rook blinks at him owlishly, “No..?”
Viago sighs heavily but releases him and steps away, “You fucking idiot.”
“You said that already.” Rook replies meekly.
Viago’s sharp eyes meet his intensely. Rook can see the concern warring over his innate need to be harsh that’s been ingrained into every Crow from the first day of their training. It… Makes him feel terrible, knowing how concerned Viago had been a few months ago when he’d been hurt and then making him worry like that again.
“Yes, well, I think it bears repeating.”
In the doorway, a woman clears her throat just as Viago winds up to continue his lecture and this time Rook is able to keep himself from jumping. He and Viago turn in unison to see Teia, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe.
“Boys.” She tuts, “How many times have we had this exact conversation?” She glides forward until she’s in Viago’s space, “Viago, dear, how about you let him wake up before you berate him for being an idiot?” Her tone indicates that she also considers Rook to be an idiot. Then her tired eyes flit to Rook and she adds, “You scared us all again, you know.”
“I’m sorry.” He says automatically, “I don’t actually know what happened, Viago just started calling me an idiot.”
They ignore Viago’s muttering about how Rook is an idiot as Teia replies, “Well, you never informed anyone that you still couldn’t swim,” her tone is light but Rook can sense the undercurrent of danger in it, “so when your group was here fighting the Antaam who were setting up gaatlok barrels in a nearby courtyard and you got hit into one of the canals, you were damn lucky Lucanis was there. Lucky that he watches you so closely or you would have drowned. They brought you to the Diamond and we brought you to Viago’s house; less gawkers that way.” Conspiratorially, she whispers, “And Viago wanted you home when you woke up.”
Rook feels immediately like an idiot, not that he’d admit that to them, “I-”
“-Rook.” Teia interrupts, face falling into an uncharacteristic frown, “We’re just glad you’re okay.” Her arms wrap around him delicately and he isn’t ashamed to say that he uses the moment to collect himself by hugging her back tightly.
Viago clears his throat, suitably embarrassed and ready to change the subject, “Some of your ah… friends… are here,” he glances at Teia when he says the word friends suspiciously, otherwise he just sounds very much like a man who would prefer if Rook’s friends were not in his house at all, “and they have been very… Concerned.”
Teia laughs openly at Viago, her arms still around Rook, “Go tell Lucanis to stop pacing holes in Viago’s floors.” She commands, nudging Rook to the still-open door, “He’s in the garden.”
As he begins to make his exit as instructed, he doesn’t close the door after himself, assuming his fellow Crows will handle that when they leave. Before he can get too far, he suddenly feels like he has to ensure that Viago and Teia know he’s grateful, so he pauses awkwardly in the doorway for a brief moment to muster up the courage to be honest.
His eyes meet Teia’s first, because she’s the easier mentor for him to make eye contact with and won’t make fun of him too much; then he steels himself with a breath and holds Viago’s gaze as he says, “Thank you- both of you. Thank you for everything.”
Everything is a loaded word with their history together; it’s a word with a lot of baggage between them. Realizing he didn’t just mean ‘everything in the last few months’, Teia’s eyes go soft as she waves Rook out the door. Viago’s expression settles into more of a neutral frown, but Rook is an expert in de Riva micro expressions and he can see the exasperated fondness glinting in his eyes too. Eager to escape their scrutiny and see Lucanis to verify that he was alright but aware he was still being watched, Rook turns to make an exit that didn’t appear too hasty, lest he be made fun of for that by Teia and Viago the next time he was in Treviso.
Having been trained by Viago and being a fully-fledged member of House de Riva meant that Rook does know his way around most of Viago’s properties fairly well in order to avoid the occasional poisoned traps the paranoid man is so fond of setting. He sticks to the more untraversed hallways to avoid any unnecessary conversations with any lingering Crows as he makes his way down to the garden and Lucanis. The house, not even close to Viago’s most extravagant, is still grand and proud with many artistic homages to Antiva on pedestals and hanging on the walls. Rook remembers most of the decor from the last time he’d been here and tries to notice how much has changed since he’d been gone. A melancholy feeling bubbles up in his throat at the thought of his family moving on without him while he was busy with Solas’ ritual.
After Viago found Rook on the streets, bloody knife clutched in his little hand, a feral scowl on his face, and far too small for whatever had happened to put him in that state, he’d brought the young elf into the fold of the Crows. He knows that Viago would never admit it but he felt responsible for Rook, so he’d taken a special, vested interest in Rook’s training. At his most bitter and during the worst of his training, Rook had felt like Viago saved him from one hell only to plop him into a new, more polished one.
His recruitment and training, back long before he was actually called Rook, led to the bond he had formed with Viago which he privately held as something special. House de Riva was really the only family Rook knew and even without being told, he knows he’s as special to Viago as Viago is to him; in fact, Viago’s favoritism was his worst-kept secret around the Diamond. Rook would tease him about it to get back at him for all the teasing he does to Rook, but Teia usually has that handled. The relationship he has with Viago makes every failure and every time he’s worried the older man even more humiliating, but it also makes every compliment hit all the harder.
He’s grateful for being made a Crow now, aware of what could have happened to him as a young elf on the streets without training, though his opinions of the Crow organization as a whole outside of those he knew personally were probably ones that would get him killed if spoken aloud.
It’s just… He hadn’t had a brother before Viago, is all.
He’s contemplating what expensive apology gift he can give the other man as he’s exiting the house into the cool evening air when he’s suddenly tackled from the left by something huge. The dull pain becomes immediately more intense as he hits the ground hard, having not had the time to put his hands down to dampen the impact due to the shock. Rook has half a second to think about how pissed Viago would be if he got murdered in his garden after nearly drowning the day before when he hears Davrin’s horrified voice calling for Assan. The injured griffon hadn’t been there when they’d been ambushed, Rook knew, which meant either someone brought him to Treviso or Davrin had gone to and from the Lighthouse before he’d woken up. Both scenarios spoke of more time lost than Rook was comfortable with.
Assan’s goofy face appears in his line of sight, blocking the view he had of the sky and Rook takes a steadying breath before he reaches up to ruffle his feathers. The griffon purrs happily and plops down on top of Rook, forcing a startled ‘oof!’ out of him.
“Assan!” Davrin hits the ground by Rook’s head heavily, one hand reaching to check on Rook while the other pushes at Assan, “Get off of Rook, boy.”
The griffon huffs at Davrin and gives him a gentle, yet still peeved, peck in response.
The Warden, clad only in his casual clothing, makes a noise of disbelief, “I know you missed him, but you’re going to smother him to death and then what was the point of us fishing him out of the canal?”
Rook still isn’t sure if the griffon fully understands spoken language, and while he knows the creature is smart, he doesn’t actually know how smart. With that being said, Assan squawks petulantly in response before he flaps his wings and rises off of Rook. He doesn’t fly far, one wing still sore and missing feathers from his fight with darkspawn, and he lays down some feet away, eyes still glued to Rook.
Immediately, both of Davrin’s calloused hands are on Rook’s shoulders as the other elf sits up a little stiffly, “I’m so sorry, Rook… Assan, he-”
Rook waves away Davrin’s help with an easy smile, “He didn’t hurt me- well, maybe my pride…” After a beat, he sheepishly adds, “I’m glad Viago didn’t see me not notice a griffon pouncing at me.”
“I’ll be sure to mention it to him later.” Davrin smirks. Then, his face falls a little, “You… I want to talk to you but later. For now, I’m going to point you in that direction,” he gestures further into the garden, where Rook knows Viago has a meditation pond full of beautiful fish and water lotus, “Lucanis is over there… With Spite.”
While Davrin doesn’t say anything more, Rook knows he’s worried by the pinched look on his face, “Okay,” he replies, “thanks, Davrin.”
The Warden helps him the rest of his way to his feet and then moves to give Assan a pat, “Neve’s holding down the fort at the Lighthouse, so take all the time you need.”
Spite, who’s come a long way in learning about death, is still a spirit and therefore struggles with the overall concept as well as the mortality of his companions. As Emmrich liked to point out, he was learning and growing but at a slow pace because he was accustomed to his own nature and struggled to think outside of it. Because of his determination to protect Rook and be around him, he’d been hard to keep under wraps after Rook had passed out. The subsequent days of Rook not being awake then lead to Spite near-constantly chattering in Lucanis’ ear about Rook being dead. While Rook was, in fact, not dead, the constant talk of it was fraying his nerves further, adding to his restlessness.
Compounding his and Spite’s fear with the nightmares he’d been having every time he fell asleep and the flashbacks to both the Ossuary and Rook’s near deaths left him a nervous mess. His own tension was mixing with Spite’s as the demon struggled to discern what was just in Lucanis’ head with what was really occurring which was causing both of their tempers to rise. As a master assassin, he takes pride in being steady, reliable and calm but with Rook’s condition, Spite’s resistance and the bad memories assaulting him, he was struggling to maintain his carefully crafted facade as well as his control over Spite. Their current contract was ‘protect Rook’, which meant Spite was really struggling without a tangible target to protect him from.
Rook had been out for around two days even though he hadn’t been too badly hurt, which Lucanis knew for certain because Viago had brought in a trusted physician to check on his lungs after inhaling so much water. Then, to be thorough, the man took a look at his scarred wounds from last time to ensure that they were still healing properly to cover all of their Rook-related bases. The physician had confirmed that while the bruising looked pretty intense, it was only surface damage. At some point during the exam, Rook had woken up panicked and uncooperative at the stranger touching him and not even Viago or Teia could calm him down, so they did what assassins who specialize in poisons do and gave him a potion of some sort to put him to sleep. They weren’t the least bit apologetic that the concoction had knocked him out for days.
When Davrin had brought up how long Rook had been out after he’d left to go get Assan from the Lighthouse and came back before their leader had woken up, Teia had just shrugged, “If he’s asleep then he isn’t out there killing himself and between you and me,” she had glanced towards where Lucanis knew Viago had retreated to, “Viago is much less insufferable when Rook is accounted for.”
While Lucanis understood that the rest was probably very good for Rook and that the only reason he was asleep was due to medication, Spite was a whole other story. The demon was restless, often staring at Rook like a puzzle, and he was being so annoying. They’d started to reach an understanding with one another, but days like these last few emphasized how hard it was to share a body, especially with a temper-tantrum throwing demon.
Lucanis knew he must have looked bad, tired and worn down, because even Davrin was skipping their usual banter and just acting concerned for Lucanis’ general health instead of his control over the demon, a topic Davrin was fond of bringing up. It was, in fact, also Davrin who had sicced Teia on Lucanis and forced him out of Rook’s room and into these gardens when he’d refused the Warden’s suggestion of the same thing. She’d chided him in a manner that was uncomfortably similar to Catarina that he wasn’t doing Rook or himself any good hovering and spiraling and that he should go get fresh air. He knew she was right but not having the other man in his sight weighed heavily on his heart.
He’s in the middle of trying to clear his head when he feels Spite prodding at him, “What?” He snaps.
“Rook.” Spite replies, sounding calmer than he had in days.
“What about Rook?” He tries to refocus his attention on the fish swimming around the pond.
“There!”
He feels Spite try to forcefully turn his head, “Stop it, Spite."
“UGH! You never listen. To me. Look!” His demon huffs, sounding more annoyed than Lucanis had recently heard him.
He himself feels just spiteful enough that he almost doesn’t want to turn around at first. Then, he feels the outpouring of emotion from Spite’s end of their bond, and he knows that the demon is telling him the truth; that Rook really is walking up to them. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself and stop the tears that try to prick at his eyes at the thought of Rook being there with him, alive and okay. Of course, his moment to collect himself does not amuse Spite.
“Lucanis! Go to Rook. Go.” The demon half-begs, half-demands.
Not one to keep a gentleman waiting, Lucanis rises still facing away from Rook. He takes one last glance into the meditation pond, still trying to center his racing thoughts, before he hears the other Crow call out his name, concerned. The sound of Rook’s voice, like it usually does, immediately calms him down and makes him feel wholly present. He sounds hesitant, and Lucanis doesn’t know what Rook's seeing when he looks at him right now but, again, he knows he must look pitiful if the way everyone has interacted with him recently is any indication.
When he finally turns around and they make eye contact, the rest of the world falls away, insignificant. The stress and anxiety of the last few days, the sound of the birds chirping in the distance, and even Spite’s running commentary all become nothing in the presence of Rook. He looks okay, not one hundred percent by any means, but leagues above what he’d looked like four months ago and several times better than what he’d looked like when Lucanis had pulled him from the water.
Lucanis exhales heavily, “Rook-”
Rook closes the distance between them in two long strides and interrupts him with a forceful hug, “-Lucanis. I’m so- I- Thank you.” He sounds breathless, as though he’d run to him.
It takes a few seconds for Lucanis’ brain to catch up to the fact that he’s being hugged because he can’t remember the last time he had been… It might have been Illario, after one of their many close calls on a job, but he isn’t sure. He’d touched Rook plenty when he’d been injured several weeks ago; from staunching the bleeding, to checking for a fever, to steering him around Treviso by the shoulders, but they hadn’t hugged even with all of the emotional conversations they’d had. Hesitantly, he raises his arms to encircle Rook back gently and he can’t stop himself from dropping his face into the crook of the other man’s neck.
“Rook.” He sighs, “You really are trying to give me grey hairs, huh?”
He feels Rook’s shoulders shake as he chuckles, “I’m so sorry I worried you again, and you too, Spite.” He says into the air where he assumes Spite probably is, and Lucanis feels Spite preen at the recognition in his mind. “Viago dressed me down for being an idiot when he saw I'd woken up.” He finishes with an exaggerated sigh.
Lucanis raises his head and steps back, keeping one hand on Rook’s elbow, “He was concerned, we all were. Rook, I-” He cuts himself off before he can do something embarrassing, like declare his love for Rook right then and there in Viago’s garden.
Rook leads him back over to the mediation pond and they sit on a nearby bench together, “I didn’t think it would be an issue, or I would have said something, honestly.”
Unamused, Lucanis feels one of his eyes twitch, “We’ve been around water nearly every day since we began this contract together, Rook.”
Sheepishly, the elf mutters, “Okay, maybe I was… embarrassed about it.”
“Why?”
Rook’s expression becomes deadpan, “Oh, I don’t know- why would a trained assassin in his twenties who directly and very publicly trained under one of the Crow’s best Talons be embarrassed to explain to his other adult friends who are helping him fight literal gods that he can’t swim?”
Lucanis sees his point, to an extent. “Any other life-threatening secrets I should know about?” He tries to add some humor to his voice, not wanting Rook to feel more chastised. "I'd like to know what I need to protect you from, if it's all the same to you."
The other man leans forward until his face is buried in Lucanis’ chest, embarrassed, “It isn’t nice to tease the injured, you know.”
“Well, luckily you aren’t that injured so I think I can make an exception.” He sobers up after a brief moment of levity, “Let’s make a deal.” He grimaces as Spite makes an excited noise in his ear, “You tell me why you can’t swim, and let me teach you and I’ll tell you an embarrassing story from my youth.” When Rook looks up at him suspiciously, he adds, “It involves a chicken, Illario and a lot of poisoned nobles.”
“Deal.” Rook grins.