Chapter Text
It’s been a few months since the gods were defeated. A few months since Solas had been convinced not to destroy the Veil and instead to tie it to himself. A few months since Harding sacrificed herself so Rook and Lucanis could get close enough to Ghilan'nain to strike a fatal blow. It’s been months of cleanup in a very blighted Minrathous, even if the blight had calmed after the death of the two Evanuris, and months of helping the bedraggled Shadow Dragons rip back control from the still-seated Venatori.
After the first few weeks when Minrathous had been in its most dire need of assistance, everyone had finally parted ways. They were eager to go back to where Rook had recruited them from and enjoy much needed rest, as well as assist with restoring their own homes from the damage done by the gods. Taash had returned to the Lords of Fortune to be with Isabela, Bellara had gone back to Arlathan and the Veil Jumpers with Davrin and Assan in tow. They had joined her to see the other Griffins before returning to the Wetlands. Emmrich had happily returned to the Necropolis with Manfred and, of course, Neve had never left Dock Town. It left Lucanis and Rook in a weird place, both yearning to return to Treviso but all too aware that returning home would not be any less arduous than fighting the gods due to the political unrest that Antiva, and specifically the Crows, were still embroiled in.
“Upside, there is no blight.” Lucanis had said wryly as they'd approached the Eluvian to Treviso for the first time since the final battle, “The downside is that Caterina will finally have a moment to realize what she’s done in appointing me First Talon and you will no longer be a hero representing the Crows while fighting the gods, but a de Riva dating her grandson.”
Rook could hear the thinly veiled worry underneath his humorous tone, “Maybe she likes me?” He offered weakly, elongating the sound of the M in maybe.
Lucanis had laughed at him! “She only likes Teia.”
Rook didn't ask about Lucanis’ well-known status as her favorite, afraid to remove the smile from his handsome face, instead he replied with, “Well, when we get through the Eluvian, it won’t be Caterina we have to face first.”
Simultaneously, both men had humorously chorused, “Viago.” as if he were a monster of old and not an overly paranoid, nervous individual who named his antidotes stupid puns.
After that initial reunion with everyone in the Cantori Diamond, Lucanis had been put to work in the Dellamorte estate as per his new role as First Talon and Rook had returned to his place in House de Riva. He didn't lose his place at Lucanis’ side however and spent time with him whenever the opportunity presented itself. He took contracts on Venatori and Antaam, mostly, but never strayed too far from Treviso if he could help it. He didn't care If Caterina didn’t like it, though if she had any negative opinions, she never said anything to Rook. He took that as a professional ‘you saved the world from the gods’ courtesy.
So now, months after the gods nearly destroyed the world, Caterina was throwing a real party on behalf of Lucanis’ promotion. The banquet, as per her order, is extravagant and extra, with every Crow house represented and each Talon present. With that being said, Rook, a de Riva, is not there with Viago or his house, but as Lucanis’ plus one. As per his invitation from Caterina, which Lucanis took as a subtle slight against Rook when he saw it.
“You are not arm candy.” He had scoffed in displeasure after Rook had laughed upon receiving his invitation.
“It’s fine, Lucanis.” Rook had grinned, “I’d rather be your arm candy than Viago’s footstool.”
That had gotten the ghost of a smile on Lucanis’ face, but Rook could still see the offense coloring his features even as he’d replied, “Teia would never let him disrespect you so.”
Whether he was there as arm candy or not, this kind of event is nowhere near his idea of a fun time. Having so many Crows congregate together after a controversial promotion was, historically, not something that ended well. Despite that, Rook is excited to know that their friends had been invited and were able to make it. It had been a few weeks since he’d seen any of them and months since they’d all been in the same location, so he was excited at the prospect of getting to talk with them in a non-life or death situation.
The banquet is well underway by the time everyone has arrived and Rook’s glad to see them dressed to the nines in Crow-like attire and mingling like real adults. He’s trying to make polite conversation with a multitude of both familiar and unfamiliar individuals while simultaneously trying to look like the dull small talk isn’t killing him inside. He truly just wants to find his friends and reconnect but, as per Caterina’s order, he and Lucanis had to make a strong public showing if they were to gain the respect of the entire organization. He assumes Lucanis is in the same boat as him if the thinly masked expression of pain he’s wearing is any indication. For all intents and purposes, to an outsider, he looks polite and interested in what’s being said by some old Antivan merchant but Rook can see the vein throbbing in his temple that indicates Spite is probably giving a rousing running commentary. The demon has a way of spouting both Lucanis’ innermost thoughts with his own unique and inappropriate contributions in an effort to get a rise out of Lucanis. They may have reached an accord and were getting along but he was, of course, a demon.
As the group of people, they’d been conversing with ease into another group’s conversation, Rook and Lucanis retreat to a nearby table with two glasses of champagne. Arm candy that he is, he’s been attached to the other man’s side since the event started but he almost feels like a security blanket for all that Lucanis’ eyes have sought him out at any point when they’d briefly been separated. Lucanis stifles a sigh into his glass before downing the entire thing and Rook can’t help but grin at him from his side.
The older man’s piercing eyes find his at the noise and when he sees Rook’s barely contained laughter, he damn near pouts, “Why are you laughing at me?”
“Big bad First Talon of the Antivan Crows sighing into his cup like a chastised schoolboy.” Rook’s grin softens, and he says quieter, “You look cute.”
He relishes the way Lucanis’ cheeks noticeably heat up but before he replies, his eyes suddenly go far away. Rook has only a moment to grow concerned before his eyes refocus and he says, “Why would you even- no. no . Trust me.” To Rook, he adds, “Spite suddenly has something to say to Viago about his coat.”
This startles a genuine laugh out of Rook, “Listen to Lucanis, Spite- that would not go over well at all.”
The telltale purple glow takes over Lucanis’ eyes as Spite replies with a put upon expression, “Never. Go over well.” Then, before he can reply, their peaceful bubble is popped when Spite’s expression sours, “We. Have. Stupid company.” As Spite retreats, Lucanis’ eyes focus, then widen minutely in surprised recognition before hardening at whoever is approaching from behind Rook.
Rook turns slowly to face the interloper as Lucanis sighs out a name, “Illario.” He sounds exhausted suddenly.
Instinctively, Rook tenses even before catching sight of Lucanis’ cousin. He’s unhappy with the other Dellamorte’s presence, even though he knew the other man would be in attendance. He had been hoping that he would be too much of a coward to face his cousin so publicly mere weeks after being so thoroughly embarrassed by him but, he supposes Illario isn’t on his list of top ten minds in Thedas. After he’s fully facing Illario, he plants himself in front of Lucanis protectively, a gesture that the two men who had been trained by the First Talon from an age even younger than Rook had joined the Crows obviously notice but neither acknowledges. Instead, Lucanis briefly touches Rook's side in thanks as he moves to stand in line with him. He greets his cousin with a tight, forcibly polite smile but he does not verbally acknowledge his presence. There’s little doubt in Rook’s mind that Spite isn’t spitting vile insults at the approaching man.
“Cousin.” Illario greets hesitantly, “Viago... sent me to greet you.” He sounds vaguely annoyed, so Rook assumes he probably means that Viago had sent him to be minded by Lucanis while he did something more important.... Like one Teia Cantori.
With a sarcastic bow, Rook says, “Greetings.”
Being theatrical and slightly over the top feels easier than just staring at him while Lucanis’ brain tries to wrap itself around having to have a conversation with Illario. He'd do just about anything to benefit Lucanis at this point... Even taking point in talking to his idiot cousin.
Illario’s left eye twitches, but he maintains his composure as he replies, “Mm, Rook.”
The three of them stand in an awkwardly silent half circle for an uncomfortable period of time. Rook’s eyes stay glued to Illario like a guard dog, though he yearns to glance at Lucanis to make sure he’s okay. The other Antivan hasn’t made a sound since Illario walked up, which could mean a multitude of things ranging from he’s literally mind-wrestling Spite out of taking over his body, to just that he doesn’t know what to say. As far as Rook knows, Lucanis hasn’t spoken to Illario since he left him under Viago’s supervision. Illario had been at the site of the final battle but Lucanis had ignored him in the way that someone can ignore another person they begrudgingly still love in the face of world-ending danger.
Hesitantly, as the silence stretches from awkward to plain uncomfortable, Illario breaks it with, “You both look… happy.” He sounds sincere enough, but it still makes Rook’s skin crawl.
‘This man is responsible for the Ossuary.’ He silently reminds himself. ‘He’s why Lucanis was tortured by Venatori for a year… Why Spite was forced into Lucanis’ body, twisted from a spirit of Determination to-' Rook physically shakes that train of thought away with a huff of unimpressed air. Both Lucanis and Spite had put in so much work to make their situation more comfortable and functional. One of the things they’d put into place to make that work was to not dwell on what could have or should have been without their forced bonding, but what they could still be, despite their situation. They were stuck together whether they wanted to be or not, which meant that being miserable about it would only make the rest of both of their lives miserable. Both the man and the demon had done so much to come to terms with their situation, and Rook refused to undermine that by thinking such thoughts about Illario’s involvement, even in his own mind.
Despite his resolution to keep his opinions to himself, he realizes he's made an annoyed sound out loud as both Dellamortes turn to him with identical eyebrow raises.
His gaze catches Lucanis’ and he’s happy to see beautiful brown and not strained purple looking back at him, “Sorry.” He says, not sounding the least bit sorry.
Lucanis exhales through his nose with a small, amused quirk appearing on his lips briefly as he and Rook make eye contact again. Illario’s eye twitches for a second time but his politically polite smile doesn’t waver. The awkward interaction is finally concluded when, in true fashion with the last few years of Rook’s life, something bad happens. As distracted as he is with Illario's disconcerting presence, Rook is ashamed on behalf of his status as a member of house de Riva to admit that he did not notice the usurper approaching them until he was being shoved away.
His eyes had been on Lucanis, who had looked like he was finally going to say something when Illario lunged forward suddenly, and pushed them both to the side. As he hits the ground, Rook’s hand is already grasped tightly around the hilt of his dagger, arcane orb summoned and already beginning to uncontrollably spark with the anger he feels at having even entertained the disgraced Crow. As he flips into a less vulnerable position, he realizes Illario had been shoving them away from danger.
The other man is grappling with one large man as other scuffles break out around them, and Rook is ready to help fight before his brain catches up to the fact that Lucanis and Spite aren’t up spitting curses and raising hell. He frantically turns to look for them and as he finally spots them a few feet away, the chaos in the rest of the world falls away into a distant ringing in his ears. The only thing he sees through his tunneling vision is Lucanis and so much blood.
Horrified, he stares at the crimson gushing out of a wound to his neck. To his credit, Lucanis appears the picture of calm as he presses one hand against his neck to staunch the bleeding while simultaneously holding the other one up in preparation to fight anyone who strays too close to him. Rook scrambles to his side, completely unaware of how close any danger is to them as his need to protect makes his sole focus Lucanis.
Before attempting to render aid, Rook pulls them both under a nearby table, sheer Crow-training ingrained instinct forcing his body to move into cover first and foremost. Then, without a word, he forces one hand under Lucanis’ and then adds his second when the older man gets the hint to let go. He squeezes to increase the pressure on the injury, uncaring of if he’s choking him or not if it meant he wouldn’t bleed to death under a stupid table at a stupid party he didn’t even want to attend.
He didn't realize how panicked his breathing had become until Lucanis’ bloodied hands came up to cup his cheeks, “Breathe, de Riva. ” He sounds teasing past the gargling-glass quality to his voice.
Unappreciative of the levity in such a dire situation, Rook is unable to come up with anything to say other than, “You got your fucking throat slit.” To his own ringing ears, he sounds just to the right of hysterical.
“Eh,” Lucanis slurs, “Barely.” His effort to sound nonchalant is severely impeded by his waxy complexion and the blood drenching both of them.
“Lucanis.” Rook makes a distressed noise, “I-I can’t- My magic is too volatile- I can’t heal you right now.” His mind shows him several colorful ways he could fry the other man’s brain if he attempted healing magic right then due to his frazzled emotions, “I have a potion- it’s in my bag. Can you reach it? I- I don’t want to release pressure on this.” If he looks closely at the wound he could see the depth, exposed muscle and important things he doesn’t want to think about. In that moment, he decides only to look into Lucanis’ eyes.
His eyes that are currently squeezed shut as he replies, “I can certainly try.” With a hum of affirmation.
Hands clumsy from blood loss, Lucanis awkwardly reaches around Rook to blindly feel for his pack. Once he located the bag, he struggled to undo the clasp keeping the bag closed for long enough that Rook contemplates letting go of the wound to do it himself. The pros-cons list in his head between keeping the blood in Lucanis’ body versus getting him healed as soon as possible was driving him crazy with indecision. He feels Lucanis’ weight increasing each second that passes as more blood bubbles out from under his shaking palms.
As he feels Lucanis begin lagging in earnest in his grip, Rook gives him an alarmed shake, “Lucanis, no. Wake up.” He pants.
The new First Talon hums again, “I am awake.” Then, as he struggles to locate the potions blind, he adds, “M’okay.”
Rook stares at him with widened eyes and makes an incredulous sound subconsciously, his eyes straying to the sheer amount of blood staining his pants, “If this is ‘okay’,” he laughs, a touch unhinged, “I’d really hate to see you hurt, Lucanis.”
Sounding more and more distant, he replies, “I think Spite is… helping?”
Rook pushes down harder, squeezing as if he’d been the one contracted to kill Lucanis, “That isn’t very-”
“- I’ve got it. ” He interrupts, voice mingling with Spite’s. Half-controlled by his demon, he reels back as he grasps the potion and almost topples them all over.
Without hesitation, Rook releases the iron-clad grip he’d maintained on Lucanis’ neck to snatch the aforementioned potion from his trembling grip. He wastes no time ripping the lid off and forcing it to Lucanis’ lips, unconcerned about making him choke on it.
“Drink this, idiot.” He says, breathless and stern.
He listens, and only after the potion is downed does he say, “Hm, you sound like Viago.”
Rook freezes, “Yeah, well,” he huffs, hands reaching towards his pack for the second potion he knows is there, “Maybe Viago is on to something.”
Suddenly, he has a lot more understanding of Viago’s worry taking the shape of angry eyebrows and harsh words. He understands why Viago has always seemed so cruel, especially in his concern, because Rook realizes now that he isn’t literally holding Lucanis’ life in his hands, he’s having a hard time not exploding. He’s angry . It isn’t something he’s used to being, having put a lot of effort into being a steady, even-keeled leader for the better part of the last two years.
After accepting the second potion, Lucanis fully straightens, and Rook immediately misses the points of contact between them. He does not reach for Lucanis though, knowing he often needed space after something so harrowing.
“I’m okay, Rook.” He massages the place on his throat where the gruesome injury had been just moments prior, “Thank you.”
Angry tears prick at the corners of Rook’s eyes unbidden, and he tries to take subtle deep breaths to keep them at bay, not wanting to make Lucanis’ near-death about him. Patient as always, Lucanis waits for him to regain his composure quietly, sitting next to Rook like an emotional balm. They remain under the table even as they realize the sounds of combat have stopped. After a charged moment, Rook reaches hesitantly for Lucanis’ bloodied hands, going slow enough so he could pull away if he wanted to. When he makes contact, the warmth in Lucanis’ palms makes his breath stutter in his chest.
“Rook.”
The younger Crow stares at their joined hands blankly, squeezing harder than what might be considered polite. Now that there was no more danger, his mind couldn’t help but flip between every possible ‘what if’ scenario.
What if Illario hadn’t been there?
What if he hadn’t stocked up on potions?
What if the knife had gone in just a little deeper, had struck just a few inches in either direction?
What if they traveled the world, defeated literal gods, only to return home to die?
“Rook,” Lucanis repeats, soft but urgent, “Breathe, we’re okay.” He grips Rook’s hands back just as hard, and the pressure helps ground him in the now.
“I know, I just-” Rook chokes on a bitter laugh, “I don’t understand why I’m freaking out.”
Gentle and slow, Lucanis pulls his hands from Rook’s and Rook has only a moment to mourn the contact before Lucanis rocks forwards to reach an arm around Rook’s shoulders. He very gingerly pulls Rook flush against his chest. Their awkward position under the table makes them have to crouch uncomfortably in order to fit in this more contorted position but any discomfort disappears when Rook’s ear is pressed against Lucanis’ chest. The sound of his steady heartbeat comforts him immediately, and he doesn’t know how long they stay like that, in the cooling pool of Lucanis’ blood before they’re discovered.
The first clue that they were even being searched for was the metallic clanking of Neve’s distinct walk getting louder and louder until, “Shit- They’re over here!” Her voice rings out a few feet away before sounding closer, “Rook? Lucanis?” When they don’t reply, her voice gets even closer, “Where is this blood coming from?”
Rook feels one of her steady, cold, hands roaming over his exposed body rapidly as she asks her last question. Exhausted, he wishes he could just remain close to Lucanis, but as a leader he knows he needs to get himself together and take charge. He sits up, still pressed close to the other man, and as he opens his mouth to reassure Neve that they're okay, the other Crow beats him to the punch.
By his quick reassurance and vaguely annoyed tone of voice, Rook assumes Neve’s other hand was doing the same harm-assessment on Lucanis, “We’re okay,” he pauses for a beat, then softer, he adds, “now.”
Still looking unconvinced, Neve replies with a dry, deadpan expression, “You’re both absolutely drenched in blood.”
Lucanis hums again, maneuvering Rook so that they’re not huddled together, “We’re Antivan.” When Neve’s stern expression doesn’t waver, he sighs, “I was… briefly stabbed but Rook had potions. Assan has done worse during training.”
Rook frowns at the man’s blasé rendition of the last half hour and Neve makes a face so distinctly unimpressed that Rook can only imagine the scathing remark she’s about to reply with when the rest of their cohort finally respond to Neve’s call. Most everyone looks bedraggled, to some extent. They’d obviously gotten into the fight with vehemence once it had popped off.
Neve actually looks pristine, if a little harried. Her usual immaculate robes were still in place but wrinkled, as though she’d been crouched for a period of time. Davrin, clad in an armored shirt and a nice black suit, has blood speckled across his handsome face, though none of it appears to be his. Bellara, like Neve, is not covered in viscera, but her cheeks are tinged red indicating she’d been fighting hard. She, like Davrin, is wearing a more Crow-like outfit rather than her usually bright attire in order to fit in with the event’s theme better. When those three are the only people he immediately sees, Rook’s eyes instinctively begin searching for the rest of his team. Neve helps him and Lucanis up, though he loses what she’s saying as his eyes finally land on Manfred who is puttering around nervously.
He follows the Skeleton’s gaze to Emmrich, who is standing nearby. The older Necromancer has a cut sluggishly bleeding on his cheek, but he seems unconcerned with that, and Rook can’t find any other visible wounds. Instead, the human’s sole attention is on Taash. The tall Qunari looks abnormally small even next to a slender man like Emmrich, their shoulders are hunched, and they have a haunted look painted onto their face. Emmrich has one hand on Taash’s shoulder and the other gripping one of their hands with a desperation that frightens Rook momentarily, thinking there might be a gruesome injury he’d overlooked. He scans them up and down for evidence of a dire wound, healed or otherwise, but all he finds is an unharmed twenty-something with angry tears staining their cheeks, eyes focused primarily on Lucanis. They haven’t looked that shaken since-
Ah. Rook realizes, Their mother. Harding. Taash had been afraid that Lucanis had been killed. That they’d been there, unable to stop it from happening again.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the moment that Lucanis notices Taash. He tenses at first when his eyes meet their intense gaze, then the defensive posture evaporates as he seems to come to the same realization that Rook had only moments prior.
“Taash.” Lucanis greets casually, waiting for them to acknowledge that he had spoken, “Everything’s okay.”
Taash snorts, then shakes off Emmrich’s hands to walk closer to Lucanis who is still surrounded by the rest of their friends, “I thought you were dead.” Their voice warbles dangerously, “You and Spite and Rook. Dead.”
Rook feels himself deflate in the face of Taash’s raw grief and he sees Lucanis wince in his peripheral vision. Neve’s posture stiffens, as does Bellara’s, and suddenly the group is getting even closer together, more defensive. Even Davrin’s close enough for his shoulder to brush Lucanis’.
“Taash.” Lucanis says again, softer this time, “We’re okay.” He gestures casually to the blood still soaking his clothes, “ This is just a regular day for a Crow.”
This gets a laugh out of the Rivaini, and they sound just a little less devastated than before, “I’m okay… It was just a shock. You were both there, then your fucking cousin was there but you were gone, and he was fighting some other fucking guy.” They seem to physically shake the memory from their mind, “You never got up and none of us could fucking get to you. I thought-” Their voice shakes again, and they cut themself off with a grunt.
Emmrich returns his hand gently to Taash’s wrist, squeezing in support for a lack of anything better to do, “My dear, it is over now.”
Bellara nods, “We all made it!” She bounces from foot to foot nervously, eyes also still ping-ponging between Lucanis and Rook.
Realizing what might help, Rook silently opens his arms, aware that a hug might benefit Bellara whereas the public offer might grate at Taash’s nerves. Quickly, Bellara darts forward into his arms and squeezes him harder than he can remember ever being hugged. She holds onto him for several seconds past what would be considered socially polite, but Rook knows that after the last few years she’s had, she needed the reassurance. Once she releases him, her pleading eyes turn to Lucanis. To Rook’s amusement, the other man sighs heavily but opens his arms ever so slowly for a very brief squeeze.
Respecting his space, Bellara makes the contact quick. When she steps out of Lucanis’ bubble, Rook can’t help but wince at the blood transferred onto Bellara. She doesn’t seem to notice or if she does, she doesn’t care about the mess. Instead, she links arms with Neve and leans her head against the detective’s shoulder.
Rook is so proud of how far Lucanis has come with touch; just a few months ago, he probably would not have wanted to hug anyone , especially after something like what he'd just experienced, and even though he still isn’t one for casual contact, he doesn’t seem adversely affected by the hug. While he allows Rook in his space most of the time, aware that the elf was far more tactile than a Crow ought to be, he had days where even the lightest of touches burned. When he’d first escaped from the Ossuary after a year of torture and touch yielding only pain, he’d shied away from any and all contact. Once, after a long stretch of no sleep for either Crow, one plagued by a demon and nightmares while the other was plagued by Solas, he’d confided in Rook that even a light brush against his skin sometimes felt like razors.
For him to willingly give Bellara a hug now, after nearly being assassinated? Rook couldn’t have been prouder. By the look in the eyes of his more observant companions, Rook imagined that they understood the weight of that revelation as well.
Taash steps away from Emmrich, who steps back without a fuss, and they look both him and Lucanis up and down critically. “I’m glad you aren’t dead.” They say bluntly, “I’m going to go get some air.” With that, Taash quietly turns and makes their way gingerly to the door leading to a nearby courtyard.
As large and loud as Taash normally is, they’re very quiet and subdued as they retreat, signifying how rattled they still are. Without their tall presence blocking his view of the rest of the room, Rook is finally able to see the carnage resulting from the fight for the first time. There’s tables and chairs strewn across the floor and many bodies lining the ground, pools of blood cooling into brown stains on Caterina’s floors. A polite way away stands a familiar group of people who are intently watching Rook’s friends surround him and Lucanis. Viago, Teia, Caterina, Illario, and a few of the other Talons who Rook doesn’t personally know well.
While looking in their direction, Rook makes eye contact with Viago who raises a single eyebrow questioningly. Rook is quick to give a thumbs up which gets his other eyebrow up too. His friends, who had continued talking quietly after Taash left, see him give Viago the positive gesture and they very quickly start to exit the defensive circle they’d formed around their Crows.
Davrin clasps Rook firmly on the shoulder, “Go check in. We’ll go find Taash.” His tone is easy, but his brow is still pinched, indicating that he’s still perturbed by the incident. His other hand clasps Lucanis’ back gentler than he had to Rook, “Glad to still have you, man.”
No one mentions how his hand lingers on Lucanis as he makes his way out.
Neve nods towards Davrin’s retreating back, “Agreed. Glad your nine lives haven’t run out. next time we get together, let’s go somewhere less dangerous.” She snorts and from over her shoulder, she says, “Perhaps the Minrathous catacombs?”
Falling into step with Neve, Bellara laughs and then she reaches for Emmrich’s arm to pull him along.
Before he gets too far away, Emmrich’s eyes stray slightly right of Lucanis, “There’s no need for that, Spite. The violence has passed.” A beat, Lucanis groans as Emmrich chuckles, “How about you let Rook and Lucanis handle that, hmm?” To Rook, he adds, “Let us know when you are ready to depart, dear boy.”
After they all leave earshot, Rook questioningly looks to Lucanis, “What was Spite saying?”
“He is mad that Illario pushed us.” Lucanis rolls his eyes, “He does not care that it was to save us, so he wants to do something violent.” His voice softens and he shuffles into Rook’s space as he says, “Are you okay to go over to them?”
Rook blinks, “Are you ?”
Wryly, Lucanis replies, “If it gets this conversation out of the way faster? I can be.”
“Then I can be too.”
He means it, too. If Lucanis can push through the horror of the last hour and compartmentalize long enough to get this out of the way, then Rook would be right at his side as he did so.
Together, they pick their way across the room over the bodies and debris to the Talons and Dellamortes. Caterina has procured a comfortable chair from somewhere and is sitting with a glass of wine, the picture of nonchalance, as if nothing wrong had occurred in her own villa. By contrast, Illario looks like he’s vibrating out of his skin with only Viago’s iron grip on his shoulder keeping him in place. Ever stoic, Viago only seems annoyed to be standing by Illario instead of being alarmed by the events of the last hour. Teia watches them approach critically, body calm but eyes blazing.
When they get close enough for her to speak privately, Teia starts, “Lucanis.” Her voice doesn’t break but it does wobble over his name, “Are you okay?”
He nods silently; eyes locked on Illario instead of her.
Teia accepts his nonverbal answer and turns to Rook, eyes scanning him with even more intensity, “And you?”
Realizing he must look crazy drenched in so much blood, he quickly nods, “None of this is mine.” He says with another glance to Lucanis.
“Good.” Viago interjects before Teia can reply, “If you beat gods only to die now after almost dying who knows how many other times in such a short period? I’d have to kill you myself.” Darkly, he adds, “It’s an insult to my house, Rook.”
Rook nods along to the familiar scolding easily, choosing to take the angry words for what they know they really are: worry. Viago was, and has been, worried about Rook for longer than just his last contract and, if Rook is being generous, he understands that anger is easier to face than grief. Especially for people in their profession, it’s so much easier to be angry than scared or sad for someone who could die on any mission at any time. Viago's anger is familiar both because he's faced it before and because he can say he's felt that protective rage. He knows firsthand how easy anger can be.
In contrast to Viago’s visible anger, Caterina says nothing. She doesn’t ask if they’re okay or how they were taken off guard. Her sharp gaze rakes over Lucanis, analyzing him for weakness in a way that ruffles Rook’s protective feathers. Then, as though she is inconvenienced by their near death, she says, “We will talk later, Lucanis. Privately.”
Rook sees Lucanis’ shoulders tense impossibly as the weight of her words seems to physically land on his shoulders. Interestingly, Illario has a similar reaction even though their grandmother's words were not directed at him, and he winces at Caterina’s tone. Despite having been thoroughly trained himself, Rook can still only guess how a First Talon who'd lost the rest of her family raises her grandchildren. The charged air between the three Dellamortes raises all of his alarm bells and he silently vows that, under no uncertain terms, Lucanis will not be left alone with Caterina ever again. Rook is surprised to see a similar look of distaste on Viago’s face; his Talon is usually better about looking unruffled in Caterina's presence.
Next to him, Lucanis nods in silent agreement.
Pleased by the easy agreement, Caterina stands and offers a hand to Teia, “Come.” She all but commands.
Teia nods with a soft, “Of course.” but she looks helplessly between Illario and Lucanis as if she wanted to stay with them instead. Caterina was a hard woman to say no to, indeed.
For all that Viago still looks like he could wring Rook’s neck with a serving towel, he also appears hesitant to leave. Rook knows vaguely how Viago feels about the old First Talon, and any body of power, be it the majority of the Crows or the Antivan Crown itself, but despite his apparent dislike of the woman, he does respect her, and he definitely loves Teia. So, it takes one stern glance from Teia for him to take Caterina's order and follow them without verbal argument even if his face looks like he’s sucking on a lemon as he does so.
They’re alone for only a moment before Illario turns to stare at Rook expectantly.
Unintimidated, Rook says, “I’m not leaving.”
With another sigh, Illario gestures for them to follow him into a more private side-room. “Cousin.” He says as the door clicks shut, “You’re… alright?”
Lucanis studies Illario’s face with a semi-glazed expression that indicates to Rook that Spite’s sharing his opinions on Lucanis’ cousin in his head. He doesn’t answer Illario’s question, and right as the silence becomes stifling enough that Rook is considering reaching out to him, he finally unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth.
“I… Don’t understand.” His voice is softer than Rook can remember hearing it in recent memory, and his eyes look just as pleading and soft as they did the day he’d returned from the Ossuary to find his grandmother gone and Treviso under occupation.
Rook shuffles away, still paying close attention but trying to give the two cousins some semblance of privacy. He sits on a nearby couch nervously waiting to see if he’ll need to jump between Spite and Lucanis’ idiot cousin.
The taller Dellamorte scoffs, then mockingly replies, “I asked if you were alright. People do that when they want to know the status of your condition.”
Nostrils flaring, Lucanis bites back, “Yes.” The sarcasm is palpable, “People who didn't try to have you killed by Venatori blood mages.”
Rook winces but stays silent. He turns his head to watch each man as they’re speaking like some sort of natural disaster that’s impossible to turn away from. Lucanis is wound tight, whereas Illario looks laissez faire, but Rook trained under Viago who often tried to seem more casual than he was. So, Rook can see the cracks. The mask Illario is wearing seems strong, but it’s crumbling the longer they talk.
“Cousin. “ Illario protests, sounding genuinely pained, then looks towards Rook, “I don’t want-”
“-I do not care what you want.” Lucanis spitefully interrupts, “Tell us both or tell no one.”
Illario’s face settles into something very similar to Viago’s lemon-sucking face, but he acquiesces, “It’s… hard to explain.”
Feeling incensed, Rook interrupts on behalf of Lucanis, “Do it anyway.” The protectiveness he feels welling up in his chest makes him feel breathless, like a hand has reached into his chest and is squeezing his heart, “ Hard is fighting a god. Hard is being tortured for a year . Hard is sacrificing for the good of others. This is your cousin. Your cousin you owe an explanation to.”
“I-” Illario looks between him and Lucanis as though stunned, “I thought I was protecting you.” A pause, and when neither Crow looks like they believe him or have sympathy for his discomfort, he adds, “You don’t want First Talon,” He points out, tone nearing desperate, “She- Caterina doesn’t care. It’s going to kill you, Lucanis… So, I thought-”
“Zara. Tortured us!” Spite snarls, and only Rook springing up to get between them stops the demon from putting his hands around Illario’s throat. “ You did. That! ”
For once unperturbed by Spite’s presence, the other man just replies, “I didn’t know-”
“We don’t believe. You.”
Looking pained, Illario says, “I understand that. I just- It’s complicated.” He says again, almost sounding pleading.
There’s another pause while Lucanis’ face flashes through several complicated emotions before he pulls a move Rook is very familiar with and flees. “I- I cannot. Spite’s-” He cuts himself off, eyes flashing purple, “I’m going to go find the others.” He directs to Rook.
Illario looks like he wants to follow, but Rook moves to stand between him and where Lucanis is walking. His steely gaze and crossed arms root him in place.
As he watches Lucanis retreat, Illario says, “I do love my cousin.” Rook doesn’t say anything, so he continues, “ You’re a Crow, too. You have to understand- How Caterina raised us- it was- I was trying to protect him.”
Instead of retorting the way he wants, Rook takes a page from Viago’s book and only raises one unimpressed brow in response.
The lack of reply seems to make Illario desperate to explain himself, “First Talon will kill him, Rook. He’s never wanted it or the power that it entails but he cannot tell our grandmother no.” Illario almost seems to want Rook’s understanding as he continues, “ Now ? without Elgar’nan’s poison in my ear and Zara’s influence, I know I was wrong in execution but- Rook- Lucanis is an excellent assassin but a terrible Crow.”
Rook recalls Viago telling him roughly the same thing, once. He begrudgingly did understand Illario’s standpoint, though he thinks ‘murdering Lucanis to save him’ is a crazy conclusion to reach. Now, knowing what he knows about Crows and how they raise their young, he can see how a man raised in torment, always compared to his cousin and never acknowledged for anything other than what he did wrong might jump to that conclusion instead of something rational, like talking to his cousin about his feelings. Despite his dislike of Illario not dissipating in the slightest, he feels his heart wrench in understanding for his motivations compounded with the defeated look on his face and he silently vows to talk to Lucanis.
Despite his newfound comprehension of Illario , Rook can’t help but make Illario understand Lucanis outside of his title as Caterina’s favorite, “You know,” he says as he stands, ready to get the fuck out of Antiva, “He told me you were his only friend growing up.”
Illario’s face falls, but he doesn’t interrupt as he watches Rook slowly walk to the door.
“He might’ve been Caterina’s favorite- something he did not ask for,” He continues, feeling his own spite rise, “but you were his so I cannot forgive you- I won’t. And I won’t let you hurt him again.” The threat is not lost on Illario.
Rook doesn’t stay to see or hear Illario’s response, if there is one. Instead, he immediately beelines for the doors that lead to the lush gardens in search of his friends. Once he gets to the porch, he pauses to scan for anyone familiar, certain that they’d all group together. Tall as they are, he finds Taash first and is pleased to see that they appear calmer than before. Using them as a starting point, he's quickly able to find Neve, Bellara, Davrin, Emmrich, and an out of place looking Viago. Frowning in concern, Rook’s eyes dart to the surrounding area until he finds Lucanis whose jaw is visibly clenched, standing alone pressed up against a nearby brick wall.
Quickly, Rook makes his way to Lucanis’ side, ignoring the occasional Crow vying to get his version of what happened. He also ignores the gazes from the rest of his own colorful troop, desperate to make sure Lucanis, whose eyes were tinted purple, was okay after such a terrible day.
“Spite?” He questions lowly, hand instinctively raising to touch Lucanis’ shoulder.
The demon growls in response, “Hurts. Dark and silent. The world falls away. Betrayal. Betrayal ! The end result is always. Betrayal.” His voice rises into something close to a shout, then lowers again into something sad. Rook can feel the eyes of their friends burning a hole in his back.
Placatingly, he raises his hands in surrender, “I know this is-”
For once not calmed by Rook, Spite interrupts, “You. Do. Not! A sharp cane, no better than a blade. No better. Than the mages! Trapped, always trapped. Trapped. here… too…” The purple recedes momentarily as Spite trails off, then there’s a brighter flash of it and Spite continues to talk under his breath.
Afraid of making this worse but not knowing how to help in any other way, Rook grabs Spite’s hands tightly, “Spite, please let me talk to Lucanis.”
The demon shakes his head, “Not safe.”
Heart aching, Rook replies, “Do you trust me?” The truth is that he doesn’t know what the demon will say after today, after he’d been there while Lucanis almost died and did almost nothing.
They stare at one another for a charged second, and right as Rook thinks Spite might have lost his trust in him, the purple rescinds fully. Lucanis blinked owlishly at their surroundings, seemingly dazed, before his eyes met Rook’s. A thousand emotions flicker through his expressive eyes before settling on something soft and confused.
“Rook? What did he do?” He sounds exhausted.
Still tightly gripping his hands, Rook pulls them forward until he’s almost cradling them to his chest, “You with me?”
Lucanis nods, squeezing back.
“Spite just- he’s upset but he didn’t do anything.” He reassures, then he begins slowly stepping back to join their friends, pleased when Lucanis follows, “Let’s get the fuck out of here, we can talk after you’ve had a second to decompress.”
He leads the older man back to their group, hand in hand. They say a very brief goodbye to Viago, who has his version of a concerned look on their face, and their trip to Treviso ends with him telling them that Caterina expects them to return the next day for their ‘debrief’. Then, he and the rest of the Veilguard return to their base of operations, the Lighthouse. It hasn’t been that long since they’d been there, but as they cross into the Eluvian chamber, Rook feels a tension he hadn’t known was there melt from his soul.
He hadn’t realized how much he considered the Lighthouse and all those who resided in it his home until they’d left it to return to their lives. When he’d informed everyone that they could spend the night at the Lighthouse when they had responded to their invitations, they’d all expressed seeming happiness at being able to return, even Taash who had said they’d missed Harding’s greenhouse. Now that they’re actually back, Rook’s eyes dance from person to person, and he wonders if they feel the same way as him or if they’re only returning to humor his whims.
Rook knows he and Lucanis need to talk, but as they make their way up the stairs into the Lighthouse proper, the exhaustion is weighing heavily on all of them but more so on the First Talon. So, instead of talking, Rook walks him to his room and offers to keep watch while he sleeps in case Spite wakes up itching for a fight. The night passes uneventfully, but Rook can’t help but feel tension rise in his heart as he contemplates the position he’s going to be in with Lucanis’ grandmother when he doesn’t let her have her way with her grandson and his life this time.