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Although Lucanis had made many changes to the First Talon role that allowed him more freedom, some things sadly couldn’t be avoided. Things like a special invite to the First Talon from the King of Antiva. Still, it is a celebration of the Antaam no longer being considered a threat in their nation, something that the Crows were a great part of. It would be unseemly to not have a presence, to remind everyone of what they had done.
That the Crows truly rule Antiva when it comes down to it, and that Antiva is once again free.
He keeps an eye out for Viago as he makes his way inward, because Viago has to be here. As much as the King tended to dismiss his bastards being the one that took on a role with power, the one that was stuck as liaison to the crown because of birthright (or lack thereof, depending on how you look at it), still came with obligations such as this.
He's certain that Viago wants to be here even less than he does. Which makes it not unsurprising to find him only a little distance into the hall - close enough to the exits, chokepoints considered, and while visibly at the party also far enough away from the man who sired him to be able to limit the need for interaction.
“Viago” he comments smoothly, moving to the other side of the small table where the other man stands with his own bottle of wine and glasses, separate from those on trays that circulate the floor. Safe from poison and tampering, he knows. Also, Lucanis assumes, a fair sight better a wine than what the others are drinking.
“First Talon” is the formal response, and they both share a tight smile. At home, as they work together, they are Lucanis and Viago, and they are as close to friends - to family - as Crows from different houses can be. But this is not home turf, and it is not safe ground.
“Alone today?” He asks and Viago’s forehead wrinkles slightly, some of the emotion peeking through.
“I do not bring anyone to these parties. It’s easier that way. Despite me being sure that she would win over anyone she chooses.” Lucanis hums in understanding. Both of the decision, and of another reason why Viago is standing here, prickly, trying to avoid contact.
“She would rule this party” he agrees. “But I can understand why not.”
The King’s habit of hitting on any attractive woman is well known (both as a standard behavior and the source of his list of many bastard children). Andarateia is beyond compare. He can imagine how easily she would grab his attention, and what would occur. Having your father hit on the person you love is probably not an experience Viago wants to have.
And given it’s probably best to not have the king choking to death on poison at the feet of the one of the Crow’s Talons (especially not one that is borderline in the path to succession), it’s not an experience Lucanis wants to have either.
“Yours?” Viago asks, and his tone would come across as just standard niceties and politeness if he didn’t know the man and his relationship to the woman he loves.
Lucanis can’t roll his eyes, not here, not with others watching, but he wants to. “More famous than I am, I’m afraid. She’s here, but asked me to go ahead without her and find you.”
It’s almost funny in a way. To the truly elite of Antiva, to those in the know, he is the power in the relationship. The First Talon, the head of the Antivan Crows. But despite the Crows being famous (or infamous), those titles are not known to everyone, not even all the nobility.
The woman who led to killing the dragon that terrorized Treviso, the gods that terrorized all of Thedas? To your average person - and at this party, your average noble - is famous. And a novelty right now, here at her first one of these balls, so even more an attraction. Which means even though he knows he only has her for tonight this time - her continued work takes her away again tomorrow - he still has to share her.
“Ah’ says Viago, and he thinks it’s just in acknowledgement, but he’s looking across the room and Lucanis looks up to see her striding towards them.
The dress is purple - he knows it’s for Spite, even worse Spite knows it’s for Spite - and moves with her every movement with ease, clinging to her like a second skin until it flares out at the waist. He knows the trailing part of the skirt can tear off relatively easy in a fight. Knows that up the slit along her leg if need be she can pull free a dagger. Knows that the back drapes open enough he can slide his hand across her bare skin and tease out another weapon that waits for him just in case. Knows the pins in her hair came from Viago and are therefore likely deadly.
He knows all this, and yet still can’t think of any of it as she walks towards him. There is nothing in his mind right now other than her.
Even when Viago huffs under his breath at him for it.
Someone gets in her way, asking no doubt more questions about her heroism, and she throws him a brilliant smile before turning politely to talk to this noble, to which Lucanis can’t help but sigh.
And then, embarrassingly, tragically, cannot help the words that follow that sigh.
“I would like your permission” he begins, and then realizes exactly what he’s saying, to whom, and where, and freezes.
A little too late though. Viago catches on the words with the swiftness of the snake he’s often compared to.
“Permission” he hisses, and Lucanis winces, voice lower, apologetic.
“I meant to ask properly, our meeting tomorrow, not here, but she … “ He struggles with the words. He always has. He often wishes he was as eloquent as his cousin in moments like this, but then Illario’s eloquence was always fake charm, not reality. Not the reality of a smile that he would do anything for. Even this.
Viago’s eyes burn into him. Judging. He doesn’t know what he will do if they find him wanting.
He watches as Viago leans forward and pours a glass from his special, safe, bottle. A click of his fingers across his walking stick, and then he holds Lucanis’s eyes as he carefully pours a measured amount of a liquid from a vial into the wine, before pushing it over to Lucanis’s side of the table. He hides this from everyone else, but not Lucanis. It is obvious. It is intentional.
The vial disappears into a compartment on his cane, and Lucanis looks at the glass he’s being given. The liquid has disappeared into the swirling red depths, but they both know it’s there.
He does the math in his head. The deliberation in Viago’s actions. The way that it had been hidden from anyone else’s view - especially Rook’s. The care with which the amount had been poured. The fact that Viago would not want him to embarrass the Crows in front of the King - the King in front of the Crows always, but not the other way around. The fact that he is sure - or at least he thinks he’s sure - that Viago has been happy with him as First Talon. The fact that Rook would be angry at Viago if he died, and that what Rook wants seems to mean something to Viago.
He sums it all up in his head, and knows there is only one answer he can give.
Lucanis lifts his glass, tips his head towards Viago in respect, and drinks deep.
(The next morning when it hits, as he’s wracked with stomach pains like he’s never felt in his life while still running a planning meeting, he almost regrets it.
When Viago takes pity on him the second morning and pours the antidote in his coffee, he takes that as the permission it is.)