Work Text:
“Rook. It’s good to see you.”
“Neve!” It’d only been a few months but he couldn’t help it. Rook took off dashing and engulfed her in a hug. Nearly sent them both tumbling into the muddied street at the violent joy of it.
“Whoa,” she responded with a dry laugh and a smirk, “must be doing well.”
Rook released her, still beaming and laughed in reply, the sound deep, and for once, maybe in all his years, rested. “My head’s finally quiet, I think I slept four weeks straight.” He hadn’t. Emmrich had made sure to wake him as much as need required, but those had been blissfully quiet moments, soft remembrances lost in fade of melding dreams.
“Aw, you’re thinking of him aren’t you?” She still smirked, dug an elbow into his side. The touch was grounding, made Rook blink and snap his head to the side where she walked with him. Their feet led them up the steps into the Swan as he gave a characteristic shake of his head.
“What?!” But he smiled, others might guess what subject his mind had retreated to when he spaced out, but Neve had a knack for knowing just what each glazed look was. Or…did she always guess Emmrich? Was it always him? Rook screwed his face in thought, and Neve chuckled low again, seemingly aware that she’d lost his attention to the lich once more.
“You’re still with him right? Where is he?”
The smile returned, but Rook kept the memories and distracting thoughts free from his mind as he and Neve made way to the preferred spot for the day in the Cobbled Swan. It shifted after all, and today the mood suited here. Sometimes intuition was the thing to follow.
“Of course! Neve we’re soulmates.” Said with his full chest, he cleared his throat, covered the sincerity with a chuckle. That was too loud, oh lord don’t think him too serious. Maker help him. It felt that and more.
“He’s back in Nevarra dealing with…” he nearly said lich business out loud. In the middle of Docktown's most prominent bar while accompanying someone that always drew eyes. He took a seat opposite the detective. Naturally Neve would meet him somewhere safe from enemies and their gossip. But it wouldn’t be uncommon for friendlier eyes to have an eye on her, for protection at the very least. Best not spread that ‘secret’ further than needed. “...Mourn Watch business.”
Rook muttered as he settled into his chair and folded his hands in front of him on the table. Nodded. Pleased with the answer and seeming importance of his partner. “You know classes and stuff maybe start…”
Neve copied his movements, leaned onto the table in much the same way, perhaps stoking a conspiratorial spirit as she made direct eye contact. It broke off his thoughts, paused his words. Rook felt a shiver on his neck, something in her eyes was dire, insistent, and he couldn’t turn his gaze from it as she spoke even, slow. “Soulmates or not, you should think about breaking it off.”
She wasted no time. Rook confirmed it. Emmrich wasn’t here. Lucanis had checked, double checked. The Warden was here alone. And she didn’t know when that would happen again. If ever? Didn’t feel like bringing up the subject around the professor. Oh he would understand of course, give them space, but could he listen? Would he still hear every word? Friend or not, the foundations of the patterns taking form were troubling, best nip this early if possible. If it wasn’t dealt with…
Rook was in shock, jaw dropped, folded fingers coming loose as he drew back. His breath escaped hushed, surprised, and without any thought, “Neve…what…I’m…life is perfect?” Pained. It was like he’d been slapped.
He figured they would be swapping stories of their work. Well, his tales were mostly rest, but he could share such things after some of those dreams. And this meeting was supposed to be his first foray into some relaxingly safe work. Like building a park or something. And surely she wanted to talk about Lucanis, the Threads, detective work…anything other than whatever this was? It started with pain, to confusion, and was simmering into irritation, why would she say that?
“Listen, Rook. I love Emmrich, we all do. We’re happy for both of you. And we know he’s obsessed with you.” Rook wanted to mutter obsessed with each other thank you, but her flat tone was as sincere as ever, and the gravity of the moment kept him silent. But for once, the hint of a tremble entered her words, “Where do you think that’s going to lead as you age? If you ever choose to put yourself in real danger again?” she paused, something had caught her eye, a flit of magic or some thinning of the Fade.
Thankfully a Thread mage outside the Swan had seen the same and dealt with whatever it was, but for the briefest moment her eyes widened in rare shock, and her voice dropped to a whisper, “It might take you a while to realize, that’s fine…” this was taking too long, too painful to say aloud and to make real, she groaned, “...just, if you ever need to disappear, I specialize in that work, know people that do. And I’ll always be here to help you. Okay? I’ll leave someone in my place if I’m too old for all this, so know that it’s always. Even if you’re in Nevarra.” With that said she pulled something from her pocket.
“You know how to use some magic items right?”
Rook nodded. Dazed into silence at the ‘attack’ or whatever this was.
Neve revealed a ring, pressed it into Rook’s slack hands before he could protest. He picked it up from his palm. It had a thick gold band, set with a large deep purple sapphire, and within it glowing soft, without shedding light, was the elven rune for rebellion. But when it caught light just so it threw soft purple in the room. Rook didn’t have the keenest eye for such things, but even he could tell this was a princely gift.
“Lucanis paid for this.” Rook muttered as he turned it in close examination, at times searching for that spot where it threw the light.
Neve smiled soft at that, eager to soften the conversation as well she quirked a brow. “Oh? Looking to take my job are you?” she said smirking, Rook looked up from the ring to Neve’s winking face, and found that he could smile again.
“Consider it a gift from your Veilguard. Wear it at all times. Never take it off. Grave gold is a thing for you now right? If you're buried...well...it needs to be with you.” She spoke halting, slow, firm. Many things left unsaid.
But the Warden heard them, and the warmth of sentiment over receiving such a grand gift faded, replaced with a feeling tight in his throat, a shiver that ran from head to toe. He closed a fist around the ring, he didn’t dare wear it until this picture came into focus. “Why? Neve. It’s magic?”
She sighed, looked ready to reach for a pipe as she leaned back in her chair. Content enough that Rook held it for the moment. She took a deep breath and briefly held up two fingers, “It’s got two uses I need you to learn. And its magic nature shouldn’t be detectable. Dorian helped with that.”
Rook blinked, “Why’s that…but…is this a secret?” His heart beat fast. The ring suddenly felt cold where it sat digging into his palm.
“First use. Tilt it just so, it doesn’t need light just the right angle for that rune, then whisper ‘whatever it takes’. We’ll try to get to you as fast as we can. A safety precaution. It’s likely Emmrich already gave you something of the sort.” She nodded to an expensive new piece of gold on Rook’s right index finger that he’d started rolling with the thumb of the same hand. The Warden gulped, brain rebelling against fitting the pieces to the pattern Neve could see so clearly.
“A beacon.” he muttered.
Neve nodded once, “Mhm. And when you activate it, it should be undetectable, that light is attuned to you, I can’t see a thing. Dorian struggled with that but seemed satisfied by the result. It won’t alert Emmrich. It…” She refused to voice any doubt. Shrugged, a brow furrowed, sighed before a firm, “It won’t.” Silence came between them as drinks were delivered.
Rook stared down at his fist, the ring hidden from sight. Mind reeling at the implications of it all. So much thought that had gone into this. All that work. And from the best people he knew? Why? Why go through all this trouble? Spend all this money? On magic that was hidden from…Rook bit his tongue, nearly bled, but once they were alone, servers absent, he spoke, his voice flat, a certain irritability building, “The second use?” his knuckles were white, clenched hand nearly shaking.
“Instant conflagration. For the wearer.”
“What…” a whisper of horror, a burn of bile in his throat, Rook coughed, settled it, but his face fell. He could feel a roiling in his gut, wanted to throw the damned thing as far as he could, but something caught, he couldn’t. He grasped it tight, went pale, sweat beading his brow. “...why…what…Neve…” pleading for her to spell it out, at the same time he seemed likely to bolt, his eyes wild, round, looking for some way out of this conversation. Out of all this.
Neve reached across the table, placed her hands over Rook’s quaking fist, over that princely magic ring meant to protect him. Protect him from? The Warden's nails were digging deep into his palm, nearly cut into flesh before the Tevene stilled him. He expected cold hands from an ice mage, the warmth surprised him, but calmed the uncontrolled movements. A shudder ran his skin, a warm touch. He closed his eyes, calming, breathing, and then looked back at Neve.
“Rook. I’m sorry." He could hear the pain there, the true grief. Perhaps even disbelief that she had followed through, had made this happen. But then she cleared her throat, and Rook could see determination take hold. A confident resilience that knew this might seem extra, but precautions always did seem silly when the storm you prepared for had never been witnessed. At least not of the specific type, she had seen…other varieties.
"I need to be quick, I want you to know it’s perfectly safe to wear.” Neve squeezed his hand, gentle, reassuring as best she could, “Like I said, Dorian helped. It’ll only happen in very specific steps. It'll be instant. Leave nothing behind. I need to know that you’ve learned the steps.”
The Warden swallowed. Blinked back the heat threatening again. Neve withdrew her hands as she felt him still. Rook choked down the rising anger towards her, at this, and looked down again. Opened his hand, once bruised and cut, twisted, calloused. Now, he noticed with a soft smile and shining eyes. Scarred, but soft, still rough, but not so harshly calloused. He hadn’t had to fight in months. Was that so bad? The ring looked blurry in his vision.
He blinked at the loving gift, the cursed thing. Picked it up. Turned it again in the light, noted that hue of the sapphire, they'd captured a favorite, and that rune what it meant for them all, that weight, and there that cast of light. And he felt warmth again. Love radiating from the rest of that family he finally found. They were warning him. He didn’t believe them. Almost hated Neve for this.
He slid the ring onto his left index finger.
“What are they?”