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The feathers were more like silk through her fingers. Rook sat on the floor, legs tucked under her as she sorted through the chests just arrived from Treviso. Memories. Pain. Packed away neatly in small boxes and folded into perfect parcels. As if the last year had not happened. As if he had never happened.
She wasn't sure what possessed her to slip the armour on once again. Isabela had said she looked ravishing the first time she stepped out into the Hall of Valor with the low plunging neckline. And for once, she had felt truly sexy as she swung her hips and stalked her way across the room to her waiting Crow. She would have made even Teia proud with the way she grinned and smoothed her fingers down her body in just the right subtle way, and she remembered the night after in his arms as if it happened yesterday.
But that was then, and now all she had was empty pain and ugly tears as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
“Stupid girl,” she growled as she grabbed onto her white hot anger. Glass shattering as her balled fist met her reflection in grief. As if she could physically fight the agony bubbling from within her chest. Just one punch to the face he had loved so much, and she would feel relief.
Yet she felt nothing as shards sliced through her knuckles, rivulets of blood across her pale skin pooling onto the floor. A numbness settling into her bones as she crumpled into herself, sobs shaking her shoulders as she curled her injured hand to her chest. The despair so intense her body shut down to protect her from its drowning force.
An eternity, or a second may have passed. She wasn't sure. Part of her felt like she was dying, the other half hated that she continued to live. Especially when she heard the door creak open, knowing the owner of the heavy booted footsteps without even having to look. The pause as he took in the scene before him. A subtle inhale of breath that could only be the one person who had made her feel sane the last few days. The one person she clung to desperately despite how unacceptable her constant need for him was.
“Rook I heard- what in the Maker's name?!” Ashur's voice was a growl of alarm. Strong hands on her in an instant as he knelt his large frame beside her. Drawing her to him. Shielding her from the hateful sight staring back at her from the shattered mirror. And yet, her eyes refused to look away from the broken image of a girl who fell in love, and was then tossed carelessly to the side.
“Like yesterday's serials,” she whispered as his eyes narrowed with confusion. Her line of thought lost to him as he wrapped her body in his strong arms. Relaxing as he inspected her hand with precise attention. Unmoving as he picked shards of glass free from her wounds with the gentlest touch. The utmost care as he ensured she was not injured further. His eyes lingering for only a moment longer than was proper at the amount of exposed skin from the impractical Crow armour she wore. One barely perceptible hard swallow and then he was back to the task of focusing on healing the damage of her foolish actions.
She felt the familiar pull of his magic trying to knit her shredded flesh together. Curses in Tevene under his mask as he stared down at her. “I told Tarquin we shouldn't leave you alone. We should have been here to support you. I should have-”
She smiled despite herself. At his rant. The tense worry in his shoulders. The softness in his eyes as his magic pulsed soothing green and the bleeding ceased. And as gloved fingers traced the fresh scars twisting along her skin, she found a new emotion pulsing under the paralysis that had gripped her since her return to Minrathous. One that hinged on the comforting force whose shadow fell over her like a warm cloak of protection. No judgement. No accusations. Just open understanding for her state of distress and the broken glass littering the floor.
“I'm sorry,” she finally managed to whisper in a voice raw with tears and disuse. Ashur was silenced by how small she looked. So vulnerable as she stared up at him with red rimmed eyes. Trying to brush away her tears as she desperately wished she was wearing something else, anything else, other than this ridiculous outfit as she started to ramble. “I don't know what I was thinking. I just-”
“Hey, it's alright,” he interrupted before she could spiral. “You've been through a lot the last few days, Rook. You're allowed this one.” She could hear the slight smile in his voice. One tentative reach of his hand towards her chin. Tilting her face up to his. Something unreadable passing across the narrow expanse of him visible between his mask and his hat that almost looked like longing before he returned to neutral once more.
“I should be stronger than this. Sitting here wearing this absurd outfit and throwing a tantrum like a child.” She frowned as she pulled away from his grasp and he freely let her go. Needing a moment to breath. To think without his touch to distract. Forehead creased with shame as she looked down at the crinkled feathers along her chest that skewed in odd directions. The disheveled Invitation now mirroring the rejection she had received on that heartbreaking evening among the lantern lights of Treviso.
“I don't know if absurd is the right word, little assassin. Though maybe next time we leave the mirrors alone,” he chuckled as she felt her cheeks heat under his gentle teasing. A playful shove against his shoulder. An intimacy they couldn't show outside of the closed door of her room. A growing spark turning into a flame that heated between them. Two Shadows allowed time in the light now that the world wasn't ending and the Blight wasn't calling. Long hidden feelings given new life when he leaned closer. Her breath caught in a small gasp as his words wrapped around her every nerve ending, “I always liked you better in Shadow Dragon armour anyway.”
The pink heating along her skin was for another reason entirely as she shifted awkwardly. And she tried to find something other than the imposing sight of him to focus on as he seemed to take up every spare fragment of her vision. Even his scent was clouding her senses. Leather mixed with the slightly sweet hookah smoke curling around the lounge downstairs. Apples today if she had to place it. And the barest hint of something floral, like the incense in the Chantry. But of course she knew the secret behind that. Having discovered that confidential information when she rescued him from the Venatori in what seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Hey Ashur,” she said as she decided to bridge their fragile gap. She was still in pieces, like the fractured mirror before her. Bits haphazardly scattered on the floor. But as her fingers tentatively brushed against his arm and she looked up at him through her lashes, she thought just maybe she could begin to put herself back together again. “Thank you. For everything,” she said as he simply nodded before reaching to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was smooth. Warm against her skin in a way she never thought she would feel again. A welcomed fluttering in her chest when his stray thumb brushed her cheek.
“For you, Rook? Anything,” he promised with an earnest truth. A twitch at the corners of her mouth at the weight of his words. She never thought she would trust again after Treviso. After heartbreak so deep it almost destroyed her. But looking up into his unwavering gaze as he showed her nothing but calm understanding, she thought maybe she could endure once more. Give this fragile beginning a chance despite their past mistakes. And maybe grow into something new through this shattered pain.