Chapter Text
Daisy had never moved so quickly in her life. One second, she was in the pantry with Lucanis, and the next, she was almost taking Harding's door off its hinges. “I’ve fucked up.”
“I’m sorry?!” Lace’s head shot up as Daisy barged into her conservatory room, sending a ceramic pot teetering dangerously on a ledge. Her eyes went wide when the curse word fell from Daisy’s lips. “What in the Maker’s name—Start from the beginning!”
Daisy wheezed, trying to form a coherent thought, but her brain was still soup. Her whole life was about staying composed in tense situations—handling wayward spirits and working through magical problems with a steady hand. She was supposed to be calm. She was supposed to be rational. So why did it feel like she had just sprinted through a battlefield naked while screaming her deepest, most shameful secrets? She grabbed Lace by the shoulders. “I made a mistake .”
Lace stared at her. “Did you set something on fire?”
“No.”
“Did you accidentally invite a demon into the Lighthouse?”
“No!”
“…Did you finally tell Lucanis you like him, and it backfired spectacularly?”
Daisy made a strangled noise and smacked her hands over her burning face.
Lace howled .
“Oh, this is better than I hoped. Keep talking.”
Daisy flailed. “I didn’t mean to! I was just—Spite took over, right? So I talked to him, trying to keep things from getting worse—”
“Of course you did,” Lace muttered.
“—And then Lucanis took control again, and he was all broody and apologetic and tragic-looking, and I was just trying to be supportive , but then—then things happened —”
Lace leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “What things?”
Daisy whimpered. “He—he cornered me, Lace.”
Lace nearly fell off her chair. “Excuse me?”
“Against the pantry wall! He—he put his hand next to my head and looked at me and—and his voice got all deep and serious, and I— I said stupid things —”
Lace grabbed her arm. “How stupid?”
Daisy sucked in a breath. “He said, ‘This isn’t a good idea.’ And I—I told him—” She gulped.
Lace shook her. “ What did you say? ”
“I told him… ‘Sometimes a bad idea is better.’”
Lace screamed .
Daisy screamed with her , shaking her by the shoulders in sheer secondhand horror. “No, no, no, it gets worse—” Daisy babbled. “He said I liked walking too close to the edge, and I said, ‘So do you,’ and then he said, ‘At least I know I’m doing it,’ and his voice dropped , and Lace, I thought —” She gasped for air. “I thought he was going to kiss me !”
Lace was already standing up. “Did he?!”
“NO!” Daisy wailed. “He just stared at me, like he was debating all of his life choices , and then he walked away !”
Lace clutched her head like she was in physical pain. “HE DID WHAT?!”
“I DON’T KNOW, OKAY?! I’VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE; I PANICKED, HE PANICKED, WE PANICKED, AND NOW I’M DYING .” Daisy flopped onto the floor, groaning into her hands.
Lace exhaled sharply and rolled her sleeves up. “Alright, I’m getting my crossbow.”
“Lace, no!” Daisy latched onto her waist.
“Oh no, no, no. He pulled away ?! After that kind of tension?! What, does he think he can walk off a near-kiss like it was a casual chat about the weather?! I’ll show him weather—”
Daisy clung harder. “It’s fine —”
“IT IS NOT FINE.”
“I JUST WANTED TO VENT, NOT INCITE A MURDER.”
Lace gritted her teeth, arms crossed. “Alright, fine. No murder. Yet.” She sat back down, hands still twitching. “But what’s the real problem, Daisy? Because I know that face, and that face says, ‘I’m spiraling into an existential crisis.’”
Daisy sniffed. “…What if I imagined everything? What if he doesn’t actually like me that way?”
Lace gawked at her. “Are you joking? Have you seen the way he looks at you?”
Daisy frowned. “But what about him and Neve?”
Lace groaned like she had been physically wounded. “Daisy. Please. You’re smarter than this.”
Daisy buried her face in her hands again. “I feel so stupid.”
Lace softened, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not stupid. You’re just… catastrophically in love for the first time and have no idea how to process it.”
Daisy whimpered.
Lace sighed, standing and offering her a hand. “Alright. Get up. We’re going for a walk.”
Daisy peeked through her fingers. “A walk?”
“Yes. Because if we don’t, I’m going to march straight to Lucanis and tell him to fix this before you combust.”
“…Fair.”
As they left, Tassh appeared at the top of the stairs. “Uh. What’s happening?”
Lace pointed. “Daisy’s in love and suffering.” Daisy's face grew red with every glare sent in Lace's direction.
Tassh nodded sagely. “Ah. Been there.”
“Want to join us?”
Tassh shrugged. “Why not? Watching Daisy have a meltdown sounds entertaining.”
Daisy groaned. “I hate both of you.”
Lace slung an arm around her. “No, you don’t.”
“…Fine.”
"We should go to the Hall of Valor. Isabella owes Rook a few drinks for helping out. Besides, the company isn't bad, and the Lords are fun to party with." Taash offered. It wasn't a bad idea, but...Daisy wasn't best friends with alcohol, and the few times she does have any, it's minimal moderation. Varric gave her some fruity Orleasian wine the last time, where one could hardly feel intoxicated until they stood up. Then, the feeling would slam them up against a brick wall.
"What's going on?" The group turned toward Neve, and Bellara approached them.
Before Lace could open her mouth Tassh jumped in, no stopping them. "Lace and Rook want to drink at the Hall with the Lords. Wanna join?"
"There are plenty of places in Minrathous, but is there something about the Hall that's more exciting, Taash?" Neve asked, and Bellara quickly jumped in with excitement over the idea.
"The Hall has free drinks and no venatori. What more could we ask for? We all deserve a drink." The three of them started to plan for the night, which was settled on that very evening, while Lace looked up at Daisy for some sign of discomfort. Lace had never seen Daisy take such a quiet stance before, and the far-off look behind her eyes was worrying.
"Daisy? I know how you are with drinking." Lace whispered, and Daisy shook her head, her ear cuffs jingling softly.
"It's fine Lace. I have you watching out for me, right?" Daisy's smile didn't reach her eyes. Lace nodded, speaking the word always before squeezing her arm while the three members of their party planned the night. "Besides, one drink won't hurt. It might kill any leftover embarrassment I have."
No time like the present. Daisy barely had time to protest before Bellara, practically vibrating with excitement, grabbed her arm and dragged her from the Lighthouse. The energy was infectious, but Daisy could only manage a half-hearted chuckle as they stumbled forward together. Behind them, Lace hurried toward Emmrich’s quarters, knocking sharply before slipping inside to inform the necromancer of their plans. They wouldn't be gone long, just enough time for a needed reprieve from the constant weight of their reality. Meanwhile, Taash was already deep in conversation with Neve, pouring over the list of drinks with a mischievous glint in their eye. If all went according to plan—or horribly awry—they could always crash at their mother’s house should the need arise.
Daisy tried her best to keep up appearances, her usual mask in place. She smiled; she laughed at the right moments, but the effort was exhausting. She felt Lace’s perceptive gaze flicker toward her every now and then as if trying to decipher the emotions lurking beneath the surface. But Daisy was a master at misdirection, and Bellara, with her boundless enthusiasm, made for an excellent distraction. She seized every opportunity to steer the conversation toward Bellara’s latest experiments, her magical advancements, and all the questions Daisy had been meaning to ask but never quite remembered at the moment. Bellara, ever the
inquisitive person was happy to oblige, her voice animated as she shared her knowledge.
Daisy had spent much of her early life feeling like an outsider. Raised by two human women in a world where bloodlines mattered, her elven heritage had been a mystery—at one time, she was desperate to unravel. Now, she just wanted to know more about what she was missing. Learning the language had been a struggle; each word clawed from the depths of an identity she was only beginning to grasp. Even now, the scars of old prejudices lingered, reflected back at her every time she saw her...ruined pointed ears in the mirror. She had been judged for them, scorned by those who saw her as neither fully human nor entirely elven but something in between—something lesser. A half-breed . A mutt . A weed .
Meeting Bellara had been a turning point. The Dalish elf carried the weight of her people’s traditions with pride, and she had been more than willing to guide Daisy toward the answers she sought. When their paths eventually crossed with Davrin, a seasoned Gray Warden, Daisy had another mentor willing to help her navigate her tangled heritage. Davrin had taken her under his wing with an ease that had startled her, offering not just guidance but acceptance.
For the first time in her life, Daisy wasn’t an outsider looking in. The rag-tag group she had assembled—Taash, Davrin, Lucanis, Lace, Neve, Bellara, Emmrich—had become more than allies. They were her family. Not one she had stumbled upon in the shadows of Nevarra, not one she had been abandoned to by fate, but one she had built with her own hands. It hadn’t been written in the stars. It hadn’t been some grand destiny. It had simply happened. And she had never been more grateful.
When they arrived at the Lords, the night of celebration was in full force.
Laughter rippled through the warm night air, mingling with the scent of salt and spirits. Daisy sat with the others around a long wooden table, a half-empty mug in her hands. The glow of lanterns cast flickering shadows on their faces, and the sound of waves crashing against the distant shore provided a steady, rhythmic backdrop to their revelry.
Bellara and Lace were already deep into their drinks, each engaged in an unspoken contest of who could down more without slurring their words. Neve leaned back in her chair, eyes glinting with amusement as she sipped from a delicate glass, while Taash, already flushed from the alcohol, animatedly recounted a story of a battle in a jungle, arms waving dramatically. "You should've seen it," Taash boasted, their grin wide. "This thing was bigger than a druffalo, with scales like darksteel and teeth like daggers—"
"—And yet, here you are, still in one piece," Neve drawled, smirking over the rim of her glass.
"Obviously," Taash said, feigning offense. "What do you take me for? Some common soldier?"
Isabella snorted. "We take you for someone who embellishes their tales more with every drink. Take it from someone who embellishes often."
Lace laughed, slamming her mug down. "If she’s lying, at least it's entertaining!"
Daisy chuckled along with them, warmth blooming in her chest—not just from the alcohol but from the ease of the moment. It had been too long since they'd all had time like this, where battle and duty didn’t weigh down on their shoulders. Here, they could just exist in a pocket of laughter and camaraderie, away from the expectations that usually hung over them. But even as she smiled, something in the back of her mind buzzed with unease. She shifted in her seat, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shake off the sudden prickling under her skin. Daisy ... a whisper of her name more than once caught her attention, shifting her eyes to look over her shoulder. She ignored it, mistaking her real name being mentioned instead of her normal Rook.
When she started to feel it, Daisy was perhaps two or three drinks in.
The night around her buzzed—too warm, too loud, too much. Even outside, the air felt thick, pressing in on her skin like a smothering embrace. Voices blended into a single, overwhelming hum, layered with laughter, cheers, and the occasional clink of mugs. Even the spirits of Adventure, those boisterous echoes of old stories and grand exploits, seemed to swell in volume, their ghostly voices bouncing off one another like a chorus inside her head. The heat crawled up Daisy’s neck, settling behind her cheeks. The alcohol left her limbs floating and buzzing at the same time, like she wasn’t fully anchored to the ground. Her fingers tightened around the half-full mug in her hands—whatever they had given her was more potent than she anticipated. The Lords around her continued their endless tales; their excitement was palpable, their pasts bleeding into the present as if time had unraveled for them. Isabella was chatting with Neve and Taash, their laughter cutting through the thick air like a blade. Bellara and Lace had disappeared and were likely off to get another drink.
And Daisy… Daisy was alone.
The thrill of it sent a tremor through her chest. And yet, so did the fear.
Every sip made it easier, loosening the iron grip she kept on herself. The last time she had drunk this much, it had been with Lace and Varric by a crackling campfire, the stars sprawling overhead like tiny, unjudging eyes. She had been reluctant then, hesitant in the way only someone raised to fear indulgence could be. But Varric had made sure she drank, nudging her toward a lovely Orlesian wine that had hit harder than she expected.
That night, the weight of years had spilled from her lips. The War of Banners. Her family. The orphans she had cared for as penance, as repayment. The chains she would wear until her last breath. Her memory loss. By morning, she had been dizzy and aching but lighter.
The ocean breeze brushed past her, but it wasn’t enough to cool the fire in her skin. "Having fun?" Daisy flinched. Neve leaned against the overlook beside her, drink in hand, sharp eyes watching.
Daisy willed herself to stay steady, gripping the railing as if it could anchor her to the moment. "Just… thinking," she managed, the words heavy on her tongue. "Needed to step… away. Got hot all of a sudden."
The ocean stretched before them, the salt air tangling in her hair. Beautiful, as always, but the thought of sand sticking to her boots was enough to sour the scene. "Everyone seems to be having a great time, though," Daisy added, voice slightly distant. "Glad we could do this. Gods, can you imagine if Davrin were here? I’d pay to see who could drink more—him or Taash."
Neve hummed. "My money’s on Taash. But Davrin did mention Wardens drink a lot. Could be close." Daisy nodded, grateful for the distraction. But Neve’s gaze lingered too long. "You do remember I’m a detective, right?" Neve said, her voice light but her meaning sharp. "It’s my job to notice what’s missing. Find the problem. Or—" She stepped closer. "understand why something happened." Daisy’s stomach twisted. "You wouldn’t happen to be thinking about a certain assassin who lives in our pantry now, are you?"
Her breath hitched. "I am not…" The denial came too quickly, her voice too tight. She refused to look Neve in the eye, afraid her expression would betray her.
Neve chuckled. "You know he likes you, right? More than likes you."
Daisy’s heart tripped over itself.
"I’m sorry?" Her tongue felt clumsy, too thick.
"For such a strong leader, you might be a bit blind when it comes to someone having feelings for you." The words were casual, but they slammed into Daisy with the force of a war hammer. "What could possibly be the problem between you and Lucanis that makes you look like the world just ended?" Daisy’s grip on her mug tightened.
"Lucanis and I… nothing is going on between us!" The words rushed out, too high-pitched, too defensive. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the sound of waves. "You and Lucanis are—I mean—the way you two flirt, I assumed…"
Neve raised an eyebrow, and Daisy felt herself unraveling by the second.
"He rejected me," Daisy admitted, cheeks burning. "I thought it was because he was with you. If I had known you were, I wouldn’t have…"
"Developed feelings?" Daisy made a strangled noise, her entire body thrumming with heat. Neve laughed, sipping her drink. "Sunshine, nothing is going on between us. Sure, he’s handsome, and the flirting is fun, but when he looks at you… it’s different." Daisy wanted to melt into the ground. Or vanish. Or throw herself into the sea. Neve’s voice softened. "Should I have stopped flirting when I noticed? Maybe. Maybe I was still bitter about your choice of city to save. But now… I understand. You did what you thought was right. And I have to deal with the aftermath."
Daisy opened her mouth, guilt rising in her throat, but Neve lifted a hand.
"Don’t," she said simply. "I don’t need an explanation. I just wanted you to know—there’s nothing between Lucanis and me. What we have is a shared love of our homes. We’re good friends. But you? You’re different. And if he rejected you… maybe he just got cold feet."
"Cold feet?" Daisy echoed, barely above a whisper.
Neve tilted her head, eyes sharp. "Have you ever been with someone, sunshine?"
Daisy’s breath hitched again. The room—the night—everything felt too close—the warmth of the alcohol, the weight of Neve’s gaze, the pounding in her chest. "Neve…" she pleaded. "Please stop looking at me like that. I think I’ve had too much to drink."
Neve smirked. "Go figure—the two people utterly smitten with each other, both too blind to see it, are both virgins." Daisy nearly choked on air. Neve leaned in, her grin wicked. "Adorable." Daisy groaned again, resting her face in her hands as Neve gave her head a soft pat. "Talk to the man and tell him how you feel since he can't tell you himself. Words are good. Actions can always come later."
"Thanks, Neve," Daisy muttered softly.
"Anytime, sunshine." She was gone, leaving Daisy alone. Without much thinking, Daisy downed the rest of her mug in one go. The burning made her quickly regret the small burst of courage, but she held it down. Daisy would talk to Lucanis once she was sober enough. Once she had the courage to confront him and tell him her honest feelings. That even if it took forever to admit his own, she would wait.
She felt it then.
Eyes.
Someone was watching her.
The sensation crawled over her skin like icy fingers, squeezing the breath from her lungs. Her stomach churned—not just from the alcohol, though the burn of it swayed her movements and made the world tilt dangerously.
Daisy…
She turned too fast, nearly stumbling. The tavern spun in a haze of dim lantern light and smoke, but none of it could blur what stood before her.
A spirit.
A ghost.
A person who should be nothing more than the rotting bones of a memory, yet here she was.
Watching.
Seething .
Daisy’s breath hitched. The spirit’s lips never moved, but the voice slithered into her ears, coiling around her brain, slurring through the alcohol clogging her thoughts.
Found you.
A sharp jolt of terror cut through her stupor, but her body lagged behind her mind. She lurched sideways, her shoulder hitting a table, glasses rattling. Someone cursed. Strapped to her back, her staff clipped a mug—amber liquid sloshed, drenching the table. Someone shoved her. Laughter? A shout?
The spirit moved.
Not walked— moved. Gliding, reaching, her presence stretching toward Daisy like something cold and wet curling around her throat.
She ran. Her pulse thundered. Footsteps stumbled beneath her, too sluggish, too clumsy. Behind her, the spirit turned, those hollow eyes locked onto her, a silent promise that made Daisy’s veins run to ice. She ran past Lords, who were drinking joyfully, not paying any attention to one lone person who seemed to be too many in their cups. Daisy's companions were nowhere close, and she wasn't sure if what she saw was real.
So she ran.
And she didn't stop.
~oOo~
Daisy staggered through the crossroads of the Rivan eluvains, her mind drowning in a haze of memories and shadows. The world spun around her, uneven beneath her feet, and she barely registered the rough scrape of stone and sand against her palms as she caught herself from falling. No, no, she could not have been here. The face she had seen—so familiar, yet impossibly distant—could not have been real. It couldn’t be. Faces like hers existed only in nightmares, in the twisted corridors of dreams she dared not walk, illusions that flickered and vanished like candlelight in a storm.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, the air too thick, pressing down on her chest like unseen hands. Her stomach twisted violently—not just from the alcohol burning in her veins, but from the knowing . A terrible, clawing knowing that something had shifted, something had changed. But what ?
Sand clung to her skin, gritting beneath her nails as she dug her fingers into the ground, desperate for something solid. But even the earth betrayed her, shifting, slipping, reminding her of everything she could not hold onto. The hum of the Fade pulsed around her, seeping into her bones and pressing against her skull. She felt it in every pore, every breath, every panicked heartbeat. It was an itch she could never scratch, a voice just beyond the Veil, whispering things she couldn’t make out.
Her hands shook.
No.
Her hands weren’t hers .
Daisy let out a strangled gasp, reaching up instinctively to claw at her throat, her fingers searching for the cold bite of metal that wasn’t there. But she felt them—tight, constricting, chains digging into her skin, wrists bound, movements sluggish as she fought against invisible restraints. Her pulse roared in her ears, a frantic drumbeat of terror, the weight of something unseen dragging her back into a place she refused to return to.
She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.
She tried to stand, but her legs refused to move, too tangled in past and present, in fear and liquor, in a reality that felt paper-thin. Her vision blurred, and for a moment—just a moment—she swore she saw her again. A glimpse of dark eyes watching, waiting.
A ghost. A memory.
A whisper. A shift in the air.
And then, they stood before her—spirits of Adventure and Madness.
" We need your help! They will die without aid! " The Spirit of Adventure seized her hand, its ethereal grasp cool yet urgent, pulling her toward the Rivan Coast gate. Daisy clawed for breath as her head swam, her senses oscillating between sharp clarity and thick, muddled fog. She barely registered that she had moved, had passed through the eluvain, and now stood upon the ruined fort they always appeared at. " This way! "
Daisy did not resist. She knew better than to fight fate when it called.
Possession was nothing new to her. She had long since mastered the art of housing spirits within her, allowing them to speak and feel without relinquishing complete control. She had safeguards and rules—she would not let rage consume her or let vengeful spirits take the reins. She had learned that lesson well. Daisy followed silently, gaining back control of her body once they were close enough. The spirits had explained that their friends were to meet them on the beach with refugees but were met with ill fate. Antaam pirates, if you could call them that, had sunken their ship and were going to take them to be slaves. Madness cackled and spoke of cracking of bones, splitting of skulls, and...familiar faces?
Daisy gave Madness a look before trying to slowly shake away more of the fog that continued to cloud her mind. Within a moment, they hid among the trees lining the coast. There, Daisy could see clearly that this would not be an easy fight. Twenty-five antaam pirates stood, weapons gleaming beneath the crimson kiss of the rising sun. Behind them, fifteen captives knelt in the sand—elf, human, and qunari alike. Some sat defiant, their gazes hard, while others bowed their heads in silent resignation. Madness and Adventure murmured silently about their plans of help, but Daisy was already deep within her plan.
Before stepping onto the sand, Daisy raised her hands, weaving an illusion with magic. The air thickened, the shadows stretching unnaturally around her. Her form elongated, her fingers turned into clawed, blackened talons, and her eyes glowed with spectral, inhuman light. The whispers of the Fade amplified, swirling around her like the wails of the damned. From the vantage of the antaam pirates, what approached them from the jungle was no mere human—it was a monster born from nightmares.
" Let them go! They belong to me!" Daisy used magic to throw her voice, making it errie and echo along the shore.
"Come on out! Fight us, demon!" The pirates stiffened, some gripping their weapons tighter, others shifting uncertainly. One took an involuntary step back. Fear flickered in their expressions, uncertainty gripping them in their hands. It wasn't enough.
" Where are you going?! " The Spirit of Adventure pressed urgently while the Spirit of Madness merely laughed, coaxing her forward.
"To kill the antaam pirates who hold those people captive. Don’t worries, I’ll... hick... be fine." Daisy slurred, shaking her head to clear the fuzziness, though it did little good.
Then, with a slow, deliberate step, Daisy let the illusion flicker and twist, just enough to keep them in suspense before stepping fully into the open.
The jungle gave way to golden sands, her bare feet sinking slightly with every step. The scent of salt and blood thickened the air, warning of the carnage to come. The antaam leader, a hulking qunari with a face carved by old battles, sneered. "You think a drunken human and her foul magic can stop us?"
Daisy did not answer. She stepped forward, slow, deliberate, the wind catching the edges of her dark cloak, making it billow like the wings of a shadowed specter. With measured calm, she drove her staff into the sand. The earth trembled. Shadows coiled around her feet, slithering outward like ink in water. From the depths, skeletal warriors clawed their way free, their hollow eyes burning with spectral fire.
The antaam hesitated. Then, with a bellow, they charged.
Fools.
The battle erupted in a symphony of steel and sorcery. Daisy wove between them, necrotic energy crackling from her fingertips. A pirate lunged—she sidestepped, whispering a curse that sent him crumbling, his own shadow snaking up to choke the life from his throat.
A skeletal warrior met another attacker, its spectral blade driving deep into quivering flesh. A pirate swung wildly at her—she raised her hand, impaling him through the jaw with a flick of dark magic. Yet even as she fought, she knew that she would be in trouble if they charged all at once.
She called to the dead, and they answered.
The fallen antaam rose, their lifeless eyes turning on their former comrades. Panic rippled through the remaining pirates as their own slain brothers turned against them. The antaam leader roared, hoisting his Warhammer high. Before he could bring it down, Daisy let out a terrible, inhuman wail. The Fade surged, swirling into a necrotic storm that crackled and burned, consuming all in its path. The captain screamed in terror and pain as slowly his skin started to decay, turning black and green, melting away. The remaining pirates broke, their courage shattered, and fled into the wilds.
As the storm dissipated, Daisy swayed on her feet. Her breath was ragged. With a mere wave of her hand, the captives' bonds unraveled. "You are free," she murmured. "Go before the tide claims the dead."
The last echoes of battle faded, and the dead returned to their slumber beneath the sand one by one. Daisy, too, felt herself unraveling. Her body ached as though she had run for miles. Her limbs trembled from exhaustion, and the world tilted dangerously.
"By all the Gods of the dead... Daisy, is that you?" She turned, her vision swimming. A qunari stood before her, his face familiar yet blurred by the drunken haze still clouding her senses. But his voice—that voice she would recognize anywhere.
"Ti'Lan? That... you?" she whispered, the last shreds of strength slipping through her fingers like sand. Darkness swallowed her. She never felt herself falling, never felt the impact of the ground.
But she was caught.
Strong arms lifted her, cradling her against a broad chest. A low chuckle rumbled through the night. "Easy, sister. I have you." As she drifted into unconsciousness, she barely registered his following words, though they carried the weight of a grin. "Oh, I can’t wait to tell the others how drunk you got."
~oOo~
Lucanis felt like such a fool.
After leaving the pantry, he strode toward the walkway beside the kitchen, trying to steady his breath. He only realized then how tightly he had been holding it in, how his chest ached from restraint. He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face, but it did nothing to shake the burning fire beneath his skin.
Spite, ever-present, roiled with frustration in the back of his mind. Coward , the spirit snarled, its anger a reflection of his own. Lucanis ignored it. He had enough of his thoughts clawing at him.
Daisy deserved more .
More than an assassin tainted by a demon of Spite. More than a man whose hands had done far too much harm, whose past was stained with blood he could never wash away. Daisy, with her kindness, her patience, her warmth—she was light, and he was the shadow at her heels.
But Maker, he wanted to kiss her.
That moment had been perfect, painfully perfect. It was as if it was out of Bellara's serials that she was writing how her eyes met his, unwavering and filled with something unspoken but understood. The way she had answered him—not with fear, not with hesitation, but with certainty, with want . Every small inch she moved closer sent his heart into a frantic rhythm, a sound so loud in his ears he swore she must have heard it too. And then—
He froze.
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to close the space between them, to press his lips to hers, and finally let himself have this one thing. But the weight of it crushed him. If he kissed her, if he allowed himself even a sliver of what he longed for—what then? What happened when Spite reared its head at the wrong moment? What happened when the past he carried became a weight she had to bear? Spite had lost control and put one of his daggers against her throat. The fear that he could lose control could harm her...
He couldn’t do that to her.
So, instead of leaning in, instead of taking what he wanted, he pulled away. He left her standing there, looking at him with something he couldn’t bear to name. He told her he needed to clear his head and walked away. Like a fool. Like a man who did not know what to do with something precious when it was offered to him freely.
Gifts like her...
Lucanis braced himself against the wood railing, gripping it tight enough to make his knuckles ache. His hands curled into fists. He could still feel the warmth of her presence, the ghost of where their fingers had nearly brushed, the space between them so small he could have— should have—closed it.
Spite simmered, its presence crackling through his veins. She wanted you , it hissed, low and knowing. And you ran .
Lucanis closed his eyes. He knew.
And yet, despite the torment in his chest, despite the pull he could not fight, he still wasn’t sure if he had made the right choice. Because even now, as the cool fade air failed to steady him, all he wanted to do was turn around, find her, and finish what he couldn’t bring himself to start.
"Enough Spite. I don't want to hear more of it; I made a choice."
A foolish choice. Spite stood beside him, its presence a flickering distortion in the dim light, pressing close enough that Lucanis swore he could feel its breath—if the thing even breathed. Its sneer curled like a knife at the edges of his thoughts. She likes us. Wants us. And you let her go! Go. After. Her!
Lucanis winced as Spite’s voice crescendoed, each syllable pounding against his skull like hammer strikes. He pushed himself away from the railing, rolling his shoulders as if he could shake off the demon’s weight and the lingering regret clinging to his skin. He turned, forcing his feet to move, leading himself back into the kitchen, where the scent of smoldering embers and barrels of coffee beans greeted him.
The fire still burned low in the hearth, its golden light licking at the edges of the stone walls. The silence was thick, save for the occasional pop from the wood. The kitchen, once filled with the warmth of company, now felt empty. He had no hope that Daisy would still be here. That didn’t stop his pulse from leaping for a foolish second before the quiet confirmed what he already knew.
Disappointment gnawed at his ribs.
With a steady breath, he reached for the coffee grinder, pouring dark beans into the worn wooden bowl. The rhythmic scrape of the handle twisting against the coarse grounds gave his hands something to do, something to focus on other than Spite’s simmering irritation. The demon materialized fully before him, its form purple flickering with embers of its agitation. Anger was etched deep into its expression, its sharp features twisted in frustration. It muttered under its breath—dark, crackling words Lucanis refused to acknowledge. He kept his gaze downward, watching the rich, ground coffee collect in the vessel below.
His thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to Daisy. To the way she had looked at him, eyes searching, lips parted just so—an invitation, if only he had dared to take it. His fingers tightened around the mug as he poured steaming water over the grounds, watching the deep brown liquid swirl. A creak of the dining room doors pulled him from his trance. He blinked, realizing he had been staring into the fire, fingers curled around his cup like a lifeline.
" Seems like it's just you, me, and Emmrich tonight. The others have gone off with Rook for something. " Lucanis turned as Davrin strode in, his usual easy manner in place, though his sharp gaze flicked over Lucanis with something keener. Assan followed at his side, the griffon letting out a short, expectant squawk. Lucanis absently ran a hand over its feathered head, earning a satisfied huff.
" They left? "
" Maybe an hour or so ago? I just ran into Emmrich, who told me. " Davrin studied him. " Daisy didn’t tell you? "
Lucanis cleared his throat, forcing himself to keep his expression still, unreadable. " No, I haven’t seen her in a while. I thought she was researching with Emmrich. " The lie slid out smoothly, easily—a believable one. Davrin didn’t buy it.
His brow furrowed, and Lucanis could feel the weight of scrutiny settling over him. " Look, Lucanis, I know we’re not on the best terms, but you sound off. Is everything alright? Is it Spite? " Lucanis exhaled slowly, fingers flexing around his cup. The warmth of the coffee did nothing to thaw the cold coiling beneath his ribs. Davrin crossed his arms, watching him closely, then tilted his head with a knowing smirk. " Ah. I see now. This isn’t just about Spite, is it? "
Lucanis stiffened slightly. " I don’t know what you’re talking about. " He lifted his cup and took a slow sip, feigning disinterest.
" Right, sure. Because you always look like a kicked mabari when someone leaves without telling you. " Lucanis shot him a glare over the rim of his mug. " Let me guess," Davrin continued, undeterred. "It’s Daisy , isn’t it? You’ve got that whole brooding, ‘I could have kissed her but didn’t’ look about you. I bet you— " His words trailed off as realization dawned on his face. " Oh . Oh, I was joking, but... that’s it, isn’t it?"
Lucanis sighed, running a hand through his hair before setting his coffee down with more force than necessary. "Meirda, drop it, Davrin. " Spite was beside Davrin, making crude gestures, which Lucanis rolled his eyes at.
"Gods, I was just messing with you, but you actually—" Davrin let out a low whistle, shaking his head with amusement. "Lucanis, you really are a piece of work. You like Daisy, but instead of doing anything about it, you just… skulk around in dark corners and wallow in self-loathing?"
"I don’t skulk."
"Oh, you absolutely skulk. Or brood. It’s like your second nature." Lucanis shot him another glare, but Davrin just grinned. "Look, I get it," Davrin said, his tone shifting from teasing to something softer. "She’s different. She has this whole kind-hearted, ‘probably too good for an assassin with a demon in his head’ thing. But if you think pushing her away is going to make things easier, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought."
Lucanis clenched his jaw. "It’s not that simple."
"It never is," Davrin agreed, shrugging. "But here’s the thing—if she really didn’t care about you, she wouldn’t care about you as much as she does. She wouldn't look at you like she does. And don’t even try to pretend you don’t know what I mean." Lucanis didn’t respond, but the muscle in his jaw twitched. Davrin smirked.
"See? You do know. Not as blind as I thought."
Lucanis sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Even if that’s true, it doesn’t change anything." His voice turned hoarse, thick with something he couldn’t quite voice. "Daisy is… she’s light. She’s warmth, she’s kindness, even when she has every reason not to be. She looks at people and sees their worth, even when they don’t deserve it. He prays over the dead when they just tried to kill her." He let out a slow breath, running a hand down his face. "And me? I’ve got blood on my hands that’ll never wash away. I’m...tainted, Davrin. I’ve been tainted for so long that I don’t even remember what being whole is like. And Spite—" He let out a humorless chuckle. "You think Daisy deserves a man who’s possessed by a demon? Who can’t even trust his own mind?"
Davrin leaned against the table, arms crossed. "You know, for someone who thinks so highly of her, you don’t actually give her much credit." Lucanis frowned, glancing up. Spite turned back to Davrin, glaring at the warden. "If Daisy is as strong and kind and good as you say, then don’t you think she’s capable of making her own damn decisions? Don’t you think she already knows what you are and cares about you anyway?"
Lucanis opened his mouth, then closed it. His chest ached, and for a moment, all he could think about was how Daisy looked at him in the pantry. The way her breath had hitched, how her fingers had rested on his chest, the warmth of her hand through his clothes. He had wanted to kiss her. Had wanted it so badly it hurt. But instead, he had pulled away. Just like he always did.
Davrin sighed, shaking his head. "Look, all I’m saying is—stop being an idiot. If you want her, do something about it. If you think she deserves better, be better." Davrin watched him carefully, then shook his head with a laugh. "You’re hopeless. But hey, if you ever decide to stop being a coward about it, let me know. I’d love to see what happens when you actually act like a person instead of a brooding shadow."
Lucanis shot him one last glare before picking up his coffee again, but Davrin just chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked off.
"You so like her," he called over his shoulder. "Yell if you need any help, assassin."
Lucanis groaned. This was going to be a long night.
~oOo~