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Neve watched Rook curiously as he sat on a ledge overlooking the Lighthouse grounds, a heavy tome on his lap. Next to him was an untidy stack of papers, and every so often he would scribble something down on one before returning to his book. As she drew close enough to catch sight of the lettering, she was surprised to discover it was in Old Tevene.
Something Neve hadn’t realized, until that moment, Rook even knew how to read. Though most Tevinter citizens were literate, Old Tevene was generally limited to the well-educated, generally only taught by private tutors or in well-funded centers of education. All things not many Soporati had access to.
Tevinter equality in action.
“You read Old Tevene?” She asked, unable to keep from prying. Rook could talk entertainingly for hours without revealing much about his life before he’d met any of them, Neve knew well. Even Harding didn’t seem to know much. He was an intriguing, and sometimes frustrating, mystery.
He started, almost falling off the ledge, but managed to steady himself. “Whew! Close one.” Rook grinned at her and gestured for her to join him. “Hey Neve.”
Neve chuckled and accepted his offer of company. “Hey Rook. What are you reading?”
“This old thing?” He asked, gesturing vaguely. “Nothing all that interesting.”
“Sure. Such as…?”
Rook didn’t seem put off by her persistence — to the contrary, his smile widened. “Ancient Tevinter battle manuals,” he said, closing it and offering the book to her.
“So I see,” Neve said, reading the title as she traced the inlay on the book’s leather cover with her thumbs. “What for?”
He shrugged and, now free of the need to hold his reading material, placed both hands behind him so he could recline a bit. “I just thought…well, Tevinter conquered Arlathan. At some point, we must have had tactics to counter the tactics the Elvhen were using. And —“
“And the Elvhen would have been using strategies created by the Evanuris,” she finished. This was the side of Rook most of them rarely saw first-hand. Still, she knew that whenever he wasn’t with them, he’d hide himself away. Studying. Strategizing. Preparing. That he’d been working didn’t surprise Neve, who suspected she kept a closer eye on him than most — for completely collegial reasons, of course — but she hadn’t quite realized the breadth and depth of that work until now.
“Exactly.” The pleased smile he gave her made Neve’s heart speed up in her chest, and an uncomfortably familiar warmth coursed through her.
She chose to ignore that, instead looking down at the book in her hands.
“You read Old Tevene?” she asked again, not letting him avoid the question through his usual conversational misdirection.
Rook chuckled and looked back out over the courtyard. “Not if I can avoid it,” he joked. “But I can get by.”
Neve carefully placed the book next to her, before leaning back on her own palms. “Where did you learn that?”
He looked at her for a moment with that same, earnest, soft expression he’d had in her office before he’d nearly coaxed her into what would probably have been a very enjoyable mistake.
But a mistake, nonetheless.
Neve’s heart pounded harder, her skin prickled and her chest felt tight with anticipation. She made herself look away. Easier to stay out of trouble when she wasn’t tempted by looking directly at its instigator.
“I went to school,” Rook answered, sounding mildly amused. She turned back towards him, arching an eyebrow. He chuckled, and looked out towards the wolf statue Solas had left. “My parents both served in the legions. My dad was an officer, a good one. So yep. Boring lessons on Old Tevene.”
Rook’s nonchalance with his coin finally made sense, and she made a mental note.
“Aren’t you full of surprises?” she teased. They sat in companionable silence for a minute before Neve observed, “you don’t talk much about before you met us all.”
One of Rook’s feet bounced slowly against the stone, and the muscles in his jaw tightened fractionally. He didn’t look at her. “I guess I don’t,” he conceded. “I’m not all that interesting.”
“Well, I know that’s not true,” Neve pushed back, the corner of her lips tipping up. Rook chuckled, and some of the tension she’d felt forming dissipated.
“Well, not now,” he agreed, sounding amused. “Now I’m a guy trying to stop elven gods with a team of the most skilled people in northern Thedas.”
Neve looked at him, really looked, and realized his expression had turned somewhat wistful. She slid closer and asked gently, “and back then?”
Rook turned his head to face her, and she heard his soft intake of breath as he realized her nearness. His eyes met hers, and for a moment Neve felt as though he was peering into her very soul. “I was just…a guy,” he finally answered. “I’m not all that special.”
“Rook—“
His soft smile stopped her. “And I don’t really want to be. I’m happy just…being a regular person while you all are incredible.”
Though she took notice of how unremarkably he saw himself — which was ridiculous — Neve decided to set that issue aside. For now. “Why?” she asked. “Didn’t ever want to be the hero, growing up?”
He laughed quietly. “Of course I did. Doesn’t every kid? But now…not really? I mean, I want to stop the gods, of course,” he explained. “I want to…save the world…”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Wow, that sounded cocky, even for me. But I don’t want to be the hero or anything.”
“Mmm,” Neve hummed in understanding. This was a side of Rook she’d never seen, and damned if he wasn’t drawing her in all the same. Some of the mystery he seemed to intentionally cultivate was destroyed, and it had been fun, but this…
The actual man might just be better.
“What changed?” She asked.
He shrugged a bit. “A lot of things. And I met the Inquisitor.” At her raised eyebrow, Rook smirked and leaned in conspiratorially. Neve’s stomach shook. “Tell me, Neve Gallus, do you know the Inquisitor’s name?”
It was a non-sequitur on its face, but Neve knew Rook. This was clearly going somewhere. “No,” she admitted. “I guess not. Why?”
He nodded, as though he’d expected her answer. “Yeah, I didn’t either. And even when I met him…Harding and Morrigan just call him Inquisitor. No one calls him by name. Seems like it’s been that way for him for a while.”
Neve supposed that made sense. Members of the Inquisition had, after all, answered to the man. Calling him by his title was probably habit; but Rook seemed perturbed as he looked back out over the grounds.
“Do you know his name?” She asked.
He nodded. “Apparently, he’s Lord Maxwell Trevelyan. Or he was. But now,” Rook let out a slow breath, “he’s become the Inquisitor. Whatever his life was before all that stuff in the South…I don’t think he’ll ever get that back. He’s not a person anymore. At least not to anyone else.”
Framed that way, Rook’s discomfort made far more sense. “He’s a symbol,” Neve realized aloud, “and you want to stay a person.”
He was silent for a long moment, unmoving other than the steady rise and fall of his chest. Finally, though, he laughed.
“Probably doesn’t matter. I’m not even the most impressive person at the Lighthouse,” he shook his head, smiling, as though dispelling the worry’s existence. “And absolutely no one in their right mind would think I was chosen by Andraste, the Maker, or any other god or gods.”
“No?” Neve teased, elbowing him gently.
“Not yet. I’ve got something in the works to get chosen by a goddess, but I’m still seeing how it turns out.” His tone was light, teasing, but the way he met her eyes wasn’t.
Neve hoped the flush she felt on her face wasn’t noticeable, and she swallowed as her heart stuttered in her chest. “You’re ridiculous,” she murmured.
“One of my better qualities,” Rook agreed, still watching her, expression earnest. It was the day in her office all over again, that same pull between them while they were separated by mere inches.
She cleared her throat and put a few more inches of space between them. He’s trouble. Don’t do something you won’t be able to take back.
“So—“ they both started at the same time. Rook snorted as Neve laughed.
“So,” she said, “what is your name?”
She held up a finger as he opened his mouth. “Your proper name. Praenomen too. People have names.”
For a long minute he just looked at her — she wondered what he saw — before smiling softly. “Micah Mercar. But let’s keep that under wraps.”
“Mmm,” Neve hummed in understanding. Mercar might not be a rare name, but Micah was an extremely unusual praenomen for a man in Tevinter. It would be too easy to connect “Rook”, and his spreading reputation, to the person he actually was. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
He was visibly relieved. “I knew I could trust you.”
That vulnerable earnestness was back, and Neve fought the urge to touch him. Instead, she reached over to pick up his book, handing it to him before she stood.
“Enjoy your studies…Micah Mercar.”
His eyes swept over her from head to toe, and she couldn’t help smirking before turning and walking away.
Behind her she heard him mutter, “Once I can pay attention to them, sure.”