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His hands won’t stop shaking.
This happened because you disrupted my ritual!
Neve is gone. Elgar’nan took her.
I was not trying to destroy the world!
Harding was dead. His hands are still shaking. He couldn’t stop seeing Ghilan'nain stab her. Over. And over. And over.
I absolutely abhor the use of blood magic!
Varric was dead.
He’s been dead the whole time. All of those talks in the infirmary. All of the advice. All of his moments of weakness . The tears he shed were only consoled by the comfort of a man who was never there .
“Rook? Are you alright?”
Rook is back in the Lighthouse. His hands are still shaking and his heart is racing. Lucanis is staring at him, concern etched into his face. The others have gone. He remembers talking, getting briefed on what happened while he was stuck in the Fade prison.
Two weeks .
It seemed surreal, but he’d known that time worked differently in the Fade. He remembers telling the others how proud he was of them, and telling them to get ready for what may be the end of their lives.
He prays to any god willing to listen that he was convincing.
“I can’t afford not to be.”
Lucanis looks hurt, he reaches out for Rook’s hands. He’s still fucking shaking .
“I will wait for you in your room. Come to me when you’re ready.”
Lucanis pulls him close, pressing his lips to Rook’s forehead before turning and heading upstairs. Rook stays in place for what feels like eternity. He took a deep breath. He needed to check on the team, he needed to be strong for them. He goes to leave the library, his entire being screaming at him to go to his room and collapse in Lucanis’ arms. But he can’t. The others are hurting, they’re all grieving over the fresh loss of two of their friends.
Rook needs to be their rock.
--
He goes to Bellara first.
She’s curled up on the cot she’d shoved into the corner of the workshop days after she joined them. She tells him about the dagger, saying that she and Emmrich were poured over one of her desks for days trying to make one. Lucanis, Taash, and Davrin weren’t able to help much so they focused on keeping up contacts with their respective organizations and pulling the mages away from their project long enough to eat and sleep. She tells him about the silence, how none of them knew what to say, what to do when they’d found their way back to the Lighthouse. Everyone had gone their separate ways, room doors slamming shut and then nothing. Their family had been broken and beaten, one dead and two missing.
At least now there was only one missing.
She talked and talked until her throat had gone dry and tears were streaming down her face. Rook pulls her in for a hug, letting her cling to him as sobs rack through her.
“She was like a sister to me. I just lost Cyrian again! It’s not fair! It’s not right!”
He doesn’t know what to say. He holds her tight and rocks her gently. Slowly she calms down, sobs trickling down to soft whimpers. She thanks him and he feels awful. He doesn’t have the words to make this better so he just smiles at her and tucks a stray hair behind her ear. She asks for privacy to prepare herself for their last fight and he leaves.
--
Davrin is sitting in front of his fireplace when Rook goes to see him.
Asaan is pushing his head against the man’s leg, cooing to get his attention. Davrin is ignoring him, hands balled into fists on his thighs. He’s sitting stock still and it’s scaring the griffon. From where he’s standing, Rook can’t see the other Warden’s face but he knows the expression is grim.
“Asaan, come here.”
The griffon looks over at Rook and slowly makes his way over to the other Warden. His head is hanging and he barely responds when Rook pets him. They exist in silence for a while, Asaan constantly looking back to see if Davrin will come for him. Rook tries to reassure Assan that things will be okay, but the griffon is smart. He knows a lie when he hears one.
“I always thought that when I died, I would be doing it alone.” Davrin says suddenly. Asaan squawks happily and runs over to him. The griffon hops around the man, nudging him until Davrin finally gives in and scratches his head. Asaan lets out a pleased shriek and sits at the man’s side.
“It took so much to kill Ghilan’nain. We lost too much.”
Rook walks over and goes to kneel next to him. Davrin turns to him, eyes soft and clouded with unshed tears.
“I thought after what happened at Weishaupt, I would be okay. Warden’s know the risk. But they aren’t like us, Rook. They shouldn’t have to die for this. It should have been me-”
“Don’t.” Rook’s voice cracks and Davrin turns his gaze back to the fire. They sit in silence for a while before Rook stands up to leave, squeezing Davrin’s shoulder on his way out.
--
He hates how cold Neve’s office feels.
The wisps are still there, but it’s obvious there’s something different about them. He’s not a mage so he’s not completely sure, but he thinks the wisps might be sad that Neve’s not there.
He looks at the wall behind her desk, covered nearly to the ceiling with notes, photos, and red strings. He walks closer, looking at each item carefully before he sees a note separate from the rest.
There’s a whisper in this wall. I’ve got my eye on it.
Rook lets a sad smile grace his lips as he looks at the line beneath it.
Update: Still watching this. Has it moved over an inch?
The wisps chirp around him, floating closer to the wall. He closes his eyes and for the first time in his life, calls out to the Maker and begs that he keep Neve safe.
--
Elfroot! Take one!
Emmrich says this one is poisonous. DO NOT EAT!
Can be eaten, but tastes like soap
Rook is surprised that he can’t stop laughing. Almost all of the plants, flowers, and foliage in the room have little notes describing what they are (if she knew their name) and what they taste like or remind her of. He hadn’t known she’d had such a silly side to her. It’s not until he’s looking around her room, flipping through her missives, that he realizes that he didn’t know her very well. They’d gotten closer after the whole ‘first dwarf to ever use magic’ situation, but they rarely ever sat down to just talk .
He sat on the ground, thumbing through her correspondences, taking in her words on the pages. He thought he’d have more time. He was always focused on the after and never on the now. And now, after is here and Lace is gone.
Andraste’s Grace, The Divine’s favorite
Jasmine, FOR TAASH ONLY!
Rook paused for a moment before leaning in and taking a sniff of the white flowers. The smell reminded him of Taash’s hair oil. He remembers Lace asking Taash about it, the Quanri had been given the oil from their mother, said something about how Shathann made it at home and used it for her own hair too.
He plucked one flower and held it gently as he made his way back into the Library.
--
Taash is kneeling in front of the altar they made for their mother.
When Rook gets closer, he can see that Taash is holding onto a bow string. He remembers a conversation they had weeks ago, when Taash first decided they wanted to court Harding. A gift that shows you appreciate her skills . Rook remembers walking in when Taash was able to give it to her. Harding’s face lit up, her smile blinding. Taash had smiled back, the widest Rook had ever seen from them. And here they were now, mourning a love they had barely gotten to start.
He places the flower next to their mother’s broken horn piece. Taash still hadn’t decided what they were going to do with it.
“Whatever it takes.”
Taash turns to face him. There is nothing but anger in their eyes.
“We’re gonna do whatever it takes to kill that fucker Elgar’nan.”
“We are.”
“Solas too. He’s not gonna get away with hurting you.”
Rook says nothing to that. They hold each other’s gazes for a moment, understanding flowing between them. They can’t get revenge on Ghilan'nain for killing Harding, that victory was taken by Lucanis. But they still have a chance to get it for Neve and for Rook. Taash has never been good with words, but they’re unmatched when it comes to showing their love through action.
Taash turns back to the altar and lowers their head. They’re muttering something that sounds like Qunlat, possibly a prayer. Rook leaves to give them privacy. If they wanted him to stay, they would have asked.
--
Emmrich is at his desk, head in his hands when Rook walks in.
The older man startles, quickly rubbing at his eyes. Rook says nothing, simply walking over to place a hand on his shoulder. The two of them aren’t the closest, but they’ve always enjoyed each other’s company. After Emmrich took Rook to visit his parent’s graves, it was like a new bond was formed. The Warden couldn’t explain it and never felt the need to.
“It’s strange,” Emmrich says, placing his hand atop Rook’s. “I’ve feared death for as long as I can remember, but it has never felt like this. Harding and Neve were wonderful . This adventure has given me so many new friends. So many new places to explore.”
Emmrich looks up at him, a somber smile stretching his lips.
“I fear that death is not what I fear most now. It is surviving this. If we lose anyone else, I’m not sure what I’ll-” A choked sob interrupts him. The professor turns away, cradling his face in his hands once more. Rook gently rubs his back as he softly weeps. The telltale clacking of bones draws Rook’s attention to the staircase. Manfred is slowly making his way down, gloved boney fingers twiddling in front of him.
“ Sad. ” The wisp hisses. Rook nods and Manfred runs to his mentor’s side. Another hand joins Rook’s as they console the crying man. It takes a while for Emmrich to stop crying, apologizing profusely when he does. Rook tells him it’s fine, they need to grieve while they have the chance. Emmrich ushers him out of the room after a while, encouraging him to get some rest before they have to leave.
Rook has one more stop before he can even think about doing that.
--
Rook had almost forgotten that Lucanis was waiting for him.
“I thought I’d never see you again.”
Lucanis rushes to him, wrapping him in a tight hug. Rook wraps his arms around the other man just as tight. All of the emotions he’s feeling, that he’s been feeling, come flooding out. He cries for the first time in months. He cries for Harding, for her sacrifice. He cries for Neve, she’d given him her trust over and over and he kept failing her. He cries for the team, for putting them in this position. He cries for Varric, for not properly grieving him when he died. He cries for so long that Lucanis’ vest has a large, visible stain on it. At some point they moved to the couch, Lucanis holding Rook in his lap.
“I’m sorry.” Rook mutters, face still pressed into Lucanis’ chest.
“For what?”
“I’m supposed to keep it together. I’m the leader, I can’t afford to break down now-”
“Kerwin.”
Rook pushes himself up to look at Lucanis’ face. It’s been so long since anyone has said his name, his real name. The other man’s features are softened. Ever since he and Spite had come to an agreement, the dark circles under his eyes have become less pronounced. He looks less haggard, less stressed now that he doesn’t have to constantly worry about being a danger to everyone.
He’s so beautiful.
“You don’t need to be strong right now. Not here, not with me.” Lucanis places a tender kiss on his forehead, pressing his own against it afterward. “You are not okay, and that is okay.”
Rook has no words. He stares into the other man’s eyes, searching for something. He’s not quite sure what. There are so many things Rook wants to say, so many emotions running through him. For now, he simply reaches up to cup Lucanis’ cheek in his hand. He presses their lips together and hopes that it’s enough. That he’s enough. The kiss grows hungrier, both men allowing the yearning they’ve felt for weeks to break the surface. Lucanis presses him against the couch, wings stretching out to cloak them in a purple hued darkness.
In a few hours they will be in Minrathous, fighting an ancient, tyrant, would-be god. For now, they take refuge in each other. They say all of the words they’d been keeping at bay, give in to the lust they’ve been dancing around weeks. For now they are not a Grey Warden or an Antivan Crow.
For now they are just Kerwin and Lucanis.