Archive of Our Own

Dawn:

- Exercises

- Breakfast

Mid-morning:

- Weapon maintenance

- Inventory

Midday:

- Meeting with Neve and Harding (Solas and blighted gods)

- Midday meal

Late afternoon:

- Exercises

- Meeting with Bellara (Lighthouse and eluvians)

Evening:

- Supper preparations

- Correspondence with Crows

Nearing midnight:

- Study

Every hour seems accounted for, but it is difficult to know for certain. There was no day or night in the Ossuary. Now, at this Lighthouse, the sky offers little hint to the true time in the world.

Lucanis Dellamorte has known many people. Killed more than he has known. Observed more than he has killed. But Rook might very well be the simple most confounding woman he has ever encountered.

She is an elven Tevinter mage who wears vallaslin and fights against the tyranny of the Imperium. She is skilled with a dagger, but prone to making things explode. She slaughters Venatori with grim delight, and stops to pet every damn cat or dog they pass in the streets. She all but calls the First Warden of the Grey Wardens an asshole to his face, but blushes deep crimson every time Neve even subtly compliments her in battle.

She is petite, barely taller than dwarves, but she carries herself like she is a Titan.

She is a mess of contradictions, overflowing with ferocity and kindness in equal measure.

And Spite… Spite is obsessed with her, as enthralled by her sharp edges as Lucanis is by her gentleness.

Lucanis finds himself drawn to her presence, even if he has no earthly idea how to speak to her. Luckily for him, she frequents the kitchen alongside Bellara, eager to learn Dalish recipes she never got the chance to make in Minrathous. Those few hours often end with her stealing any leftover coffee Lucanis has brewed.

He wonders if she's noticed that he always just makes enough for two now.

It shouldn't matter to him whether she notices or not.

She's a regular enough presence in the kitchen that he clocks her absence one night, when Bellara and Neve are trying their hands at a Tevinter dessert recipe. It has Rook written all over it, but as the evening goes on, she is nowhere to be found.

He brews his usual double serving of coffee as Bellara and Neve finish off their baking, and hopes they don't pay him too much mind as he takes his mug and Rook's favorite mug and wanders out of the kitchen. Knowing her, if she's not in the kitchen, she is probably in the library.

He is rewarded for his efforts by the sight of her, eyes half-closed, staring at an ancient elven scroll she found in the Crossroads that day. Without having spotted him, she looks more stressed than she normally allows herself to look in front of any of them. How many times has she retreated here without any of them noticing?

He finally clears his throat to announce his presence.

"You look tired."

Rook glances up from the ancient scroll and smiles when she sees the steaming mugs of coffee in his hands.

"I believe we have a case of the pot calling the kettle black," she replies sardonically, eyeing the dark circles under his own eyes.

Lucanis' lips curl into a wry smile, and he sets her mug of coffee down in front of her before taking a seat across the table.

"You spend too much time with Neve," he says. "Case this, case that."

"Well, the evidence speaks for itself," Rook says with a wink. Lucanis rolls his eyes, but he's still smiling. He doesn't know if he's ever smiled this much around anyone before. "Thanks for the coffee."

Lucanis inclines his head, acknowledging her thanks. "What's keeping you awake? I think the only other ones up are Bellara and Neve"

She blinks innocently. "I don't want my inner demon to walk me to Minrathous?" Lucanis doesn't waver. "Oh, fine. I had a nightmare. They're usually worse after we fight demons."

"What was the nightmare?" he asks.

Rook glances down at the scroll, looking sheepish. "You don't have to-"

"I know," Lucanis interrupts. "But it's just you and I here right now, and you are a better conversationalist than Spite."

"Girls love it when they're settled for," Rook quips.

"I'm not settling-" Lucanis begins hastily, but Rook can't contain her snicker. He narrows his eyes at her. "You still haven't told me about the nightmare."

"Nothing special," Rook sighs, giving up on her deflection. "Just reliving my greatest failures. Very Dread Wolf of me, I know."

Lucanis purses his lips. "Do you think it's his doing?"

"No," she says. "No, I've had these dreams for longer than I've been pursuing Solas. I've got this obsession with not letting people down, you see."

"Understandable."

Rook pokes at the scroll. "I don't know what I expected when Varric asked me to join his team. I knew it was big and all, but it was his mission, you know? I was just along for the ride. And it was nice. I adore the Shadow Dragons, but there's a lot of pressure when you're fighting for an ideal as impossible as a better Minrathous. I was good, but no Neve."

"And now?"

"Now… I'm in charge," she says, shaking her head. "And I'm scared."

"Fighting gods warrants some fear," he offers.

"I promised the Crows that I would return you in one piece," she says. "It's not just the mission… it's the team. Varric always said that the people around us are as important as what we do. And… I really like you all. I want to be good for you."

"You think you're not?"

She sighs. "I know you're here because of your contract and the debt," she says softly. "But I also want you to… I don't know, be happy here? Content, maybe? You've been through so much."

Lucanis stares at her for a long time. Her sincerity is as disarming as it is baffling. In the Crows, it's a game of shadows and half-truths, even amongst friends and family. With this woman, he'd be more surprised to catch her in a lie. Her dark brown eyes watch him apprehensively, and he realizes with a start that she truly does care that he wants to be here.

"I have worked many contracts in my career," he says, struggling to find the right words. "This one is unique. Not because of the gods, but because of you."

"Me?" she asks, as if he's setting up a joke. But he says nothing more, just watches her. She seems to be struggling for words as much as him. "I suppose it's not every day you join a bunch of would-be god-killers led by someone who's supposed to be second-in-command."

"No," he allows. "But it's also not every day you join a group that knows you are an abomination and doesn't instantly want to kill you."

"No, the desire to murder comes with time," Rook says. Lucanis chuckles. "Gods, was that a laugh? Did I make the Demon of Vyrantium laugh?"

"I laugh plenty," he says stiffly, but her enthusiasm is too infectious for him to hide his smile for long. He takes a drink of coffee to hide it. "Not all of my employers can say they have made me smile, let alone laugh."

She raises her mug and clinks it against his.

"I can promise you this much," she says. "You'll never be bored with me."

He believes her.

Dawn:

- Exercises

- Brew coffee

Mid-morning:

- Weapon maintenance

- Mission prep with Rook

Midday:

- Travel to Arlathan Forest

- Midday meal

Late afternoon:

- Exercises

- Meeting with Harding (Debriefing on Inquisition activities)

Evening:

- Supper preparations

- Meeting with Rook (Evanuris)

Nearing midnight:

- Study

Lucanis brings Rook with him to Treviso to meet with Illario, and decides to do some shopping while they wait for him to arrive at the rendezvous point. Bellara tags along, but quickly disappears when they pass a stand with antique items and books, and says she can meet them back at the Eluvian.

Rook is oddly silent as she follows him through the markets, and Lucanis wonders if she'd brought Bellara along as a buffer. He realizes, with a start, that they haven't spent much time alone together aside from their late-night coffee rendezvous in the library.

But whatever worries he may have about her comfort with him melt away as he sinks back into the thrum and rhythm of his beloved city. His ease must rub off on Rook, whose pensive expression gives way to open curiosity as they pass by different stalls. Without saying anything, Lucanis guides her to a vegetable stand.

Rook immediately picks up a braid of garlic, and Lucanis smiles as she examines it with interest. He knows she's a decent enough cook, good enough that Bellara shows up to dinner on her nights preparing supper. But he also knows that she, more often than not, will substitute random snacks grabbed from food stalls during the day for actual meals.

"Do you like how it looks or do you have a recipe in mind?" he asks.

"Why not both?" she asks. "Unless you have a recipe in mind."

"Several," he says, smirking. "You will enjoy them all." He takes the braid from her hand and adds it to a small basket the merchant hands to him. He picks up a few potatoes and onions, and some bushels of greens before paying the merchant and moving on to the nearby fish stand. He can see her clocking each item he takes, ever the observer. He's willing to bet she's trying to piece together a recipe in her head,

"Bellara mentioned a Dalish seafood recipe she wants to make," he explains while the Qunari merchant wraps up his order.

"The Demon of Vyrantium is grocery shopping for the team?" she teases.

"Have you seen what they eat?" he asks blithely. "It's a miracle you didn't all starve before you hired me."

"I can cook!" Rook says. Lucanis arches an eyebrow.

"Can and do are two very different words, cosita."

She'll KNOW.

Spite immediately cackles, and Lucanis curses internally. He's been thinking of her by that name in his head for a while now, but he's never actually called her by the endearment out loud.

But instead of looking upset, Rook tilts her head curiously. "What does that mean?" she asks. She must think him mad. Or worse, patronizing.

"My apologies," he says right away. "I don't know why that slipped out."

"It's nothing insulting, is it?" she teases.

"No, no, it simply means 'little' in Antivan. Viago used to call me something similar when we were younger."

It had made him blush, back then. Attention from Viago was like a prize, rare and treasured. Lucanis highly doubts Rook is as desperate for attention as he had been in his younger days.

Rook laughs. "Oh, is that all? I don't mind that," she says. "I can barely clear dwarves. I get it. We have a similar word in Elven: da'len. I have been called that my whole life." She peers at him. "So you've been calling me this little name in your head for how long, exactly?"

Lucanis says nothing, but he's still smiling as he guides her along to their next stop. She does not hate the name. She does not hate him. More than that, she seems to like the nickname. The air between them hums with warmth, something new and easy, as he comes to a stop in front of a fruit stand.

"Fresh fruit," he says, pleased. Rook tosses him an orange. "Neve only eats fried fish. You'd think a detective would have discovered scurvy by now."

"Gods," Rook laughs. "I thought the face you made when I made fried fish last week was distaste, but you were just concerned about our health!"

"No, not at all," Lucanis says, ducking his head. "Your fried fish is good. I reserve my distaste for Harding's stews."

"I think my fried fish is excellent," Rook huffs, picking up an apple. "Though I do suppose my side of fried potatoes doesn't exactly cover the spectrum of nutrition."

"Call me in next time," Lucanis suggests. "You can fry your fish, and I can ensure there's enough vegetables that you all don't drop to the ground your next mission out."

Rook perks up. "So I'm still in the rotation?"

"I never kicked you out of it."

"So you do like my cooking?"

Lucanis leans forward, lowering his voice. "Yes, Rook. I enjoy your cooking." He doesn't know why he does it, but Rook's eyes flutter in that effortless, charming way that she has about her, and he feels a little drunk off the way he's affected her. He leans back, reaching for his pack to find some coin to pay the merchant with.

Rook beams as he pays the merchant, unfazed by the broken moment. "Is that everything on the list, Master Chef?" she asks. Lucanis rolls his eyes at the nickname.

"Yes," he replies. "And Illario should be here by now. Let's go before he gets himself into trouble."

Rook nods, and follows him away from the fruit stand.

"Out of curiosity," she pipes up, "How much trouble can Illario get himself into at a coffee shop?"

"You've met him," Lucanis says. "What do you think?"

"Fair," she allows with a chuckle, but her voice sounds farther away than he expects it to be. He turns, and sees she's stopped in front of the arms merchant's stand. She's paying the merchant and turning around by the time he doubles back to her.

"You can't buy something for everyone but yourself," she scolds with a small smile. "Here, this is for you."

She holds out a small, barely wrapped package, but Lucanis knows the shape right away. He takes it from her with care, and cannot hide the wonder from his voice as he asks, "A wyvern-tooth dagger?"

How could she possibly have known?

"I loved wyverns as a boy," he explains to her, forgetting all veneers of professionalism in his excitement. "Caterina would never let me have one of these, though."

Rook bites down on her bottom lip, shoulders shaking a little.

"What?" he asks.

"Please don't take this the wrong way," she says, smiling, "-but that was one of the cutest things I have ever heard."

Lucanis does not remember the last time someone called him cute.

"Thank you," he says to her. "This gift… I do not remember the last time I was pleasantly surprised like this. Certainly not since the Ossuary."

Her smile softens.

"You're welcome." She hesitates, and then adds, "Do any other Crows know that you're secretly adorable?"

He snorts, shaking his head. "You might be the first to notice."

He takes a shortcut to Cafe Pietra, one that he knows has a lot of feral cats on the path. As expected, Rook stops to pet each and every one. They are now certainly late to meet Illario, but Lucanis can't bring himself to care.

For perhaps the first time in over a year, after weeks upon weeks of agony and regret, he is enjoying himself. He'd like to hold onto the feeling as long as he can.

Dawn:

- Exercises

- Breakfast

Mid-morning:

- Weapon maintenance

- Meeting with Neve, Harding, and Bellara (possible movement from gods)

Midday:

- Midday meal

- Search library

Late after— (the handwriting abruptly alters:)

a PEACEcut from the ALLgolden stranded weavesPROTECTION CAGEkeep them OUTkeep me IN

(Drawn below is a decagonal diagram of perfectly even, intersecting geometric lines.)

She is holding a mug of his coffee, sipping on it with an amused smile on her face as she sits beside Neve while Bellara cooks. Lucanis has settled on the opposite end of the table. The ladies don't appear to mind his presence while they gossip about a god.

Neve told him recently that Rook is what you get when you find the midpoint between her and Bellara. Lucanis thinks she was absolutely right. Their leader is caught right between Neve's pragmatism and Bellara's kindness. She always has a joke to offer, but hers come with a bit of an edge.

"I just don't understand it," Rook is saying to Neve, animated and eager as she always is in the other mage's presence. "Solas is the most patronizing man I have ever met, and I've met Magisters! How in the world could someone as…" she gestures wildly, "… you know, as the Inquisitor fall in love with the guy?"

"You don't know her," Neve points out with a bemused smile. "Perhaps she's into that sort of thing."

"He probably acted more normal when he knew her too," Bellara interjects. "S'not like he can really say as much when she doesn't know he's a rebel god."

Rook sighs, shaking her head.

"I guess I can't blame her," she admits. "A lifeline when the world is drowning you… I understand the allure."

Neve's face softens in a way Lucanis has rarely seen from her. Rook has that effect on people. He should know.

"You have us," she points out.

Rook smiles at her. "Yes, but it's not like I can spoon you when I have a bad dream."

Neve makes a show of considering the idea, and Rook sputters a bit, taking a hard swallow of her coffee. Lucanis stares hard at the table, freezing his mind in place before it can wander into thoughts that could be dangerous. He glances up to see Neve eyeing him with the faintest hint of a smirk on her lips.

Touch. She wants it. YOU want HER. TOUCH HER.

He says nothing. Spite retreats back into his mind, petulant.

"You're just mean," Rook says to Neve.

"Not my fault if you have a thing for Shadow Dragons," Neve says haughtily. "Just be glad I never told Ashur how dashing you found him in your greener days."

Rook groans dramatically, but it's offset by her laughter. "I should never open up to you again."

"Who is Ashur?" Lucanis blurts before he can think better of the question. Rook looks at him in surprise, as if she'd almost forgotten about his presence.

"You've met him," Neve says with a smirk. "He's The Viper."

Lucanis knows exactly who Neve is talking about. The large, slightly stiff, entirely serious heart and soul of the Shadow Dragons, with intense eyes and hidden face that still, somehow, reads as handsome.

Funny, he'd rather liked him just a moment ago.

"Teia will be disappointed," he says as diplomatically as he can. Rook snorts.

"Teia is about as emotionally available as Ashur is," she says with an eye roll. "Unless my name was Viago, which it's not."

She's not wrong. Teia really only flirts with Rook to mess with Lucanis and Viago both. But Lucanis can't exactly inform Rook of that without having to explain why someone flirting with Rook bothers him. At least with Illario his disapproval can be because Illario is an idiot.

Also, when Illario had tried kissing her hand, she had gently slapped his cheek and rolled her eyes before backing up to stand closer to Lucanis.

Little wins.

"Look at you, Rook," Neve chuckles. "Breaking hearts left and right."

"Oh please," Rook snorts. "I'm personable, not a casanova." She downs the rest of her coffee. "Alright, I owe Harding a trip to Arlathan Forest to play with her new powers before the day is up."

Bellara brightens. "Oh, could I come with?" she asks, excited, before glancing over at Lucanis. "It only needs to simmer on low flame until we're ready to eat."

"I can keep an eye on it, I don't mind," Lucanis says. If Rook is in his proximity for too much longer, he might lose his sense of control and say something stupid. "Go."

"Thanks, Lucanis!" Bellara says with a grin. "Just give me a bit to grab my things," she says to Rook.

"I'll meet you at the Eluvian," Rook says with a smile. She turns to Neve. "I still owe you a game of Wicked Grace."

"Pick up whatever goes for wine from the Veil Jumpers," Neve says with a wink. "I'll show you how the Dock Town girls get it done."

Rook rolls her eyes and then glances over at Lucanis.

"Sorry for stealing the cook on your night off," she says. Lucanis shrugs, attempting to ignore the speeding up of his heartbeat under her gaze. Gods, what has he become? A few weeks in this woman's company and he's reduced to mush with a mere look.

"This just ensures I can season our meal properly. Think nothing of it, cosita."

Rook grins at him, and then turns on her heel and departs. After taking a few steadying breaths, Lucanis decides to check on the simmering strew. As he rummages for a tasting spoon, he hears Neve draw closer.

"What was that you called her?" she asks.

"Cosita?" Lucanis replies. Neve hums in affirmation. "Antivan for little. She knows what it means."

"You have pet names?"

Yes. We are Rook's FAVORITE.

Lucanis sighs. Sometimes Spite feels more like a petulant toddler than a demon.

"Not like that. She just finds it amusing, so I continue to call her that." He hears the rustle of fabric signifying Neve crossing her arms. She does that when she's about to judge him.

"She likes you, you know," she drawls.

"Who?" Lucanis asks, eyes on the food.

He can almost hear her rolling her eyes. "Rook. You know, the woman we've been talking about this entire time. The only woman we ever talk about."

Lucanis turns, setting the lid on top of the pot. "Rook and I get along perfectly well," he says casually. "We're friends. And as you know, she can win over anyone. It is nothing unique."

Neve does not need to know that she and Rook might be the first people outside his immediate family he has ever considered friends.

"Of course," Neve says. "So all of that talk about coffee and first kisses in Treviso… perfectly platonic, right?"

"She told you about that?" Lucanis asks before he can remember himself.

She TALKS. She WANTS. You WANT.

Neve smirks. "She tells me everything." Lucanis can feel laughter bubbling in the back of his mind from Spite. "You could do a lot worse than her, you know."

"I'm not doing anything," Lucanis snaps.

"Or anyone?" Neve challenges. "Let me amend my statement: it would be hard for you to do better than Rook. But you know that."

Lucanis sighs.

Neve has mercy on him, patting him on the shoulder consolingly.

"Be kind to yourself," she says softly. "And to her. She is the best of us."

Lucanis thinks of Rook, lounging in the corner of the kitchen, humming softly to herself while reading a serial, hair haphazardly pulled over one shoulder. Watching her, existing in silence at her perimeter, is the closest Lucanis has felt to peace since he had a demon forced inside his mind.

"I know."

Rook

-Shadow Dragon (not as well-known as Neve, but in good standing with leaders Tarquin and Viper)

-Not Dalish, despite vallaslin. Says it represents goddess Mythal. Does not subscribe to that worship anymore, for obvious reasons.

-Recruited by Varric Tethras after disrupting slavery ring (Ask Teia if Crows have any records of her operations in Minrathous)

-Adopted into military family at young age. Basic knowledge of weapons.

-Circle-trained mage, fights like a Crow (how to ask her about it?)

-Enjoys dark roast coffee, brewed strong. Does not drink it after late evening. No sugar.

It's late — or at least, Lucanis believes it is late — when he is spurred from his thoughts by a soft, melodic voice wafting into his pantry space from the kitchen. He does not recognize the tune, but he finds himself wandering to the door and creaking it open. He half-expects it to be Bellara, but instead he finds Rook setting the table. He must have stayed up the night, then, if she is preparing for breakfast.

"Domna miri solia, si da alli- domna miri solia,si re da mi," she sings softly, her voice echoing quietly in the empty room, backed only by the crackle of the fireplace. With the door open and her words clearer, Lucanis recognizes the lyrics as Tevene — a song adopted as a battle cry during the Mage Rebellions. Of course she sings resistance hymns to herself.

"I did not know you sang," he comments, not wanting to lurk without her knowledge. She turns in surprise, but does not look all too embarrassed.

"I used to sing in nightclubs to eavesdrop on Magisters for the Shadow Dragon," she says with a grin. "They tipped very well. My favorite part was giving their gold to their slaves when I freed them."

Lucanis cannot help but smile at her enthusiasm.

"You have a beautiful voice," he remarks, because it is true. Her eyes brighten and she offers him a wide smile as he makes his way to his stash of coffee.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," she says. "I was trying not to be too loud, but sometimes I forget myself."

"I have been known to forget myself on occasion," Lucanis deadpans. "I cannot judge." She snorts at his joke.

Sweet smell. Sweet words. She WANTS. You WANT.

Lucanis clenches his hands into fists.

"Ma serannas, by the way," Rook says at length. "For the compliment."

He wonders, sometimes, how hard she had to work for a scrap of praise from the Shadow Dragons. He has noticed how she preens whenever someone compliments her, as if it is a rare gift. He wishes he still found joy so easily.

"Do not think you have to stop singing on my account," he says, focusing his gaze on preparing his coffee and not her. He can feel her hesitation in the way the silence between them stretches, but finally she begins to sing again, a little louder this time. He pours himself his coffee, and then pours hers. He hands the mug over to her, and she accepts it with a knowing smile.

So. She is onto him.

She would have been a natural in the Crows. She certainly fights like one, with her dagger in hand and orb swirling around her. But more than that, he thinks she would have been good for everyone else. He's already seen how easily she won over Viago and Teia. Even Illario seemed a little smitten with her, though he would probably flirt with a brick if the opportunity arose. A lifetime with his family… Caterina would have taken her under her wing in a heartbeat. Sure, she's open and vibrant in a way that is often discouraged for assassins, but she's clever. She knows how to work a crowd and how to manipulate people in power.

Perhaps he would have met her when they were younger, without the weight of the world on their shoulders. He would have taken her to Cafe Pietra, known her favorite coffee since their youth.

He can feel Spite crawling at the edges of his mind, laughing at him. The unflappable Lucanis Dellamorte, daydreaming about a woman he barely knows. But the longer he knows her, the more he cannot help but think of her. Her hair is the same rich, warm brown as his favorite roast of coffee. Her dark eyes, always twinkling with mischief or determination, always observing. The swirl of her tattoos, twisting into her linen blouse.

You WANT. YOU WANT.

Enough, he thinks harshly. She is not the job.

"I don't know how you manage to make coffee taste this good without anything to sweeten it," Rook comments, drawing him from his thoughts.

"You're used to coffee made by Neve," he says, waving the compliment aside.

"Which is… wrong?" Rook asks, still smiling at him.

"She makes burned coffee bean juice," he says, finding himself feeling warm under her gaze. "I make something that is a full-body experience."

"Oh, do you now?" Rook says with a grin. "Do you offer any other full-body experiences?"

He knows she's teasing him. It's something he's terribly unaccustomed to. Aside from his immediate family, none of the Crows dared try to prod at him this way. But nobody is immune from Rook's barbs, especially her team.

"Several," he finds himself lobbing right back to her. "Demonic possession, several variations on murder…"

She purses her lips, takes a sip of her coffee. "Hm. That all sounds significantly less fun than coffee."

"Makes you wonder where I got my reputation as being the most fun Crow in Antiva."

Rook snorts. "See, Lucanis, you say things like that and I begin to wonder how hard you have to try to hide the fact that you're hilarious."

"It's a burden," he says blandly.

She stares at him for a long time, and his long-practiced composure is the only thing that keeps him from twitching. He wonders what she notices about him, what small details she logs away in that clever mind of hers.

"I like you," she declares. "I feel like you don't hear that enough."

He blinks, caught off guard.

"Why would you say that?"

She arches a brow. "Because of how you're twitching."

"I do not twitch."

"Then it's Spite."

"No," he says, sounding more snappish than he intends, and he winces. Rook looks unfazed, bordering on smug.

She LIKES. Likes you. Likes US. TOUCH HER.

"I get it, you know," she says, voice softening. "When Varric found me… I was pretty bitter. Mission-focused. I had no idea what to do when he gave me my nickname and then started telling me how impressive I was. I'd always known how to work in a group… but not a team, you know?"

He watches her, so sincere and so spot-on. How does she do it?

"I think we all owe ourselves some more grace," she muses. "Varric showed me how to find it in myself and others. And part of that is telling good people that they are good people."

"I doubt he had abominations in mind."

She rolls her eyes. "Then you obviously haven't done enough research on his history." She leans closer, her brown hair falling over her shoulders.

"Rook," he says, voice faltering. She quirks her head to the side in that way she has, waiting patiently for the words he cannot seem to form right. "If I could…" he starts, then halts. "I want…" She says nothing as he struggles, expression unchanging, so forgiving of his confusion. He sighs, choosing the coward's way out. "Forgive me. I'm not certain what I wish to say."

Her expression is heartbreakingly kind as she backs away.

"There is nothing to forgive," she says softly. "If you ever wish to finish those thoughts, you know where to find me."

Dawn:

- Exercises

- Coffee with Rook (Ask about what she needs to cook supper)

Mid-morning:

- Weapon maintenance

- Meeting with Bellara (Update on artifacts)

Midday:

- Reading

- Midday meal

Late afternoon:

- Exercises

- Check library for information on Solas

Evening:

- Supper preparations with Rook (make sure she prepares vegetables, somehow)

Nearing midnight:

- Study

Once more, the day appears accounted for. Tomorrow, should make early preparations for supper: Bellara and Rook will be traveling to meet with Grey Wardens and will not be back in time to cook.

It's the sound of crying that wakes Lucanis from his fitful sleep. Spite, for once, is dead silent. But outside, in the kitchen, he hears the muffled sound of weeping, and his heart stutters in his chest.

It's Rook.

He hesitates, and then rises from his cot, creeping towards the door. He does not wish to invade her privacy, but he also does not want to leave her alone if she is in pain. He pauses when he hears the sound of another pair of feet padding across the kitchen and then a gentle thud as a pot is set down on the table.

"You should eat," he hears Bellara say softly. Her voice is unbearably gentle.

"I can't," Rook replies, breathing unsteady. "I doomed my home to the Venatori, Bellara. Neve hates me now – and she should."

"She does not hate you," Bellara insists.

"Hm," Rook murmurs, voice cracking. "Maybe it's just me then." Lucanis hears Bellara making Rook a bowl — he can smell the scent, it's a seafood chowder Rook is fond of. He and Bellara both learned how to make it at Neve's request. "I thought the Shadow Dragons would be okay, I thought… I didn't think I would be the difference."

"We know that," Bellara says.

"They didn't even want me," Rook whispers. "Always trouble, always letting them down. I thought… the Crows, they would need my help. But what if the Shadow Dragons were right all along? What if I'm as bad as a blight?"

"Rook," Bellara says, voice sad. "That is not how your people see you."

"I love Treviso," Rook whispers. "Its warmth, its people, the culture… what if I did make a choice? What if I abandoned my home for the shiny new city that welcomed me? What does that say about me, Bellara? Think of all the innocent slaves and servants who couldn't escape, I-"

"You thought you could help both," the elf reminds her. "I remember — you rushed home as soon as the dragon left Treviso. It was just… there were no good answers."

"My home," Rook whispers. "Ugly, imperfect Minrathous. I wanted to make it better. I wanted it to be safe. And all I have done is doom it."

"This is not on you," Bellara says firmly. "It's our gods. Remember who the real enemy is. Remember? That's what you always say."

There is a long silence, and then Rook finally says, "Is Lucanis alright? I haven't spoken to him."

"He's fine," Bellara assures her, a lie. Lucanis will forgive it, if it's in the service of bringing Rook comfort. "I'm… I need to check in with the Veil Jumpers. Will you be okay for a bit?"

"I'll even eat supper," Rook assures her, voice strained. Bellara clicks her tongue, worried, but Lucanis hears her leave and, before he can think better of it, he emerges from the pantry.

Rook doesn't appear too surprised to see him, but she does wipe at her eyes. They share this in common, the desperate need to maintain appearances when the ground around them feels unsteady.

"You must think I'm a mess," she says with a wet chuckle. Lucanis says nothing, taking a seat beside her.

"I cannot judge," he says at length. She has not touched her chowder. He dips a finger in the broth and tests the taste. "Needs salt," he comments, reaching back to grab the salt-shaker. Rook stares at him as he sprinkles some over her soup and gives it a little stir. "Bellara under-seasons non-Dalish recipes. She'll learn."

"I hadn't noticed," Rook says softly. Lucanis pushes the bowl back towards her.

"That's because you haven't tried it yet. Eat," he commands. She blinks.

"Or what, are you going to hand-feed me?"

"Those services are not in my contract. I would be forced to charge you an additional fee." He inclines his head at the chowder. "Now eat."

She almost smiles, but at the very least she picks up her spoon and begins to take small sips. Lucanis watches her expectantly until she finally starts to eat in earnest.

"Caterina would do this to Illario and I when we were boys," he says at length. "She would stare us down until we had emptied our plates. It taught me how to eat at a proper pace."

"Sounds terrifying," Rook says around a mouthful of soup. "I always had to eat fast. Military family and all. You eat and you get ready to go. Same in the Circle."

Lucanis nods solemnly.

He lets her eat in silence for a while, eyes on her face. Her cheeks are salt-stained by her tears, and her bangs are still plastered to her forehead with sweat. He still thinks she might be the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

"Why Treviso?" he asks, finally. It's not an important city, in the grand scheme of things. It's not the biggest city in Antiva, even. It would have made more tactical sense to save Minrathous.

Rook stares at him for a long moment, her dark brown eyes unreadable. He hopes he has not crossed a line. She might not be ready to say why — she might not even fully know why. But the question spills from him all the same as it sinks in, once again, how very close his home came to sharing Minrathous' fate.

"You saved my home," he continues finally, meeting her gaze, utterly serious. "I wish the cost had not been so high. But you… I do not know what I would have done had you not been there. I am… grateful."

He thinks he can see something deeper in her eyes, stirring beneath her exhaustion and grief. That same fire he's seen when she begins to rant about Magisters or Venatori.

"No standing army," she says softly, "No government support in an occupation. And the thought of those beautiful canals overrun with Blight…" She shakes her head. "I thought the Shadow Dragons would be alright. I thought I'd made the smart choice. But what do I know?"

"What do any of us know against gods?"

She shakes her head. "Easy to say that when it isn't your responsibility to take care of said gods."

"Our responsibility, cosita," he reminds her gently. "All of us. My contract was not to help a lone hero. We are a team. Do not bear this alone."

She stares at him for a long time.

"You are a good man, Lucanis," she says softly. "I'm glad you're here."

"I'm not going anywhere," he promises. "And I am glad I am here too."

Dawn:

- Exercises

- Bring Rook coffee. Make sure she's slept.

Mid-morning:

- Weapon maintenance

- Correspondence with Neve (Supplies needed in Minrathous)

Midday:

- Travel to Treviso to meet with Teia

- Pick up cinnamon sticks for Rook's coffee

Late afternoon:

- Exercises

- Meeting with Davrin (archdemons)

Evening:

- Bellara's turn in supper rotation. Make sure Rook eats

Nearing midnight:

- Make sure she's sleeping

"There's something I'm not getting right."

Rook huffs and crosses her arms in a very uncharacteristic pout. The steam rising from the large pot simmering over the hearth sticks to her skin in a thin sheen.

Lucanis, from his seat at the dining table, sets his book down and offers her a small smirk. She's been at it for the better part of an hour, trying her hand at an old clam and pasta dish that Neve had enjoyed ordering from the Cobbled Swan. She's produced two variations of the dish so far, and demanded Lucanis try them and give her his opinion. Both dishes had turned out perfectly fine, well enough that Bellara, after trying one, had suggested Rook increase her shifts in the cooking rotation. But each time, Rook had insisted she was missing something.

She misses Neve. Lucanis does too — the Tevinter mage had become one of first and closest friends he can recall in years. He'd grown accustomed to heading out to the Crossroads with both her and Rook teasing him about his sweet tooth.

Her absence has affected them all. But no one has taken it quite as hard as Rook, who walks around the Lighthouse like she's missing a limb. Bellara and Harding and even their new Grey Warden Davrin have done what they can to keep her busy, but more often than not, it's Lucanis she seeks out.

"I added more salt. I used less water when making the pasta so that the pasta water would have more starch." She sighs and flicks her hand, reducing the hearth's flame and then moving the pot from the heat. "I don't understand what I was supposed to do."

"Perhaps it's the freshness of the clams," Lucanis suggests. "In Dock Town, they don't have to store the clams before putting them into the sauce. The natural taste of the sea… it might be difficult to replicate."

"Another glorious example of how shit of a Tevene I am," Rook grumbles. She looks at the several servings' worth of pasta now before her. "Mythalen'aste, why did you let me waste this much food?"

"It won't be a waste," Lucanis says calmly. "We'll eat it tonight."

She looks panicked. "But these are all failures!"

"They taste good," Lucanis replies. "And you know I would not patronize you and lie if they did not."

Some of the panic subsides from her eyes, and she nods, transferring the pasta to a large serving dish.

"I have this…oh, I'm going to sound ridiculous if I tell you this. It sounds ridiculous even in my own head."

"It could not possibly be more ridiculous than anything you have overheard from Spite."

That manages to make her smile.

"I just… as I was cooking this, I had this image in my head of Neve coming home to us, but then she tries this, and knows that it tastes wrong, and that I couldn't get it to taste like it does in Minrathous. And she'd be reminded of how terrible I am at being a Shadow Dragon, hate me even more, and then never return."

Lucanis blinks. "That would be a very extreme turn of events over pasta."

"I am an expert at conjuring worst-case scenarios in my mind," Rook says blandly. "It's a skill."

"I can see that," Lucanis says as she wanders over to sit across from him. "Neve does not hate you."

"Perhaps not," Rook says, but she doesn't sound convinced. "But I let her down, and she and I both know it. That's almost worse than having her hate me. I can get her not to hate me. But getting her to believe in me again?"

"She just needs time," Lucanis tries, but that drives Rook to her feet, suddenly angry.

"And what about my time?" she demands. "What about my loss? Why has no one considered how much my heart shatters every time I remember that my home is destroyed, and that everyone I care about blames me? I thought Minrathous could take on anything. It was both a comfort and a curse. But I was wrong, and the city paid the price. Tarquin said I should never have returned. He's been my friend for years, Lucanis."

Lucanis says nothing.

"I hate myself for what happened to Minrathous. Not for the Magisters, but the innocents. The slaves who were trapped there, like I was," she says, angry tears welling in her eyes. "But what am I supposed to do? Apologize for saving Treviso? Tell Neve that if I could go back, I would let your city burn instead? What the fuck was I supposed to do? Why did it come down to me?"

"Would you?" Lucanis asks. "Change your mind?"

Rook blinks, tears trickling down her cheeks. "No."

Lucanis hums for a moment, and then leans forward, towards her. "You took on a burden of loss I cannot fathom and ensured I would never have to know how it feels," he says. "Sometimes, there are no good choices. We know that. Neve knows that. And if we did not trust you to make those choices and lead us, we would not still be here."

"Neve isn't here."

Lucanis purses his lips.

"You miss her."

"She was my best friend," Rook admits softly, deflating. The worst of her storm seems to have passed. "I can't keep anyone at my side. First Varric, and now her…"

"She will come back," Lucanis says firmly. "She cares for you."

"Oh, and did she tell you this?"

Lucanis shrugs. "Yes." He's venturing into dangerous territory here, but Rook looks so broken, so small in a way that he's not used to seeing from her. "She also told me I couldn't do much better than you."

That draws a chuckle out of her. He feels, more than sees, her usual resilience falling back into place. "Sounds like her."

"I know, I was a bit offended. Why not call me the catch?"

Rook smiles. "I was the favorite." She seems to notice, then, how close they are sitting to each other, and backs away awkwardly. "Ir abelas- oh, um, I mean… I'm sorry that conversation took such a turn."

"I'm not," Lucanis replies. Elven sounds so beautiful when she speaks it. "You are always there to listen to us. You are allowed to need things too."

She scrunches her face in distaste. "I shouldn't be the burden. I'm supposed to be the leader."

"You can be both," Lucanis says. "You are always insisting that we allow you to help us. Why must you be different?"

"Because-" she starts, but then halts. "Well. Because."

"That is not a real reason, cosita."

"I'm in charge, I get to decide what real reasons are." Her eyes grow distant. "Imagine meeting your hero. And then your hero becomes your friend. And then your friend becomes more important than anyone else, because she understands. But then your friend hates you. And you can't blame her, but it's still unfair, somehow. So then you hate her a little." She focuses back on him, lost. "How do you move forward from there?"

He doesn't know what to say.

Note to self: Teach Rook how to parry.

Neve returns, but she is not the same. She still brings serials for Rook and Bellara to read, but she no longer joins them in parsing through the words and laughing at the romantic follies of the heroines. She accompanies Rook on missions and is kind to Emmrich and Taash, but she spends more time with the wisps than anyone else. Bellara tells him she overheard Neve telling Rook she needed to focus on the job, and less on making friends.

Rook tries not to let the team see how Neve's new coldness affects her, but he knows it does. With Neve focused on the mission, Lucanis considers himself the foremost expert in picking out what Rook tries to hide from the others.

At the very least — reading Rook is something he feels more adept at than being an assassin these days. Rook may not blame him for failing to take out Ghil'inain, but he knows failure when he sees it. Davrin, infuriating as he is, was right. Weisshaupt is on them all.

And he must be better.

Desire. Possession. You, wanting to possess. Possess HER.

Lucanis shoves Spite back with a huff, and focuses his mind on his exercises. Taash has allowed him use of their room to allow him some privacy while they took Harding and Bellara to the Rivain Coast to find an old treasure Rook had mentioned a few days ago. He lunges forward, daggers in hand, a practiced move that feels almost like breathing now.

"That air didn't stand a chance."

Lucanis turns to find Rook leaning against the doorway, arms folded in front of her. The loose linen blouse she wears around the Lighthouse provides him a very fortunate view of her chest at this angle. He deliberately shifts his eyes to her face.

"Need me for something?" he asks. She shakes her head.

"Emmrich told me I could find you here. Thought maybe you might want a sparring partner?"

He should say no. He should know better than to put himself in a situation where he could be touching her, breathing her in-

Spite shrieks in delight. He winces.

Lucanis has fielded offers from Taash, Harding and even Neve to spar, but he has turned everyone down out of fear that Spite would take things too far. But he knows that Spite would never hurt Rook. Not when he seems just as unable to stop thinking about her as Lucanis is.

Spite pushes against his mind eagerly, with enough force that Lucanis staggers a bit. Rook doesn't appear fazed, quirking a brow at him.

"Tell Spite he can go fuck himself."

TOUCHHERTOUCHHERTOUCHHER-

Lucanis thinks his laughter might only be matched by Spite's. Rook seems to brighten at the sound, which in turn brightens him.

Well. She did tell him to find something better to do with his time than brood.

"Alright, alright," he says, gesturing her in. "I've been meaning to get a better look at your technique anyways."

"Oh?" she challenges. "Got some pointers for me, mage killer?"

Lucanis throws her a wink, and her smirk grows into a full smile.

"You fight like a Crow," he says. "Am I wrong?"

She shakes her head, indulging him. "It's a form of casting the Crows perfected from the Knight Enchanters of old," she explains. "I picked it up from a Magister during a job for the Shadow Dragons. But yes, as you put it, I do fight like a Crow." She beams at him. "Why do you think we fight so well together?"

Lucanis eyes the dagger she has in hand.

"You use the orb to clear a path for yourself," he says. "And your knife finishes the job."

"Very good," she mocks, twirling the knife. "Next you'll tell me what I like to use lightning." Lucanis rolls his eyes at her.

"You could stand to get closer to our enemies," he explains. "Use your orb to knock them off balance, then close in for the kill."

"That's what I have you for," she says, looking affronted.

"And when I'm not there?" he challenges. She shrugs.

"I manage."

Lucanis resists the urge to sigh, and moves forward. She adjusts her stance automatically, mirroring him. She keeps her stance loose, ready to dodge. She does this — constantly dodging attacks, rolling around the battlefield. It's not an issue when he is around to stagger their enemies, but he worries she relies too much on her speed. Antaam berserkers might catch her, or a Venatori warrior…

"I want you to parry my attack," he instructs. She immediately frowns.

"I hate doing that."

"Which is exactly why you have to get better at it."

She grunts, but readies up again, holding her dagger close. He advances, and strikes at her. Instead of dashing away, like she would usually do, her eyes narrow in focus and she raises her blade, deflecting his dagger. But she doesn't have time to also deflect his rapier, which comes to rest right at her waist. She realizes the mistake with a sigh, looking at him with a deadpan expression as he gently taps his blade on her side.

"You don't have to say anything," she says. "Again."

This time, he rushes her right away, but she's ready for his multiple attacks, slapping away his dagger and then reaching around to grab his rapier arm by the wrist, twisting him until he is right against her chest, face inches from hers.

TOUCHHERTOUCHHERTOUCHHER-

Lucanis is no stranger to desire. He's felt it before — he remembers his ill-fated attempt at flirtation with Viago that led the Talon to think he was being threatened — but with Rook, everything is simply… more. Every appreciation of her body is followed by longing for her smile. He is equal parts desperate to know the cadence of her moans as he is to spark laughter.

Lucanis sweeps his leg and knocks her off-balance, slinking away.

He's never inquired after what her own romantic past looks like beyond coaxing out of her that it's "been a while" since her last first kiss. He'd guess that she's still got more experience than him and his… complete lack of experience whatsoever.

"Again," she demands, eyes alight. "I'm going to be the one to sweep you off your feet this time, Dellamorte."

Lucanis braces himself for he knows is coming.

TOUCHHERTOUCHHERTOUCHHER-

"If you're sure," he says.

He surges at her, Spite billowing out wings so he can attack her from the air. This time, she brings her mageknife up, deflecting his dagger with so much force that he's thrown back. He lands on his feet, but she's already got her orb careening right at his gut. His feet aren't set enough to absorb the force, and he's sent sprawling again, landing hard on his back. She's on top of him in an instant, legs bracketing his hips in a way that sends his blood surging downward. Her mageknife dances over his throat twice, lightly. Tap tap.

"Maybe you were right," she muses, her hair falling over her shoulders and into her face as she smiles down at him. "That felt very good."

Even Spite is rendered speechless at the sight of her above him.

Shopping list

Saffron from spice merchant

Sheet music? Ask Viago who carries such things still.

Peppercorns for Bellara

Hot peppers for Taash

Bellara has agreed to avoid Tevinter dishes for the time being. Should ask Emmrich what Nevarran recipes he can recommend. Ask Harding if Taash has preferences for Rivaini dishes, but remind bellara that Taash needs more spice than the others. Rook, Neve, Bellara can handle spice. Emmrich, Davrin, Harding cannot.

Lucanis regrets his sharp manor with Rook the moment she gently retreats from the pantry to go and speak with Davrin. His failure is not on her. It was her tenacity that got them that close to killing Ghilan'nain to begin with. She'd been doing that thing she always does with her fingers when she's overwhelmed: tapping each finger against her thumbs in quick succession. She'd been calm, but he knows how good she is at compartmentalizing.

Shaking. Brittle. Like GLASS. Close to breaking and YOU DID NOT NOTICE.

Lucanis can't bring himself to argue with Spite, because the damned demon is right. His demon, his greatest problem, his impossible companion, saw Rook's pain faster than he did.

That cannot stand.

There is not much useful Lucanis can offer Rook until the Crows return his message anyways, so Lucanis stands with purpose and exits the pantry, striding into the kitchen. Bellara is already there, softly working on the team's supper for the night. She looks up at him and offers a hesitant smile when he approaches.

"Hi Lucanis," she says, voice small. She's been taking every new revelation about her gods hard. She's almost as brittle as Rook was earlier, but she seems calmer than she was when they all met after the battle. "Rook just talked to me, if you're looking for her? I think she's with Davrin now."

"I can wait until she's finished her rounds," Lucanis says, searching for ingredients absently. Bellara cracks a smile.

"She does that a lot, huh?" she asks. "Checking in, asking how we're feeling."

"I imagine it's exhausting," Lucanis says, eyeing some cinnamon sticks.

"She'd never let you know it, though," Bellara says. "She's just nice."

Lucanis dumbs his findings on the other side of the dining room table so he doesn't intrude on her space.

Bellara eyes his ingredients curiously.

"What are you making?" she asks. "It is my turn tonight, isn't it?"

"It is," he confirms, and Bellara exhales, relieved.

"Okay, good!" she says. "I didn't want to impose on your recipes or anything."

"I'm making churros," he explains. "Rook likes them. Thought it might be good for the others too, after…" Lucanis trails off, sighing. After his failure.

"That's so thoughtful!" Bellara gushes. "Rook will be so happy."

I hope so, Lucanis thinks to himself as he sets to work.

Bellara is mostly quiet as she wraps up her stew, and Lucanis appreciates her camaraderie. But as everyone files in for the meal — even Davrin, who meets his eye and offers a terse nod — he realizes one conspicuous absence. Lucanis glances at Neve, and she shrugs unhelpfully. Right, that's still going on.

Lucanis sighs and grabs a few churros, putting them onto a plate and then whisks some chocolate sauce into a small bowl. Without another word to anyone, he exits the dining hall.

He finds Rook on the second-story balcony of the main all, sitting between two elven statues. Her legs are pulled in, and her head is leaned back, eyes closed. Lucanis sits down right in front of her and sets the churros between them. The aroma of the dessert seems to rouse her, and her eyes open and immediately dart to the plate.

"This might be the most beautiful thing I have ever beheld," she says, voice cracking. Lucanis smiles, but hesitates. She must have retreated here for a reason.

"I can leave them here if you wish to be alone," he offers, but he's barely finished speaking before her head shakes swiftly.

"Your company is always welcome," she says. "Though I must apologize for not choosing somewhere with chairs."

"Overrated," Lucanis dismisses, relaxing. "I must apologize as well. My frustration earlier was not with you."

"I know," she says kindly, picking up a churro and dunking it in chocolate sauce. "And I understand. It was my plan that failed, after all."

"Well then," Lucanis says, retrieving a churro of his own and holding it out to her. "To failure. May we never know its cruel sting again." She smiles, and knocks her churro into his in a cheers before taking a bite.

"Flames, this is delicious," she says, more to herself than him. Lucanis quirks his head.

"I haven't heard you use that expression before," he says. Her nose scrunches a bit.

"I guess not, huh?" she muses, before reddening just so. "If I tell you how I picked it up it will sound like I'm bragging."

"Try me."

Rook smiles ruefully before saying, "I got the phrase from a warrior named Fenris, the husband of the Champion of Kirkwall. He asked Varric to put him in touch with the Shadow Dragons for an operation near Minrathous, and Varric introduced us."

Lucanis knows he really shouldn't be surprised to hear Rook say things like this. She's already become pen pals with the blighted Inquisitor, it would stand to reason that Varric Tethras would have connected her with even more of his famous allies when he was leading the group.

All the same, it's still insanity that this elven woman before him, who snacks into oblivion and hums between missions, would so happen to be entangled with two groups that have shaken the world.

Lucanis allows himself a laugh, which seems to brighten her. "What was the husband of the Champion doing all the way in Tevinter?"

This is where her rueful smile turns almost sheepish. "…accompanying his wife?"

Lucanis almost chokes on his churro. For a moment, his failure at Weisshaupt is nothing compared to his shock.

"She'd had business a few years before with some Wardens at Weisshaupt," Rook explains. "So she knew the area a little. But Fenris, he was once enslaved in Tevinter. So he'd often travel to my neck of the woods to kill slavers."

"You must have gotten along well," he guesses. "Nothing like slaying Venatori to bring people together."

"He made weird faces whenever I talked to Hawke about my magic," she says with a shrug. "But we had common enemies. I thought he was cool. I very much wanted him to like me. It was enough when he told me I reminded him of his wife because of all my jokes." She picks up another churro. "I don't know where they are now. Varric tried to keep them out of everything. He said they deserved their rest."

"We'll make sure there's a world where they can have it," Lucanis says. "No more mistakes. I swear."

She smiles at him, warmer than he deserves, her lips dusted around the edges with sugar. She looks younger, in the moment, like a character from one of his novels and not the best hope for Thedas' survival. "I believe you."

scentsing the BEYONDrememburnings from beforewhen one was infinitynot a small shadenot a SHARP hooked clawin a guttakemeouttakemeoutletmeoutriiiiip

(The handwriting abruptly alters:)

When did this start? I drifted off. It was after I spoke to Harding. He can't have been here long. The candle was out, but not much lower than when I lit it. It may still be evening. Or he blew it out and it's been hours.

I'll ask Emmrich or Neve for an estimate of the time.

Rook solves a series of murders in Dock Town, but does not breathe a word of it to Neve. She brings Lucanis and Emmrich along with her and swears them both to secrecy. The case ends with them fighting a despair demon, and Lucanis finds himself hauling a half-unconscious and bloody Rook through their Eluvian back into the Lighthouse. He carries her up to the infirmary while Emmrich goes to fetch Bellara. Lucanis has done what he can, but his skill with field medicine and potions only goes so far. Rook needs a mage.

"Did I kill it?" Rook rasps as he brushes her blood-soaked bangs out of her eyes. "Tell me we won't have to go back and fight that thing again."

"Oh, you killed it," Lucanis assures her. He cannot bring himself to laugh. "That demon will never hurt anyone in Minrathous ever again."

Rook nods faintly, eyes drooping.

"I parried that last attack," she says. "Set me up for the kill shot. You were right." Her eyes begin to droop.

"Of course I was," Lucanis says. "And you were beautiful in that fight."

If she notices his too-honest description, she doesn't show it. "When it isolated me… felt it. The pain. The hopelessness. All in my home." Her eyes drift up to him, desperately sad. "I'm so tired."

"Stay awake," Lucanis begs. "Just a little longer, and then you can rest."

Seeing her like this has awoken a depth of terror Lucanis hadn't realized he was capable of feeling. Not even Spite has anything to say to him, not until he knows Rook will be alright.

"Rest sounds nice," she mumbles as, to Lucanis' surprise, Neve barges in, Emmrich on her heels. "Neve?"

"I told you to get Bellara," Lucanis snaps at the necromancer. Emmrich opens his mouth, but Neve cuts him off.

"I found him first. Bellara's right behind us." She crouches next to Rook's bed and looks her over. "You look like shit, darling."

"I feel like it," Rook says back. Neve leans forward and gently kisses the top of her head. Rook's lower lip trembles, and she glances at Lucanis with confusion.

"Bellara will have you back to normal soon," Neve says. Rook's eyes are wide, surprise bringing her her unexpected sentience.

As if on cue, the Veil Jumper appears at the doorway and squirms through the crowd, kneeling at Rook's bedside.

"I feel famous," Rook mutters. "Glad everyone can see me like this. Enjoy the view."

"At least she's still joking," Lucanis mutters.

Neve watches Bellara work for a moment before she looks up at Lucanis. Wordlessly, she stands up and stalks out of the room. Lucanis exchanges a glance with Emmrich before following. He trusts Bellara to take care of their girl.

"You've got to stop hitting your head," he hears Bellara say as he leaves.

Neve is facing away from him when he catches up with her, leaning against the railing, eyes on the library below.

"Emmrich said you were fighting a demon," she says coolly. "In Dock Town."

Lucanis cannot — and will not — lie to her face at this point, so he nods.

"We were."

"Why wasn't I there?" she asks. "Emmrich… he said you had been working a case. Was this about the murders she and I were looking into before?"

"We had," Lucanis confirms. "Case closed, if you were wondering."

Neve narrows her eyes. "And is there a reason you didn't think to bring along the Tevinter detective for such a case?" she demands. "What was Rook thinking? If I had been there, I-"

"Would have what, Neve?" Lucanis challenges, patience finally snapping. He cares for Neve, but that can only go so far. "She is terrified of you now. She thinks you hate her. She wanted to solve these cases to help the people of Minrathous — her people too, in case you forgot."

A few weeks ago, he never would have bothered with anything like this. But Rook without a smile on her face feels wrong, and he's seen it far too much since Dock Town's destruction.

"I would have helped," Neve insists.

"She will never say this," Lucanis growls, "-but she is afraid, Neve. Of letting you down again, of disappointing the Shadow Dragons. She has not allowed herself to grieve her home because she does not feel she has the right to. Do you know what she said to me, when we left to fight the demon? 'We show up for Dock Town.' We both know where she got that from."

Neve looks stricken.

"I…" she trails off, eyes distant. "I feel like shit."

"She worships you," Lucanis says, voice softening. "You know she does. She strives to be like you. How much longer will you punish her?"

Neve sighs, turning away from the railing to face him fully.

"I could have protected her," she says softly. "I could have- I could have done what I wasn't able to do for our home."

"You should tell her that," Lucanis says. "Between the three of us, there is too much blame to be shared for her to bear the burden alone."

Bellara emerges, then, looking a little winded. "She should be fine after some rest. Cracked ribs, and she hit her head pretty hard. We'll need someone to keep her awake for a few more hours until we know the head injury isn't as bad as what she suffered before."

Neve sighs. "I will." Bellara's eyes widen in surprise.

"That's great!" she says. "She'll be really happy to hear that."

Neve nods curtly, and Bellara retreats back into Rook's room.

Something flickers in Neve's expression, suddenly. "Look at you, Lucanis. The noble, romantic hero coming to the aid of his dear-"

"Neve."

Neve rolls her eyes. "I don't know why the two of you keep dancing around it. We are fighting gods every day. Life is too short for this nonsense."

"I am an abomination," Lucanis deadpans.

"I think we both have seen that no demon is a match for Rook," Neve says, glancing back to the infirmary. "Go rest. I'll sit with her when Bellara is done… and we will talk."

Lucanis nods. "Good."

He begins down the stairs, but before he's halfway down Neve calls his name. He turns, looking up.

"She's lucky to have you, you know. Standing up for her, looking out for her," she says. "You're not nearly as bad at being in others' lives as you think."

Lucanis stares after her as she re-enters the infirmary, eyes pained. Sighing, he turns away, staring out over the balcony at the library below.

Rook… will recover?

Spite's hesitant tone is unfamiliar. Lucanis figures nearly losing Rook would be enough to teach even a Rage demon how to be worried.

"She'll live," he says softly. "Thank you, for staying quiet and letting me focus."

Spite says nothing.

It's only then that he hears rustling, and sees Emmrich lingering at the entrance to the infirmary. The necromancer approaches cautiously, worry etched on his refined features. Lucanis wonders how he and Taash have interpreted the tension between Rook and Neve without knowing how close they had been before.

"I admit to being surprised that an Antivan Crow would have so much knowledge about field medicine," he says.

"We are trained to tend our own injuries," Lucanis replies stiffly. "Though I admit to not having much occasion to heal anyone other than myself until joining this team."

Emmrich offers a small smile. "You took good care of her," he says. "You are close."

"She is a colleague," Lucanis says. "I would do the same for any of you."

"Perhaps," Emmrich allows. "But it is good to know that Rook has someone to talk to. I know there is much she carries for us all."

Lucanis cannot argue that point. "She's stronger than even she knows."

Emmrich nods. "She'll need to rest before she can return to the field."

"You know she won't accept that," Lucanis points out.

"Keeping her in will have to be a team effort, then," Emmrich says, determined. "What can we do, I wonder? To keep her occupied."

"Knowing her, she will be craving something sweet when she wakes."

"She did get very excited when I shared with her a fondness for Nevarran desserts," Emmrich shares. "I am amazed she has developed an affinity for cooking regular meals when she loves sugar so."

"Not sugar," Lucanis corrects. "Chocolate."

Emmrich tilts his head, thoughtful. "Does she like hazelnuts?"

"I am unsure," Lucanis replies.

"I just remembered a recipe for a dessert my mother wrote down before her passing… I have never attempted it myself, but I remember it always brought a smile to my face when she made it."

"I would appreciate the recipe," Lucanis finds himself saying. "If you have time to find it."

Emmrich's eyes twinkle.

"The next time I visit home, I will look."

Lucanis — by the time you get this note, I will be gone. Well, just for a few hours. Don't be mad, I know I'm supposed to be on bed rest but honestly, that concept is bullshit and you'd never follow that rule if you were in my shoes anyways. Do not freak out, do not come to scold me at the Hall of Valor: I am not even competing! I'm just watching Davrin and Assan with Neve, Taash and Harding. Do not get mad at them. I did not exactly give them a choice in the matter. You have been an excellent caretaker, I just need to get out of the Fade or I will turn into a blighted god myself. Thanks in advance for understanding!

(And thanks for whatever you said to Neve. We had a really good talk. We'll be okay.)

-Rook

When Lucanis bursts into awareness, he immediately takes stock of his surroundings.

He is in the pantry. Wings are burned into the wall behind him.

Rook is in front of him, face stern but eyes calm.

He says her name, a bit uncertain and unbalanced. She flashes him a quick smile. Again, he is falling into darkness, and she is forced to catch him with her trademarked ease.

"You were sleepwalking," she says, matter-of-fact. A familiar bitterness settles in, dwarfed by an even stronger emotion: shame.

"Spite was sleepwalking," he corrects bitterly. The demon practically sneers at him from the back of his mind.

"He didn't go anywhere," Rook offers. "Nothing happened."

Lucanis shakes his head. She doesn't understand. "I didn't want you to see that. Again." Her brows furrow, and she rests her hands on her hips.

"Nothing I'm seeing makes me want to look away," she nearly whispers, voice gentle and eyes warmer than they have any right to be.

Lucanis' shame gives way to something far more frightening: affection. With a simple motion and a single sentence, she has swept aside his concerns like a river in a canyon. As always, time and time again. The weight of the world drags Lucanis into darkness, and moments later she has lifted him from the shadows with a single word or gesture.

"How do you always do that?" he asks, almost helpless in her aura. An eyebrow lifts.

"Do what?" she asks.

Be everything I could ever want and more.

"Break apart my perfectly gathered clouds of doom." That draws a chuckle from her, and her eyes grow impossibly sweeter. She offers her kindness without thought or worry, disarming everyone she meets with her thoughtful nature. "You deserve better than to deal with my mess."

Her lips twitch into the barest hint of a frown. "You're more than what you're going through," she says, utterly sincere. Lucanis finds himself striding towards her, closer and closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her stance is open, inviting. She's not watching him like he's a caged monster, pursuing its prey. No, in this moment she is simply a woman and he is simply a man. A man who, somehow, is channeling every ounce of charm and flirtation he can muster. "And," she adds, voice lowering as he steps into her space, "-you wear it well."

There it is. A testing of the fine line they have been walking for a while now. An experiment, a query. Like in an Antivan tango, every step, every move a call and response. An abrazo cerrado, a close embrace, the dancers chest-to-chest.

"This isn't a good idea," Lucanis says, resting a hand on the wall near her face. A enrosque, a pivot. She does not move away, eyes daring him to come closer.

"Sometimes," she counters, "A bad idea is better." Lustrada, the follower's response.

Lucanis leans in. Volcada. "You like to walk a little too close to the edge," he warns, his voice carrying none of his caution and all of the heat building inside of him. Rook smirks, lifting a hand and resting a delicate finger on his chest, tracing the edges of his vest. Her eyes never leave his as she says:

"So do you."

Her touch sets him alight.

"At least I know I'm doing it," he murmurs.

In this moment, two things become frighteningly true for Lucanis Dellamorte.

First, the ever-stoic and collected assassin, who has only ever read tales of being caught up in the throes of passion and desire, understands. He understands the books, the songs. He understands the thrum of the tango, the desperation of a ballad. Countless stanzas of poetry crystalize vividly in his mind's eye. For the first time, Lucanis, a man possessed by a demon, who has nearly walked into an Eluvian without his knowledge, feels out of control. His every desire, his every want, is tangled up in Rook's scent, her smile. The flow of her hair, the softness of her skin. For the first time, Lucanis does not want to settle for a few loaded words. He wants her. All of her. Her kisses, her sighs, her moans. The tint of her skin in the glow of a sunrise, the twinkle of her eyes in starlight.

Second, he realizes that she wants him too.

Sure, he has noticed how often she seeks out his company. He has understood her playful flirtations. But, so close to her face, seeing the way her eyes have gone slightly unfocused in his proximity, he attunes to the undercurrent of it all. Everything he's felt for her, the desire, the curiosity, the fondness, she feels in turn.

If he were to kiss her, she would kiss him back. If he were to pull her close, she would allow it.

And that is exactly why, in a moment of cold clarity, washing over him like ice water, Lucanis stops, right before he can claim her lips with his.

Spite begins to roar with laughter.

You TEASE. You DENY.

"I…" he stammers, feeling very suddenly like he's not in his own body. "…need to clear my head." His hand taps his chest, where her hand had been, where it had left a trail of fire that felt like it had seared through his clothes ind into his skin and bones. She stares at him, mouth open in surprise. "Excuse me."

He hates how his voice sounds, polite and impersonal. Like the ever-practiced Crow.

So CLOSE. Anticipation. CONFUSION. Regret.

Spite is equal parts delighted at what he views as a wonderful trick by Lucanis and confused at why Lucanis isn't skipping out of the pantry with glee at accomplishing such a feat.

He leaves her, alone in the pantry, before he can see the hurt in her eyes.

Rook,

I'm sorry for

I don't know how to tell you

You should know that

It's not painfully obvious how vital Rook is for leading team dinner conversations until she turns up for dinner, takes her seat at the head of the table, and proceeds to say absolutely nothing. Bellara and Emmrich manage to start a lively discussion about different kinds of spirits, which is enough to entertain Taash, Harding and Davrin, but everyone keeps looking to Rook for input and finding her completely distracted.

Neve stares Lucanis down from her seat directly across from him. He stares back, defiant.

But she is onto something. Rook's silence is his fault.

The previous night, Rook had walked in on Taash herding Spite in his pantry hideaway. She had coaxed Lucanis back into control with more ease than anyone ever has had. She'd brushed off his apologies, and he'd been so caught up in her smiles and confidence that something inside him had snapped.

He'd almost kissed her.

And, because he is a coward haunted by a demon, he'd left her with a clumsy excuse, unkissed and confused. He'd gone to Treviso through the Eluvian, picked up some food and supplies at the market. He'd been stopped by Jacobus, Teia and Viago separately, all wanting to know why he hadn't brought Rook along to celebrate with them over killing a pair of blighted dragons. He'd done his exercises outside under Assan's curious gaze while Rook had gone to the Hossberg Wetlands to meet with Evka and Antoine. He'd made himself coffee, and by habit made enough for two. He'd met with Harding to go over some new intelligence from her Inquisition contacts.

Rook hasn't looked his way all evening. And he cannot blame her.

Because it's only now, feet away from her, that Lucanis realizes he has no idea how to talk to her after such a thing.

Ridiculous. She was there to face the woman who imprisoned him for a year, and he's more scared now than he was then. This moment, inexplicably, feels more dangerous than the dragons, the Ossuary, the Antaam. Life, as it always must be, is so much more difficult to manage than death.

Neve's eyes dart to Rook, and then back to Lucanis. His eyes fall to the table.

"Rook," Neve interrupts Bellara, who had been rambling about a wisp. "Have I given you the latest update to Bellara's serials yet?"

All eyes at the table immediately turn to Rook, who looks like she's been caught in a trap set by a Dalish hunter. She's told him before how uncomfortable she finds the mantle of leadership sometimes, even as she wears it beautifully. She was so used to going unnoticed in the Shadow Dragons. She cannot hide from anyone anymore.

"I, um, no," she stammers. "Not yet."

She's usually better at deflecting.

"Not in the mood for romance at the moment?" Neve asks innocently. Rook's eyes narrow. Lucanis wonders just how much Rook tells Neve about… whatever it is they are.

"Why, Neve, are you finally ready to admit how irresistible you find me?" Rook challenges. Neve takes it in stride.

"Cute," she says, chuckling. "Not an answer to my question, though." Rook bites her lower lip.

"I'm, ah, just busy."

Lucanis hopes that's the end of it, but Bellara, damn her, pipes in.

"Oh, you will love it!" she effuses. He winces.

But Rook, ever clever, takes the lifeline. "How about you tell us what happens? I'm sure it's far more interesting coming from you anyways."

"I'm going to need to grab the wine first," Davrin says, standing. As he rises, Taash fixes Rook with the hard stare of theirs that usually means they are about to say something completely out of pocket.

"You're weird today," they state. Rook coughs again. "Why are you weird?"

"The age-old question," Rook says with false bravado. "I'm fine, Taash."

The problem with learning to read Rook, of course, is that Lucanis knows instantly that she's lying. And if Lucanis knows their team at all, which he does, he knows that the words 'I'm fine' will never be enough to keep them from pushing.

"But you've barely said anything all day," Taash insists. "And there's still extra coffee in the coffee maker. You never miss your Lucanis coffee."

Rook shuts her eyes, breathing deeply. Lucanis feels paralyzed.

"Specially brewed every day," Neve adds, smirking right at Lucanis. He stares at a fixed point, away from her face. "What if you hurt his feelings?"

Rook opens her mouth, then closes it.

"I am not offended," Lucanis pipes in. Rook's eyes dart right to him, and she fixes him with an inscrutable expression.

"Wait," Taash continues. "Did you fight? Is that what's going on? Did Spite say something after I left you guys in the pantry?"

"You left them in the pantry?" Harding asks, eyebrows rising. "Alone?"

"Spite didn't say anything worse than his usual pouting," Rook says with a sigh. "And we did not fight. We've been alone in the pantry plenty of times. Absolutely nothing happened. Right, Lucanis?"

She looks at him, finally, a challenge in her eyes. He doesn't see the anger he'd expected, but he feels his face warming. He wants to die.

Nothing happened.

Nothing.

And that's exactly the problem.

He realizes he's let too much time pass without saying anything. Everyone is staring now.

"Right," he says, voice uneasy.

Some suave, trained professional he's turned out to be. Acting more childish than Jacobus because his team leader has him flustered.

Rook claps her hands together.

"Right!" she echoes, voice a little shrill. "Taash, really. I'm just a little off-balance today. Nobody's fault but mine." She meets Lucanis' gaze as she says this, and she offers him a shy smile. His heart shatters into a million pieces. She does not — cannot — know how desperately he wants to take her in his arms this very moment, how she is the first thing he thinks about in the morning and the only thing that calms him enough to steal a few hours of sleep at night. He rejected her, and she's trying to put him at ease.

"We're, um, here," Taash offers. "If you need anything."

Rook smiles, more genuine this time.

"I know. And what I need is that wine, Davrin!"

Davrin returns with a bottle of Antivan red and sets it down right in front of Rook. He looks over at Lucanis, but doesn't seem to find whatever he's looking for and turns his attention back to Rook,

"A Taste of Treviso!" he declares, reading the label. "Your favorite, right?"

Rook stares at him blankly for a halting moment before bursting into laughter. Everyone at the table looks baffled, but soon enough they are all joining in, pretending for her sake to be in on the joke.

The group splinters, dispersing to different parts of the dining hall. Lucanis, feeling awful even as he does it, follows Rook to sit with Emmrich and Bellara.

"Hi," Rook says as he sits next to her on the chaise.

"Hi," he responds, stupidly.

Bellara's eyes dart between them, but she has the good sense not to say anything as Rook pours them all goblets of wine.

"You a romantic, Emmrich?" Rook asks with a smile.

"Would it surprise you if I said yes?" he asks.

"Not in the slightest," Rook replies. "Lucanis surprised me, though. He loves the stuff."

"Truly?" Emmrich asks.

Lucanis shrugs. "Hard to grow up in Antiva and not learn to appreciate the sweeter things in life."

He doesn't mention, of course, that he's a disgusting hypocrite who grew up daydreaming of finding someone kind and loving to share a quiet life with, then did nothing to pursue such a dream whatsoever. Lucanis Dellamorte, who imagines in his head a world where he leaves flowers at Rook's doorstep and whisks her away for romantic rooftop dates, is only a romantic in his dreams.

And he can't allow himself to dream anymore. He has a demon to contend with.

Emmrich looks delighted, but he does not press the topic, to Lucanis' relief. He's an observant man, Lucanis does not doubt that he's noticed the tension between Rook and him. And unlike Taash, he is a man of tact.

The wine is a good balm for the tension, though. It makes Bellara even more enthusiastic as she catches Rook up on the romantic exploits of a Magister and her forbidden Fereldan lover. Emmrich's busy mind seems to mellow as he listens with increasing calm. And Rook appears to relax enough that at some point, she's close enough to Lucanis to learn into his side. He tells himself it's the wine that makes him shift so she can settle more comfortably.

"I was weird today," she murmurs when Bellara seems distracted enough. "Sorry about that."

And isn't it just like her? Rook, who must be feeling a terrible mix of regret and embarrassment, Rook, who overthinks everything she says to them all, who doubts herself more than she ever ought to. She is the one trying to ease the tension, to take the blame onto herself for his sake.

His heart pounds in his chest, insistent and overwhelming.

"You are not the one who should be apologizing," Lucanis whispers.

"I'll let you in on a secret," Rook says softly, glancing up at him. "I fancied you from the moment I saw you in the Ossuary." Lucanis' heart stutters. "You had quite the grand entrance. And then you had to also go and be sweet, and like coffee, and be able to cook. I didn't stand a chance."

Lucanis thinks of those first few days with the team. How impressed he had been by Rook's skill with daggers, her open delight the first time he'd taken charge of dinner. He had never worked with someone who wore her heart on her sleeve the way Rook did. He hadn't known how to work with her. But she'd made it so easy. She'd said she admired him when he had opened up about Spite. She'd gifted him a dagger in the Treviso marketplace, chose the flowers for Caterina's funeral. She'd noticed something was off with Illario before even he could.

She is as he'd described a first kiss: sweet, intriguing. The manifestation of his most hidden desires. She is safety, she is warmth, the sharp edge of a dagger, the last glimpse of a star-spackled night sky before dawn.

You WANT. You CRAVE. Do not DENY. GIVE IN.

And he does. He wants her with a need so sharp he physically aches.

"Rook-"

"I'm not telling you this because I…. expect anything," Rook adds hastily. "I just figured pretending I was hiding how much I like you is kind of useless at this point. I mean, Taash noticed the coffee thing."

"And here we thought we were subtle," Lucanis sighs, drawing a smile from her. It's intoxicating, making her smile. She offers them so freely, but the ones for him feel like a secret whispered in the depths of the shadows. "I do not think I need to tell you the reasons that give me pause in regards to… us."

"Spite," she guesses. "Maybe some other stuff. But I won't lie, unless you tell me, I'll just assume the problem is me."

That simply won't do.

"I do not want you to believe I left yesterday because I did not want…" He swallows, and then amends to, "-because I did not want you." He exhales, pained. "I do."

Her eyes are pools he could drown in. He shouldn't be telling her all of this, he should be allowing her to hurt a little so he and his demon and his problems cannot crush her in the long run. But he's caught in her current, the truth spilling out of him before he can figure out a lie convincing enough to break her.

"I had my hopes," she says. "There's a 'but' coming though, isn't there?"

"But," Lucanis says, smiling despite himself at how easily she read him. "I do not think it would be a good idea for me to start anything until I have dealt with everything that is holding me back from fulfilling our contract."

He wishes he could say more. Could tell her just how precious she is, and that something so beautiful and special should not be left in the hands of a broken man who has never even approached being in a relationship before. He aches to pull her close, to kiss the doubt from her face. But he is not ready to hold her heart in his hands yet. He does not deserve it.

He wants, more than anything, to earn her, though. He wants to be a man like the ones in the stories, who can slay the beasts and hold her in his arms and truly, truly deserve to.

Rook watches him for a long moment, eyes piercing and a little sad. After a long moment, she nods.

"Be patient with me?" Lucanis requests. "I am a careful man. I do not rush into things, especially the things that matter to me."

"And I matter?" she asks.

"You matter more than you could possibly know," Lucanis says, voice breaking with the raw weight of his meaning. Her lips pull into a tight smile, and she takes a long, steadying breath, then nods.

"I'm a Shadow Dragon," she reminds him, wry and too resigned for his liking. "I can play the long game."

Lucanis — Here's the latest of Bellara's serials. Rook very much wants to read it next, but I will not play courier between the two of you, so if you want Rook to get her precious story, you have to give it to her yourself when you finish it. Bellara will say the same thing, so don't even try to ask her. You're a Crow. You can handle talking to one woman.

- Neve

It isn't a breakup, not really. How could it be, when they were never anything tangible to begin with?

But things do change, after their talk.

Lucanis used to be Rook's shadow, brought along for every trip from the Lighthouse. But now, she's started bringing Davrin, Emmrich and Taash places. She'll take him along whenever she goes to Treviso, but the days of their trips to the marketplace alone are over.

She is never cruel. She continues to smile at him over meals and ask him for tips when she comes across him doing his exercises. But things are different. She is giving him the space to work through the baggage holding him back from her.

And perhaps… perhaps she needs space from him, as well.

Which is what he wanted. What he needed.

She said she would wait. She didn't promise to wait right by his side.

Deprivation. DENIAL. For NOTHING.

Before Lucanis can conjure a response, a soft knock sounds at his door. He recognizes the cadence as Neve.

"Yes?" he calls as she enters.

"Rook wants us for a trip to Treviso," Neve says, leaning against his wall. "You up for it?"

Lucanis ignores the unspoken insinuation in her question. This is the problem with sharing a close friend with Rook. Said close friend, a detective at that, has no patience to tip-toe around their fragile situation. "Always am," he says curtly.

"Uh-huh," Neve says. "Will I be playing peacekeeper?"

"That would imply there is a conflict between us."

"Yup," Neve says, popping the "p."

"Rook and I are fine," he insists. "She is just spending more time with the others — as she should."

"And you're totally fine with it?"

"Yes."

No. NO. Want ROOK. Want MORE.

Lucanis growls in frustration, pushing back at Spite.

"Alright," Neve says, pointedly ignoring his little outburst. "See you at the Eluvian."

Left alone, Lucanis sighs, looking at the tea set Rook had gifted him shortly after his arrival at the Lighthouse. He realizes that it might very well have been the first gift he's received in years from someone other than his grandmother.

Well. Far be it from him to deny any time with Rook that he can get.

She's waiting with Neve when he arrives, a sheet of parchment in hand. She offers him a small smile, but says nothing before stepping into the mirror. Lucanis ignores the pointed look Neve sends his way.

Once they're trekking through the Crossroads, she finally speaks.

"Emmrich informed me that tomorrow is Bellara's birthday," she says. "I want her to feel special, so I thought we might work together to make her a chocolate cake." Her eyes finally land directly on Lucanis. "I know you're usually not fun enough for chocolate-"

"Hey!"

"-but I know you can make a mean cake. And I also know that coffee is often used in chocolate cake to enhance flavor. So this should be right up your alley."

Lucanis smiles. "You've been paying attention."

"To you?" she deadpans. "I'd never." She hands him the parchment in her hand. "I figure we can find some really good ingredients in Treviso, and Neve can help me find something cute to gift her from all of us. Maybe a necklace?"

Lucanis glances at the ingredient list.

I don't know what goes into a cake, but I trust you!

Chocolate, probably?

Lucanis arches a brow at Rook, who blinks back at him innocently. She can be so wonderfully… herself, sometimes. The ache in his chest intensifies as he eases into their familiar, comforting back-and-forth.

"Interesting recipe," he says. She looks very proud of herself.

"I thought so," she replies as they reach the Eluvian to Treviso. She walks straight in, and Lucanis stares after for a moment, a small smile on his face. He doesn't understand how she can so easily make him feel like the young boy he used to be, staring at the moon from rooftops and dreaming of holding someone's hand.

"You're smiling," Neve says pointedly, and he immediately scowls. "Oh, well. It was nice while it lasted."

They step through and emerge in the Cantori Diamond, right as Teia passes nearby. She offers Lucanis a smile and throws a wink at Rook, already talking to their merchant. She looks up and waves as Lucanis and Neve approach.

"I'll meet you at the market. I need to run a quick errand here first."

"An errand? For the Crows?" Neve asks skeptically, siding up to her. "…Without Lucanis?"

Rook sighs.

"Not for the Crows, exactly," she hedges. "But don't worry, you won't have to shop for jewelry alone. Gods forbid."

Neve snorts, but lets it drop, sauntering out of the Cantori Diamond without waiting for Lucanis, who lingers close to Rook. She turns to face him fully once Neve is out of earshot.

"I'm going to check on Jacobus," she explains quietly. Lucanis raises an eyebrow, but otherwise waits patiently. Rook, unlike him, isn't the kind of person to leave someone in suspense. "I know what it feels like to be young and angry," she says. "I was given a few pushes in the right direction. Jacobus needs the same."

Lucanis is surprised by the wave of affection that shoots through his bloodstream at the sincerity of her words. That she, not even an Antivan Crow, would show such compassion to a fledging she hardly knows… he cannot fathom that she is real.

"He's lucky to have you looking out for him," Lucanis murmurs, reaching for her hand before thinking better of it. His hand drops back down to his side, dangling awkwardly. She offers him a tight smile, then turns and disappears towards the barracks. Lucanis stares after her for a moment, already feeling bereft at her absence.

"I never thought I'd see that look on your face," Teia says from just behind him. Lucanis does not bother turning to face her. "But I should have known. The impulsive revolutionary, breaker of chains. A perfect fit for the mage-killer."

"Don't you have an ex-lover to pester?" Lucanis snarks. "Or is he current again?" Teia, unbothered, shrugs.

"I can bother him at any hour of the day or night," she says. "You are a special treat."

Lucanis rolls his eyes and makes his way to the market. It's hard not to look at every vendor and stand and think about how easily he could have lost all of it. Rook could have made another choice, and he would have had nothing. But now, he sees her in every merchant's smile, in the glint of light on every gemstone, in the intricate patterns of the tapestries. In saving his home, Rook has intertwined her essence in it.

He's just about finished collecting the ingredients needed for Bellara's cake when he sees Neve approaching him, alone. She holds up a small bag as she reaches him.

"We found Bellara a new necklace," she announces. "Rook went to get some air by the gondolas." She looks at his bag of groceries. "I could take the food back to the Lighthouse, if you'd like to join her."

Lucanis is shaking his head before she finishes speaking.

"That's not a good idea," he says. Neve fixes him with a stern look.

"She wouldn't have asked you here if she didn't want to spend time with you," she points out. "Lucanis, whatever is going on, surely it isn't so bad that you cannot be alone with her?"

"I don't want to make her uncomfortable."

"You could never," Neve assures him, reaching for his satchel of ingredients and pulling them into her arms. "Besides, you're still friends, aren't you?"

She turns and leaves before he can reply.

Lucanis sighs, now empty-handed in the middle of the marketplace.

Find Rook. FIND ROOK.

"Mierda, fine," he mutters, setting off towards the canals.

She's not hard to track down once he reaches the water. She's seated on the floor of a docked gondola, eyes cast up at the stars, knees pulled up against her chest. She looks impossibly young in this moment, like the kind of girl a younger Lucanis would have told himself he could fall for while strolling through the streets, imagining he was someone else. Lucanis vaults himself into the gondola, taking care not to rock it too much. Rook closes her eyes when he settles next to her, but her lips curl into a small smile.

"So what does go into a chocolate cake?" she asks at length.

"Flour, sugar, salt, cocoa," Lucanis lists lazily. "…coffee."

She snickers. "I knew it." She looks down at a small wrapped pouch in her hands. "I found a small medallion, an antique. Has the face of Andraste on it." She sighs. "I got it for the Vi- for Ashur. He likes antiques. Thought it might cheer him up, if I can track him down again."

"I have no doubt it will raise his spirits," Lucanis assures her. "You're quite skilled at giving gifts."

She exhales. "At least there's that."

He lets the silence settle after that, watching her face, tilted up towards the stars, illuminated by lamplight and the haze of the moon. It's so easy to forget himself, watching her like this, to be transported back to the moment when he had felt her breath on his lips, being so close to-

Lucanis shakes his head, drawing a curious glance from Rook.

"Lost in thought?" she asks. "Or was that our dear little friend?"

The idea of calling Spite "dear" is funny enough that Lucanis laughs out loud.

"I find myself thinking far too much these days," he admits.

"About Illario?" she asks.

"Among other things."

"Ah," Rook exhales, eyes drifting back out to the water. She probably knows what he's talking about, but she doesn't press. "I was thinking about Jacobus."

"Is he still struggling?" Lucanis asks.

Rook hesitates, and then chances a look at him. There's something more vulnerable than usual in her expression. He holds her gaze.

"I told you I am from a military family," she says carefully. He nods. "I was adopted. My parents… they found me, alone, as a baby. I don't remember my birth parents, but I always assumed they were slaves, and they abandoned me to save me from slavery… or maybe they just couldn't handle having another mouth to feed… That's life for an elf in the Imperium." She glances at Lucanis again, eyes nervous, but he does not look away. He wonders if anyone other than Neve knows this about her. "I was so angry, those early years. They put me in the Circle, got me trained, honed my anger into something productive. But I still remember how it felt. Going out with my family and everyone assuming I was nothing but a servant. Having all of that rage and nowhere to put it."

"You found your way," Lucanis reminds her. "So will he."

"I hope so," she says softly. "You know I was considered a bit of a prodigy myself, growing up?"

"Humble," Lucanis says blithely. She rolls her eyes.

"I was a model student," she says. "I was of low blood, an elf. I wanted to be so perfect nobody could take my spot away from me."

"And how did that work out?"

"Pretty good, I think," she says, smiling wistfully. "Until I freed all those slaves and the Shadow Dragons had to send me off with Varric to bury my head in the sand for a while." With a sigh, she shifts closer to him. "Thank you for listening."

"I like listening to you speak," he says honestly. There's more to her past that she's still clinging to, he knows there is. But he won't press. She has offered him more than he deserves already. She smiles.

"You'd be in rare company. I used to drive Tarquin mad. He would say I was like a mosquito buzzing in his ear."

"I wouldn't say that."

"No? How would you describe me, then?"

"Birdsong," Lucanis says simply. "Melodic. Calming."

Her eyes soften. "You speak so sweetly sometimes, Lucanis Dellamorte."

"Only for you," he responds.

They fall into a comfortable silence, and Spite doesn't even peep up to break it. It's so rare that Lucanis can feel this calm. The moment feels precious, a rare stolen second of peace in the city he loves with the woman he-

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

Dawn:

- Exercises

- Coffee with Rook, Neve (Discuss potential training with Heir for Shadow Dragon agents)

Mid-morning:

- Weapon maintenance

- Sparring with Davrin

Midday:

- Midday meal

- Travel to Treviso market (Clams, white wine, oil)

Late afternoon:

- Exercises

- Meeting with Emmrich (Spite)

Evening:

- Supper preparations. Rook's turn in supper rotation, but she can't slice.

Nearing midnight:

- Study

Lucanis, much to his chagrin, finds himself spending more and more time with Davrin as Neve gets busier working cases in Dock Town with Rook. He'd thought Davrin a blundering, closed-minded and self-righteous fool when they'd first met. But he should have known better. Rook has an uncommon eye for recruiting good people. And Davrin — when he doesn't have his big sword up his ass — is actually pretty funny. Not that Lucanis would ever tell him that directly.

Doesn't mean the Warden isn't still a a blundering, closed-minded and self-righteous fool. Lucanis just understands his value. Even if the constant questions about the ethics of contract killing are tiresome.

He's mostly doing this for Rook. She wants them to put their acrimony behind them, and she is right when she says that it matters for the sake of their shared mission. He gets the feeling that Davrin is doing it for her sake more than his as well.

So. Common ground. Wanting to make Rook happy. He can work with that.

Doesn't mean he can't be snide in battle, though.

"I didn't believe her at first," Davrin says to him as they trudge through Arlathan Forest searching for truffles. "But she insisted you were secretly hilarious."

"Not much of a secret if she keeps outing me to everyone," Lucanis mutters, but the corner of his lip curls up, just so.

"I told her she was biased, blinded by love. And you know what she told me? She said I was being bitchy," Davrin chuckles, shaking his head. "I don't think anyone has ever called me that to my face before."

"Sounds like Rook," Lucanis says. "She disarms you like that. It's how she always gets her way."

"She gets her way with you because you're smitten," Davrin corrects. "Or am I not allowed to say that?"

It's actually incredibly annoying that he's saying it. Lucanis hears enough about it from Neve, who he genuinely likes. But if even Davrin can tell, then there's no reason for him to pretend.

"Little point in me denying it at this point," Lucanis sighs. "But can you blame me?"

"Not at all," Davrin says. "Surprised me all the same, though. I would have thought you'd prefer someone less… cheerful."

"That is only because you did not know me before the Ossuary," Lucanis points out. "Also, I am on a job. I try to act professional."

"If that's the case, then how did you and Rook…?"

"It's like I said," Lucanis says, shrugging. "She always gets what she wants. She saved Treviso. She has always treated me with more kindness than I deserve. I would have fallen for her had I met her on any job, demon or not."

"If I may ask," Davrin ventures, "What made you take the leap? When I arrived, we all thought you would never make a move."

Lucanis wants to explore the "we all thought" part of Davrin's question, but he decides to let that go for the moment.

"I technically still haven't made any moves," he hedges. Davrin just arches a brow. "But yes, we have an understanding. I think I just realized I was hurting us both more by pretending that what I felt wasn't there. And to tell the truth, I tired of pretending with her."

"And what does the demon think?" Davrin asks. Lucanis can't help but chuckle.

"It's Rook. He can't get enough of her."

"Glad to see it's not just all of us, then."

"No spirit is safe," Lucanis agrees.

They continue perusing the forest floor for a while, Assan occasionally popping in and out in-between romps through the sky. Lucanis is used to the soft noise constantly filling the air in Treviso. The change of pace from that and even the Lighthouse is probably good for him.

"There's something I still don't get," Davrin hedges, "Why settle for an understanding? You both clearly have feelings for each other. Why not just… be happy?"

Lucanis pauses in stride, reaching down to pluck a truffle from the ground.

"It's…" he settles on some of the first words he ever said to Rook, "-complicated."

"She likes you, you like her," Davrin reasons. "Seems pretty simple to me."

And when Davrin puts it that way, Lucanis can't find an argument that holds water.

Lucanis: Here's my mother's hazelnut torte. She made one every Wintersend. -Emmrich

CAKE:

• One and a half cups of sugar
• Two cups of finely ground toasted hazelnuts
• Three quarters of a cup of sifted flour
• Two teaspoons of baking powder (sift into flour)
• Eight eggs, whites & yolks separated
• One and a quarter cups of apricot preserves
• Apricot liqueur for brushing

ICING:

• Eight ounces of chopped up dark chocolate
• One cup of heavy cream
• Pinch of salt
• Two tablespoons of orange liqueur or rum or strong coffee (if wanted)

INSTRUCTIONS:

Beat egg yolks with sugar until thick and light yellow. Beat egg whites in fresh bowl. Mix ground hazelnuts into the egg yolk and sugar. Slowly add flour, then GENTLY! fold in egg whites. Butter and flour two eight-and-a-half-inch pans. Bake around an hour, 325 degrees.

Take cakes from pans, cool, split in half. Brush with apricot liqueur. Warm apricot preserves, strain out skins. Spread preserves across the cakes, then some icing, as you stack. Decorate with icing and whole hazelnuts!

ICING:

Gently boil cream, then pour over chopped up chocolate. Add pinch of salt for taste. Stir, then let rest for 15-20 minutes to make sure it's all melted. Cool completely, then whip it up and decorate the cake. Can add in coffee or liqueur (or both) to taste. Can also add in ground hazelnuts when whipping up the icing, to add texture.

She sees everything.

His lifelong terror of letting his grandmother down. His shame for allowing Illario to fall so far, his fury at having been fooled. The lingering hurt of the team's initial distrust of his deal with Spite, and his own fear that they are right to fear him. His guilt over the destruction of Neve's home — and the collateral damage of her friendship with Rook.

Spite drags her through all of his hurt and shame, and when she finds him she does not berate him. She does not wish to leave. She simply takes his hand in hers and brokers a peace between him and Spite. She tells him she will stay by his side. She cuts through everything keeping him shackled to his misery.

And he… all that remains is that he loves her.

"We're ready for anything," she tells Teia and Viago. And he believes her.

It's his night to cook, so when they return to the Lighthouse he makes a beeline to the kitchen, allowing her to check in with the others and update them on their next move with the Crows. He'd picked up some saffron from the market before they'd left, so he begins assembling the ingredients for some paella.

Want ROOK. Where is she?

Lucanis chuckles, feeling an odd kinship with Spite in that moment.

"She has a life outside of us," he chides. "Besides, I have things to prepare before she returns." He strolls into the pantry, grabbing onions, tomatoes, peppers and garlic. As he's assembling the vegetables, however, he catches a whiff of Rook's favorite coffee roast.

That would pair well with…

In a flash, he sets all of the paella ingredients down and rushes back into the pantry. He thinks he remembers Bellara bringing back some hazelnuts earlier in the week…

He grins when he finds the small pouch, and shakes them briefly in his hands. He'll have to buy some to replace these, but he's sure Bellara won't mind. He returns to the kitchen, bringing along some eggs and sugar, and gets to work.

Rook loves doing small things for them. She once framed case notes for Neve to hang in her study to help her visualize everything more easily. She will stop when they are in Nevarra to pick flowers for Emmrich's desk. She turns small shells and trinkets into charms for Taash, and even gave the dragon hunter gift-giving advice that kickstarted their relationship with Harding. Lucanis wants to do this small thing for her. He wants her to be able to end her very long day with a sweet treat and her favorite drink.

She OPENS doors.

He wants her to know that he remembered her favorite drink. That he cares.

She ought to know. How much he does. She deserves devotion, a thousand times over.

Lucanis is tired of keeping what he feels contained. But more than that, he's remembering what he told her when they first met: a life lived well is a life lived fully. He has been trapped in prisons of his own making and prisons from afar. They cannot hold him anymore. His heart beats for a new purpose now.

A new person.

He will never fully deserve her. But maybe, just maybe, they both deserve whatever it is that can have together.

Rook finds him as he's finishing sautéing the aromatics. She's changed out of her armor, now only clad in her favored loose tunic and vest. Lucanis loves when she wears it. It's his best chance to see the wealth of tattoos she has on her arms and chest. She inhales in the scent of the garlic and saffron and then grins at him.

"Oh great," she says breezily, "-it's your turn to cook. What's all this going to be?"

Lucanis glances back at the pots.

"Paella," he answers. "Well, two of them. One without seafood for Emmrich."

He hesitates, for just a moment. With her standing right in front of him, eyes warm and expression open, something as benign as dessert suddenly feels wholly inadequate. But what in this world or the next could express to Rook how much she means to him and how much she's done for him?

"And," he adds quickly, hoping she didn't notice his pause, "A hazelnut torte for dessert." Her eyes widen with delight. "It pairs well with coffee."

"Wait," she says with a growing smile. "Did you make dessert just for me?"

"There's enough for everyone," he says, because he's a fool. She does not look deterred though, her smile widening.

"As long as they don't mind having it with my favorite drink," she gloats.

"They won't complain," Lucanis says, because it's true. They all want her to be happy. They all adore her.

He just so happens to want to kiss her, fall asleep with her in his arms and never leave her side as long as they're alive.

Rook's expression is warm as she says, "You didn't have to do anything special for me." And of course that's what she says. She has no idea, no clue, how important she is.

"Yes I did," he volleys back easily. Her brow furrows. "I still don't know how to apologize for… everything. And you…"

"You made dessert!" she exclaims. "Just for me."

"It's nothing," he says. "Or not enough."

"It is," she insists, stepping closer. Her voice softens, mellows into something more intimate than her earlier delight. "And you are." His heart stops for just a moment before she adds, playful, "And I'll have you know I'm very easily bribed."

Lucanis relishes in the moment. For once, there is no panic pressing against his chest. He only feels joy. "I'll keep that in mind."

Rook opens her mouth to speak, but right as she does Harding bursts into the kitchen.

"I could smell the fish from outside!" she declares, "Are we eating soon?"

Rook bites her bottom lip, huffing out a soft laugh as Lucanis squeezes his eyes shut in a vain attempt to pull himself together. Harding freezes mid-step.

"Oh," she squeaks. "I'm interrupting something, aren't I?"

"No Lace, it's fine!" Rook says tightly, pulling herself together quicker than Lucanis can. "Lucanis was just telling me that dinner will be ready in about an hour. And there's a dessert."

Rook's game face is pretty convincing, Lucanis will give her that much. But he also knows Harding has known her for longer than anyone else at the Lighthouse, even Neve. The scout narrows her eyes a bit, but nods.

"Yeah… okay. Great," she says. "I'll just go and… tell Taash."

Harding dashes out, and Rook turns back to Lucanis, a bit shy. He reaches out to brush a stray chunk of her bangs out of her eyes.

"I meant what I said earlier," she says. "If you still need time or space to-"

"Rook," he cuts her off, taking her hands in his. "I am afraid I am being too subtle."

Her eyes widen. "Lucanis-"

"I tire of the long game," he continues, pulling her closer. "I tire of denying what is between us. I want this. I want you. I am ready, Rook."

"Ready," she echoes, voice barely there. He nods, a smile quirking at his lips. Her lips are parted, and she looks a little dazed.

"May I kiss you?" he asks, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek, running his thumb along her vallaslin. Her skin is so soft.

"I might die if you don't," she whispers, surging up to meet him in the middle as he finally, finally, captures her lips with his. His other arm not cradling her face wraps around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She groans into his mouth, and the sound almost makes his knees buckle. Her arms link over his shoulders and she bites his bottom lip playfully, drawing a growl out of him. She arches into him more, and he's so overwhelmed by the sensation that he surges forward, knocking his teeth into hers.

Rook laughs into the kiss, leaning back slightly.

"It's been a while for me," she admits, breathless.

"It's been forever for me," Lucanis confesses. Her eyebrows rise.

"Truly?" she asks. He shrugs, tugging her closer still.

"Perhaps I've been waiting for you my whole life."

She snorts. "If that's so, then why gift Viago that dagger?"

"How in the world do you know about that?" he asks.

"Teia loves me," she says, wagging her brows. Her eyes sparkle with amusement, and Lucanis is overtaken by affection so sharp that he leans forward again, kissing her soundly. He's a bit more graceful about it this time. He may not be experienced, but he's a fast learner.

Right when Lucanis thinks his mind might be lost to the feeling of her skin and the sound of her sighs forever, she pulls back, face thoroughly flushed and lips swollen. Lucanis thinks he's never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

"I will not be the reason the paella burns," she declares.

Lucanis blinks stupidly.

"The what?"

Rook barks out a laugh. "Gods above, Lucanis, I've broken you," she mutters, gesturing to the food. "The paella. Dinner, vhenan."

"Oh," he says blankly. "Right."

"And dessert," she adds with a wink. "If I don't have that dessert, how else will I be assured that we're truly together?"

"I could still show you," Lucanis grumbles. Her smile softens from something teasing to something incredibly gentle. She reaches out, gently tapping his nose.

"We'll have time for that after," she assures him.

"Promise, mi corazón?" he asks. Rook flashes him that bright, doom-shattering smile he loves so much.

"Always."