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Dearest Zea,
Thank you again for the lovely time at the ball (and the gown)!
You were right — Lucanis was impressed, and he says he wants to meet you, and has something important to tell you (it’s a good thing, I’m sure, though he’s being a bit secretive).
Care to meet us at the Tesseract soon?
Much love,
N.
The letter was accompanied with a wooden box of cookies with chocolate crisps, smelling exactly like the ones Zea’s mama used to make for her little bird. She choked on breath, took one cookie from the box (neatly decorated with tiny seashells, undoubtedly by Naimy’s hand) and put it into her mouth. The sweet shortbread dough slowly enveloped her tongue with the flavours of vanilla, cinnamon, and chocolate. An image of a blossoming orange grove appeared before her eyes, and her mama’s voice called from some incredible distance away, “Pajarito, time for dinner — come down from the tree right now!”
She had no doubt that Lucanis had made these cookies — she just couldn’t understand how he had guessed the recipe…
Today was Lucanis’s turn to cook. Politely declining Bellara’s help, he took over the kitchen, deciding to prepare something elegant yet not overly complicated — something that would suit every team member’s tastes. Paella was perfect for the occasion. He just needed to set up a separate pan for Emmerich, who ate neither meat nor seafood. Cooking a special dish for him had long become routine.
LITTLE BEAST, Spite said fondly. Lately, he’d been calling Zea by that name — adopting the endearment Lucanis himself had given her: Gatita.
He continued calmly prepping the shrimp, not even glancing toward the door. He knew what was coming.
Zea approached him, her footsteps silent on the stone floor — not because she was deliberately trying to catch him off guard, but simply because she didn’t know how to walk any other way. She gently tugged on his ponytail. Lucanis freed his hair and turned his head slightly. Gatita was smiling her mischievous smile — clearly up to something again.
SMELLS LIKE JOY. CURIOSITY. ANTICIPATION. CHOCOLATE COOKIES. SMELLS LIKE NOT‑LUCANIS! Spite added in disarray.
“I wanted to take some cinnamon and cardamom,” Zea said carelessly.
“Why..?” Lucanis didn’t mind — they had excellent supplies after Gatita had persuaded him to raid Antaam’s storeroom (“After all, they robbed us — so we’re just reclaiming what was stolen!”), and they could easily spare some spices if needed. But there was something more to it.
Zea’s smile grew even more cunning.
“Naimeryn sent me a letter. Her Lucanis wants to meet with me and say something important. He also sent me some cookies,” she snorted softly. “I thought it would be polite to send him some spices in return — for his coffee.”
Well, that explained Spite’s comment completely.
“You’re… meeting with him?” Lucanis asked after a brief pause. His ‘other self’ had suddenly transformed from a strange idea into something resembling a real rival, and he had to exhale to calm his thoughts.
“With both of them,” Zea emphasized.
“I’m coming with you,” he said, perhaps more sharply than he’d intended.
“Jealous?” She snatched a raw shrimp from the cutting board and popped it into her mouth.
“Of myself?” He tried to put on a careless expression and give his voice a patronizing tone, but failed. “Maybe I should be, considering the man is treating you to your favourite cookies.”
“You know there’s no one else for me, right?” she purred, wrapping her arms around his waist. One of her hands strayed a little lower than proper.
“I’ll still come with you, if you don’t mind. I want to see this Tesseract. What if it’s not safe there?”
“Yeah, sure, that sounds convincing,” she laughed, releasing him so he could focus on cooking again, then reached for the spices.
“Did you get an answer from Zea already?” Lucanis’s eyebrow quirked as Rook burst into the pantry, holding a fancy-looking bit of parchment and wearing a wide smile, eyes alight.
“Time is weird where the Tesseract is concerned, remember?” She nodded enthusiastically. “Look! And she sent a thank-you gift.”
Lucanis took the parchment and small sachet from her, his eyes perusing the page. In a sweeping but clearly legible aristocratic script, it read:
My dearest Naimy,
You will recall, I trust, that four gowns yet remain at your disposal. They are entirely yours — do favour me with a word should you wish to captivate his heart once more.
Four more gowns? The thought of seeing Rook dressed in finery again did, in fact, stir something within Lucanis, though he set the feelings aside for now. Beneath the desire for a repeated experience, a pang of guilt — should he not spoil Naimeryn as thoroughly as this otherworldly version of herself was doing? The coin was certainly no object.
WE GIVE. ROOK. PRETTY THINGS! Spite protested. It was true — trinkets, in comparison to five gowns. Spite continued to grumble, but Lucanis returned his attention to the note.
I must confess myself most intrigued by his expressed desire for a meeting. As the old adage so wisely warns, curiosity killed the cat — yet I cannot resist the temptation. I shall be most delighted to join you and to hear all that your Lucanis may have to impart.
CURIOSITY. LIKES. CATS, Spite said, his brow furrowed with confusion. Knowing he was referring to Manfred, Lucanis fought the urge to chuckle out loud. He would have to explain turns-of-phrase to the demon later.
My Lucanis likewise insists upon attending (I suspect my cherished biscuits have kindled a most unseemly jealousy within him — though perhaps the true cause lies not in the confectionery itself, but rather in my evident delight therein. How such a thing is possible, I cannot fathom, yet they were indeed the very image of those my mother used to prepare in my girlhood).
He frowned slightly at having caused even a minor bump in the relationship of his alternate self… that had certainly not been his intent, though he supposed if the roles had been reversed he’d have likewise been a bit rattled. At least the silverite lining was that Zea had genuinely enjoyed his offering… which he found most interesting. The recipe in question was, in fact, a de Riva family specialty — Lucanis had convinced their cook to share it with him years ago, with the express intent to make them for Viago (though he had then worried that the paranoid poison connoisseur would never touch them, and had opted instead for the custom blade). When his first offering was so ill-received, he had set the recipe aside… and only remembered it when he thought of making a peace offering for Zea.
Aware that Lucanis is not, by inclination, a connoisseur of sweets, I send as a modest token of my esteem a delicate measure of cinnamon and cardamom to grace his coffee.
Lucanis smiled a bit to himself. The coffee spices were most appreciated; he must be sure to express as much at their meeting. He set the sachet aside and finished the letter.
I await our forthcoming reunion with the utmost anticipation.
Ever yours in sincerity and affection,
EdR
P.S. My first impulse was to reply with a simple “Gladly, +1” — but then Viago’s ghost materialized before me, scolding, “Idiot, can’t you put more than two words together?” Well, here’s to my over‑explained response:
We’re coming! Also, please pass along my spicy gratitude to Lucanis for the cookies — they were delicious. And the box is truly lovely!
Love you!
A meeting that now included his other self — but honestly, had he expected anything less? Again, were the roles reversed… surely he would behave the same.
“Are you ready?” Rook pressed carefully.
She reached her hand out to him, and Lucanis was taking it before he’d even realized he’d decided to. But then, reaching for her was as natural as breathing, wasn’t it? He laid the note on his cot beside the spices.
COLD, Spite grumbled at him as he interlaced their fingers and stood.
“I’m going to make you some gloves,” he said thoughtfully, pressing her frigid digits to his lips and making her giggle.
“Later!” She tugged his hand, and he allowed himself to be dragged all the way to the Eluvian, and through.
The bar as they entered stood empty. Lucanis was struck immediately by how its existence put one at ease — no dark corners to shroud hidden threats, only one way in or out, no windows or shadowy rafters for unexpected surprises. Just a large open room filled with tables and chairs, a full service bar along one side, and a self-service bar adjacent. The self-service bar was perhaps the only cautionary thing here — easily poisoned, Viago would insist.
BORING, Spite confirmed. NO THREATS.
In the far right corner, four mannequins stood, covered in protective white sheets. The dresses Zea had mentioned in her letter, perhaps?
“Do you trust Tesseract-Varric to make your coffee, or do you want to make us a pot yourself?” Rook asked, bringing his attention back to her. He noticed belatedly she was wearing the blue lipstick Zea had gifted her — she was eager for this other Rook’s approval, he knew, and was intrigued to meet the woman Naimy had so quickly grown so fond of.
“You know I like it better when I make it myself,” he told her with a smirk, and she returned the expression with a playful eye roll.
“Make me a cup too? Oh, and Zea! She likes… cinnamon in hers. And chocolate, I think she said.” She brushed a kiss over his knuckles before extricating her fingers from his as he raised an eyebrow at her. “I’ll be at the table by the griffon tapestry when you’re done.”
“Mierda, even outside the Lighthouse Assan gets more attention than I do,” he grinned, making his way to the bar.
“Skill issue,” Naimeryn teased, sliding into what he could only assume was her usual chair. “You should try being cuter.”
“Cute—“ Lucanis blew an exasperated breath out his nose as Spite cackled at him. He shook his head in mock indignation at Rook, then set about the coffee.
“Hmmm! Smell that?” Zea smiled as they stepped through the eluvian.
Of course, Lucanis immediately caught the scent of coffee and cinnamon. He also noticed two people inside the spacious room — the kind where you could only hide behind the bar counter.
One of them — presumably Naimeryn — was an elf with azure hair and matching lips. She was sitting at a table near a griffon tapestry, leaning comfortably against the wall with one leg bent to rest her foot on her seat, cradling a mug in both hands as she faced both the Eluvian and her table mate, in the seat beside her. When she saw them, she sat up somewhat and waved cheerfully.
The other — like a dream or a reflection in the mirror — looked both like Lucanis and not like him. It was a strange, inexplicable feeling. That other Lucanis shot him a wary glance, and it felt like he could read his own thoughts.
The Lucanis at the table watched the two Crows step through the Eluvian apprehensively, feeling his whole body stiffen. His demon likewise grew agitated almost immediately, sensing his other self as well.
I THOUGHT. TWO LUCANIS’S. WOULD BE. FUN, Spite pouted, and Naimy stifled a giggle. TWO. ME’S. DON’T LIKE!
“You’re the only Spite for me,” she chortled gently, wishing she could physically comfort the demon as she slipped her hand into Lucanis’s, watching him watch… himself. It stirred something within her, too. It was more odd to see his doppelgänger than a her that wasn’t really her, she realized, and found it unexpected. She glanced at Zea’s Lucanis and gave him an easy smile as the two drew closer.
Zea noticed that Naimeryn was wearing the dark‑blue lipstick she’d gifted her — and gave her a silent thumbs‑up. Naimy looked lovely, and genuinely happy. At her gesture, a soft, pleased blush spread across Naimeryn’s cheekbones, and she grinned at Zea. She felt her eyes move unbidden back to the man who sat beside her. The two Lucanises may look the same, but they weren’t, and her magic could sense the difference.
Naimeryn would know her Lucanis anywhere, in any universe, she realized.
Naimy’s reassurance soothed both man and demon somewhat, as did her cool fingers pressing into Lucanis’s palm. He could feel her watching his reaction, but for the moment, he was too curious about his other self to return her gaze.
Of course, he was tense, hiding his shock behind an “empty stare”. Lucanis had never seen himself from the outside in such moments and didn’t realize how unsettling it looked. He noticed Zea pulling his ponytail with a slight smile, and noticed how his gaze changed. His eyes, now fixed on Naimy, warmed up so much that it could already be called a smile. His alter ego greeted her with a polite nod first, then Lucanis.
He was him, but he wasn’t. He wore a shirt Lucanis would only have chosen for himself if he still worried about needing to compete with Davrin — a silky black dress shirt with nothing over it, worn loose and unbuttoned to expose his collarbone and tease the existence of his chest hair. The shirt was tucked into a wide belt and tight leather pants — a practical choice, should the need to fight arise unexpectedly. Over his shoulder he carried a leather jacket, but Lucanis suspected it was not for himself, as Zea de Riva was a tiny little thing, built nearly identically to Naimeryn, if a little less muscular and a little more lithe. Perhaps being eternally cold was a common feature of Rooks across all universes? Not-him regarded him nearly as cautiously as he himself was doing, and he supposed it was justified.
After all, they each knew perfectly well what the other was capable of.
Zea was expecting some nice time (not many chances the two Lucanises wouldn’t find common grounds). The only shadow on her mind was the inevitable awkwardness they were all about to face.
“Okay,” she said, planting her hands on her hips and shifting her gaze from one Lucanis to the other. “We’re about to have a seriously awkward moment, so let’s try to keep it short and sweet — no need to figure out who’s Lucanis One and who’s Lucanis Two. I call my Lucanis ‘Luz,’ and I suggest we stick to that name here. Unless you mind, corazón tierno,” she added, looking him in the eye. “And our Spite is Alado, so there shouldn’t be any confusion there either. Deal?”
Not-him — Luz — turned his head at Zea, and Lucanis studied his high ponytail more curiously. His beard, too, was shorter, cropped closer to his jawline. He frowned, wondering if he would like the style himself. He then remembered the way Naimy had pouted at him upon finding him in the kitchen with his own in a bun. Thought about the way her fingers often threaded through his own beard, the way she would twirl a strand around her index finger before pulling away from a kiss. Perhaps not.
“Alado,” he repeated, amused they called their Spite the Winged One. “A fitting choice.”
WHY DON’T. I. HAVE. FANCY NAME? Spite demanded.
“You do,” Lucanis muttered. “It is ‘Pain in My —‘“
“Lucanis!” Naimeryn hissed with a laugh. Zea’s eyes sparkled as she cocked an eyebrow at them. Naimy tilted her head and said fondly, “Spite is a bit unruly.”
Zea chucked, then allowed a dramatic sigh.
“Yeah, kids!” She looked knowingly over at Luz, then at him. “Try ‘A Thorn In My Side,’ Lucanis.”
Spite grumbled in protest, and Lucanis felt the corner of his mouth quirk up. A thorn in his side, indeed.
It was easy to see why Naimeryn was so taken with Zea de Riva. She was clever. Funny. Given that she was a Crow — and moved every bit like the predator she undoubtedly was on the job — Lucanis would be concerned about her taking an interest in his sometimes too-trusting Warden. Zea was as graceful as a cat (he understood why Naimy said Varric’s nickname for her had been “Kitten,” though the storytelling dwarf may have been understating rather than aggrandizing this one time), and he had no doubt she was as quick as one, as well.
But then, Naimy loved cats.
AND DANGEROUS THINGS! Spite chimed in unhelpfully. He supposed that was true, too. Dragons, wyverns, venomous snakes — Spite. Him.
Thus far, she seemed to have a way of taming some of them, as well. Zea, certainly, seemed about as likely to so much as allow harm to come to Naimeryn — let alone cause it herself — as she was to suddenly shapeshift into an actual cat. Not impossible, he supposed, but he didn’t see it happening.
He returned his attention to his other self — Luz, he reminded himself forcibly — who seemed to still be deciding how comfortable he was in this unprecedented situation.
Mierda…
Luz.
And Alado.
He wasn’t sure he could calmly hear those names coming from Naimeryn’s lips — let alone from his own reflection. It was something only between the two of them, too intimate to share. What’s more, it always made Illario and Viago wince and lash out with sarcasm. He couldn’t yet read Zea’s friend’s reactions, but he knew she was doing her best to skip the hard part — hence he had no other choice but to oblige, as he usually did.
Zea was aware that her Lucanis was uncomfortable with the solution she’d offered. But honestly, the whole situation was already bizarre — so what did any of them really have to lose? She felt him slipping into his “at‑work” mindset and smiled knowingly. She’d done the same when she first met Naimeryn.
Luz (mierda!) looked at his reflection appraisingly, noticing the differences. The hair, carelessly swept off the forehead. The scruffy beard. The clothes — not just buttoned up to the last button, but also accessorized with something resembling a leash. Shirt, vest, neckcloth.
Luz (por la sangre del Hacedor!) remembered how he felt, hiding under layers of fabric. Vulnerable. This Naimeryn’s Lucanis seemed not yet fully healed — maybe just starting that difficult journey. Perhaps Naimy lacked the resolve to grab him by the scruff and give him a good shake… Zea had said Naimeryn Thorne was the kindest person in all the worlds, but kindness wasn’t always what people like them needed.
And their demon was grumpy.
Luz inwardly flinched when he heard his own voice — but with subtly foreign intonations — coming from his alternate self’s mouth.
“Want me to make you some coffee?” Luz asked Zea, turning toward the counter.
“I think there’s already a cup here for me,” she replied, then added with inimitable irony, “And for you, if I can still count to four.”
Luz was certain Lucanis had prepared this coffee just as he would for himself. Yet he still hesitated to accept a drink from a stranger — even if that stranger, in a sense, was himself. A pang of jealousy struck him at the thought of Lucanis making coffee for Zea, an irrational feeling he couldn’t quite shake. Luz caught the aroma drifting from her cup — just the right balance of chocolate and cinnamon. Their senses must be quite similar.
It’s not poisoned, for the Maker’s sake. The very idea of poisoning the beloved woman’s closest friend — right in front of her — was the last thing one would expect from their own self.
“I appreciate the thought,” he said with a slight tilt of his head, “but I like it better when I make it myself.”
Beside Lucanis, Naimeryn choked. He jumped as coffee shot out of her nose and across the table. Naimy, unable to contain the coughing and spluttering and choke-laughing as they overtook her, covered her face with her hand, turning scarlet right to the tips of her ears. Mierda, this woman. In spite of himself, he felt his chest vibrate slightly before he could stifle his own laugh.
Zea leapt to action, crossing in front of Luz to grab napkins from the holder by the wall and hand them across to Naimy. In a smooth movement, she rescued her friend’s mug from her mirth-shaking hand.
“Hold on, amiga, it’s gonna be fine!” Her eyes were alight with laughter, the two women dissolving into giggles as the two Lucanises looked on helplessly.
“Naimy, breathe!” Zea kept saying through her laughter — Naimeryn’s laugh was incredibly infectious, and it didn’t really matter what it was about, though of course Zea was curious. “What’s gotten into you?”
Luz was very interested in that question too. He noticed how Lucanis’s expression changed a second before Naimeryn choked — and that was… amusement? Something very close to it, as if Luz had just said something hilarious.
Naimeryn was, of course, mortified, but with Zea also laughing, she could not seem to stop. She tried twice to answer her friend’s question, sucking in deep breaths before dissolving into more giggles.
Get it together, Naimeryn. It wasn’t even that funny. Your nerves are showing.
Finally, she drew in a breath that didn’t make her choke. She was suddenly very aware that Lucanis had reached around her when she’d leaned over the table, his hand now splayed across her lower back. He could have answered for her while she struggled, but instead he waited for her to speak for herself. Creators, she loved him.
“When we got here,” she said a little breathlessly, “I asked Lucanis if Varric could make the coffee, and he said the exact same thing!”
Zea raised an eyebrow — just like Viago — and said with an impenetrable expression: “Just an incredible coincidence.”
Naimeryn happened to glance over to Luz, sliding into the seat across from Lucanis as Zea gently tugged his sleeve, and noted a touch of color on his cheeks. Cute. She dropped her gaze back to Lucanis, but he was in on the joke, and only smirked at her and shook his head slightly. Silly woman, he’d say if they were alone. She felt her cheeks grow warm as well.
“So, Lucanis,” Zea said, pulling one of Naimeryn’s most-admired tricks, getting down to business at the drop of a hat, no trace of laughter lingering on her words. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
With the last traces of a smile fading from his lips, Lucanis moved his eyes from Naimeryn’s face to hers.
“Grazie mille, signorina, per esserti presa così bene cura del mia fiamma,” he said in that ultra-respectful way he had when speaking Antivan, inclining his head toward Zea while Naimeryn tried not to swoon right out of her chair. But when she looked from him to her friend, she realized something was off — Zea’s brow scrunched in… confusion? No, embarrassment?
Zea had known it would happen sooner or later. She recognised the “pirate dialect” — the tongue of noble descendants of ancient Rivaini pirates who had settled along the shores of modern Treviso. It was a language her beloved knew perfectly, yet one she’d never bothered to learn. Instead, she’d wasted time on Nevarran and ancient Elven — languages no one expected her to master. Neither Lucanis nor Viago had ever insisted she speak both; it was merely customary for royalty and nobility, to which no elf could ever truly belong. So it was only a matter of time before she found herself caught in the crossfire.
Lucanis’s words washed over her like gibberish. She could barely decipher fragments: “Grazie” sounded akin to “gracias”, “per” resembled “por”, “cura” might translate to “cuidar”, and “bene” echoed “bien”.
She flushed to the roots of her hair, pinned her ears back, and looked guiltily at Luz. He gave her a sympathetic smile and a subtle nod toward his counterpart: This is your conversation. He could, of course, have translated Lucanis’s words for her, but he decided to let them find… a common language, so to speak. After all, his alter ego had asked for a meeting, which meant he wanted to express his gratitude personally, not through a third party. Besides, Zea was blushing ever so sweetly.
She let out a heavy sigh. Feeling her skin burn on her face and neck, she murmured, “Lo siento, Señor, pero no lo entiendo.”
Lucanis’s brow scrunched and the corners of his mouth tugged down, while the two of them stared at each other. Luz, for his part, wore a smirk that was part mischief and part curiosity as he watched his paramour with interest. Feeling uncomfortable and out of the loop, Naimeryn heard herself giggle. Slowly, like he was flexing a rarely-used muscle, Lucanis spoke again.
“Le ruego me disculpe. Yo dije, ‘Muchas gracias, señorita, por cuidar tan bien de mi fuego.’”
It had been some time since Lucanis had used Antiva’s southern dialect himself. In some ways it was akin to its own language — changed very little since the arrival of Rivaini settlers. Its pronunciation and many of its terms were similar enough to those used in the northern cities, but the distinction was rarely of particular import — it was mainly spoken south of Antiva City, with the nation’s capital seeing the most mixed use of both dialects as compared to the rest of the country. Lucanis understood it, and used it very occasionally for jobs, but typically had never needed it while addressing fellow Crows, even those from the southern houses. He felt his misstep deeply, and Zea’s reaction lanced him with guilt. Luz. Corazón tierno. Alado. Amiga. He had recognized the terms, and not thought to adjust for them, and had embarrassed Naimeryn’s friend as a result. He glanced at the Warden, but she did not look displeased with him… merely confused.
He fought the urge to sigh. Leave it to him to make a mess of this.
“Eh, tranqui, no es tu culpa,” Zea told Lucanis with a dismissive wave of her hand and a sweet smile, speaking slowly and distinctly. “Yo me metí en esto.” With a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, “Ella es un verdadero milagro, siempre estoy feliz de ayudarla. Tienes mucha suerte de tenerla a tu lado.”
A small, tender smile quirked Lucanis’s lips at the assertion.
“No tienes que persuadirme,” he said softly, fighting the urge to wrap his arm more fully around Naimeryn’s waist and pull her in close.
A true miracle Zea had called her. Said he was lucky — he would think she didn’t know the half of it, but given Luz was also possessed, perhaps she did. Naimeryn’s brow was furrowed in that way she had when she was trying to puzzle something out, and he felt a bit guilty — she hated puzzles. Before he could translate, however, she jolted upright in her chair.
“Does Zevran speak a different version of Antivan than you do?” She asked him, and he could still see her mind working behind her eye.
The question caught him off guard. He frowned, unsure how the Crow’s most famous exile had come up. Then, realization dawned.
“House Arainai is situated in Antiva City,” Lucanis said thoughtfully. “It is possible he would be more accustomed to using the southern dialect — and given his history, he may not have received instruction in the so-called ‘noble’ dialect.”
“So you speak the northern dialect?” Naimeryn tapped her chin thoughtfully, and Lucanis couldn’t fight back his smile. The topic had stirred the book-lover in her, the part of her desperately eager to learn everything about everything. Luz was watching her with thinly veiled interest as she brightened, becoming more animated as she pursued her curiosity — she was certainly a very different creature from his Zea.
Zea was a Crow — guarded out of necessity. Her expression always vaguely calculating, even when relaxed. Her smile bright, yet still world-weary. Naimeryn was none of those things. An open book. Eternally optimistic. And she hid her own years of pain, her fatigue, behind an all-consuming care for everyone around her that served as a sufficient distraction from both — as long as you didn’t look too close.
“If that’s the ‘noble’ dialect,” Naimeryn said slowly, “what’s Zevran’s version called?”
“Common,” he said with a slight shrug of one shoulder.
Naimeryn spun to Zea, eyes sparkling. “I don’t speak Antivan, so I thought maybe it was just me not understanding, but whenever you speak Antivan, it sounds familiar to me, but also not like anything I’ve heard Lucanis say,” she explained.
“I couldn’t figure out how that could be. But this is why!” She leaned closer to her friend. “Does Antiva not have different dialects for you? Is that why you don’t speak the ‘noble’ variant?”
“More like I’m just not noble enough,” Zea mumbled, her face still red, though her blush was slowly fading.
“Few people use the royal dialect anymore,” Luz explained with a faint smile, his left arm sliding across the back of Zea’s chair as though to offer comfort. “So there’s little practical reason to learn it. Still, you could’ve picked it up, Gatita. You’re from a merchant family, after all,” he said with gentle reproach.
“Et comment progressez‑vous dans l’apprentissage de la langue orlésienne, monsieur le savant?” she shot back in impeccable Orlesian.
Luz paused, visibly working through the translation in his head. After a moment, he replied in the “royal dialect”, his words measured, “Questa lingua non è parlata nel mio paese.”
Zea’s eyebrow arched as she parsed the meaning. A short, amused laugh escaped her before she countered in crisp Lowland Nevarran: “Sei nicht so selbstbewusst, sonst verlierst du alle Handelspartner.”
Naimy watched them bicker, hopelessly lost. Could Lucanis understand everything they were saying? Zea may be embarrassed not to know both of her country’s linguistic variants, but Naimy could speak exactly one language — trade. She could feel herself beginning to slouch in her chair. Always the least educated person in every room she was in… even when one of its other inhabitants was sort of herself.
Zea turned back to Naimy with a bright, mischievous grin, inclining her head towards Luz. Naimeryn straightened back up immediately, not wanting her friend to catch her feeling sorry for herself. “Here I thought I could be of use for you, Naimy, but it seems, I don’t know the Antivan you need.”
Naimeryn opened her mouth to point out that Lucanis would be able to understand her either way, but Luz wasn’t looking at her and spoke first.
“You wouldn’t be very helpful even if Lucanis preferred ‘peasant’ Antivan,” he smirked at Zea, leaning his right arm onto the table.
“Did you just call her a peasant?” Naimeryn asked hotly, and before Lucanis even thought to stop her, she’d leaned across the table and smacked his shoulder — much in the same way she accosted Davrin when she felt he was being insensitive.
There was no doubt in Lucanis’s mind that Luz could have easily avoided the blow. Despite this, he did look mildly surprised that Naimeryn had struck him. The instant she did it, Naimy’s eyes grew huge and round, her gaze flying apologetically to Zea’s face, her own even redder than her friend’s had been previously.
Now it was Zea’s turn to choke and cough — she was laughing until tears welled up.
“That’s right, amiga, don’t let that pirate get away with his antics,” she approved, wiping her tears away with her wrist. “Are you injured, corazón tierno? Need a healer?” she teased Luz, groaning with silent laughter.
“I’ll live,” he promised, giving Naimeryn a warm smile.
The fact that she had instinctively rushed to her friend’s defence touched him. Of course, he could have easily dodged her blow, but he decided she was right — he had indeed gone a bit too far.
“My apologies, Naimeryn,” he said with a slight bow, “I had no intention of offending Zea. The thing is, in common parlance, the ‘royal dialect’ is called the pirate’s tongue, while the ‘common’ one is known as the peasant’s. It’s a long‑standing tradition that highlights the differences in pronunciation and a certain arrogance among the southerners.”
Naimeryn listened to his explanation with great interest, grateful to be forgiven for what could have been a grave error of behavior on her part.
“A certain arrogance?” Zea snorted uncontrollably again, covering her mouth with her hand. “Alright, let’s call it ‘a certain arrogance’. But Luz is right, actually. I had to relearn my native language so that people in Treviso would understand me. I grew up in Salle, southerners drop some sounds, especially consonants…”
“Rather, they don’t use consonants at all,” Luz couldn’t resist a barb, his palm spread over Zea’s back to help her calm down and relax, catching her breath.
“No, we just replace them with vowels,” she snapped back goodheartedly and smiled at Naimy. “Honestly, though, if you do want to learn common Antivan, I can help, just a little. I did have to teach thirty elven kids in three months, so they were able not just to stare pleadingly at Viago but also say, ‘por favor, buen Señor de orejas planas, no nos expulse.’” She snorted to the memory, then translated her words, "Please don’t expel us, good flat-eared lord.”
“You truly contain multitudes, friend,” Naimeryn giggled. “Thirty children! That must have taken patience. How did Viago handle being called a flat-ear, I wonder?”
Zea nodded, raising a finger — “I’ll show you” — then sat up straight in her chair, as if she had a wooden rod for a spine. She lifted her chin, raised her eyebrows, half‑closed her eyelids, and pursed her lips into a displeased grimace — an aristocrat who has detected a very strong stench but is too well‑bred to complain about it.
Naimeryn and Lucanis both snorted out an irrepressible laugh. She grinned at him, and he cleared his throat, schooling his expression and taking a sip of coffee.
“It’s interesting that both dialects developed in both worlds from essentially the same history, but not identically,” Naimeryn said thoughtfully. Comforted that no one was angry with her, she felt her excitement over the topic creeping back in.
“And for all their differences, the words are kinda similar, too,” Naimeryn felt herself returning to her energetic, highly animated verbal processing. Zea, at least, seemed enraptured by her enthusiasm, not put off in the slightest, which was a comfort as well. “Zevran calls Saimaeria amor, or sometimes corazón, like you said to Luz. I think corazón means ‘heart,’ right? But Illario is always mocking me by calling me ‘cara mia,’” she rolled her eyes, finding the gesture returned by Zea, while both Lucanis and Luz seemed to grimace, “and I feel like that means ‘my heart’? Or something similar? So they mean the same thing but sound a little different?”
Luz was a professional, and therefore an observant and perceptive man. He watched Naimeryn with great interest as she enthusiastically shared her thoughts with Zea, supplementing her words with gestures and amusing facial expressions.
Certainly, at first glance, she wasn’t a beauty in the conventional sense of the word (definitely not Illario’s type — he was always drawn to perfect, vapid dolls). Yes, she was pretty, sweet, with a pleasant appearance, perhaps a bit rough‑edged. She was one of those women who deserved a second look.
Naimeryn Thorne’s beauty was an act of trust. It revealed itself in her smile, in the expression of her eyes, in the tilt of her head, in small gestures. It seeped through the laughter lines around her eyes, breaking through like sunbeams through clouds — one of the most magnificent sights Lucanis Dellamorte, the Demon of Vyrantium, had ever witnessed.
The longer one looked at this woman, the more attractive she became. Her open, kind, warm, gentle soul made her features so sexual and perfect that it was hard to look away. Luz had met people like her before, and they were always far more pleasant to interact with than the self‑assured devotees of beauty and fashion. He involuntarily glanced at Gatita, who was listening to her friend’s cheerful chatter with genuine attention. She simply doesn’t believe she’s beautiful…
You’re the most handsome man alive… He didn’t believe her either. He thought she was just trying to please him by saying that. He saw himself in the mirror and didn’t notice any particular beauty — but… maybe Zea meant something like this too?
Lucanis flinched at the mention of his cousin’s unwanted advances. The idiot may be tended to now — albeit likely temporarily — but his irritation at his cousin’s constant flirting with Naimy was never far below the surface. He’d absolved to let her deal with that how she saw fit… but there were times he’d still like to visit violence upon his person.
“No,” he corrected her gently when she paused for breath. “He’s saying ‘my dear.’”
He winced again. He really should have put a stop to that after the first time, but he hadn’t thought he’d had any right. “‘Heart’ would be cuore.”
“Oooooh, that does sound more similar,” Naimeryn mused, then she made a face. “Why does that make me more annoyed at him?”
“More disingenuous,” Luz snorted.
“He calls me ‘minor de Riva.’” Zea rolled her eyes. “Or ‘puny.’”
“That’s so mean!” Naimy bristled.
“I promise, I can handle the lesser Dellamorte,” Zea chuckled predatorily, implying she’s able to defend herself.
“I wish he would leave you alone,” Luz sighed. He knew perfectly well that she didn’t need his protection. Her odd relationship with Illario was more akin to a kind of sports or friendly rivalry — a habit too tempting to abandon. Yet he couldn’t say the same for Illario.
“I doubt that’s possible,” Zea said with a careless shrug. “Obviously, the only thing that never changes across all the worlds is Illario trying to steal a girl from Lucanis.”
“He’s welcome to try,” Luz muttered harshly.
Lucanis admired Luz’s confidence regarding Illario’s incessant flirtation. It seemed that where Lucanis often felt… insufficient next to his cousin, Luz was well assured of himself as enough for Zea. Though the way she looked at Luz when she thought no one was looking at her made it difficult to imagine her having feelings, ever, for anyone else. And hadn’t Naimeryn mentioned she’d been in love with him since childhood? Of course Luz was confident in their bond.
Inadvertently, Lucanis’s hand slid a little further around Naimeryn’s waist, and, naturally as breathing, she slid to the edge of her seat, her knee brushing his. She wasn’t going anywhere, either, he knew. The thought restored his breath somewhat. Naimeryn was the first woman he’d ever met who was so wholly immune to Illario’s charms.
Ella es un verdadero milagro… a miracle, indeed.
Zea shook her head with a sympathetic smile and nudged the coffee cup toward her beloved with the tip of her little finger. He sighed, surrendering to the moment as he accepted the cup Lucanis had prepared. It was still hot, its flavour perfectly balanced — a combination that stirred a whirlwind of contradictory emotions within him.
“Hmmm…” he hummed, feigning the air of a Café Pietra patron.
“How’s your coffee, mi Luz?” Zea asked him with inimitable irony, playfully tagging his ponytail.
“Just the way I like it,” he admitted lightly, nodding in acknowledgment to his other self, freeing his hair with the same movement. She never insisted on keeping it, though, just letting him know he needs to relax a bit.
“What about a poison check?” Zea teased, her cup already empty. Her gaze drifted toward the counter, clearly considering another round.
“I think I can trust Viago’s sister’s judgment on that,” he retorted with a smirk.
“Why don’t you make another round for all of us?” she suggested, then turned to the group. “No objections? Or… Naimy, what do you think of chocolate caliente?”
Lucanis was oddly pleased that his alter self did ultimately decide to drink his coffee. That Viago had a sister in another world was somewhat more shocking — though a wicked part of him thought the man deserved whatever trouble Zea had undoubtedly given him for her entire life. He hid a smirk behind his coffee mug, but his was also empty. If Luz trusted him enough to drink what he’d made, he supposed it was only fair he did the same.
Naimeryn turned to him at Zea’s question.
“Ooooh, is that that… choco-lotta calda thing you offered me at Café Pietra?” she asked him. Lucanis swallowed his chuckle, but she’d caught him — her cheeks flushed.
“Cioccolata calda, yes,” he corrected her with a smile.
“It’s good to hear Café Pietra is a staple in all worlds,” Luz said approvingly, downing his cup and standing to acquiesce Zea’s request. “So what will it be, Naimeryn?”
Naimy blushed and lowered her eyes, worried that she would have to embarrass herself yet again. Zea chuckled softly.
“Hot chocolate it is, mi Luz.”
He nodded and turned away, hiding his own smirk. Two cups of coffee and two of hot chocolate, then. The ritual soothed the lingering traces of distrust and hyper‑alertness. Making the coffee himself felt as essential as drinking it — something to hold on to. He trusted his Gatita completely, with his whole self, and her judgment.
It was just that he never quite trusted himself.
“So, tell me one thing,” Naimeryn said, resting her chin on her fist as she leaned on the table, batting her eyelashes at Zea. “How in the Void can I convince Illario to just lay off the charm once and for all?”
Zea let out a short laugh — the kind she never could suppress whenever Illario’s name came up.
“No tengo ni la menor idea, amiga,” she admitted with a flicker of irritation, “not a slightest idea. He’s been trailing after me for five years now, I think? I’ve tried everything. Words. Gestures. Songs. Even hit him with lightning once.”
Naimeryn choked out an incredulous laugh — hadn’t she once considered doing the same? There were not many times when she interacted with another Rook and felt as though she were interacting with herself, but this delighted her immensely.
Beside her, Lucanis muttered, “Mierda, do I have years of his bullshit ahead of me?”
Zea gave him a sympathetic smile and a little nod, and Naimy reached across the table to wrap her fingers around Lucanis’s far wrist. Both seeking and giving comfort. If Illario was going to continue to be a pain, they’d just have to continue to weather it together.
“Didn’t help much — maybe even made it worse,” Zea continued. “Maybe it’s a reflex: ‘Lucanis. Has something. I want it. Now!’” she growled hoarsely, mocking either Spite or Alado, but stretched her arms forward more like an undead, with her eyes drawn together and her fingers curled, so the result was something very strange, but convincing.
HE NEVER. GETS. WHAT’S OURS! NEVER. STEALS. FROM US, Alado objected.
Jealousy of Lucanis was as good an explanation as any. After all, that was Illario’s favorite card to play when Naimy turned him down, a pout, and an accusation that she gave Lucanis special treatment over him. Naimeryn jumped at Spite’s voice in her ear, dark and cold.
HE TOUCHES. WITHOUT. PERMISSION! He was growling. NOT HIS! NOT! ALLOWED!
Beside her, Lucanis groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. For her part, warmth spread through her chest. It was always comforting to her that, even now, no longer Determination, no longer hers, Spite felt so strongly protective of her. She smiled softly.
“Or maybe he just hates being denied and can’t stop himself from chasing things he doesn’t even need,” Zea continued with a snort. “Or maybe he just craves the attention Caterina never gave him.”
Lucanis inhaled sharply. Some things, it seemed, were true in all worlds.
Luz never lacked sharp hearing. Illario was a pain in the… side — but he was his pain. That was probably the only reason he was still alive. He sighed quietly in frustration and set the cups on the tray. He took the small risk of ordering an assortment of petite pastries — unsure whether Naimeryn shared Gatita’s sweet tooth, but leaving the plate open for sharing if they wished.
He placed the tray in the centre of the table, catching Zea’s gaze. She looked up at him with adoration worthy of any struggle.
“Maybe,” he added nonchalantly, “he’s just an idiot.”
Across the table, Lucanis snorted out a laugh, clearly in agreement.
“Well, Illario is one of only two people I know who are completely incapable of listening to reason,” Zea sighed.
“And who’s the second?” Naimy asked.
Zea glanced sideways — first at her paramour, then at Naimy’s. She beckoned her closer with a finger, cupped her hands over her mouth, and whispered directly into Naimy’s ear: “Solas.”
Naimeryn stiffened. Her continued indecision would be a source of frustration to Zea, she knew. It wasn’t that she hadn’t taken her friend's advice — she didn’t forgive Solas his crimes, had talked out her concerns with Lucanis, and was still completely comfortable with the realities of his life and job… even if they were a bit more complicated now.
It was that she still didn’t know what she wanted to do about it.
She frowned, selecting a pastry from the tray that she’d never seen before. “Well, Varric certainly didn’t have any luck in that department,” she grumbled, “and all he does is gripe at me.”
DON’T. TRUST, Spite snarled. Naimy once again found herself wishing she could physically soothe the demon. Lucanis’s fingers flexed on her waist, clearly deducing who they were speaking of.
“Spite’s right,” Zea nodded, as if it was nothing — hearing the demon and agreeing with him. “Forgive me, I should have thought better,” she added, touching Naimy’s hand shortly with genuine concern. “I really hope your thing is redeemable.”
A little put out that Zea could hear both demons, while she could only sometimes hear hers, Naimeryn took a melancholic bite of the pastry.
Her mouth exploded with the flavor of raspberry, powdered sugar, and sweet dough. Her eyes flew open in surprise, then slid closed as she began to chew. She hadn’t expected the plain-looking pastry to pack such a punch!
Lucanis loved when Naimeryn made that face. It was his favorite of her expressions, after all — but he caught someone else enjoying it, as well. Across the table, Luz had been appraising Naimeryn as she selected a pastry, waiting, and when she’d emitted her customary surprised “mm!” and given herself over to nothing more than taste, he’d smiled. If you could call it that — just a slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes, a little sparkle dancing in them.
“Naimeryn loves to try new things,” he said nonchalantly, gauging his doppelgänger’s response. “I shall never hear the end of how insightful it was of you to choose sweets.”
Naimy patted his arm lightly with the side of her hand still holding the doughnut. “No, what you’ll never hear the end of is me, begging you to make these at home.”
As though he would ever make her beg.
“It was just a lucky guess. Zea keeps going on about how sweet Naimeryn is,” Luz replied carelessly — and beside him, Zea snorted through her nose.
She knew perfectly well that Naimy had an even bigger sweet tooth than she did, and she was glad that Luz had “taken the liberty” of bringing pastries for them. She knew it mattered to him whether he’d guessed right (he could easily have just brought her favourite milhojas or a chocolate sponge cake drenched in liqueur and left it at that). She could feel how pleased he was that he’d gotten it right. She appreciated the teasing edge in Lucanis’s voice. What she didn’t expect was Naimy’s reaction to the soft purr Luz had allowed himself in a moment of ease.
On cue, Naimeryn turned scarlet to the tips of her ears. “A popular assessment,” she mumbled, and Lucanis was finally unable to suppress his impulses. He tugged her into his side, speaking into her hair as he said, “It is hardly an insult, mia fiamma.”
“Apologies, Naimeryn,” Luz said quickly, the color on his cheeks again and his mouth set in a firm line, his jaw clenched. Zea reached across for his hand. Luz’s eyes flicked from Naimeryn to Lucanis, almost as though looking for backup. “It was not my intent to offer offense, only to express that I can see what has Zea so fond of you.”
Zea felt the exact moment Luz shut himself down again. It was not even at Naimy’s words, it was at Lucanis's. Always looking for subtext, are we? It took him mere seconds to calculate the alter ego’s protective reaction, to realize he crossed a line, to try to make it up to him — I’d never dare offend your woman, you know that! She felt his fingers tremble slightly in her hand, his face blank and serene again. Here we go all over.
Naimy’s eyes bulged, and she lurched forward, laying her hand on Luz’s forearm.
“No, no, I’m not offended!” She said quickly. “Just, um — flustered?”
Lucanis smirked. “Do not worry yourself, Luz. Neither of us fault you — and it is easy to do.”
Naimy shot him a sideways glare. “Because you’re so difficult to fluster?”
“Easier than you think,” Zea said slyly, “he just won’t let it show. Which reminds me… Lucanis, a word?” She rose as if he’d already agreed to follow. Luz stood to allow her an easier exit from the table, sinking into her empty seat once she was past the chairs. “You two are free to dish about us in the meantime.”
She chose a table far enough away to ensure privacy, her back to Naimy and Luz. Lucanis took the seat opposite her, keeping both his woman and his other self in plain view. Did she do it on purpose? Well, of course she did. Smart. The next thing he noticed was Luz watching them as closely as he himself watched his other self.
“He won’t hurt her,” Naimeryn said lightly, watching Luz’s eyes follow Lucanis’s retreating back. They were Crows, she knew this was a natural reaction — and just because it was himself, that was only kind of true. She pushed the tray of sweets towards him slightly in offering and added, “and if he weren’t so nervous, he’d know you won’t hurt me just as much as I do.”
Luz shook his head slightly with a polite refusal of the pastries, earning himself a more for me! kind of smirk from Naimeryn.
“I’m more worried that she will hurt him,” he replied thoughtfully. He hadn’t named her Gatita for her purring or her habit of climbing onto laps. It was for the eighteen blades in her soft paws — and her knack for taking down opponents who looked bigger and stronger.
Naimeryn paused in pulling the tray back to herself, looking startled. The thought that someone could harm Lucanis had clearly not occurred to her. She glanced briefly towards the other two, then… laughed.
“That would certainly be an interesting scuffle to witness,” she managed through her mirth. “Though let’s hope they don’t test it — I’m getting better, but I’m still not-so-great at healing spells!”
“I do hope she’s up to something good,” Luz noted with a smirk. “So, are we both that obvious?”
Naimeryn smiled and tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe? Honestly, it’s interesting to see the two of you together. Like… twin brothers, moreso than reflections of the same person.”
“I had a slight feeling of Illario present, to be honest,” Luz admitted with a sigh. “Not… in a bad sense, anyway. The one when we were brothers. When we just teased one another because it was the only safe way to express fondness around Caterina.”
Luz then looked a little unsure of himself, like perhaps he was worried about oversharing. Naimeryn allowed herself a sigh, fiddling with the hot chocolate he had made for her. She hadn’t even tried it yet, how rude!
“For what it’s worth, if anything, I’m sorry that’s how the two of you had to grow up,” she told him gently. “I’m sorry you were pitted against each other. I — I’m hoping I can help heal some of that hurt. It’s probably the same for you, but I know Lucanis longs for that brotherhood back. Maybe I’m naive to think they can heal, but… I have to try, don’t I?”
Luz allowed himself a faint smile, ‘a real one, at that,’ as Neve teased him. He was enchanted by Naimeryn, as much as his heart held room for anyone but Gatita. She truly had every chance of reconciling them.
She took a sip of her drink. Fuck, that’s good. Unable to help herself, she waggled her shoulders happily and took another eager sip.
“I haven't had this drink since I was a kid,” he admitted with a silent chuckle, “but... Zea loves it. And I love watching her eat what I've made. It's… quite an entertaining sight.”
He threaded carefully, trying to cheer Naimeryn up with something amusing about her friend. Zea had given her blessing for them to dish, after all.
“Lucanis always watches me eat whatever he’s made before he starts eating himself,” Naimeryn told him with a soft blush and a smile that laid bare all of her feelings for him. “I grew up a slave, then went right into the Wardens. Good food is… very new to me.”
That was it, the feeling of being appreciated. No matter the origin, both Zea and Naimeryn had a knack for being sincerely grateful, for showing it in every way possible. And they both were transparent about their feelings, at least in their paramours’ regard. They had nothing in common, at first glance — a former slave and a Crow from a noble house — but put the shell away, and they both were just two girls in love with two complete losers who managed to hit the jackpot once in their lives.
Naimeryn selected another sweet off the tray — a lemon meringue kiss — and popped the whole thing in her mouth. Made a face of displeasure. Immediately chugged several sips of her hot chocolate.
“Citrus,” she grumbled in explanation.
“Lemon pairs well with fish,” Luz chuckled. “Try this one.” He pointed at the chocolate sponge biscuit soaked with liqueur. Zea’s favourite, but he was sure she wouldn’t mind.
Naimeryn gave him a cheeky little grin he had clearly not expected out of her, as surprise flitted temporarily across his face. She then did as he’d bidden — and was not disappointed.
“Maker,” she mumbled rudely around her mouthful, “food has no right being this delicious.”
“Food is one of the few pleasures available to the Crows. How can we allow it to be mediocre?” Luz remarked gently.
He noticed that Naimeryn’s cup was nearly empty and got up to make another serving of hot chocolate. He was sure Zea wouldn’t mind a cup either, and maybe Lucanis wouldn’t refuse another coffee. Naimeryn decided she didn’t want to sit at the table alone and followed him. She leaned casually against the bar counter and tried to sneak a glance at Lucanis and Zea. Luz chuckled — Naimeryn wasn’t very good at spying without being obvious.
“What do you think they’re whispering about?” she asked.
“Honestly, I have no idea,” Luz shrugged. Zea suddenly wanting to talk to Lucanis in private had surprised him too. “She sat in a way that lets both me and Lucanis see her and you without turning our heads — meaning she wanted us not to worry. At the same time, she chose a spot far enough from us that I can’t hear what they’re saying or read their lips. Most likely it’s something delicate, but not personal.”
“You can read lips?” Naimeryn’s eyes widened in admiration.
“Of course. I imagine Lucanis can too.”
“You’re all so talented,” Naimeryn muttered, accepting the refilled mug when Luz held it out to her. She fiddled with it for a moment, then, without looking at Luz, she asked, “has Zea… always been able to hear Spi— Alado?”
LITTLE BEAST, Alado purred. HEARS ME. LOVES ME. MORE THAN YOU. THE WARDEN IS SAD, he added. SMELLS LIKE LOSS. SORROW. REGRET. NO WAY BACK. FOR ANY OF US.
Naimeryn’s head snapped up in surprise. Hearing Spite was always exhilarating, but hearing Alado?
“He’s right,” she told Luz softly, “Spite… used to be mine. A Spirit of Determination attached to me since before my magic even manifested. Then, Zara…”
She bit her lip, dropping her gaze back to her mug. “Anyway, sometimes I can hear him, now that Lucanis and I are closer. Maybe my magic is attuning with him again? But Zea… she can hear both of them.”
YOU CAN. TOO, Alado assured her, trying to touch her shoulder, making his host shake his head in amusement. Didn’t the demon despise the spirits of Compassion, not so long ago? Now he was showing compassion towards someone he barely knew, and, according to their shared perception, he cared about another Rook, because she was important to Zea de Riva. As much as he cared for Luz himself, to the best of his abilities. Naimeryn flushed with apparent pleasure at the demon’s words.
“I assume it has something to do with the three years she spent in Nevarra,” he noted uncertainly. “Emmrich used to teach her some things. Naimeryn…” He hesitated for a moment, then said gently, “For what it’s worth, if anything, I’m sure you’re no less talented than any of us. Talent means nothing without hard work. You’re observant, and curious, and eager enough to learn any skill you need. And if you, by any chance, think that it’s too late for you to learn new things, imagine how I felt when Zea persuaded me to study magic.”
Naimeryn’s eyes grew wide again. “You’re studying magic? Is it helping?”
She then flushed and ducked her head to take a sip of her beverage. “Also,” she mumbled, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he shrugged slightly. He meant what he said, hence saw no reason to thank him for a compliment. “I suppose it is, yes. Not that I truly believed it would. We’re more… aligned… now? I think that’s how Emmrich put it.”
Naimeryn smirked at him, taking Lucanis’s new coffee out of his hand to walk back to the table with him. “Maybe I should suggest it to Lucanis, too, then,” she mused as she folded herself back into her chair.
“Are you going to tell me not to hurt her, or you’ll kill me?” Lucanis asked, feeling a bit tense. If Zea de Riva knew about his earlier fumbles with Naimeryn’s heart, what would be her reaction, he wondered? They had met after all of that, as far as he understood it. He could not imagine Luz being so clumsy, and felt a pang of envy toward his alternate self.
“I think Teia will be the first in line,” she answered nonchalantly, to which Lucanis chuckled. That was certainly true. “I wanted to ask you about your sleeping schedule. And nightmares.”
Lucanis heard himself laugh. “What sleeping schedule? Roo— Naimeryn has taken to all but locking me in the pantry when she says it has been too long.”
He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and shook his head. He did not want to admit to the nightmares, and hoped for once Spite would hold his tongue as well. He’d only told Emmrich at Naimy’s urging, and although he genuinely trusted Zea to have no ill intent regarding the query… in truth he wasn’t ready for anyone else to know.
Even if it seemed fairly obvious that she already did.
Zea placed a small vial between them. Crystal or very high quality glass filled with an absolutely transparent colorless liquid.
“What is this?” He asked, his eyes travelling from it to her face curiously. She was a de Riva — it could be anything.
“A sleeping potion I made for… my Lucanis. ‘The white fog’ — what you basically see instead of nightmares. If you trust Naimy enough to leave her to entertain Spite. Alado loves lullabies.”
Zea wasn’t questioning his trust in her; she was offering help as a fellow Crow. And in this case, she’d never let her brother-in-arms down.
“It’s not a poison,” she added, noticing his hesitation. “I’m a de Riva, of course — but the good one.”
Maybe it was that joke that made him reach for the vial.
“Spite also enjoys lullabies,” he shared hesitantly. “Though, from what I understand, Naimeryn usually has him assist in a task. He’s helpful… to her.”
MIGHT HELP. YOU. IF ASKED. NICER, Spite grumbled at him.
Zea chuckled at the demon’s rightful annoyance. Spite gave his host the stylish wings, not to mention the powers that made him the most exceptional assassin ever. “Lucanis ‘Not Enough’ Dellamorte,” she mumbled under her breath, then placed a round jar on the table.
Lucanis heard her, of course, how could he not? Her tone was… sympathetic. He remembered Naimeryn’s voice when telling him just how worthy he was — not the Demon of Vyrantium, not the magekiller, just him, exactly as he was, demon and all. Luz, it seemed, had similar insecurities born of constant competition and comparison, the constant drive to be better just to survive. Caterina, surely, was hewn of dragon bone in every universe. Were there any worlds, he wondered, in which he and Illario had been able to remain as they once had been? He made no comment, merely inspected the jar curiously.
“Soothing balm. For massage.” She smiled conspiratorially. “I am not offering you the ‘tea of repose’, but if you ever need peace of mind, let me know.”
Something stirred in the pit of Lucanis’s stomach at the word “massage.”
HANDS THAT. HEAL, Spite cackled, and he felt warmth on his cheeks. He pushed down memories of those hands by the river. To think of them all over him… now was not the appropriate time. He swallowed thickly.
“My thoughts exactly, Spite,” Zea said simply, and the demon all but purred.
She rummaged through her pockets again and pulled out a parchment. She glanced at the writing, turned it to the blank side, and scribbled a couple of paragraphs.
“What is it?” Lucanis asked, this time with genuine curiosity.
“The recipe. Viago would die for this one,” she replied with a sly smile. “And instructions.”
“What was it, then?” he clarified.
“Same thing — just… in peasant Antivan,” Zea said, blushing slightly. She’d once felt like a provincial girl in a metropolis, and she had no desire to relive that experience. She handed a parchment to Lucanis, then furrowed her brow. “I have a question, if you’ll indulge me, Lucanis.”
“You did me the favor of meeting — not to mention all you’ve done for Naimy,” he inclined his head. “It would only be fair.”
“I’m asking you because I know how much it hurts him that he hurt me — and I don’t want to go through that again.” She propped her elbows on the table and clasped her fingers, though it was still obvious her hands were shaking. “Stupid. I always make him breathe, but I never remember to do it myself.”
Lucanis watched her carefully, his chest squeezing. This was the first time Zea de Riva looked vulnerable. So Luz was not as smooth as he seemed either… was he an idiot in every universe, then?
“So here’s the question: what is it about Neve that…” The words got stuck in her throat, and she looked at Lucanis pleadingly: You know what I’m trying to ask, right?
Lucanis found himself caught off guard — this was not the question he had expected at all. He glanced towards Naimeryn, bright as ever, seemingly breaking through Luz’s carefully built walls as easily as she did with everyone else. She’d told Zea about Neve… perhaps that had bothered her more than he’d realized? He was always berating himself for the missteps in actions towards Naimy, but perhaps the thing that had hurt worst was… gooseberry pie? He thought of all the times Spite had claimed she was jealous of the detective, the misread actions, the tears… Neve’s offer. He frowned. Had he ever truly been interested in the Tevinter mage?
NO, Spite grumbled. Zea’s eyebrow quirked questioningly, and Lucanis waved his hand dismissively at the demon before answering her question.
“I do not claim to speak for your Luz,” he said carefully, forcing his eyes back to Zea’s face, “and it is unworthy of me to speak of her as I am about to. The truth is… Neve made it easy to play pretend. She did not want to talk about Spite — and certainly not to him. She was politely indifferent to all the coffee. Never mentioned the lack of sleep. Spite… has a complicated relationship with her, given his history with Naimy, and so he would be silent when she visited.”
Lucanis sighed. “I again cannot speak for Luz. I returned her flirtation because I craved those things. Pretending nothing was wrong, nothing had changed. I was just a man, flirting with a beautiful woman — one even Caterina might approve of.”
“That’s… dreadfully fitting,” Zea shuddered, her eyes wet. “Idiot, you,” she muttered to herself, then made a two-four-eight cycle until her face looked peaceful again.
Lucanis waited patiently as she steadied herself. Like Naimeryn, it seemed, she was one to tackle her own fragility with practicality. Breathe. Re-center. Carry on. He wondered if this were a trait Varric Tethras had valued highly. Someone who could pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and get the job done. It was something he had admired immediately about Naimy — and now which he also admired in Zea de Riva.
“Thank you for sharing this with me, Lucanis. It is with genuine remorse that I acknowledge the discomfort my conduct has caused you. Please accept my profound apologies,” she addressed him with flair the Dellamorte family valued so highly, then gave him a soft smile.
Lucanis chuckled, a genuine one. She was making fun of him, but he found it oddly charming. “No eres ninguna idiota, Zea de Riva,” he assured her.
She looked at him, eyes wide with surprise, the tips of her ears scarlet with pleasure. So, they were alike at some point, after all. Taking goodhearted jabs lightly and reassuring the ones they liked.
“Viago thinks otherwise”, she shrugged nonchalantly. “Shall we?” She nodded towards the table behind her back. “Or let them gossip a bit more?”
Lucanis blew a soft snort out his nose. “Naimeryn will talk Luz’s ear off until the world ends if we leave her to her own devices, you do know this, yes?”
Zea snickered in response, nodding knowingly.
“So far so good, I see?” Zea noted cheerfully as they approached the table.
Luz raised his gaze to her, smiling softly as he took her hand and kissed her palm in acknowledgment of her wicked intelligence. Her fingertips were cold, and it made him frown: what did he… She smiled nonchalantly: it’s fine.
“Now I need something sweet too.” She slid to the seat and grabbed her cup, winking at Naimy. “Another Crow in your hands, amiga?” she asked goodheartedly.
“I quite like Crows, as it turns out,” Naimy shrugged, beaming at them. She put another bite of the cake in her mouth, and Lucanis grinned down at her.
“Is it because we cook for you?” He teased.
“It’s because you feed me, yeah,” she was laughing and answering him before he’d even finished his question. As he rolled his eyes and slid back into the seat beside her, she asked nervously, “So what were you two over there plotting?”
“Zea has kindly provided me with a sleeping potion,” Lucanis told her, purposely omitting the massage balm. He hoped Zea would not think him ungrateful for it… but he was genuinely unsure what Naimeryn’s opinion would be of it. It seemed a very personal thing to bring up… basically ask for… right now. Naimeryn’s eyes lit up.
“You’re going to sleep? Of your own volition? Without me having to pin you down and take away your mug to do it?”
Naimy was happy, just as Zea assumed. She hoped Lucanis would mention the balm as well. Later. In private. Obviously, this would make Naimy happy too, even if she didn’t have any massage skills. She squinted slyly at her friend and purred, “I mean, pinning him down and tiring him out beforehand can’t hurt.”
Lucanis choked on nothing but air, making Zea smirk triumphantly.
THIS ROOK. IS. MY FAVORITE! Spite announced with a cackle.
LITTLE BEAST. IS MINE! Alado protested, ready to defend his soul property.
“No one is taking me away from you, querido,” Zea shushed him.
And Naimy. Naimy was as red as Lucanis had ever seen her. She started stuttering and stumbling over “that’s not what I meant”s and “it’s not like that”s and, as Zea and Alado’s exchange came to an end, she raised her mug to her lips with a mumbled, “Maker, when will I learn to think before I speak?” She did not once look in his direction. It was a reasonable assumption for Zea to make, he supposed. He was more surprised Naimeryn hadn’t shared with her that they… weren’t there yet.
No matter how close they’d come recently.
“See?” Zea teased Naimy. She hadn’t meant to catch her friend in the crossfire, but it still made her point. “Easy.”
To fluster us both, Lucanis grimaced. Zea certainly had their number — a usually dangerous thing he was grateful to not have to fear.
“We are among friends,” Luz chided her, “no need to be vengeful.”
Zea sighed and selected the other piece of chocolate cake for herself nonchalantly, taking a satisfied bite before saying, “You can’t deny me my little pleasures.”
Luz caught Lucanis’s eye with a semi-helpless shrug. Apologetically, he said, “That’s a de Riva for you.”
Naimeryn set her empty cup aside and looked thoughtfully at Lucanis, remembering his conversation with Emmrich about his first crush. “There certainly is something about de Rivas, isn’t there?”
Luz chuckled. “If I had an andris for every de Riva I fell for…”
Zea’s face brightened with mischief, and she reached into a pocket before sliding two coins across the table at him. Naimeryn laughed, tilting her head at Lucanis.
“Only one for you,” she teased lightly.
“Ah, I should have known you would riddle that out,” Lucanis smirked at her. “Jealous, mia fiamma?”
“Of Viago?” She giggled nervously. Decided to make a joke. “Yes, very. Have you seen Teia?”
Zea puffed at a loose hair strand and glared at Lucanis intently: Tell her! Or I will.
Lucanis rolled his eyes and smirked at Naimeryn, shaking his head. “In realtà ho occhi solo per te.”
Naimy cocked her eyebrow at him, but just the fact that he was using Antivan made her flush. He was the most honest in Antivan, using it mostly when he didn’t trust trade to carry enough weight, to appropriately convey the depth of his meaning. She glanced from him to Luz, knowing he would likely not translate for his counterpart, but hoping to be able to guess at the meaning based on his expression. She pouted a little.
Luz gave her a faint smile. He, too, preferred using his mother tongue to express his feelings — but at least Zea understood him… He took Naimeryn’s lost look as a request and, perfectly mimicking the intonation of his alter ego, translated: “Actually, I only have eyes for you.”
Zea just pressed her forehead against his shoulder, too overwhelmed for other means of expressing gratitude.
Naimeryn’s face was on fire as she snapped her eyes back to Lucanis’s face for confirmation. She was pleased, not embarrassed, she realized, seeing a little color on his cheeks as well. He was giving her that look. The one that made her feel like the center of his universe, the very sun in his sky. She felt herself smile, then quickly ducked into her cup, forgetting she had already finished it.
Kissing him would not be appropriate, of that she was certain.
“Ah—I think I left paella cooking on the stove,” Luz said with exaggerated alarm.
“Then it’s rescue time,” Zea agreed, smiling mischievously at him. “Do you mind if we leave you alone, amigos?”
“A burnt paella would be a crime,” Lucanis said smoothly, flashing an appreciative — and knowing — smirk at them. There was zero chance Luz would simply forget food on the stove. But he understood fully that such an excuse saved further awkwardness and embarrassment for Naimy.
“Agree,” she nodded vehemently, unaware of the lengths being gone to to assure her comfort. “We should do this again sometime, though? Maybe?”
“Of course!” Zea smiled genuinely at her friend, getting up from her seat and approaching Lucanis. “It was a pleasure,” she told him, reaching out her hand for a shake with the gesture one could never mistake for an approved hand-kissing.
He did not hesitate, standing to return the gesture. Naimy hopped up from her chair and came around him. Lucanis released Zea’s hand in time for Naimeryn to pull the other elf in for a tight squeeze.
“Don’t forget about the gowns,” Zea chanted into her good ear loudly enough for Lucanis to hear her. Luz, too, rose to bid his farewells, standing patiently in silence with an open expression on his face.
“You can’t seriously mean for me to take them all?” Naimeryn laughed, keeping hold of Zea’s shoulders as she pulled back. “It’s too much!”
She grinned widely at Luz, clearly expecting him to agree.
“Um… you can just ask the Lighthouse if you need a bigger wardrobe,” Zea drawled, still unsure she’d understood her friend correctly. “Better than letting them collect dust in here.” She nodded toward the mannequins draped in white cloth. “Anyway, we picked those for you — and I still want to see you in at least one of the two I chose! So let me know when you’re ready to show off.”
“Which one was it, then?” Luz asked.
“Not yours, either,” Zea chuckled. “The one with the wings — remember?”
“Ah, that one!” Luz shook his head in feigned indignation. “Well, of course, he’s got the taste.”
“You chose them just for me?” Naimy asked, her eyes welling. Zea nodded with an encouraging smile.
“That was the whole point, Naimeryn!” she waved her hands passionately. “Of course, we chose them for you, so you could choose any.”
“Who chose the one she wore?” Lucanis asked casually, nerves stirring in his stomach at Luz’s tone. He suspected he already knew.
“Lucanis, breathe,” Zea said, patting his shoulder with a sly grin. “I didn’t make Naimy guess who chose which gown — and I never told her they weren’t all from me. She was embarrassed enough already. Besides, Illario just helped a bit with the thirteen gowns I’d picked…” She chuckled.
“Thirteen?!” Naimy choked out under her breath.
“I still can’t help but wonder why you didn’t tie him up,” Luz noted.
“Because, unlike you two stubborn ‘I have no time for nonsense’ Talons, he mostly volunteered to help me.”
“I never said I had no time to help you, Gatita. Just admit it, you wanted to spare Viago’s pride.”
As they bickered, Lucanis felt Naimeryn’s hands on his side. She gave him a gentle push towards the mannequins, and he cocked one eyebrow at her, to which she rolled her eyes and gave a more purposeful push. Go on, already. He smirked and gave in, though he’d been a bit curious about how Zea had managed to tie up both Luz and Viago — neither of whom he could envision being bound willingly.
“How are we gonna get these back to the Lighthouse?” Naimy muttered as they approached the mannequins. At the base of each was a small chest, each containing a different set of shoes, bags, jewelry, and other accessories. “I thought they were her gowns, and she was just gonna let me borrow one. Why in all of Thedas would she just… buy all this for me?!”
“She wants you to be happy, mia fiamma,” Lucanis shrugged. “An impulse we share.”
Naimeryn flashed him a soft smile, turning to thank Zea… again.
The bar was empty, and the words died on her tongue.
“They left ages ago,” Lucanis smirked, one arm snaking around her waist to pull her in, making her head tilt back to look up at him. “Now, why not show me these gowns?”