Chapter Text
Rook straightened his collar for the fourth time and tugged at the tie someone had picked out for him. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror across from where he sat, grimacing and adjusting the offending material again. It looked off-center, lumpy, and otherwise completely lacking the polish and poise expected of House Dellamorte. It seemed he’d never get it perfect. Something was bound to be wrinkled or off-center, no matter what he did. He heaved a sigh, sinking into his chair and stretching out his right leg with a wince. The metal and leather of the brace pinched and wrinkled the fabric of his trousers, and he groaned in exaggerated despair.
“What’s this? The Hero of the Veilguard is defeated by a necktie?” Warm hands drifted onto his shoulders, gently massaging until the tension started to bleed out of Rook’s body.
“Lucanis, don’t tease me. I’m having a crisis here,” Rook complained, but leaned further into the touch. The assassin leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to Rook’s cheek. The man’s beard tickled his skin.
“Apologies, love,” he grinned as he rounded the chair. Rook watched the fabric of his lover’s pristine suit as the man knelt before him, pouting when it had the audacity to not wrinkle with the movement. Lucanis tilted his chin up gently, that stupid, perfect smile still on his face as he started to unwind the tie from around Rook’s neck. “Nervous for tonight?”
It was the first official celebration of the Gods-killing — among the Crows at least — and it was, of course, hosted by the Dellamortes. There had been plenty of merrymaking (read drinking) directly after the battle, especially on the parts of the Lords of Fortune and Grey Wardens. Most of the Crows chose to go home to lick their wounds and start rebuilding. There were still traces of the Antaam and Venatori in the city that needed to be dealt with, and the thousand other tasks that came with recovering from a literal archdemon, god attack and a full-scale occupation.
Tonight was supposed to be a night of fun, relief, relaxation: an acknowledgement that the Crows were still alive and stronger than ever. It was actually more of a power play disguised as a formal event. The Talons of every House would be there, as well as emissaries and nobles, magisters and merchants, and anyone else important enough to worm their way in to see the ‘god-killers’ up close. It was a chance to show that the Crows were still strong– even after the losses they’d suffered. In short, Rook was not looking forward to the party.
“If by nervous, you mean extremely unenthusiastic and nauseated at the thought of trying to act put-together in front of a crowd of gawking dignitaries and the former-First Talon Caterina Dellamorte herself? Then yes,” Rook quipped, unabashedly staring at Lucanis while the man slid a perfect knot into place and smoothed down Rook’s collar. Those soft eyes met his, endearing little creases forming at the corners as the man smiled.
“Everything will be fine, mi caro. Caterina will be too busy meeting with the other Crows to bother us much, and I don’t plan on leaving your side tonight.”
Rook smiled despite himself, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of Lucanis’ mouth. “My hero,” he murmured against his lips.
There was a knock on the door, preventing Rook from deepening the kiss like he wanted to, and he groaned in annoyance. Lucanis just laughed, standing up fluidly and extending a hand to help Rook to his feet. “Time to go, unfortunately.” He looked over Rook’s outfit one last time, gripping his tie as if to tighten it, but instead pulled him in for one last kiss. “Crutch or cane tonight?”
Rook glared at the two supports leaning by the doorway disdainfully. “Cane,” he grumbled, knowing Lucanis would argue if he refused to take one of them. His partner brought the offending stick to him. His care wasn’t horribly overbearing, just sweet mostly. Lucanis was respectful of his independence, but didn’t shy away from insisting on precautions and support. Unless Rook was being particularly stubborn. Which might’ve been fairly often. (Not to mention he’d chastise Rook ruthlessly if he hurt himself by being “stupid and reckless, querido!”) He silently appreciated the small gestures, not quite knowing how to react to the unconditional help.
“Ready?” Lucanis asked as he handed the cane over. That soft look had hardened into something more neutral, like a mask of perfect Crow poise slipping into place.
Rook sighed, steeling himself, and nodded. They stepped out of the room and walked through the halls side by side, standing close but not quite touching, a Crow escort trailing behind them. Already they could hear music drifting through the mansion. As they came to the front doors, they could see lanterns illuminating the hundreds of people in the courtyard of the Dellamorte Estate. Streamers of blue, white, and purple hung from the terraces, and there were clusters of people around the refreshment tables. And down the steps was Caterina Dellamorte herself, flanked by a small group of people in flashy overpriced outfits.
The former-First Talon smiled as she spotted them on the landing— well, when she spotted Lucanis. Rook felt his shoulders stiffen, and he fought to keep his body language at least vaguely resembling confidence and certainty. She looked at him, somehow managing to subtly twist that smile into something… unimpressed and critical. A nervousness crept into Rook’s chest. He gave her a deliberate nod of respect, about to move to greet the small crowd when Lucanis looped an arm through his own, stepping just a little closer. The man was smiling brightly towards his grandmother, but those umber eyes held a silent challenge. Rook squeezed Lucanis’ arm in appreciation.
Descending the steps felt painfully slow, Rook’s leg not allowing him to move faster than a leisurely crawl; it ached fiercely tonight, a sharp tension coiling through his calf and thigh. But through every step, every stair, Lucanis kept their arms together. And as Caterina looked away finally, forcing herself back into that perfect composure, a rush of relief surged through Rook.
He entwined his fingers with Lucanis’... and smiled.
After everything, they were home.