Chapter Text
Rook turned and left the infirmary, accidentally catching a glint of her own violet eyes in the mirror. Violet. It had been so long since anyone had used that name, it almost didn’t feel like hers anymore. Not that it ever really had been. It had just been a placeholder for the Elven name her mother wasn’t allowed to use in their master’s home. A name Rook didn’t remember at all, anymore. Along with her mother’s.
Dark thoughts. She’d been having more and more of those, lately. Maybe a symptom of dealing with the possible end of the world and the God of Lies being in her head. And of course neither of those things was easy to forget, given their current living arrangements.
She pushed open the large double doors, and the view once again took her breath away, even though she knew what to expect. Living in the Fade wasn’t something you just got used to overnight. The buildings were floating. The whole damn thing was floating, though she didn’t like to think about that too much. What if it fell? Here, it would probably mean falling forever, which was worse than eventually hitting a bottom.
There were the dark thoughts again. She hurried on to the building Neve had claimed as her own.
The door was open. Neve was probably hoping that would encourage some wisps to leave. But as Rook stepped inside, she thought there were a couple more wisps than before. The detective half stood, half sat against the table that had become her desk. It was definitely more cluttered that before, even though some notes had gotten pinned up to the wall behind her.
“Hey Neve,” Rook said, stopping a few feet in front of her. She glanced around. “Hi, wisps.”
“Yeah, they’re still here.” There was an eternal glint in Neve’s deep brown eyes despite the also eternal dark smudges beneath them. Or maybe that was makeup. Or maybe she wanted people to think it was makeup. A mystery more suited for a detective than Rook. “But you’re here for leads.”
“Perceptive.”
“I have a couple,” Neve continued, “if we can get anywhere besides Arlathan.”
“Bellara’s working on it. What have you got?”
“Gods or not, we’re up against powerful magic. Who do you get to fight that? First up, a trip back home.”
“To Minrathous?” Rook tilted her head.
“I don’t mean Tevinter authority. Stuffy mages stuck in their staff-measuring contests won’t help us. But there are some who might. The Shadow Dragons.”
“I’ve heard of them. They’re a resistance group, right? Freeing slaves?”
“Their main goal is abolishing slavery in Tevinter, yes. I’ve worked with them before, and I’m sure they’ll have someone who can help us. I’d also like to check in on my neighborhood after all those demons were loose, too.”
“Of course. You said a couple things. What’s the other?”
“The Antivan Crows.”
Rook froze. On some level she was aware of the way the corner of Neve’s eyes scrunched slightly at her reaction. The way the wisps all swayed away from her. But mostly she was collapsing inward. Down into a pit those dark thoughts had already started trying to slip her down.
The Antivan Crows.
A landslide of memories smothered her. The auction. The way the First Talon’s cold eyes glossed over her before giving her “approval.” Hours upon hours of training. Hours upon hours of punishment. The first time her knife slit someone’s throat. The way Viago’s praise felt like poison in hers afterwards. The look on their faces when she left…
“Rook?”
Neve’s voice snapped her back into the now. She realized she was clenching her fists. That she had stopped breathing. She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to relax.
“Are you alright?” Neve’s concern was so genuine it made Rook almost feel guilty.
“Yeah. Fine.” The two words came out too fast and too clipped, but she pressed on. “I guess there wasn’t any time for Harding or Varric to tell you. I used to be a Crow, Neve.”
Neve’s eyes widened. “Used to be… I didn’t think that was something you could just leave behind.”
“Not usually. But there are rare occasions when someone will ‘buy’ an individual Crow. Personal assassin, bodyguard, whatever. Enough money can get you anything, it turns out.”
“Someone bought you?” Neve blinked. “It looks like you got out of that job, too.”
“No,” Rook said. “I bought myself.”
Neve leaned back against the table. “How did you manage that?”
“Keeping my head down, taking every contract that came my way, and not spending lavishly the way other freshly fledged Crows did.”
“I mean, why did they allow it? It seems like the kind of loophole they wouldn’t be too fond of.”
“They didn’t know the buyer was me until it was too late,” she said. She thought back to the day she had received Viago’s letter, letting her know they figured out what she had done, and that returning to Treviso would be a mistake. Reading between the lines, she could tell he was impressed. And that was, she was sure, the main reason she had gotten away with it.
“Venhedis.” Neve shook her head. “I’ve never heard of anything like that, and I hear about a lot.”
“I can tell.” That earned her a smile. “It’s true, most Crows don’t leave. They either learn to be loyal or have nowhere else to go. I was just stubborn.”
Neve smiled again. “I can tell,” she echoed. Her smiled faded. “Look, I understand your apprehension. But up against gods… there is one Crow who might be helpful.”
“Who?”
“They call him the Demon of Vyrantium. A feared mage killer. He’s brought down powerful magisters and blood mages alike.”
Rook nodded slowly. “I’ve heard of him. Never met him, as far as I know. But you’re right. Against a god, a demon might come in handy.”
“That’s the spirit,” Neve said. “But if you don’t want to go…”
Rook shook her head. “I’ll go. It’s been long enough.” And after standing face to face with both Solas and a dragon over the past few days, the Talons didn’t seem nearly as scary. “But,” she said, running her fingers along the faded remnants of the Crow-brand tattoos on her face, “I’ll need a disguise.”