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The distinct sound of rich people laughing and chatting flowed through the hallway as Rook slowly made her way down towards the servant's quarters. Several people saw her as she passed but no one commented on her being there, most likely assuming she was a servant just like the rest of them. Rook had been counting on that.
The magister who's home she was currently invading had a very high turnaround rate when it came to servants, and the other staff had very quickly learned not to ask questions about why no one had seen Alex for the last three weeks. That was why Rook was here in the first place.
Her father would often privately speak of how much corruption had spread throughout Tevinter, wishing things were different, but he had yet to actually do anything about it publicly. Rook wasn't about to risk the man's station and reputation by encouraging him to speak out about the matter, especially as the man in question was a soporoti.
That didn't mean she wasn't willing to risk her own though.
Magister Eve was not the first magister to sacrifice slaves or workers for the sake of blood magic, and she certainly wouldn't be the last, so no one in the magisterium cared to do anything about it. Yet.
The magisterium knew better than to throw stones at someone who could throw them right back without some form of protection, and much as Rook hated playing by the rules of Tevinter high society, she knew the most effective way to get rid of this particular magister was to force the others to cover their backs for the sake of public image.
As she moved further towards the servant wing, she saw several other qunari around as well, most of them wearing the garments of the house slaves. Several of them had jagged edges where their horns had ben broken off by someone who clearly had little thought for the nerves near the base of them. Rook cringed slightly, remembering a bad fall in her youth that had temporarily left her with a single horn, and struggling to properly balance her head for months.
She quieted the sound of her footsteps as she moved further through the house and into the garden. It was beautiful, and much less guarded than just going through the proper doors would have been. The night air was cold, but pulling a hood over her head would be far more suspicious than a random servant walking around outside, despite how desperately she wanted to hide her face.
She rummaged around the table drawers, looking for any kind of additional documents that could aid her cause now that she had exactly what she needed.
A sudden, loud bang could be heard from the courtyard, followed by the bright light of fire.
Alright, there had been an explosion in the place. Rook hadn't been expecting it, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing if she got out now. Explosions and fire were a lovely distraction for anyone trying not to get caught, but it also meant that if she stayed around for too long, someone was bound to question what she was doing there.
She left the remaining documents as they were, satisfied with the ones already in her bag, and moved towards the door this time, pressing her head as close to it as she could without accidentally bumping her horns against it and potentially alerting someone of her whereabouts.
There was no noise on the other side, and she carefully opened the door to see a hallway now devoid of guards.
That was when the noise of people fighting began.
Screaming and yelling, metal clashing against metal, and the distinct use of the words 'slave' and 'fighting back'. Oh for fucks sake, Rook had managed to stumble into the house on the day of a slave uprising. Well, better the day of than the day after.
She moved down the hallway as quickly as she could, prior to this, being mistaken for a slave had been a good thing, now, it was likely to get her killed, and potentially her entire family once they identified her and realised she wasn't supposed to be here.
The part of the residence she was in currently was almost completely empty, in fact it was completely empty until she stumbled upon a guard cornering a man wearing slave rags, holding his sword high, ready to strike.
Rook moved without really thinking about it, pulling out one of her throwing knives, and sending it into the guard's exposed head. The guard fell to the floor in a pool of blood, and Rook moved towards the man he had been about to murder.
"Are you alright?" she asked, and the man looked at her stunned.
"You're not one of the slaves," he stated.
"No, I'm not," Rook confirmed as she looked the man over for injuries "What's your name?".
The man still looked stunned as he answered "Varren. My name is Varren."
"We need to get out of here Varren," she turned back to the dead man and yanked her dagger out of his skull. Best not to leave evidence.
"I know where the planned meeting spot is. Come with me," he told her, and got up on his feet.
The entire home was a mess as the guards desperately tried to keep the slaves from getting out, but Rook and Varren steadily made their way towards the meeting point he had told her about.
There was a cluster of people standing in a circle, and they parted for the two of them, until Rook could see the person in the middle. In front of her was a man clad in armour the likes of which she had never seen before, sporting colours of gold and green, and accents of fur. His head was bald and his pointed ears were on proud display.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"She helped us," the man she had saved quickly told him "One of the guards was going to attack us, but she killed them."
The elf looked her up and down, expression still like he had smelled something rancid.
"Who are you?" he demanded once again, but seemed less like he was going to attack her.
"You can probably appreciate the concept of a secret identity in this situation," Rook replied with a raised brow.
He looked dubious, still trying to assess her, but eventually gave a short nod before turning to the man who had spoken up for her.
"We need to move quickly," he glanced back at her "Can you fight?".
Rook moved her cloak to show off the twin daggers on her belt and nodded at him. He nodded back and turned his back towards her and gave directions to one of the other people present.
The air was still rife with screaming and the sounds of people fighting and being cut down, but they moved onwards, saving as many people as they could on the way out. The armoured elf was an incredibly skilled mage, Rook quickly realised, and he was using his skills to help as many slaves escape as he could. Rook didn't see any of the typical slave marking on the little skin the man had exposed, but that didn't mean he didn't have any.
It would be the most logical conclusion. A former elven slave develops magic and is freed, taught the skill, and then decides to use them to help his fellow enslaved. It was hardly a unique tale in Tevinter, although most of the former slaves who did so were unceremoniously killed and left to rot in the street as an example.
Then again, she had never heard of any that had his description; perhaps he was new at this, or he was so good that he'd never been caught.
The night went on, and while the rest of them were focused on getting as far away as possible, with as few casualties as possible, she slipped away, from the group, into the darkness.
Rook is fairly certain, that without Varren in the shadow dragons, she probably wouldn't have ever been recruited.
She was good at being subtle, at making sure no one knew who she was, or that she had ever been there in the first place, so they most likely had no idea who she was, and wouldn't have connected the various vague stories of a qunari helping slaves and getting magisters caught up in a trap.
Varren, however, seemed to have remembered her from their brief meeting several years ago, when she had been very new to the scene and a tad more reckless than she was now.
He had approached her while she was out drinking, greeting her with:
"You're the one from magister Eve's house, during the slave uprising in 9:44, before they discovered she was a maleficarum."
Rook's eyes had widened at the casual way it had been said, like he hadn't just accused her of at least breaking and entering.
"I- Sorry- Who are you?" she asked, perplexed, but not quite stupid enough to pull the 'I have no idea what you're talking about' card.
"Varren. I was about to be skewered like a shish kebab when you intervened," he smirked.
Rook had to think for a few seconds before the memory came to her.
"You!" she whisper yelled "You're still alive! I'm glad."
"Sure am," the older elf had streaks of grey in his dark hair that she didn't remember being there the last time, but that had been almost four years ago now.
"Not that I don't appreciate you coming to say hello, but is there a particular reason you approached out of the blue?" Rook wondered.
"How would you like to join a slave freedom group?".
"The ritual was not our first meeting," Solas stated.
Rook raised an eyebrow at him: "Oh?"
"The slave uprising at magister Eve's residence. You were there, you helped some of the slaves," Solas supplied.
"I thought you wouldn't remember that. Truly nothing noteworthy about me at the time."
"I was not aware the shadow dragons were already operating at the time," Solas threw out in a manner so casual that it was obvious he was fishing for information.
A laugh escaped her: "They weren't, I was a lone actor at the time."
"You were attempting to free slaves on your own?" Solas tilted his head at her.
"Not exactly. I was there to find info on the magister that would be… unfortunate for her to have revealed," Rook explained.
"Ah, I recalled the magister being removed from their seat for being a maleficarum."
"Yup, that was me," Rook confirmed with a smirk "Or, well, sort of me. I just happened to leave the documents lying around in the office of one of her greatest enemies, everything after that was entirely out of my hands."
There was the smallest twitch up of his lips at the comment.
"I see."
The streets were in chaos even now that the dragon had been driven off, but Rook noticed a cluster of other Shadow dragons and moved towards them.
There were several people wounded, some more grievously than others, and one face in particular stood out to her on the gurneys.
"Varren!" Rook exclaimed once she saw the older elf.
"Rook," came a rough and weak voice, shortly followed by a miserable cough.
She kneeled beside him and softly grabbed his hand, rubbing her thumb across the back of it. Varren's lips tugged up slightly at the edges and let out a wet laugh before taking in a far too short breath that crackled at the edges.
"You drove the dragon off," Varren stated.
"Yeah," Rook let a small watery smile spread across their lips "How are you?".
"Dying," Varren said dryly.
None of the people tending injuries moved to argue with him and Rook's heart sank a little. Opening her mouth to speak, she ended up never getting a word out due to Davrin cutting in.
"Rook, we need to get to Treviso. Now."
"Right," Rook took a steadying breath "You better not die until I'm back."
"Wouldn't dream of it," a weak smile passed across Varren's face.
The letter had been staring at them for the past thirty minutes, and Rook was treating it like one of the artefacts in Arlathan. The black wax seal was as good an indicator as they needed that they wouldn't enjoy its contents.
There was a knock at her door before someone let them-self in. Neve was stood there, looking harried as she moved towards Rook. Rook kept her attention on the letter.
"It's Varren, isn't it?" Rook asked.
"Yeah," Neve confirmed "I'm sorry. He talked about you when we would run into each other. The shadows wanted to make sure this got to you, so they sent it with me."
Neve held out a small package wrapped in paper and string, but Rook could only stare at it. After a while of it just hanging in the air, Neve set it down on the table.
"I'll give you some time to think," and then she left.
Rook collapsed onto the couch as soon as the doors were closed, her eyes burning, and her lungs burning as she took in a few shaky breaths. It wasn't uncommon to lose someone on the field, but Varren had been there even before the field had, and Rook felt like someone had just craved out a chunk of her chest.
Silent tears fell, and Rook covered her face with her hands. She was being selfish. Lucanis had lost so many more people than her and Neve, had lost his entire city, but all she had the energy for was crying over her own losses.
Her gasps were as quiet as she could make them, trying desperately to make sure no one would be able to hear them if they passed by. She had already failed so miserably as their leader, adding this to the pile would not do any good for their confidence in her.
She curled up on her side as she laid down on the chaise, letting silent sobs wrack her body.
She woke up in a cold place, hard stone beneath her, and her head pounding. She already knew where she was, knew she needed to open her eyes and face the man no doubt here to gloat about how badly she failed, but she couldn't make herself move.
"I assume something went wrong then," Solas commented at her.
Rook let out a tired noise of confirmation, still not moving other than to open their red-rimmed and probably swollen eyes.
"You don't seem injured," Solas decided after doing a once over.
"Heh, if only other's could say the same."
"Ah," Solas ah-ed like a dumb fucking ah'er "A member of your team then."
"Varren," Rook corrected "One of the people we rescued from magister Eve. He died in the dragon attack on Minrathous. Fucking Ghilan'nain and her pets."
Solas's eyes widened slightly at that: "Dragons? That is worse than I had thought. Do you know how they were being controlled?".
"Are you fucking serious right now?" Rook felt their insides start to boil, the change fierce enough to get her to sit up "People are dead! Good people, innocent people, Varren, and all you want to know is how they did it?".
Solas looked her up and down as she continued.
"Minrathous is in shambles trying to recover, and Treviso is even worse off, because I decided to focus on my own home, and now thousands of people who rely on the canals in Treviso for food, water and their jobs are going to starve to death because I failed, and you only care about the how?" she spat at him.
"Rook," he started firmly "If we are to ensure it doesn't happen again, we need to know how they did it, so I ask you again: How were the dragons being controlled?".
Rook sighed, and ran a hand down her face. Much as she hated to admit it to herself, he had a point.
"Blight," she told him "They were being controlled with blight."
"The blight, of course. It was always their favourite weapon," he moved his eyes towards her again, and a war of emotions played out across his face before he asked "Varren. What was he like?".
"Funny," Rook started as she felt her chest tighten "He was always making jokes, trying to cheer people up. Many of his jokes were on the darker side, jokes about what being a slave in Tevinter was like, but all the people we freed appreciated hearing them, having someone who understood around."
Solas nodded for her to continue.
"He reminds- reminded, me a bit of Varric."
Solas's already impossibly tense posture seemed to tense just a little more at the proclamation.
"He must have been a good friend," he said.
"Yeah," Rook agreed "He was."
Solas was a tad kinder to her after that. She had no idea why, but the bladed words seemed a tad duller, and no longer poisoned. He still looked at her like he was better than her, but less in the 'I'm a god and you're a lowly mortal' way and more in the 'I've been working here for 7 years and you only started yesterday' way.
It still made Rook bristle like a cat pet the wrong way, but it was easier to ignore and actually get down to business when the two of them spoke.
She even started seeking him out for simple chats, and Solas never complained.
"I haven't even had a good lay since this entire thing began," Rook bemoaned one of these times. She didn't fully understand why she felt comfortable enough to tell Solas that, but she did.
"The road of a leader is often full of loneliness," Solas told her.
A snort left Rook.
"I'm not lonely Solas, I'm horny," Rook rebutted "And every time I try to take of it on my own, my brain reminds me that you're still inside my head."
Solas looked somewhat offended at that.
"You believe I would be able to sense your explorations?" Solas questioned.
"Would you?" Rook questioned right back.
"Even if I could, I am not so crude as to invade in such a moment when I am not wanted," he informed her.
"Admit it, you wanna watch," Rook wiggled her eyebrows.
Solas gave her a look, one that seemed curious, and displayed a small amount of heat that hadn't been in any of his gazes before.
"Wake up, Rook," Solas commanded her.
She woke up.
"Thank you," Rook started when she saw Solas in the fade prison "For helping. We managed to save all of the elves the venatori had captured."
Solas smiled, a seemingly genuine one too.
"I'm glad to hear it. What about you Rook? How are you feeling after your encounter with Elgar'nan."
"Tired," Rook sighed "I can't even bear to think about what would have happened if we hadn't gotten there in time."
"Nothing good, I'm certain," Solas confirmed.
"I feel like… For all the elves I've met during my life, during my time with the shadow dragons, I've heard so little of the history, even the poorly put together remnants we have nowadays," Rook revealed.
"I am not shocked," Solas told her "Tevinter has done its best to erase my people and their culture. To hide how much of theirs come from my own."
"Tell me about it," Rook said "Something that would have been completely unremarkable at the time."
Solas's eyes seemed to fill with sadness, and for a moment Rook thought he wouldn't answer until…
"The food was different. There were dishes people of today could not ever recreate the taste of, many of the ingredients needed no longer exist, spices no longer able to be harvested," he supplied.
Rook looked to her right side where the man was standing.
"Tell me about the table etiquette," Rook probed.
"It depended on the setting, you would not expect the same table manner from a farmer as you would a noble, or lovers celebrating," he told her.
"Anniversary dinners were a thing then?" Rook questioned.
"Yes, although quite different from the red wine and steak you expect in this time. It was typical to have an alcohol made from a flower that no longer exists, a sweet and melodic creation, paired with a bitter vegetable dish."
After Solas had explained, the prison seemed to shift and there was suddenly a table in front of them, laden with food and drink. Rook was taken by surprise, and Solas seemed quite intrigued as well.
"It would seem we have been given a dinner to enjoy," Solas commented, motioning for Rook to take her place at the table despite no chairs being present, although that seemed to be the point if the height of the table was any indicator.
Rook stood at one of the presented meals, and Solas dutifully took his place at the other. He began cutting the vegetables on the plate, not waiting long to take the first bite. Rook followed in his footsteps.
The vegetable truly was bitter, but not in an unpleasant way, and there was a crunch from the way it had been grilled. Rook took a sip of the drink, and the taste that hit her tongue was unlike any other she had experienced before. It truly was sweet, just like Solas had said, but it the flavour was more than just a flavour, it was an entirely unique feeling.
"This is amazing," Rook exclaimed.
She looked up to see Solas watching her as she ate, his eyes locked on her lips. She licked the lingering taste off of them and his pupils widened almost imperceptible.
He moved his gaze back up towards her eyes, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. Slowly she moved towards him on his own side of the table, and reached a hand towards his face, gently rubbing her thumb across one of his cheekbones. She leaned in carefully.
When their lips met, her heart skipped a beat and one of Solas's hands moved to cup her jaw, the other to her lower back. The two of them were eye to eye, and Rook had to be careful not to bang her horns against his forehead, but it was a wonderful kiss.
"When you leave here," Solas said after they broke for air "You will still need to contend with the remaining evanuris."
"I'll stop them," she said firmly.
"How?" he asked.
"However I have to," she replied.
Solas leaned in and connected their lips again so Rook would not see the way his face scrunched in agony, or hear the way the bars of the prison creaked.