Chapter Text
Lucanis gazed out into the night as the ship sailed out of the docks. They had only just arrived scarcely a day ago, and now he had to leave his beloved city behind once more. After their disastrous dinner with Caterina, they had made their way to a seedy little tavern in the Drowned District and sought out their contact—a “Captain Isabela”, who led various operations around Thedas. She was, apparently, also a notorious flirt who had alternately leered and made various suggestive comments towards him and Deimos.
It was clear that the good captain was intimately familiar with the Crows, and despite his discomfort at her shameless flirting, negotiations had been short and sweet, and they were onboard her ship in a matter of hours.
The sea was relatively calm, though the usually balmy air was sharp as ice that evening. The cold wind was only barely held back by his leather armor, making Lucanis shiver. Deimos, on the other hand, didn’t seem to even notice the cold. She had removed her bracers and gloves, and stood braced against the cold wind with nothing but her leather vest and light breeches.
He leaned onto the railing trying to ignore the sound of waves crashing at the sides of the vessel, and the permeating scent of saltwater. Flashes of the Ossuary filled his mind, and he clenched his jaw at the unbidden reminder of his torture.
Something warm pressed against his side, snapping him out of his thoughts. When he glanced over, he saw Deimos shoulder to shoulder with him. Her eyes were averted; Lucanis had the distinct impression she was trying to act nonchalant about the contact, but the relief in the line of her body was apparent. Perhaps he was not the only one in search of comfort from the encroaching memories of their underwater prison.
Feeling rather bold, he reached out and placed a hand on her arm, squeezing it lightly. Her face was turned to the side, but he could see a pleased smile tugging at her lips.
They stayed that way for a long while, ignoring the comings and goings of the ship crew, and simply taking in the wide expanse of the sea together. Eventually, as they moved further away from land, the sky cleared, making way for the glittering stars.
Beneath his palm, he felt Deimos stiffen, and when he turned to look, he found her staring at the stars in wide-eyed shock.
“What is it?” he asked in concern. He couldn’t see anything out of the norm—just the vast blanket of darkness.
Her eyes darted around as if in panic, and as she fixed her gaze on the moon, her shock gave way to something like horrified realization.
“Deimos?”
When she looked back at him, her eyes were filled with terror. He reached out a hand and she flinched back from his touch. Hurt lanced through Lucanis, and he had to swallow down the gasp that threatened to escape his lips. He had gotten used to her gentle touches and soft smiles, but the world, it seemed, was trying to right itself.
Deimos stared at him as if she were seeing a monster. She wasn’t wrong to think so, but he could not understand what had changed in the span of a few seconds.
Lucanis swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Deimos?”
Tears filled her eyes as she looked back up at the stars then down to Lucanis. With jerky movement, she staggered away from him, then rushed back down to the lower deck, leaving him staring helplessly at the space she had vacated.
Try as he might, Lucanis could not come up with any reason for Deimos’ behavior. It was the first time he’d seen her look so troubled, and it worried him. If months being tortured in the Ossuary couldn’t keep her down, what horrible realization did she have to come to for her to look so defeated?
Day after day, she stayed in their small cabin, refusing to leave even as Lucanis tried to coax her outside. She lay down on her cot, staring at the wooden walls with an almost blank expression. No matter what he said, she refused to look at him, as if the very sight of him disturbed her.
Lucanis was left to lick his wounds up on the deck, brooding about their current predicament.
WHAT DID YOU DO? The accusation in Spite’s voice was apparent, and though he turned the situation around in his mind, he could not understand what happened.
I don’t know.
FIX IT.
Lucanis sighed. He wanted to, more than anything. But he could not find a solution to a problem he didn’t even understand.
Above the crashing waves, he heard light footsteps echoing across the wooden deck, approaching him.
“Well, aren’t you looking all mopey,” a sultry voice said.
“Captain,” he greeted curtly, not bothering to turn towards her as she joined him by the railing.
“Where’s your friend?” she asked, resting her hip on the ledge.
Lucanis eyed her. “Resting below deck.”
“All alone?” she purred. “Perhaps she would like some company.”
Irritation flared in his chest, and he dutifully stamped it down. “I do not believe she is up for any kind of company at the moment.”
Isabela raised an eyebrow at him playfully. “Touchy, touchy.”
SHE THREATENS. DEIMOS? Spite growled from where he hovered over Isabela.
It’s not a threat. She wants to proposition her.
LIKE A DEAL?
… Sure. Lucanis barely stopped himself from sighing, then almost choked when Spite continued.
WE SHOULD. ‘PROPOSITION’ DEIMOS INSTEAD.
“Are you all right?” Isabela looked at him oddly.
“Yes.” Lucanis coughed, feeling the back of his neck heat up in embarrassment. “Was there something you needed?”
“Can’t a girl make small talk with a handsome demon and not have any ulterior motives?”
The way she emphasized her words made Lucanis’ eyes narrow in suspicion. “You know who I am.”
“Who doesn’t know the legendary Demon of Vyrantium?”
Lucanis tensed and fingered one of his hidden daggers. “How did you come by that information?”
“Lucky guess.” At the look he levelled at her, she grinned. “One of my friends was looking for you, something about hiring you for a job.”
“And who might this friend be?”
She tilted her head to the side. “Perhaps you’ve heard of him. Varric Tethras.”
“What would the renowned author Varric Tethras want from me specifically?”
Isabela laughed. “Renowned. Oh, that is just precious. He’ll be thrilled to know you’re a fan.” She shook her head. “He’s searching for someone—a mage. He needs someone who can hunt him down.”
Lucanis raised an eyebrow. “I see.”
“He’s in Minrathous on business. If you have time, you can meet with him there.
“Perhaps I will,” he said, making no promises. He couldn’t deny though, that he was curious.
“Just remember to tell him I sent you, so he knows he owes me a favor,” she said. “That man has a finger in every damn pie on Thedas, you’d be surprised at how many people he knows."
“Vinsomer sighted, Starboard side!” A call rang out across the ship.
Isabela hurriedly crossed the ship to the spotter. Behind her, Lucanis followed suit, concerned at the potential damage a dragon could do to them. It was not as close as he had thought it was when he’d first heard the warning, but he could still see the flash of grey wings slashing through the sky.
“Man your stations!” Isabela ordered, her playful façade all but disappearing behind the firmness of a captain. “Arm that ballista!”
The men scrambled across the deck to follow, clearly terrified of the dragon but readying, nonetheless. They watched it come nearer helplessly, and they tensed in anticipation of a fight. Lucanis had never seen a dragon up close before. There was a strange intelligence in its eyes as it surveilled the boat before banking and flying off into the distance.
DRAGON. LEAVING? Spite sounded disappointed.
“That was odd,” Isabela said once the dragon was out of sight. “Vinsomers usually ransack ships to add to their goal hoard.”
“Luck?” Lucanis suggested.
“No.” She waved him away. “The dragons have been acting strangely for a while now. Their flight patterns have changed, and they’ve been seen flying near and around populated cities.” She sighed. “If Varric hadn’t absconded with my dragon expert, she would have at least been able to explain a bit better.”
“He needed a dragon expert too?” he asked curiously.
“Apparently,” she said, not providing anymore details.
Whatever Lucanis was about to say was cut off as he saw Deimos flying up the steps from the lower deck, holding a scythe in each hand. She gazed around at the sky with a frown. When she lowered her eyes and found him, she made her way over to him with startling speed, gesturing sharply to the sky as she approached.
“What?” he asked dumbly.
Her eyes flickered back up. ‘Dragon?’ she mouthed at him; she must have heard the warning shouts from below.
“It flew off,” Isabela said before he could respond.
Deimos lowered her weapons and sighed. Her hair was still in disarray, as if she’d just gotten up from her cot. The wounds on her face had healed nicely, leaving only faint white lines drawn down her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose.
Lucanis found himself rather dumbstruck at the sight of her. It had been days since she had last looked in his direction—to be at the center of her attention once more, apparently turned him into a gaping idiot.
“Far be it for me to get in the way of all this simmering sexual tension.” Isabela sighed dramatically, and he realized he’d been staring in silence for too long. “I’ll get out of your hair, though if you ever want a little Rivaini spice in your cot, you know where to find me.”
Isabela stalked off, leaving the two of them alone.
“Mierda.” Lucanis closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He heard a huff and when he opened his eyes, he found Deimos looking at him in amusement. It was a far cry from the horror she’d displayed a few days prior, and it made his heart leap into his throat.
“Are you all right?” he asked tentatively.
Her eyes turned weary, but her smile didn’t leave her face.
“I was…concerned about you,” he admitted. “I do not know what it was that disturbed you so. And I did not know how to fix it.”
She looked down, her lips in a thin line of…disappointment? Anger? Disgust?
“I understand if you…” Lucanis exhaled slowly. “I know what I am. As long as I’m not in control, I could harm you, and it is the last thing I would want. You are right to keep your distance.”
Deimos’ head snapped up at his words, and she frowned at him in puzzlement. ‘What?’ she mouthed.
“Zara turned me into a monster,” he said in disgust, then laughed hollowly. “Or perhaps I have been one all along. As I said, I do not blame you.”
Deimos placed both of her hands on his shoulders. She looked him dead in the eye, a serious expression on her face. He blinked in confusion, and something soft and aching crossed her face as she mouthed, ‘Idiot’.
He opened his mouth to speak, but found his breath stolen from his lungs as he was pulled into a crushing hug. Lucanis felt himself flail for a moment, utterly taken aback. When he did nothing except stand there limply, she gave his torso an expectant squeeze, and he blinked before tentatively returning the hug.
Affection was doled out sparingly in the Crows. Barring his last encounter with Caterina, Lucanis couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been hugged, and never quite as enthusiastically. It was an odd sensation—like a ball of heat was settling in his chest, constantly expanding until he could barely breathe. The feeling of her arms around him, and his bracketing her, was incredibly grounding. His knees threatened to buckle at the strange combination of gentleness and sturdiness, and if Deimos wasn’t holding onto him, he thought he might simply crumple to the ground.
She leaned back slowly and gave him a bright smile. He reveled in the blooming warmth, like a flower turning to face the sun.
DEIMOS SMELLS. GOOD. Spite hummed contently, and Lucanis only halfheartedly shushed him in his mind.
‘Not you,’ she mouthed slowly. She then gestured all around vaguely, then up at the sky. Lucanis could only assume she meant she had become overwhelmed? It was difficult to say, and it was that exasperation at not knowing that sparked an idea.
“Would you…like to learn how to read and write King’s Tongue?”
Deimos blinked in surprise before beaming at him and nodding enthusiastically.
Lucanis found himself smiling back, charmed at her eagerness. “All right, let’s grab some paper, then perhaps we can start with the basics.”
They sat down in a quiet area of the ship below deck, away from the prying eyes of Isabela and the other crew members. Lucanis wrote down the alphabet and sounded out the letters for her as they went down the list. Afterwards, Deimos took the quill from him and wrote down the counterpart of each letter in that strange script he’d seen her write with in the Ossuary.
Then, after some repetition, Deimos stared down at the paper determinedly and copied some of the letters slowly but flawlessly. He had a suspicion that she was intimately familiar with forging, but that was a question for another day.
He watched curiously as the letters were written down one by one: V-I-K-K-A-R-A. Then beside it, V-I-K-K-A.
“What’s this?” he asked when she finished.
She raised the paper with a wide smile then pointed to it, then to herself.
With a jolt, Lucanis realized she was introducing herself. “That’s your name? Vikkara?”
The joy on her face as he said her name softened his heart. To his surprise, she flung her arms around him and hugged him for the second time that day. He hesitated briefly before returning it.
“Vikkara,” he murmured almost reverently, and he felt her shiver in his arms. As he pulled away slightly, he found himself almost nose to nose with her, and he could feel the warmth of her breath on his lips. A madness was taking over his mind, a consuming need to taste, to press against her and steal her very breath.
It took all of his willpower to turn away and look back at the paper in her hand.
“Vikka for short?” he asked as casually as he could while leaning back. His voice came out rather husky and he found that he had to clear his throat a few times until it returned back to normal.
Deimos—Vikka didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. She nodded at his question and gave him another bright smile.
It suited her. Deimos was the ruthless warrior on the battlefield, the unrelenting force that could batter down any walls. Vikka was the soft snow on winter’s day, the gentle touch that could calm the wildest beast.
“Vikka,” he repeated, simply enjoying how her name rolled off his tongue. Maddeningly, she shivered again, and she grinned rather sheepishly when he stared.
It was difficult to parse what she was saying, reading lips when people were mouthing whole sentences could get rather challenging. But as he finally understood her, Lucanis felt his breath catch.
‘I like the way you say my name.’