Chapter Text
Rook spent the next day trying to wrangle an abnormal surge of energy. It rarely came on her back during her days in the Tower, but the templars had been happy to put her to work when it did. She would spend the day deep cleaning the corners that were normally skipped until she was exhausted.
The surge of energy came on her more often during her days at Weisshaupt, where newfound freedoms and camaraderie gave rise to joys she thought the Maker had denied her. The intense restlessness came on her after every big moment in her life: surviving the Joining, her first successful patrol outside of Weisshaupt, the first darkspawn attack she helped put down. There was always something to do in Weisshaupt, so when that giddy energy surged within her, she could expel it by cleaning or training or helping in the kitchens.
Now, though, there was nothing to do. The Lighthouse was always tidy. Davrin had been showing her a few tricks with the sword, but he was away in Arlathan with Assan for the day. In fact, everyone at the Lighthouse seemed busy.
So, she was left to her own devices. That could lead to trouble, she knew, but what was she to do? Lucanis had, presumably, locked himself away in his pantry, and it was making her nervous. They’d kissed just the night before, and it was definitely the best kiss of her life. She scrunched her face as she paced around her room. To be fair, Lucanis didn’t face a lot of competition. Even so, she doubted she’d ever have better.
But when she went in for breakfast that morning, Lucanis wasn’t there. She’d knocked lightly on his door to no answer. Feeling suddenly self-conscious and guilty, she’d taken her breakfast to her room. Had last night been a mistake?
Normally, this sort of behavior would make Rook angry. But she made an exception for Lucanis. Surviving the Ossuary made him deserving of special treatment.
And those lips, she thought, then went back to pacing.
Rook somehow made it through the uneventful day and the restless night that followed without bothering Lucanis. Granted, she did slip her fingers between her legs after an hour of sleeplessness on her couch, theorizing about what might have happened between them if Taash and Bellara hadn’t interrupted. Who could blame her for that?
However, she’d reached the end of her patience by the next morning. She woke early - or she thought she did, it was hard to tell - splashed some water on her face, brushed her teeth, then stomped towards the dining hall. She was so determined to speak with Lucanis that she didn’t bother to get breakfast.
She rapped sharply three times on his door, then waited for an answer.
“Who is it?”
“Rook,” she said, trying to sound neutral. She thought she was mostly successful at it.
When he opened the door a moment later, any thought of getting answers from him evaporated. Lucanis looked exhausted and miserable. The dark circles he’d had under his eyes when they’d first met were back, and his skin looked ashen. A soft noise of alarm escaped her before she could stop herself.
“What’s happened?” she asked.
“I got word from Teia and Viago,” he said, then seemed to remember his manners. “Please, come in.” She stepped in and immediately took a seat at her little desk while he closed the door.
“Is it Illario?” she asked. She didn’t mean to sound conspiratorial, but being involved in Crow business had that effect. He gestured to a crumpled note on the desk.
“They didn’t say,” he answered. “Only that they need to meet. That’s all they would commit to paper.”
“Oh,” she said. That didn’t sound so bad. “Are you off to Treviso, then?”
“Minrathous, actually,” he said. Her eyebrows rose. Were they using the Crossroads? She’d seen a few Veil Jumpers here and there, but didn’t know Crows were making use of it. How else could they get to Minrathous so quickly, though? “Will you come with me?” he asked, sounding unsure. “In case something happens?”
“Of course,” she said automatically. “But what do you think will happen? Are you worried about Venatori?”
“I’m worried about Spite,” he said. “He’s getting worse. I haven’t slept in…” He trailed off, thinking. “For a while.”
“Maker, I didn’t know it was so bad, I should’ve come last night-“
“It’s all right,” he cut in. “Spite…wasn’t the only thing keeping me up.”
“Oh?” Lucanis’ body stiffened slightly, and he looked towards the floor.
“I wanted to apologize-“ he started, and Rook groaned loudly.
“Come off it,” she said.
“I was out of line-“
“Lucanis!”
“I shouldn’t have-“
“Maker’s breath, man!” she said, finally raising her voice. “I’m about to get offended!” His cheeks reddened, and he had the decency to look ashamed.
“I don’t mean to say that I didn’t,” he started, and swallowed thickly, like the words were getting stuck in his throat. “That I didn’t like it. I just…you deserve more.”
“I’m a perfectly good judge of what I deserve,” she retorted, but held a hand up when he opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly misguided. “Don’t we need to meet your Crow friends?” He snapped his mouth shut and looked at her warily.
“Yes,” he said. “Thank you for coming with me.”
Rook didn’t follow the rapid conversation between Lucanis, Teia, and Viago very well. She caught that there was a ring that belonged to Caterina, and it had been found in the trash, and for some reason, that meant Caterina was still alive.
Whatever they were talking about didn’t concern her too much. Lucanis had the details, and she’d do whatever he asked of her, go wherever he needed. Instead, she watched him. Distress and agitation were growing in his face and demeanor. She knew keeping control of his emotions in front of other Crows - especially the Talons of other houses - was paramount to him. But it looked like he was about to pull his hair out, or maybe throw up. She wanted to reach for him, maybe grip his hand, just to let him know she was there for him,
She knew she couldn’t, but the chance was taken away from her regardless. Lucanis’ eyes flashed purple, and he looked directly at her. Viago and Teia didn’t seem to notice. In fact, it seemed like time had slowed to a stop.
“Help us,” Spite said. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since the fight with Zara, and it was strange to realize that she’d missed the demon.
“How can I help you?” she asked.
“He’s trapped,” Spite said. “He won’t leave, he won’t listen to me! But he always listens to you.” Rook frowned.
“How can I help here?” she asked, gesturing around to the Cobbled Swan.
“Not here,” he said, and held his hand towards her. Without a hint of hesitation, she took it. There was a white flash, and she closed her eyes against the brightness. When she opened them, she gasped. They were back in the Ossuary.
“How are we here?” she asked. “You two already escaped this place.”
“No!” Spite growled, sounding dangerously close to throwing a tantrum. His voice was different here, harsher, sharper. “He left, but he never left. He stays here because he won’t leave. He promised, and he breaks it every day!” She looked around the Ossuary, her hands on her hips.
“Why do you sound different?” she asked. “You sound like a Fereldan back alley gambler.”
“What?”
“Never mind. So, all we need to do is find Lucanis and convince him to leave?” Spite nodded.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s go find our boy.”
Rook and Spite descended together into the Ossuary, but it didn’t stay a prison for long. The Fade rippled with every step, changing the aquatic caverns into something much more opulent. At first, Rook thought the Fade was changing into a Chantry. But there were portraits on the walls of men and women, all of whom were dressed in the Antivan fashion. If she squinted, she imagined some looked like Lucanis.
“Is this…” she said quietly, “Where Lucanis grew up?”
“Don’t know,” Spite said. “But the woman lives here.”
“Which woman?”
“The old one. She torments his mind, day and night.”
“You mean Caterina?” Spite hissed.
“Don’t know!” Rook frowned, but didn’t press for information that Spite likely didn’t have. If this were truly a prison Zara crafted to foster demonic possession, Rook would likely have answers soon enough.
The hall went on and on, the walls unbroken by windows or doors. It was straight for as far as Rook could see, and it seemed like they were making no progress towards the end of it. She knew the Fade was tricky; she’d explored enough of it in her own little corner in dreams and her Harrowing to understand its mutable nature. Even so, this felt excessive. She was just about to ask Spite what was happening when a distant sound caught her attention.
It sounded like something hard striking something soft. Once it started, it kept going. Every few seconds, another whack, each one growing a little louder despite the hall remaining unchanged. After a minute, Rook recognized it, or at least thought she did. She’d heard it dozens of times at the tower at Hossberg. Whenever a mage stepped too far out of line but had committed no magical violation, the Templars typically delivered their own justice rather than involving the First Enchanter or Knight-Commander. When the transgressor was an apprentice, the justice was usually a beating.
That’s what Rook was hearing now, she was sure of it. It sent a shiver down her spine that surprised her - she’d been sure she was beyond the pull of the templars after all this time.
The beating sound got louder and louder until they suddenly came upon an opening in the hallway. Rook almost walked past it as there’d been no hint that it was there until they were on it. It opened to an expansive, but mostly empty room. There were a few fancy couches and tables on the far side of the room, but it was difficult to see any details in the dim light.
It wasn’t the distant furniture that caught her eye, though. There was Caterina, younger but still much older than Rook, a black cane in hand and a frown on her face. She stood over a child of about 10, looking at the boy with such disappointment that Rook’s protective instincts flared. He was on his hands and knees before her, his head down. A few tears had splattered on the floor. It took her a moment longer to realize who that child was.
“Lucanis!” she gasped, her voice little more than a whisper.
“She hurts him!” Spite hissed behind her.
Caterina slowly circled him, grasping the cane in both hands. “You do not jump high enough,” she said, raising her cane in one hand. Rook watched in horror as it descended on young Lucanis with a loud thump. Lucanis whimpered but did not protest. “You do not run fast enough.” Whack. “Your intentions are too easily spotted.” Whack. “Your mother and father were killed because they allowed themselves to be. Do you want to end up like them?” Whack.
“No,” Lucanis said with a hint of a quiver. His voice was so small. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Caterina asked. “I only have two grandsons left, and your laziness is going to leave me with one.” Whack. “Don’t say you’re sorry to me.” She raised her hand to strike Lucanis again when Rook dashed in and caught the cane.
“No more,” Rook said, her voice as dangerous as it had ever been. Caterina glared up at her.
“He is not good enough,” she said. “If I send him out like this, the other Crows will kill him!”
“Lucanis is 36 years old. He is a master assassin, and he has survived things that your petty beatings could never prepare him for.” Rook ground her teeth, trying very hard not to take the cane and beat the old woman with it. “This has to stop.”
“You,” she growled in recognition. “I asked you to bring me back my grandson! And instead you bring me an abomination.” Anger flared in Rook’s chest, and she had to remind herself that this was Lucanis’ idea of Caterina, not the actual First Talon.
“You know Caterina doesn’t think that,” she said instead of what she wanted to say. “I know what it’s like to have someone you love betray you. But Caterina…” Rook searched for words that were palatable enough for her to get out. “She did the best she could. She is not disappointed in you. You - and Spite - are the victims here, not the failures.” Caterina glared up at her, silent. Even as a Fade approximation, the little woman was intimidating. “Can you honestly tell me that Caterina would turn you away, Lucanis?” Caterina remained motionless for a long moment before she finally closed her eyes. The tension left her body, and tears rolled down her cheeks.
“My poor boy,” she breathed, and faded with a burst of golden light. When Rook looked around, the younger version of Lucanis was nowhere to be seen.
“Yes!” Spite cheered. “One prison unlocked. More to go.”
“How many more?”
“Who cares? Rook will open them all!” Rook didn’t share his enthusiasm, but kept it to herself as Spite led the way forward. Entering this Fade prison with Spite hadn’t seemed so daunting at first. It was just something that needed to be done, and damned if she wasn’t available. But her chest hurt now, and her heart felt hollow. Lucanis spoke as though his grandmother loved him, that whatever pain she’d put him through was her way of expressing that love. Was this all he had? A grandmother who beat a fear of failure into him, and a cousin who betrayed him?
She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the time they’d spent in the Treviso markets together. Lucanis was so quietly thoughtful of everyone in the group. He’d never demanded anything the entire time she’d known him, not even a better room in the Lighthouse. How had he ended up so kind growing up like this?
Rook opened her eyes with a sharper determination than before.
“Come on,” she told Spite. “Let’s get you two out of here.”
It was a short walk before the luxury of Villa Dellamorte gave way to something more organic. Rook’s next step splashed into an inch of water, and thick-trunked trees stretched above them instead of the villa’s walls. The water deepened to her knees quickly, but didn’t get deeper. By the time a thick fog spread around them, Rook could no longer see the villa.
“Where are we?” she asked Spite.
“In the prison.”
“Fair enough.” She looked around, deciding they were in a swamp. Rook knew the geography of the Anderfels well, but she was less familiar with other countries. There was a story about some sort of witch in Antiva wriggling in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t recall the details beyond that she lived in a swamp. Perhaps this was that swamp?
Regardless of where they were, Rook didn’t like it. The air was still and quiet, making it feel oppressive. Why would Lucanis’ mind take them here?
Rook couldn’t pinpoint what she noticed, but there was suddenly something there with them, watching from a distance.
“Spite,” she said quietly, “Get behind me.” Spite didn’t move.
“Something comes.” Rook scanned what little she could see of their surroundings, but everything had been swallowed by the fog.
“Could it be other spirits?” she asked. “Other demons?” Spite’s growl reverberated out of him so she felt it rumble through her body more than she heard it.
“They wouldn’t dare,” Spite said, bristling at the thought. “Lucanis is mine.”
“Could be here for me.” Spite sniffed, as though he could pinpoint what was out there by nose alone.
“Rook is ours,” he said, quieter this time. “It is not a demon.”
If Spite had any other information, he didn’t have a chance to share it. A thwip hissed through the heavy air and landed with a splash at her feet. Rook bent to look at it and saw an arrow embedded in the soft mud. Retrieving it, she recognized the arrowhead immediately. It was one of Harding’s.
“I tried to warn you, Rook,” came Harding’s melodic voice. It sounded thinner over the fog, or like it came from a great distance.
“Why is Harding here?” she asked Spite.
“Always watching,” Spite said. “Always waiting. In the Ossuary, you didn’t look at us with disgust, the first person in a year. Harding helped save us, but we saw only fear.”
“I mean, if Zara made this prison, why is Harding here now?”
“That Venatori witch made this place,” Spite said. “Lucanis keeps filling it.”
“Ah. Come on then, let’s find Lace.”
They moved deeper into the swamp, Rook walking carefully and Spite imitating her movements. She didn’t know if Spite could be harmed by Harding here, but she didn’t want to find out. It was only another minute before Harding launched another bolt towards them, this time from their left. Rook only barely had time to push Spite out of the way.
“I told you,” said Harding, her voice sounding from their right. “There is no Lucanis, it’s just the demon. That thing tricked you.”
“We all know that’s not true,” Rook said into the fog, her voice clear and strong. “You may not be the same as you were before, but you’re still Lucanis.”
“Come on, Rook,” Harding said. Another arrow flew past, this one so close to her face she could feel the displaced air on her cheek. “I saw what naivety gets you in the Inquisition. You can’t afford to be this gullible.”
“Come talk to me, Lace,” Rook said, taking a step forward. “The real Harding doesn’t feel this way.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No,” Rook insisted, “You don’t. I know because the real you told me.”
“Rook!” Spite hissed behind her, but she didn’t turn around. The fog was beginning to clear, and she could see a faint hint of golden light ahead. She took another step, and Harding came into view. She had an arrow drawn and aimed directly at Rook’s face.
“Whoa now, Harding,” Rook said cautiously, her hands held out at shoulder height to signify she wasn’t a threat. “Harding doesn’t want to hurt you,” she said softly, as though she was speaking directly to Lucanis. “And she doesn’t think you’re a monster.” Harding regarded her for a long moment before she finally lowered her bow.
“I told you,” she said, and she sounded immensely sorrowful. “Abominations never end well.”
Something rushed past Rook with an inhuman speed and crashed into Harding. Before Rook could even get a look at it, Spite was at her side, urging her to back away. But she couldn’t back away. It may not have been the real Harding, but her first instinct was to help her.
Then, she saw what had tackled her. It was Lucanis, but not quite right. This Lucanis looked feral, with his normally tidy hair disheveled and his shirt haphazardly buttoned. It wasn’t his messiness that made her breath catch in her throat, though. He had a long knife pressed to Harding’s throat and a wicked smile on his face.
“Lucanis-“ she said, and he ripped his blade across Harding’s throat. “Maker!” she shouted, turning away from the display. “Lucanis!”
“Have to look!” Spite hissed next to her. “Lucanis thinks this is our fate!” Absolutely no part of her wanted to look at what was happening. She wanted to run, wanted to get as far from the Fade and everything happening as quickly as her legs could carry her. But Lucanis needed her. Spite needed her. So, despite the sick squelching noises coming from whatever was happening, she peeled her eyes open.
It was worse than she imagined. The abomination was sawing into Harding’s neck, and was already so deep that he’d practically decapitated her. An unending gurgling moan escaped Harding’s mangled throat. Abomination Lucanis stared at Rook unblinkingly a he worked, the smile never so much as twitching on his face.
“Stop,” she said weakly, then mustered her courage to repeat the command with more conviction. “Stop!” Abomination Lucanis dropped Harding, where she fell with a lifeless plop into the swamp water. Without the eye contact wavering, he closed the space between them. Rook resisted the urge to back away, and Spite growled something unintelligible under his breath.
“Scared,” he said. She could smell the blood on him.
“Yes,” she admitted. “But only of this fabricated moment. I trust Lucanis. I know he wouldn’t hurt me, or anyone else on the team.” The abomination held a bloody hand towards her, palm up.
“This blood will be on your hands, as well as mine,” he said.
“There’s not going to be any blood.”
“You gamble too much,” Harding said from the ground. Her voice was garbled and weak. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Lucanis isn’t going to kill anyone,” she said, then added, “Well, none of us, anyways.” Harding shook her head, but it was apparently enough. She dissolved back onto the Fade with the same golden burst as Caterina.
“Does Lucanis really think Harding is scared of him?” she asked Spite. The demon nodded. “Even now?”
“They all look at us with fear in their eyes,” he said. “Except Curiosity’s human.” She sighed deeply, her heart heavy at this revelation. This was a problem she’d have to fix later, back in the Lighthouse. The entire team thought of Lucanis as a brother-in-arms, even Davrin. She just needed to convince Lucanis of that.
“Let’s get a move on,” she said, gesturing to Spite to follow. “This place is starting to depress me.”
The swamp dried quickly, turning into a rocky, dusty upward climb. Rook had to scramble to keep her footing in places, the dust was so thick. There was something familiar about it, but she couldn’t quite place it.
They scrambled over a rocky outcropping and found themselves on the battlements of a stony fortress. When she recognized where they were next, it hit her with a jolt. It was Weisshaupt on the night it fell. Ghilan’nain’s mask wasn’t floating above the fortress and there wasn’t a single darkspawn in sight, but Rook was sure that this was when the Wardens lost the ancient fortress. It was dead quiet, only the shrill wind breaking the silence.
“Why are we here?” she asked Spite. She had a feeling she knew the answer, that Lucanis’ guilt over not killing Ghilan’nain that night was delaminating this Fade prison.
“You will see.”
They turned the corner, and she yelped to see a copy of herself blocking the way. Only, it wasn’t quite Rook. This Fade-Rook was sharper, more beautiful, and her hair was so fiery red that it captured the brilliance of a setting sun.
“Why do I look like this?” she asked Spite, slowly approaching her doppelganger. Spite looked at her like she was stupid.
“This is how you look.”
“Aw.”
Fade-Rook was resplendent in her Warden armor. The silverite reflected the blue light of the moon in ways only possible in the Fade. It was almost embarrassing how much she looked the part of the classic Warden hero.
Before they could say anything else, Fade-Rook fixed her overly blue eyes on Spite. She stared at Spite as though her eyes were boring holes into him. Finally, Spite growled.
“It wasn’t a mistake,” he spat.
“What wasn’t?” she asked.
“Lucanis should not have kissed me,” Fade-Rook answered. The real Rook blew a loud raspberry at the Fade apparition.
“I can say with absolute authority that he definitely should have.”
“How could I ever love someone like Lucanis?” Fade-Rook asked. “I, who am a champion of justice and a protector of the people, a Grey Warden, sworn by my oaths to a higher purpose. How could one such as I love an assassin?” Rook turned to Spite.
“This lady talks way too fancy to be me,” she said, pointing at her with her thumb. “I thought Lucanis didn’t like the Wardens?”
“He likes you.”
“But not the others?” Spite struggled for the words to explain.
“He doesn’t like the way the other looks at you.”
“The other?” she asked. Who was the other? “You mean Davrin?” The way Spite hissed was answer enough.
“He cost me everything when he failed his contract,” Fade-Rook continued without invitation. The real Rook pinched the bridge of her nose, her frustration already almost at the tipping point where she was going to start breaking things. “I helped him save Treviso, and he damned my brothers and sisters in return.” Fade-Rook began a slow pace towards the edge of the fortress walls. Rook watched warily, convinced Lucanis’ psyche was going to have an ogre clamber over the side and bite her head off.
“The only person who ‘damned my brothers and sisters’ was Ghilan’nain,” she said. “We all took the oath. Every one of us was ready to die that night to fight the blight.”
“But we didn’t stop the blight, did we?” Fade-Rook asked, now from the edge of the fortress. She gestured below, and Rook cautiously approached.
As far as she could see, which was many more miles than in the real world, was the blight. The world was black, the earth cracked and lifeless. The air was choked with smog, and darkspawn roamed uninhibited.
“There are not enough Wardens left to fight,” Fade-Rook said in little more than a whisper. “Lucanis doomed the world when he failed at Weisshaupt.” Rook watched the horrific vision for another moment. She could see villages in this distance, impossible from the real Weisshaupt, but easy to see here. They were burning, or their people were being pulled from their homes and slaughtered. The women were being led away, and Rook shuddered. She knew what fate awaited them.
“There are plenty of Wardens left,” Rook said. “The First Warden made the call to return to Weisshaupt just a few days before Ghilan’nain attacked. The Wardens outside of the Anderfels didn’t die at Weisshaupt.”
“And my friends?”
“Like I said,” and Rook turned from the blight, “We took our oaths.”
“Not good enough,” Fade-Rook said. “You’re letting him off too easy. He doesn’t deserve the mercy.” Rook opened her mouth to tell her double to shove it when Fade-Rook stepped off the side of the fortress.
Rook watched in horror as the Fade apparition shrank from view until she splattered on the ground far below. Spite cried out in anguish and tried to catch the apparition as she went over.
“Spite!” Rook said as she grabbed him to stop him from going over. “It’s not real!” Spite still clawed at the edge, trying to get to the Fade-Rook that no longer existed. “I’m right here!” She pulled him into her chest and held him tightly. Spite fought her for a moment, but relaxed a moment later. He wrapped his arms around her and nearly crushed her with his embrace. He put his face into the crook of Rook’s neck and breathed deeply.
“Smells like sea salt,” he said softly. “Rook. You’re here.”
“Yes.”
“And you won’t leave.” She made a small noise in her throat at the sound of his voice. He sounded small, lost almost. For the first time, Rook thought she understood how frightening this situation must be to Spite. If she could’ve, she would’ve hugged him tighter.
“I won’t leave,” she said instead. “You or Lucanis. I’ll stay with you both.” They separated, but Rook slipped her hand in Spite’s, and the demon curled his fingers around her. “No more games, Lucanis,” she called out. “We want to see you now.”
Across the battlements, a golden door shimmered into existence.
“Let’s go,” she said to Spite gently. It was a short walk to the door, and she’d be happy to leave the unnatural stillness behind. Still, she couldn’t help but be grateful for another look at Weisshaupt. She opened the door and let Spite enter first. She took one last look at Weisshaupt, breathed a sigh of resolution, then stepped through the door.
They were close now, she could feel it. They were back in the Ossuary, in a chamber she didn’t recognize from her visit in the real world. Spite led the way, bringing her deeper and deeper into the aquatic depths of Lucanis’ prison. She didn’t know how she knew they were close, but Rook rarely let the details bother her in the Fade. There were only simple facts: Lucanis was close, and there was one more obstacle in their way.
Of course, it was the most obnoxious obstacle. Illario blocked the way forward, his tall frame covering most of a narrow arch they needed to go through. He wore that same lopsided, smug smile she’d seen on the real him every time they met, and his arms were crossed over his chest.
“So good to see you again, Rook,” he said as they dropped down into the room. “I was beginning to get lonely.”
“Go away, Illario,” she said, unable to keep the exhaustion from her voice. “Nobody likes you.” Illario held a hand to his heart like she’d wounded him, but his smile never flickered.
“That’s not true,” he said. “Most everyone likes me. It’s my cousin you’re thinking of. You know what they called him, even before he picked up a passenger.”
“So he’s good at his job.”
“It’s more than that,” Illario pressed, taking a step towards her. She resisted the urge to take a step back. “Do you know how many friends Lucanis had before you took him in?” His smile split into an unpleasant grin. “Just me.”
“It’s really bold of you to call yourself his friend,” Rook said sullenly. She wasn’t sure how to deal with Illario. She’d never had a cousin, and barely remembered her brother. How could she convince Lucanis that Illario’s betrayal wasn’t proof of his worthiness? She ground her teeth in frustration, wanting nothing more than to punch Illario in his pretty face.
“It is a pretty face, isn’t it?” he said, as though she’d said her thoughts aloud. “And, unlike my cousin, I know what to do with a woman.” He reached a hand for her, but she slapped it away.
“Don’t touch me,” she said. Illario laughed at her as she backed away a few steps.
“Face it, Rook,” he said, and that fiery version of herself from Weisshaupt shimmered into being beside Illario. Rook’s face immediately reddened - she wasn’t wearing the silverite armor of a Warden this time. This time, she was stark naked. “You chose the wrong Dellamorte.”
Illario pulled the Fade-Rook into his arms, and she fell into him with a sigh. Fade-Rook’s body was pliant under Illario; she reacted to his every touch. Illario ran one hand over Fade-Rook’s unnaturally flawless skin, and the double shuddered at the pleasure of it. He palmed a breast, and Fade-Rook let out a breathy moan. Finally, Illario took a moment to grin at the real Rook lasciviously before he lowered his mouth to her double’s and kissed her deeply.
Rook wanted to step in and shove the two apart. There was something sick about watching Illario manhandle her, even if it was a Fade version. But Rook didn’t have the chance. Spite roared savagely behind her and rushed forward, nearly knocking Rook over in his haste to get to Illario. Fade-Rook disappeared as Spite crashed into Illario. A long, jagged dagger appeared in Spite’s hand, and he buried it in Illario’s chest.
The pair fell to the ground, Illario with a gurgled grunt. Spite pulled the knife from Illario’s chest, then stabbed him again, over and over, until his blood splattered around his body like a gory halo. Rook didn’t bother to stop Spite’s attack. For one, this wasn’t the real Illario. Plus, she didn’t much care what happened to him.
Illario’s eyes were locked on Spite while the attack happened, but only for a moment. Then, he turned to Rook. All the pain was gone from his face, and he began to laugh.
“You see, Rook?” he said mockingly. “My cousin’s bloodthirst knows no bounds. You think Zara put a demon in him?” Illario turned to Spite and smiled humorlessly. “Or did he find the one that was already there?” Rook rolled her eyes.
“Enough, Spite,” she said. “You’re wasting your time.”
“Come on, Rook,” Illario said, still laughing as he pushed Spite away and stood. It looked like Spite hadn’t touched him at all. “Don’t you have better things to do? Aren’t you trying to stop a pair of gods?” The humor drained from his face. “How many people are going to die because you waste your time on my cousin? How many of your friends?”
“That’s not for Lucanis to worry about,” she said. “And besides, he takes care of me and the rest of the team. It wouldn’t be right not to return the favor. Unlike you, I help my friends.”
“He will never leave this prison,” Illario said. “And if you keep him around, he’ll fill this place with the corpses of your little team.”
“Somehow, I’m not worried about it,” she said, hands on her hips. “You, though. You should be worried.”
“You have no idea what the consequences of this will be.”
“Let us through, Illario. Second-rate villains are not worth the headspace.” He frowned at her one last time - and was that a hint of sadness? - before he disappeared in a blaze of golden light.
Together, Rook and Spite crossed the last barrier and entered the chamber Lucanis had locked himself in. She didn’t see him at first, but it took only a quick sweep of her eyes to spot him. He was on the far side of the room, sitting with his knees curled into his chest and his back to her, wearing the same dirty clothes he had been when she rescued him.
“Lucanis?” she said gently as she approached. His head snapped up, and he turned to look at her slowly.
“Rook?” he asked. “Are you…Are you real?”
“As real as I ever was.”
“What are you doing here?” She looked at her boots for a moment, feeling suddenly self-conscious, then pointed towards Spite with her thumb.
“Spite said you needed help.”
“You shouldn’t have come here,” he said. “Spite should know better.” Spite hissed in response.
“You don’t need to push me away-“
“No, Rook,” Lucanis said, finally standing. “You should go. I am not safe. I can bear this place, but if I hurt you…”
“You won’t hurt me,” she said softly, reaching for him. He pulled away from her by a fraction.
“How can you say that? Did your circle tower not tell you the dangers of an abomination?”
“Of course they did,” she started. She’d spent half her life hearing about the dangers. “But you’re…different.” He scoffed.
“Do I not have a demon inside me?” he asked. Rook opened her mouth to speak, but he continued. “He presses against the edges of my self-control every minute of every day. I cannot sleep
because I don't know what he will do with my body. Who knows who he might hurt? You think I am different than other abominations because I have kept him under control so far. How long do you think I can last?”
“I know something needs to change,” she said. “I know that my watching over you every other night is a temporary solution-“
“I should never have allowed that to start-“
“But we’re here now, all of us.” She looked at Spite, gesturing for him to step forward. “There has to be a solution.” She turned her attention back to Lucanis. “You’re different than other abominations because Spite doesn’t want to hurt you. Right?”
“He won’t leave-“ Spite started, and Rook glared at him.
“Right?” she demanded again. Spite growled and turned away, but mumbled his agreement.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Lucanis said again, as though that sentiment would absolve him of any types of hurt he might cause that didn’t involve Spite. She looked at him with hard eyes and her lips pressed tightly together.
“Shutting me out after everything we’ve been through would hurt me worse than anything else you could do,” she said, without any of the inflections or soft mannerisms that might make him more comfortable. He should know the truth of how she feels, and if standing inside an imaginary prison in his mind wasn’t the place to tell him, she didn’t know where else it could be. “I care for you very much, and I’m here because I want to help you. You’re a kind person, Lucanis. You don’t deserve to be locked away here. I’m not afraid of Spite, or you, or what the two of you together might do. I just want you to leave this place.”
The look that crossed Lucanis’ face nearly broke her heart. It was a mixture of panic, desperation, and great sorrow.
“I don’t know how to leave,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “To live as an abomination…It’s too much. I don’t know how to undo what has been done.”
“I don’t think you can undo it. Not without killing one of you, anyway.”
“Then what am I to do?”
Rook frowned, thinking. She tried to remember if her circle training could help, but there wasn’t much to draw from. For one, she wasn’t the best student and paid minimal attention to her studies. For another, what little the senior enchanters spoke of was how to avoid becoming an abomination. They never mentioned surviving it after it happened to you.
“You’ll have to find your own way forward,” she said. “You and Spite. The team will help, of course, but it’s up to you two. You need to learn how to work together so that you both get what you need.”
“How?” he said, and she could see he was teetering on the edge of despair again. Then, the obvious answer came to her, and she clapped her hands together.
“Start with a small step. You just learned your grandmother is alive, did you not?” she asked.
“Yes,” Lucanis said slowly. She watched as he realized what she was suggesting. “We can save my grandmother…”
“And make Ilario suffer,” Spite added. They stood apart from each other, then shook each other’s hands.
“We have a deal, then,” Spite said, smiling like a child receiving a new toy.
“An alliance,” Lucanis added.
They blended together in a flash of golden light, and when Rook could see again, she was looking at Teia’s face.
“Rook?” she asked. “Are you all right?”
“What?”
“Are you all right?” she repeated more slowly. “You’ve been staring at me for an entire minute now.” Teia frowned, looking slightly offended. “It’s starting to get a little creepy.”
“Oh, apologies,” Rook said, laughing nervously. “I, uh, just got a little lost in my thoughts.”
“You and Lucanis both?” Viago asked. He was even less amused than Teia was.
“No matter,” Lucanis said. Already, he sounded more confident, more in control. “I’m going to get Caterina back. Will you watch Illario for me while I make my plan?”
“Of course,” Viago said.
“Come then, Rook,” Lucanis said, turning away from the other Talons. “We have a rescue to plan.”
Back in the Lighthouse, it was late when Rook found Lucanis in the pantry. That night, she would normally watch over Lucanis while he slept, but she wasn’t sure if he needed or wanted her there. She stared at the door for a moment, then told herself she was being ridiculous and knocked on it. Lucanis’ muffled voice told her to come in.
“Evening,” she said, trying to sound light. “How are you?”
“All right,” he said. Silence fell between them, and it stretched until Rook was unable to bear the awkwardness.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked. “We can talk, if you’d like.”
“It’s too much, Rook,” he said, closing his eyes. “I feel too exposed. I know next to nothing about you, but you know my deepest insecurities.” Rook pressed her lips to the side, thinking. Lucanis was right, of course, but she refused to think the situation was unsalvageable. If Lucanis felt too exposed, she just needed to even things out a bit, right?
“Oh,” she said, having a sudden idea. “I could tell you something that barely anybody else knows. Nobody at the Lighthouse, for sure.”
“You don’t have to tell me your secrets just to make me feel better,” he said.
“I’ll tell you my real name.” He perked at that, though he tried to act like he wasn’t that interested.
“Rook isn’t your real name?” She laughed.
“No, who names their kid Rook?” She laughed again, feeling giddy from nerves all of a sudden. Ridiculous to feel that way, and yet here she was. “Rook is just a nickname I picked up a long time ago. Aside from Varric and the Constable, nobody knows my real name but my parents and brother. And my parents are dead.” There was a long pause.
“I’d like to know your real name, if you want to share,” he finally said. Lucanis ‘ voice was soft, and she knew right away that this was the right choice.
“All right,” she said. Now that it was time to share, she was feeling self-conscious. “But don’t make fun of me for it.”
“Of course I wouldn’t.”
“I was named after a famous Ander heroine,” she said.
“I promise I won’t make fun of you.” She took a deep breath in through her nose. She’d gone by Rook so long, her real name suddenly felt very foreign to her.
“My real name,” she said, “is Ingrid.” The room was so silent, she could hear the hum of the Fade.
When Lucanis finally spoke, he said, “Your name is Ingrid.”
“That’s right.”
“Is that a common name in the Anderfels?”
“Eh,” she said. “It’s a little old-fashioned, even for an Ander.”
“It’s a very lovely name.” Rook snorted.
“No it isn’t.”
“It’s-“ he paused to think. “It’s a strong name.” There was another pause. “Do you…want me to call you Ingrid?”
“Maferath’s balls, no,” she said. “If you tell anyone, I’ll take a Crow contract out on you.” Finally, he smiled. “Do you want me to stay tonight?”
“I don’t think Spite will be a problem any longer,” he said. She expected this answer, but she had to hide her crestfallen feelings.
“Very well,” she said, and made to excuse herself.
“But,” he said quickly, and she stopped. “Spite says you’ve been reading to him.”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “We started with Varric’s story about the Inquisition, and now we’re on Tale of the Champion.”
“He’d like to hear the rest of the story.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well, we wouldn’t want to disappoint Spite, would we?” She made to sit in her chair by the desk, but a cough from Lucanis stopped her.
“Would you be more comfortable in the bed?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah,” she said. “As long as you’re all right with it.”
“Of course.” She fetched Tales of the Champion off the desk, then joined Lucanis on the bed. They sat side by side with their backs against the wall, their thighs pressed together.
“Rook,” he said softly, taking her hand. He raised it and placed a gentle kiss on it, right where her thumb joined her hand. “Thank you.” She squeezed his hand tenderly.
“Any time, Lucanis,” she said. Opening her book, she continued, “You remember Isabella from the Lords of Fortune? Well, she’s in this book, and apparently she stole some sort of Qunari artifact and ran away with. The Champion of Kirkwall is about to fight the Arishok for her life…”