Chapter Text
The immediate aftermath of the Battle of Minrathous was a blur. It had been a whiplash whirlwind of victorious celebration, praise and gratitude bestowed upon The Veilguard and heart-shattering mourning for those who did not survive. At the center of it all was Rook. She held everyone she met, be it in relief or grief, with a smile and a tear. She helped clear the wreckage of Minrathous despite the many people insisting she rest. She lit every single sphere on the Wall of Light until her magic gave out. Lucanis had begun to consider slipping sedatives into her food to try and force her to rest when she suddenly announced she was ready.
“For what?” Lucanis asked over the rim of his morning coffee as he eyed her untouched cioccolata calda. The sedatives were best consumed as soon as they were mixed with the drink.
“To go home,” She said simply, picking at a piece of toast on her plate. “With you.”
Lucanis’ heart stuttered. Home . The idea of it made his mind burst, images of Rook padding about the halls of Villa Dellamorte and of Treviso, unhurried and happy. He could properly give her the tour now, without the stench of Venatori or the weight of the world on their shoulders. He could take her out on the gondolas, show her his city. Their home .
Then, other images swirled. Images of Rook in his bed, her wild hair splayed out around her like a halo in the sunlight as it shone in. Rook bent over his desk at the Crow headquarters, looking over her shoulder with that mischievous glint in her eye. Rook, stomach swelled, filling the halls of Villa Dellamorte with laughter and love once more.
“Alright,” Lucanis said, hoping his face was not as flushed as he felt. Judging by Rook’s smile, he’d have said it was. “You did promise me a week in bed when all of this was over.”
Rook’s smile simply widened.
A week in bed quickly became a month traipsing around Thedas through the eluvians. They were ostensibly on diplomatic visits to check in on restoration projects, but in truth their visits involved a lot of sex, and very little diplomacy. He took Rook against the ruins of an evanuris temple, her gasps and moans echoing against the walls like a chorus. Rook pinned him against the wall of an alley off the busy streets of Minrathous and took him into her mouth and he prayed that the moans against his gloved hands were masked by the rain. He almost missed a wyvern on the Storm Coast because he was too preoccupied burying his face between Rook’s legs, her cries crescendoing with the thunder around them.
As they returned back to Treviso to check on his paperwork (and probably fuck on his desk), Lucanis thought he could get used to this whole ‘peace’ thing.
A few months after their victory, the letters started to arrive. It had started with a hefty parcel of envelopes thudding down on his desk; it appeared that he had become a secretary for his other half when she was busy galavanting with the Lords. There must have been hundreds of envelopes bearing her name. He ignored the pang of jealousy and Spite’s gnawing curiosity with growing frustration. He had kept the parcel by his desk for a week until she returned. Rook opened and read every single letter at least thrice. Some made her laugh as she read them to him, others made her sob as she did not.
A day after opening her first batch of letters, Rook requested her own desk, some parchment and some ink. She had letters to write.
The letters had now reached near-toppling heights around her desk, pressed against the window of his office. Lucanis had tried to suggest she get an assistant to help her with them, or simply not reply to them all, but Rook had waved him off and tackled every single letter with the same determination she had once wielded against darkspawn and demons.
Defeated, Lucanis took to simply watching her work. She was beautiful, and he always relished the opportunity to observe her. Rook had allowed her hair to grow out now that she wasn’t constantly fighting. She took to wearing the ribbon he had bought her back when they had first met, nervous and needing . Despite her best efforts, however, her hair did not like to be restrained and loose strands framed her angular face, catching the sunlight. Her quill scratched steadily across parchment, her expression a mix of focus and amusement as she worked through the stack.
“Still at it, carissima ?” he asked one day, standing from his own mountains of paperwork to stretch. Rook glanced up, her green eyes sparkling with pride.
“If I don’t answer them, who will?” she replied. “Besides, some of these letters are from people who need hope. They deserve a response.”
Lucanis leaned against the open window, arms crossed as he took a deep breath in. Smells like. Spice and water. Home . “You’re kinder than most,” he said, though there was an edge of caution in his voice. “But maybe you shouldn’t be so... accessible. Not everyone out there has good intentions.”
Rook arched an elegant brow. They’d had this discussion many times now. “If anyone wanted to hurt me, they’d find you standing in their way, wouldn’t they?”
The corner of his mouth twitched upward, but the slight tension in his shoulders remained. He let the subject drop, though the feeling lingered like the scent of storm clouds.
A week later, Lucanis’ unease deepened. Rook had begun to grow secretive about certain letters, tucking them away into a little locked box on her desk before he could glimpse their contents. She still spent hours at her desk, but now when he entered the room, she’d sometimes shield the page she was reading, her expression fleetingly furtive.
He tried to tell himself it was nothing. Rook was a grown woman and allowed her secrets. Yet doubt whispered insidiously in his mind. Was there someone else? Perhaps one of these letter-writers had wooed her. Lucanis had never had the skill for flirtation, perhaps Rook had been swayed by someone who did. Someone whose honey-coated words had tempted Rook, reminded her of what she could have with someone better, someone smoother, someone not broken in ways Lucanis was only beginning to accept-
Stop. Pity party. Stupid Lucanisss.
Lucanis thought it was a fine day when his demon had better coping strategies than him. Spite was right, though. This was idiotic. He and Rook were in love. They told each other that every day.
Although… they hadn’t actually talked about what they were. Lucanis had never been in a relationship before, and it occurred to him he wasn’t entirely sure how a person went about confirming one. In the stories, it all just kind of… happened after the dramatic declarations of love. But what if Rook didn’t know? What if he’d been too presumptuous and this was actually just a… fling?
The thought gnawed at him for days. He fell into old habits of brooding, of distancing himself. He started working out of his office more often to avoid the scritch scritch of her quill dancing along the parchment as she wrote her damned letters. On the fourth day, Rook stormed into the storage room he had been working in, slamming the door behind her.
“Alright, I tried to be patient with you but enough is enough,” she began, stalking towards him, “Talk to me, Lucanis. What's going on?”
He hesitated, the words burning on his tongue. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to voice them. Finally, he shook his head. “Nothing. Just… tired.”
Rook wasn’t fooled. She prowled around the tiny table he had been using as a desk, leaned over him so that her hands were on either side of his head. He knew he could glance down and see her full breasts down her shirt at this angle. She probably knew it too, the temptress. He resolutely held her gaze. “You’ve been avoiding me, Lucanis. I know something’s bothering you.”
Lucanis sighed, raking a hand through his dark hair as the other rested on her thigh. A defeat. “It’s these letters,” he admitted. He hated how weak he sounded. “You’ve been hiding some from me. And my mind… well, it tends to run wild.”
Rook stared at him for a moment, her expression frustratingly unreadable. But then it softened, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. “You’ve been worried about who they’re from,” she surmised.
“Can you blame me?” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “I’ve seen what you mean to people. How they look at you. You’re a hero, Rook. And I—” He cut himself off, shaking his head.
Rook’s lips quirked upward. “And you think I’m hiding a secret lover in my correspondence?”
The wry humour in her tone made his cheeks flush in embarrassment. It sounded so stupid out loud. He hated how insecure he was being, how childish, but he held her gaze. “I don’t know what to think. We never talked about…” he gestured lamely between them, “What this is.”
Rook looked surprised, then a blush spread to match his. “Oh, right.” She stood upright, and Lucanis mourned the loss of her closeness. She nervously fidgeted with the rings on her fingers, and Lucanis prepared himself for her rejection.
“Well, shit. I’ve never done this before. I love you. I figured that made this,” she mimicked his gesture between them, “Pretty obvious. You’re the only one I want, Lucanis, if you’ll have me.” She smiled down at him bashfully, and Lucanis surged upwards with a curse as his lips met hers.
“I love you. I love you more than words could ever express. I live for you. I am yours.” Lucanis whispered as he pressed his lips to her cheeks, her nose, the tips of her ears as he tried to apologise for his idiocy. “Forgive me, carissima . I am a fool.”
Rook’s smile stretched to her eyes now, and she kissed him just as fervently, “Yes, you are. But you’re my fool.”
“So what is in those letters that has you so embarrassed then?” Lucanis asked before he could stop himself.
Rook’s blush returned in full force, and she glanced away from him. “Ah. Well, it’s…” She hesitates, scoffs and shakes her head as she produces one from her pocket. “Here. Read it.”
Lucanis took it from her hand, cautiously. The script on the front was flowery and nearly illegible. He brought the envelope to his nose. It was scented. Smells like. Roses and violets and. WANT .
Lucanis’ eyes met Rook’s as his finger ran along the opened seal. A question. Rook nodded, but her blush continued to spread. She almost matched her hair now.
Lucanis opened the letter, his eyes dancing along the lines of the page.
Dearest Rook, saviour of Thedas and stirrer of my loins,
Somehow, it got even worse from there.