Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Weddings in Antiva were complicated affairs.

On one hand, they were meant for joyous ceremony—a celebration of love and companionship with family and friends. A day filled with the music of laughter and song; of tables buckling under decadent food and ever-flowing wine; and dances and embraces, warm kisses and drunken toasts. It was a time to reflect on all the good times shared—and a time to look forward to an eternity more.

…But on the other, they were often one's only chance to flaunt a family's wealth, connections, and power. And for Antivan Crows, whose entire lives revolved around their House's reputation—

"What do you mean 'it doesn't have to be a big deal'?!" Viago cried exasperatedly as he followed Rook from the training courtyard. His looming form towered after her like an omen of death as all the Fledgelings scattered like birds. "You are the leader of the Veilguard. The hero of Thedas—even more popular than the Inquisitor in this part of the continent—and you are marrying Lucanis Dellamorte." He gestured violently. "The Magekiller. The Demon of Vyrantium. The only other Crow who is even as remotely notorious as—"

"I'm just saying, Viago," Rook sighed loudly as she yanked off her gloves, "That we don't need to invite half of Antiva." She tossed the gloves on the edge of a water fountain and shrugged. "It's just Lucanis and I. Let's just invite our two Houses and our Veilguard companions and be done with it."

"'Just Lucanis and I?'" Rook ignored his tone as she calmly washed her sweaty hands in the cool waters of the basin. She smiled and nodded at a few of the last remaining Fledgelings who were lingering in the courtyard after their training session—as if their Talon wasn't breathing down her neck. "His House holds the seat of First Talon, you idiot! And we are the Fifth! Does that mean nothing to you?"

Rook just splashed more water on her face.

"Lucanis may have turned down the position of First Talon," Viago continued lowly as she scrubbed at her pink cheeks and neck, "But that does not mean he has become a nobody, Rook. He is still Caterina's heir along with Illario. House Dellamorte still leads the entire organisation. All the other six Houses must be invited. That is non-negotiable."

Rook rolled her eyes—but hid it from Viago by dunking her whole head beneath the surface of the water.

When she resurfaced, Viago was still talking.

"—and not to mention all the allies we've made along the way," he continued as water streamed from her face and the curls of her hair. "House de Riva maintains cordial ties with First Warden Evka and Antoine. Isabela from the Lords of Fortune. And I have visited Vorgoth's private art collection in the Necropolis too many times not to invite him also—"

"This isn't your wedding, Viago," Rook interrupted loudly as she shook the rivulets from her head. "It's mine! Don't you think I get a say on who we invite or not?"

Viago glared at her as if she was stupid. "Of course not!" he shouted. "I am the head of your House, Rook! Who else is organising this wedding, if not me?"

Rook stared at him incredulously. "…Me?"

Viago scoffed derisively as if she had suggested Assan the griffon was in charge of her finances. "Don't be ridiculous. Are you the one paying all the expenses?"

Rook spluttered as she wiped her sleeve over her face. "Well, I-I…" She supposed she didn't earn that much money. "I can pay for some of it!" she said defensively, "And I'm sure Lucanis can chip in the rest. After all, if Lucanis and I are about to be joined in matrimony, that means we will share our wealth—so really, I suppose I am the one—"

Viago's gloved hand gripped her chin and wrenched it to face him with a terrifying strength. "Lucanis is not paying," he hissed.

Rook blinked up at him and gulped. "W-Why not?"

"Because!" Viago shouted, "The more gold House Dellamorte pours into the wedding, the less power we have in the wedding negotiations!"

"…What wedding negotiations?"

"Maker's Breath!" Viago cried. "The wedding negotiations! Rook, I—you—do you have any idea what happens when two Crow Houses join as one?"

At his protegée's wide, guileless eyes, he guessed she did not.

(…Nevermind that he was the one who had never taught her).

Viago exhaled furiously through his nose. Then turned on his heel, snatched her gloves from the water fountain, and dragged her by the chin to the shaded alcove at the edge of the courtyard, sheltered from the heat of the sun.

"Get out," he said curtly to the two Fledgelings there. They dropped the knives they were pulling from their wooden practice targets and fled. Viago sat Rook down on the stone bench. Then he tossed her gloves in her lap with a look that said 'put them back on or else'.

He began to pace.

"Before the wedding even takes place, representatives from the two Houses hold a summit together," Viago started to walk in a familiar, circular gait that always preceded what Rook knew to be a doubtlessly long lecture. She wearily began to pull her gloves back on. "A summit in which they must negotiate what each House receives from the other and how the Houses will unite. It is a most important negotiation Rook, because it determines the rest of your life." He counted on his fingers. "Which House secrets you are privy to. The cross-contracts you can take and the gold you earn. Boons and perks. Wealth and power. Shared property and assets. What your future children might receive—and what your current one inherits."

Rook's eyes flickered automatically to the east where her own little villa sat not far from the Fledgeling barracks in Salle—where Lucanis and their one-year-old daughter were waiting at home.

Viago gave her a knowing look. "You see why the negotiations are important now?" he said dryly. "If Lucanis pays for the wedding, then House de Riva has less leverage at the war table. And if you don't want Caterina Dellamorte to be writing up exactly what you are receiving, or what your daughter—who is still technically a bastard by the way—might be inheriting—"

"All right!" Rook groaned. She rubbed her face wearily. "I get it. This… Crow politics stuff is beyond me."

Viago tapped his foot impatiently. "Which means?"

"Which means I need your help," she said sullenly. "Please, Viago."

He harrumphed. "So you do." He crossed his arms. "I, of course, will be representing your House in the negotiations. Usually a relative of the groom or his guildmaster will step forward to do the same. Doubtlessly, that will be Caterina herself."

"Right," Rook said glumly.

"I will make sure to get what you are owed," Viago went on with clenched fists. "We may be the Fifth House for the time being, but that doesn't mean we are any less equal to House Dellamorte. We will get our fair share. We will get respect."

"Great."

"And when we do, all the other Houses will be there to witness it," he said decisively. He snapped his fingers. "Which is why I am in charge of the guest list. I already have a draft written up, alphabetised and ordered in decreasing levels of priority."

"Of course you do."

"I will enlist Teia's assistance for the colours and décor. You will trust her judgement, I'm sure. We want to show our wealth but tastefully—not too much of that garish Dellamorte purple."

Rook's mind began to wander to what Lucanis might have cooked for lunch that day.

"And the food of course will need to equally represent dishes from Salle and Treviso. Salle may be the smaller city, but no less important. I will compile a shortlist of suggestions—" He paused, then added, "—though I suppose Lucanis might actually want to input on this one—"

"What about me?" Rook interrupted loudly. "Is there anything I can input for my own wedding?"

Viago paused and considered her for a moment.

"No."

"Viago!"

"Fine!" he huffed, "I suppose you can start to think about what you might wear on your wedding day. Though I have some names of tailors and dressmakers you'd want to refer to—after all, you cannot be wearing anything less than what is befitting House de Riva…" Viago trailed off in thought. Then frowned. "When were you thinking of holding the wedding anyway?" he asked her. "The weather and season will affect many things."

Rook chewed her lip. "Well… I thought maybe we could hold it on Satinalia? Lucanis and I have such good memories of—"

"In three months?!" Viago exploded incredulously. "Are you insane? Rook, a wedding cannot be planned in three months. Maker, even six months is too tight. Nine would be the bare minimum, and ideally it would be stretched to—"

As Viago continued to shout, Rook grimly resigned herself to the fact that she was only at the beginning of what was going to be a very long, nine months of wedding planning.

"You would think Viago would be happy we finally agreed to have the wedding!" Rook said aggrieved as Lucanis puttered about their kitchen. "He was the one making such a fuss about us not being wed when we had Sofia—and now he's all galvanised into action like he's organising a military strike!"

Lucanis hummed as he dusted flour from his hands. "Crow weddings always go like this," he admitted as he wrapped his palms in oven mitts. He bent to put his cake tin into the oven, and Rook was hit with the resulting wave of heat. "Dramatic and political." The tray slid in smoothly with a practised twist of his hand. "Why do you think Illario and I avoided marriage all these years?"

"Well, I assumed that was because you didn't want to be arrange-married to a stranger," Rook said. As Lucanis pulled off his mitts and leaned against the counter beside her, she reached up to thumb the flour from his cheek. "And I know Illario still doesn't want to settle down," she added. The corner of Lucanis' lips twitched upward—and after all this time, his smile never failed to make a warmth bloom in her belly.

A little giggle erupted between them—interrupting the moment—and both Lucanis and Rook looked down to the baby hitched on her hip. "Wio!" Sofia squealed at hearing his name.

Lucanis snorted. "You're right, little bird." He dipped his head to nuzzle Sofia's plump cheek. "Zio Rio might never settle down." Sofia laughed again as if in agreement and raised her hands. Lucanis easily scooped her into the crook of his elbow as if he had done it all his life.

"But mostly," he continued to Rook as he simultaneously balanced his daughter and began to clean up the mess of his baking, "It was so we could avoid the wedding. You think Viago is bad?" He shot her a look. "Caterina when we were younger would have been far worse."

"You think she won't be just as bad now?" Rook asked a little nervously. "You're still the first of her grandchildren to be wed."

He shrugged. "She's backed down a little since we refused the seat of First Talon," he admitted. He began to wash the dishes one-handed. Then teased, "I might be able to at least choose what I'm wearing."

Rook groaned. "Oh, don't even start," she grumbled. She went to fetch a dish cloth to help. "I told Viago I preferred something 'simple' and he all but blew up at me." She mimicked his voice. "A de Riva doesn't do 'simple', Rook!"

Lucanis shook his head with a smile as the sink began to fill with hot, soapy water. Sofia waved her pudgy arms as bubbles began to float upwards. "You know," he said slowly as his daughter tried valiantly to wriggle headfirst into the sink, "If it is giving you this much grief… it's not too late to elope." He snuck a side glance at her. "We could ask Illario for help," he suggested, "Or send word to Taash. One of them could probably cause enough mayhem to cover us for a few hours until we could sail from Antiva."

Rook scoffed as she wet the cloth and began to wipe down the counter. "Don't be ridiculous, Lucanis. Viago would hunt me down to the ends of Thedas," she grumbled. "We wouldn't make it two days out of the harbour."

Lucanis hid his grin in his daughter's hair.

Rook sighed loudly. "I just wanted to be married by now! Just you and me and our friends. Make it official. Have a party where we can sing and dance. Not make it some sort of Crow Talon showdown."

Lucanis softened. "We can still have that," he assured her as he set clean dishes began on the drying bench beside him. Sofia somehow managed to smear bubbles across her chin. He had to dry that too. "We can have something private…"

"Not if Viago has his way," Rook grumbled, scrubbing the counter with increasing aggression. "I'd be lucky to even see our friends at the wedding considering he's inviting all the Crow Houses. Honestly with the size of the whole thing, I'd be lucky to even see you there—and you're the groom!"

Lucanis laid his warm, soapy hand on hers and slowed her vigorous movements to a stop.

"Rook," he said gently. "I hate seeing you miserable. Tell me how I can help."

Rook deflated with a sigh. "It's nothing to do with you, Lucanis. I just…" She rested her head on his shoulder with a thump. "I just need Viago to back off a bit." Sofia patted her cheek helpfully. Rook turned into her milk-soft skin and pressed kisses to her tummy until she giggled. "If he can just calm down a little and compromise on some things, I'll feel better."

Lucanis paused. "You need Viago to back off," he repeated slowly. "Less intense. More distracted." His mind began to race as Sofia began to squirm. "You know what?" he murmured as his free arm wrapped reassuringly around his fiancée. He kissed the top of her head and patted her back. "I will handle it," he promised. "Leave it to me."

The wedding negotiations between House de Riva and House Dellamorte were to happen in Antiva City—the royal capital of Antiva and geographically smack bang in the centre between Treviso and Salle. It was a neutral ground for the two Talon Houses to convene and settle the terms of the marriage contract between their Crows—and a fitting stage for where Viago was going to go toe-to-toe with the infamous Caterina Dellamorte.

He had dressed carefully that first day. He had arrived in the city the day before—detouring slightly in Rialto to pick up Teia (who would be acting as the intermediary)—and made sure to settle them both in at a respectable inn in the upper city.

He had planned his outfit in advance. Laid out the nice tunic with the starched collar and the finely embroidered doublet. Washed his hair and waxed it into an impeccable coif, unable to be moved by even the strongest winds. Twirled the ends of his moustache upwards in a way that he was sure struck both fear and awe in even the staunchest of his enemies. 

And then selected the most luxurious of his gloves—made of supple, dark Antivan leather and lined with velvet, with the crest of House de Riva stitched in fine gold thread on the backs.

He was ready to face the First Talon. Ready to win Rook as many boons, perks, and concessions as he could possibly get away with. Ready to ally House de Riva with the highest-ranked House of the Antivan Crows and raise her status to a glory the Crows had never known before.

He was ready for war.

So when Viago de Riva walked into the negotiation room with head held high and saw who waited for him inside—the blood drained from his face.

"What," his voice cracked, "Are you doing here?"

Illario Dellamorte smugly leaned back in his chair, balancing it on its back two legs with frustrating grace, and set his crossed heels one after the other on the surface of the war table. "Why, the same reason you are, Fifth Talon," he replied loftily. "I'm here to represent my House at the wedding negotiations."

Viago just stared. "But you… you're not the guildmaster."

Illario picked at his fingernails. "No, but I am the groom's cousin."

Viago let out a half-scoff, half-laugh. "There is no way Caterina would have let you go in her place," he said lowly. He turned to glare at Andarateia Cantori who was sitting a little too calmly at his right. "Teia, this cannot be right. Where is Caterina?"

Teia shook her head. "He speaks the truth, Vi," she told him calmly. "Illario is standing in for House Dellamorte at this meeting. He is a relation of the groom and has written permission from Caterina herself." She waved a piece of parchment at him, flashing with indigo ink and the purple wax seal of the First Talon. Viago blanched. Teia just gestured to the seat to her other side. "Sit down," she said mildly, "We should get started."

Viago slowly stepped forward—Illario's too-wide smile flashing like a gauntlet thrown onto the table before them—and numbly dropped into his seat. The stack of notes and papers and the draft contract he had spent weeks writing, all felt foolish now in his grasp.

"Relax, Viago!" Illario laughed in that smooth, cajoling voice of his. "Why do you look like you're facing your execution? This is a happy time for us both." He gestured airily with a hand. "My dear cousin is finally getting married—to the hero of Treviso and the love of his life—and your lovely Rook…" He gave a taunting smirk. "…is becoming a Dellamorte. A cause for celebration for everyone."

Viago snapped his quill in half with an audible crack. "Rook is not becoming a Dellamorte," he slammed the table with his fist. "She is—"

Teia cleared her throat loudly and tapped the draft contract before her. "Day One of the Marriage Contract Negotiations between Lucanis Dellamorte and Isadora 'Rook' de Riva," she said loudly. "Clause One out of Fifty-Six. House Dellamorte has proposed that Rook de Riva be integrated into their higher-ranked House. House de Riva has requested for the two to remain separate with their original Houses." She rapped the surface of the table smartly. "Let us begin the negotiations."

Illario gave Viago a wolfish grin—and Viago felt his heart sink to the very bottom of his stomach as he realised he was only at the beginning of a very long few months of wedding planning.

"You know," Lucanis grunted as he spun himself up into a handstand. "Treviso is quite lovely in the Springtime." His sure hands steadied himself into perfect balance. "Not too hot. Not too cold. The birds come out singing."

Rook hummed as she folded herself forwards into a stretch over her legs—the usual routine of their dawn warm-up training. "So is Salle," she countered. "And we have far more birds than you." She turned her head to the side to watch Lucanis walk past on his hands.

"Okay," he conceded, "But we have the Cantori Diamond. The Trevisan skyline. Arches and bridges and gondolas." Rook quirked a brow as Lucanis pivoted to face her upside-down. "That's more romantic than fishing vessels," he told her seriously.

Rook couldn't help but laugh. "I suppose," she agreed. She straightened her back so she could lean forward and peck a kiss on Lucanis' nose. "But we live here. In Salle." She gestured to the courtyard they were training in, the little garden that she tended to daily and the flowers blooming where they crept up the walls. "This is our home. And where we raise Sofia. I thought you liked it here."

"I do," Lucanis said quickly. He twisted then, tucking his knees back into himself and gracefully returning upright. "I like it here. It's peaceful and beautiful. I just…" He sat down on the ground with a sigh—and then a groan as he stretched his no-longer-youthful knees alongside hers.

"It's Caterina, isn't it?" Rook surmised gently.

Lucanis grimaced. "Partly," he admitted. He gave her a side glance. "She's been… surprisingly obliging in the wedding preparations so far. Agreed to let Illario lead the negotiations. Let me choose what to wear. Hasn't demanded anything too outrageous. But she…"

"Wants the wedding in Treviso."

Lucanis nodded. "Treviso means a lot to our family. Dellamortes are born and wed and buried there. It is where I grew up." He reached for her hand then. "And we have good memories of it, don't we?" he added softly. "Of saving the city from destruction not once, but twice. Of the Cantori Diamond. Of dates in cafés and gondolas and the marketplace. Of the rooftops in the sunset on Satinalia."

Rook squeezed his hand back. "We do," she said. "Of course we do. I remember Satinalia so fondly and I do love Treviso, Lucanis. I just…" She sighed. "I just also have not-so-wonderful memories of it. So many of our Crows died during the occupation. And though we spent so much time there—we were also in war. It's… difficult not to remember the bloodshed there."

Lucanis bowed his head. "That's true," he admitted.

"And if we hold the wedding in Treviso," Rook continued carefully, "I'm guessing Caterina wants to hold it in the Villa Dellamorte?" Lucanis nodded. Rook ran a thumb over the back of his hand. "It would be convenient to host it there," she confessed, "And I know it would be a beautiful venue. But Lucanis, you… didn't have a good childhood there." She raised his scarred knuckles to her lips. "You were lonely." She kissed them gently. "And you and Illario were hurt. So many times." When she opened her eyes again, she saw that his had softened to a molten brown. "I don't want to celebrate us in a place where you weren't happy."

Lucanis seemed unable to tear his eyes away from her but he didn't know what to say.

"Lucanis?" Rook asked softly, "Where are you happiest?"

He cleared his throat roughly. "Wherever you are," he said, "Here or Treviso. Or even the Lighthouse." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "When it was just you and I and our companions living there, and we were laughing and eating together, and learning about each other every day. It was a difficult time but… a good time."

Rook's heart softened at the memory. "It was," she murmured. "I miss it too sometimes. Harding and the others. Maybe not the god-killing part but everything else." She suddenly jerked upright as an idea came to her. "Lucanis," she breathed, "That's it!"

"What?" he frowned.

"What if we held the wedding at the Lighthouse?"

Lucanis blinked. "In the… Fade?"

"Yes! I mean, it's unconventional but…" She squeezed his hand in both of hers now. "It's large enough to host a wedding. The Lighthouse always responds to the needs of its inhabitants—I'm sure between us and the Caretaker, we can make it work."

"Forcing everyone to cross an Eluvian would make Viago cut down the guest list," Lucanis said slowly. Rook nodded vigorously in reply.

"Oh, yes. He would have to. And it's a place that means so much to both of us. To our friends. It was the beginning of everything for you and me."

Lucanis gave a half-laugh as he remembered. "You mean the pantry," he smiled ruefully.

"And my fish tank bedroom," Rook grinned. "The courtyard where we trained every morning. The library where we used to knit past midnight."

"The kitchen where I made you coffee," Lucanis murmured. "The rooftop where I confessed my love."

Rook smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. "It's perfect, Lucanis! Don't you think?"

And this time Lucanis smiled back, and the rising affection Rook had for him seemed to swell in her lungs like air she breathed. "It is," he agreed. "It's perfect."

"Day Seven. Clause Nineteen out of Fifty-Six." Teia took a long sip of coffee—her third one that morning—and took a deep breath. "House Dellamorte proposes that the couple relocate to the city of Treviso and operate from the base of Villa Dellamorte."

Illario nodded along mildly in a white, billowing blouse with earrings glinting in the sun. Viago sat opposite dressed to the chin in black dragonhide—and with a murderous expression on his face to suit.

"They have expansive property there and assets," Teia continued in a weary tone, "And the city is a more well-connected port than Salle. It makes more sense to sell all holdings in Salle and invest them all instead in—"

"No, no!" Viago shouted red-faced. "Absolutely not!" He slammed his coffee mug so hard on the table, the ceramic cracked. "Salle is the more important trading port—and Rook is not going to Treviso! She is not selling her villa here, and it is over my dead body that she is ever leaving—"

"What is. Marriage," Spite asked Rook as they made their way down to the docks. Lucanis had fallen asleep unusually early for once by sunset—and Spite was never one to miss an opportunity to spend more time with Rook. He had helped her tuck Sofia into bed and kissed her goodnight—a clumsy kiss but a kiss nonetheless—and then followed Rook out the window to where the dusky evening was still bright enough to see.

"Well," Rook said slowly as she swung their clasped hands in time to their steps, "It's something like a promise. A contract between two people."

"Like Spite and Lucanis?" he asked as they followed the street lanterns down to the water's edge. Spite swung their arms a little too energetically to be comfortable—but Rook didn't mind.

She smiled. "Like you and Lucanis," she agreed. "Except this time it's between Lucanis and I. A promise to be together for as long as we live. Two souls united as one."

Spite frowned as he windmilled their arms between them. "Become one. With Lucanis." He blinked up at her with owlish, purple eyes. "Rook wants to. Possess. Lucanis?"

Rook let out a surprised laugh. "Not quite." She squeezed his hand. "You two have your own bond. And I certainly can't inhabit Lucanis' body like you can." She couldn't resist leaning in to smooch the centre of his furrowed brow. "There probably isn't enough room for me in there anyway."

Spite wrinkled his nose. "I can. Share," he said petulantly. "If it's with Rook."

"That's very kind of you," Rook grinned. They began to descend the cobblestone steps to the boardwalks that traced the line where Rialto Bay met Salle. "But this isn't about possessing anyone. It's an agreement to love each other." The sun had already set but the air was still warm and salty with sea spray. Rook breathed it in with a smile. "To protect each other. To be there for each other no matter what happens—through good times and hard times. Through sickness and health. Grief and joy."

"But we. Already do that," Spite said in confusion. The old wooden planks creaked below their heels as they drew closer to the ocean. "Lucanis and Spite. Always here for Rook."

"You are," Rook agreed. "And I know that. We know that. But I suppose this is more an official declaration for the rest of the world. So that they know too. And so everyone knows that Lucanis is my greatest love, and that I am his."

"And Spite?" Spite said uncertainly. "What about. Me?"

Rook met his round eyes, wide and vulnerable in Lucanis' face. "Oh, Spite," she murmured. She tugged him down to sit with her at the edge of the boardwalk. He looked a bit childlike for a moment—legs dangling over the roiling waves and suddenly small against the expanse of the sea. "You'll always be ours," she promised him. "You are Lucanis' greatest confidante. And you've become a very good friend to me too. Lucanis and I getting married won't change a thing between us. In fact, it will only make us stronger." She leaned forward, an inch away from his violet eyes. "Do you know why?" she asked with a secretive smile.

Spite blinked. Then shook his head slowly.

"Because then I'll be yours too!" Rook told him cheerfully, "And you'll be mine. We all have each other."

His hand gripped hers then—always a little tighter than Lucanis ever dared to hold her. "Mine," he repeated—perhaps a touch possessively. "Ours."

But Rook just smiled. "Yours," she agreed. "Forever."

And they sat there for a while, hand-in-hand—until the sky darkened into midnight and the stars winked into existence, and the tide continued to pull back and forth endlessly below their kicking feet.

"Day Thirteen. Clause Twenty-Four out of Fifty-Six," Teia said wearily, head in hands. "House Dellamorte has proposed…" She choked reading the next line. "Illario!"

Illario swirled his wine exaggeratedly in his cup. "Yes, my dear Andarateia?"

Teia shot him an exasperated look. "If Viago lunges across the table, I will not stop him."

Illario gestured elegantly with his free hand. "I would never expect you to interrupt a duel between gentlemen. Please. Go on." But the twinkle in his eye was a little too bright to be innocent. Viago's eyes in contrast, were ringed with dark circles and narrowed to slits.

Teia sighed and returned to the contract. "House Dellamorte has proposed a clause that stipulates the couple engage in intercourse at least three times a week," she read stoically, "And produce at least fifteen heirs for House Dellamorte—lest the union be dissolved—"

Viago lunged across the table.

"Where do you think we should have our honeymoon?" Rook gasped as she rolled off Lucanis and onto blessedly cool sheets. It was Autumn now—almost Satinalia—and the chilled breeze through the open window was a welcome reprieve against their sticky skin.

"You… you want to go on a honeymoon?" Lucanis panted, blinking dazed beside her. His bare chest heaved with exertion and gleamed with a fine layer of sweat. His mind was still trying to catch up through a haze of ecstasy—but Rook it seemed had no such problems.

"Why not?" Rook said. She rolled over with a smile, eyes bright with joy. Lucanis was distracted for a moment watching the candlelight reflect in them—and the way her head of curls cascaded over her shoulder like a waterfall onto their sheets. "We deserve it, don't you think?" she continued blissfully unaware of the heat that tugged low in his belly, "To go somewhere nice?"

He swallowed and wet his lips. "We've been all over Thedas together," he pointed out. "Or does running through Eluvians not count?"

Rook laughed. "I mean for a holiday, Lucanis. Not for a contract or for a job." She wiggled to his side again despite the dampness of their skin and placed a hand on his scarred chest. "Somewhere to enjoy ourselves," she stroked with a cheeky grin and a suggestive quirk of her brows. "Where we can be all alone… just us…"

"Rook de Riva," Lucanis murmured, catching her hand. "Are you seducing me?"

She dropped a kiss onto his bare shoulder and looked up at him through hooded eyes. "I don't know. Is it working?"

He smiled. And despite the fact his lips felt rather raw and his jaw rather sore from earlier activities that night—he turned to capture her mouth in one more kiss.

"You don't have to seduce me," he whispered against her lips. "You know I would follow you wherever you go." He twisted on his side to face her properly and propped his head on his elbow. "But what about Sofia?" he asked. "We have the wet nurse but we've never both been away from her at the same time."

Though Lucanis and Rook still took contracts on occasion, they'd always tried to have one of them with her for safety.

"I'm thinking Zio Illario or Zia Teia might be willing to babysit for a while," she suggested slowly. "Maybe even Viago if we ask very nicely." She lay her head on his pillow. "There's plenty in House de Riva willing to help. And we don't have to go for long—maybe a week or two at most. Just enough time to get some sunshine and see something new together, and we'll be back before she knows it."

Lucanis was tempted. They really hadn't had a break—Rook and he were both consumed with work after they'd killed the gods. He had so much to settle in Treviso with the aftermath of the occupation, and Rook had too in Salle. It was only a few months later she had told him she had been carrying their child all along, and since then the following year had been a whirlwind of surprises.

"So where haven't you been before?" Rook asked curiously. "Your contracts would have taken you to many places."

"Nowhere as exciting as you might think," Lucanis smiled wryly. "Mostly to Tevinter, wherever a power-hungry mage needed killing. Sometimes to Nevarra. Once or twice to Orlais."

Rook bit her lip. "Ever been to the Free Marches?"

Lucanis cocked his head. "Once or twice," he repeated, amused. "Why?"

"Well," Rook drawled, "Varric used to tell me all sorts of stories you know. Wild tales from his days in Kirkwall and the Inquisition. And he told me of this crazy Orlesian duke who led a hunting party every season in the Vimmark Mountains." She smiled knowingly. "Do you know what he hunted?"

"…Wild turkey?" Lucanis guessed. Free Marchers were rather famous for roast turkey.

Rook shook her head—then drew closer as if imparting him a great secret. "Wyverns," she whispered in his ear. And her smile widened as his eyes grew comically large. "Herds of them. Enough to hold a great wyvern chase every Spring."

"Our wedding will be held in the Spring," Lucanis couldn't help but say excitedly. "Early Spring. Do you think we will be in time for…?"

Rook nodded with a wide grin. "I think so."

His hands were gripping her shoulders tightly before he knew what he was doing. "Rook," he said with eyes wild and barely contained fervour, "Are you telling me we're going to see wyverns on our honeymoon?"

"Yes, Lucanis," she laughed. "If you want to, we can see wyverns on our honeymoon."

He rolled over then, trapping Rook under him and pressed her into the mattress with a kiss so passionate it left her red-cheeked and gasping for breath. "I love you," he mumbled as he feverishly kissed down her neck and lower and lower. "I love you, Rook. I love you… I love you..."

"Day Twenty-One. Clause Thirty-Nine out of Fifty-Six," Teia yawned by the fireplace. Formality at the wedding negotiations had long gone out the window and they had all dressed-down that day. Teia was bundled in an oversized sweater with a blanket dragged over her lap—and Illario hadn't even changed out of his dressing gown.

"House Dellamorte has proposed that the couple's future children, should they have any more, take the Dellamorte name," she read aloud. She paused—then glanced up uneasily. "The reasoning is that their firstborn, Sofia de Riva, already has her mother's House name. So it is only fair that House Dellamorte, with no new heirs, receives at least one in return."

Viago de Riva looked exhausted. There was no other way around it. His once perfectly combed hair was lifeless now and hanging in his eyes. His meticulous moustache was haggard and droopy. The dark circles beneath his dull, blue eyes never more stark. And his hollow cheeks were shadowed with a mottled bruise—matching the one that bloomed over Illario's right eye.

"No," he said hoarsely.

Teia raised her eyebrows. "No?" She waited for a follow-up. "You need to give your reasoning, Viago. Come now, you know how this works—we've been at this for three weeks."

Viago sighed. Then cleared his throat and said louder, "No. Sofia is a de Riva because her mother asked for it." His palm slammed the table once more—but it lacked strength this time. "Any child of my Crows has the right to ask for my blessing," he said tiredly. "If Rook asks again for my House name—I will not withhold it."

Illario smiled—shark-like and honey-smooth despite the half-healed cut on his lip. "And what about my poor cousin?" he said with exaggerated affront. "Does Lucanis not have a say in his own children?"

Viago just sneered back. "Lucanis can go carry his own child for nine months then," he said curtly. "I care not for your family line." He jerked his chin at him. "If you want a Dellamorte heir so much, then you get married, Illario—and get busy."

That tore a bark of surprised laughter from Illario's throat. "Funny," Illario grinned. "I didn't know you could be funny, Viago."

"Enough," Teia cut in with a half-hearted tap on her almost-empty wine glass. "Please, boys. Let's not fight again. I don't think the proprietor will be happy if we break another table."

"Very well," Illario said as he sank back into his chair. He ran a hand through his hair, long and unbound down his back. "Caterina will not be happy—but I agree. Let the couple decide the names of their children then. I suppose Caterina can always adopt a great-grandchild if we need."

Teia shook her head as if she doubted it, but made a note anyway. "Very well. Now that's decided, let us move onto Clause Forty. House Dellamorte—"

"Andarateia," Illario interrupted, "Forgive me, but can you confirm that Rook will be arriving in Antiva City tomorrow for her dress fittings?"

Teia paused. "That is correct," she affirmed. "She sent a note when the ship left port yesterday."

Illario waved his hand. "Very well. We've stalled for enough time then. We can skip to Clause Fifty-Six."

Teia stared. "What."

Viago straightened slowly. "What sick game are you playing, Illario?" he said in a low voice.

"You heard me. Skip to Clause Fifty-Six."

"And what about the clauses in-between?" Teia frowned.

Illario inclined his head to Viago. "You can defer to de Riva's proposals for Clauses Forty to Fifty-Five. They are all reasonable and House Dellamorte is willing to concede."

"When did you read Viago's—"

"When he stormed out of the room yesterday and you had to go comfort him," Illario shrugged. "You left me here alone for half an hour. I got bored."

Viago's fists clenched on the table. "Why, you—"

"Viago," Teia said sternly. "Do you accept? House Dellamorte is willing to give all you asked for in those clauses."

Viago paused. Then with heavy suspicion but reluctant agreement, he nodded. "Very well. House de Riva accepts."

Teia exhaled loudly and scribbled down her notes. "All right. Then we can skip to the last point in our negotiations: Clause Fifty-Six—pertaining to the event that Lucanis Dellamorte and Rook de Riva wish to dissolve their union at any point in the future." She cleared her throat. "That is, for any reason, they decide to go their separate ways—then this is what happens in compensation."

A sombre air seemed to settle on them all when brought with a thought none of them exactly wanted to think about.

"I'll start with House de Riva's proposals this time," Teia continued gently. "Should they decide to part ways, House de Riva proposes that Rook retains all her assets, property and gold that is under her name. Any shared assets would be split evenly between the pair. And any children that were born between them… will remain with their mother."

Illario's face was inscrutable. Viago met his gaze coolly. Teia swallowed.

"Lucanis will be permitted visitations if Rook allows," she went on, "But they will stay in Salle until they come of age. To ensure a comfortable upbringing, House de Riva also proposes that House Dellamorte pay a stipend of four hundred gold per child per month—which will go towards food, housing, clothing, weapons and other consumables, as well as toys, entertainment and the like—so that their childhood will remain as unaffected as possible. This is for the benefit of the children." Her eyes flickered up. "House de Riva hopes that House Dellamorte sees it as such."

Illario frowned at the insinuation. "Viago, you know we only want the best for Sofia," he said in a low voice. "Lucanis adores her. I adore her. We would never do anything to hurt her."

Viago continued to meet his gaze stoically. "I don't care about intentions," he replied, "Intentions and feelings change all the time. All I care for is that Sofia's needs are met and that she receives what she is owed. As does Rook. That is why I am here, Illario. Not to play games."

Illario ran his tongue over the front of his teeth. "Teia," he said tightly, "Please, go on. Tell him what Lucanis wrote."

Teia returned uneasily to her draft contract. "House Dellamorte on the other hand," she read aloud, "Proposes that should the couple dissolve their union, that all shared assets…" She raised her eyes. "…Go to Rook." Viago blinked. "Anything the two create and purchase from the time of their marriage onward may go to House de Riva, should Rook desire it. And that the children born and loved between them are to stay with their mother, where they belong—" Teia's voice cracked. "—and Lucanis only begs that he is permitted to visit as often as possible, so that they might not feel his loss."

Viago blinked rapidly. He began to tug uncomfortably at the tightness of his collar.

"As for support of the children," Teia went on with a slightly shaky voice, "House Dellamorte offers two thousand gold per child per month in compensation, not including gifts on name days, Satinalia, Wintersend and anniversaries, as well as coming of age milestones. They are willing to pay for any training, lessons, and other activities that the children express interest in. Furthermore—"

"Two thousand gold?" Viago interrupted coldly. "Do you think I will not take care of my own House?" He gave a harsh laugh and gestured violently. "Keep your filthy riches Dellamorte—four hundred was fair. Two thousand is just an extravagant insult."

It was Illario's turn to slam his hand on the table. "It is not an insult, Viago," he said loudly, "It is a declaration of love."

"Love?!"

"Yes!" Illario shouted. "Lucanis loves them—don't you see that? He doesn't care for gold. He doesn't care for his assets and properties or this power play between Houses. All he cares for is that Rook and their children are taken care of—even if they part on less favourable terms. He is happy to start again in the streets, living from contract to contract, if that is what it takes."

"As he should," Viago tried to sneer—but it lacked any venom.

"Two thousand gold, Viago," Illario repeated warningly. "Do you accept it or not?"

"No child needs that much," Viago retorted. "Make it eight hundred and it's a deal."

Illario scoffed. "Buying ballet shoes for Sofia will already cost a hundred a pair—and she'll go through three pairs a month when she's dancing in earnest. One thousand, five hundred."

"She doesn't even walk yet, idiot. Don't curse her with your fantasies. One thousand flat."

"You know," Teia interjected, "This is only in the case that the two actually separate. Which we all know is highly unlikely."

"Nevertheless," Viago twitched violently, "It is the principle of the matter, Teia. One thousand gold, Dellamorte. Take it or leave it."

"Fine." Illario threw his hands in the air. "One thousand gold per child per month. I'll tell Lucanis I tried my best."

"Done!" Teia cried, writing the number down with a flourish. "That's it. That's the last clause." She signed her name in bold, loopy letters. "That. Is. It. The Wedding Negotiations for Lucanis Dellamorte and Isadora 'Rook' de Riva are now complete. All clauses have been agreed to on this day today, witnessed by Andarateia Cantori, Seventh Talon of the Antivan Crows. You will both sign your names here—and then we will all go get drinks together and get some rest before Rook arrives here in the morning and sees the aftermath. Sound like a plan?"

Illario gave a weary nod. Viago all but collapsed in his chair in relief.

"Yes, Teia."