Chapter Text
The sight of Minrathous burning and blighted never was far from Rook's thoughts. Neve's face a mask of anger and betrayal haunted her, the pain in the Tevinter woman's eyes encouraging Rook's stomach to sour. Solas had given good advice about adding to the team, but it felt too little too late. And there was the lingering feeling that he had purposely not helped her sooner in order to create a deeper reliance on him. Nonetheless, Bellara and Harding had both reached out to their contacts.
"Look around," Neve's shrewd voice yelling at her echoed in her thoughts. Had she made the right decisions? Varric had offered little encouragement other than there was no good choice and someone was always going to lose. The weight of guilt on her shoulders didn't dissipate with that knowledge, no matter how true it was. And Rook deeply believed that there would never be a time when forgiveness would be an option from Neve.
She missed Neve. The cool, collected way the Tevinter woman would approach things and notice the details so easily missed. All the skills a detective brought to the team Rook deepy appreciated. But she also missed her friend, the woman whom she had started to open up to about the War of the Banners and everything Rook had lost. But now, Neve was gone, potentially never coming back and Rook would never blame the other woman for that choice, for in Neve's moment of greatest need, she hadn't been there.
Rook growled. Varric was supposed to lead this charge. Varric who had saved Kirkwall, been a key member of the Inquisition, and then tasked with finding and stopping Solas. But Varric was lying in the infirmary still recovering from his injuries. He would recover and then he could take back over this crusade. Just need to hold everything and everyone together until then, Rook thought with a sour smile.
Her coffee mug was empty and Rook was staring idly into the roaring fire in the kitchen. She needed to be doing something, anything. And yet every choice she made seemed to go from bad to worse. At every moment an new fire sprouted up adding to the blaze that was running rampant. Rook couldn't shake the feeling that it was going to get a lot worse before it got better. Heaving a sigh she went and cleaned the mug before setting it on the counter to dry. Perhaps Bellara and Harding had updates for her.
The Lighthouse was always changing, growing and evolving. Rook wondered if it was because the Caretaker had found purpose again or if the Lighthouse itself was sentient in some ways and was happy to be inhabited again so it was putting itself back together. Rooms appeared, pathways righted themselves, and foliage began to bloom where once decay prevailed.
It wasn't home, yet. But the more time she spent here, Rook relaxed more into what might be considered a routine and the feeling of familiarity was quite pervasive. The knowledge that she had a stable place to rest her head or even retreat was a comfort. Now if she could somehow make a cohesive team and solve the problem of the world ending, things would be fantastic.
Harding's greenhouse was one of the places that made Rook question if the Lighthouse was an entity of it's own. The cistern in the middle of the room had one day filled with fresh, cool water that was clear and, as Bellara had bravely tested, safe for drinking. Every time Rook walked along the roots that kept the Conservatory tethered to the Courtyard, there was more green sprouting along the path and the roots became a more vibrant, rich brown.
The place suited Harding. Rook knew it was a stereotype, but the way Harding loved the woods and the dirt had been quite the surprise. Dwarves either lived below the surface or were city dwellers. At least in the north and Rook's limited experience. Harding had foregone a bedroll many a time when she had been traveling with Varric and Rook. The memory of Harding crawling into the base of a large tree and curling up to sleep for the night came to mind quite often. But now, to watch Harding beam over the plants in the conservatory and write little letters to her Ma about them brought Rook a little glimmer of joy.
"Hey, I've heard from the Lords of Fortune," Harding greeted. She was kneeling in front of one of the large plots of dirt, but turned to look at Rook. There was brown smudged on her forehead, nose, and neck. "We've got a dragon hunter!"
Some good news. Rook listened to Harding and began formulating a plan in her head. She'd check in with Bellara then her and Harding could head to Rivain to recruit this Dragon Hunter - Taash.
Bellara had, to no one's surprise, made herself quite at home in the workshop. Elven artifacts that she had found both in the Lighthouse and in their travels, including that Nadas Dirthalan, began accumulating on the walls and in every corner. The serials and disarrayed notes added some spice to the place. And Bellara if she wasn't in the library, or in the kitchen, was here tinkering, building, and hopefully not causing any sudden Fade Tearing anomalies or explosions.
Rook had found herself quickly close to Bellara, enjoying listening to her talk in that rambling, circular way about adventures with the Veil Jumpers but also how Bellara seemed so intent and genuine in her care towards Rook. More than once Rook had the idea that if Bellara had been a Mourn Watcher, they would've been close, probably exploring where they shouldn't and spending long hours in the library along side Miriam, Corina, and….
Quickly, Rook shook her head, her mind couldn't wander there. There was all ready enough that filled her with regret, that painful memory didn't need to add to it. Too much at stake and too focus on. And attempting to relive the glory days was not helpful. Hopefully Bellara had an update.
"Okay Bellara," Rook said entering into the workshop, careful as the probability of a tool being thrown at her head or an artifact out of control diving at her was not completely out of the realm of possibilities. The Workshop was unusually cold today. The chill felt familiar somehow, but that just meant Bellara was examining an artifact she had found attempting to learn how it worked. Rook was sure she would hear all about it later. "What's your lead on getting us a Fade Expert…for…the team…."
Bellara was not alone in her Workshop. And she was definitely not tinkering on a new artifact. A large, shadowy entity shrouded in a tattered robe floated there ominously beside Bellara, the chill from it's presence permeating through the Workshop. Beside it, was a taller, very elegant and poised woman with rich black hair pulled back in a pony tail and wearing formal purple and green Watcher attire with one of the traditional Watcher Robes. Myrna, Keeper of the Seals and Vorgoth of the Mourn Watch here in the Fade.
Words utterly failed Rook. It had been almost 2 years since she had last seen them, standing at her side in the High Council's Chambers. Myrna had kept in touch with periodic letters, responding with kindness to Rook's thinly veiled question of "When may I return?" with the more hidden, "Will I be allowed return?" underneath it. For a moment, she had the hope that this visit heralded her return into the Mourn Watch and a welcome back home. It was short lived as she briefly glanced at Bellara and logic reminded her that the Dhaelish woman had been in conversation with a Fade expert.
"Good evening," Myrna greeted in that calm yet regal voice of hers, the smallest hint of a smile upon her normally reserved face.
"GREETINGS." Vorgoth raised one of It's guilded hands in greeting. And though Vorgoth was nothing but vapor, mist, and shrouded in mystery, there seemed to be happiness at seeing Rook once more.
The shock passed, and Rook could no longer hide her happy surprise. "Myrna! Vorgoth! What are you doing here?"
"Oh, Rook! You know I've been writing to a senior Fade expert. Well, he's a Watcher like you. But I was in need of help to track him down," Bellara quickly explained, bubbly and perky as ever.
"THUS WE CAME."
Myrna was observing her, those watchful eyes seemed to peer into the depths of Rook's very soul. "You've done exceptional since we last saw one another, Rook."
Pride burst forth from Rook's chest at the praise. She had never doubted that Myrna continued to see the potential in her. Nor did she doubt that Myrna advocated for her back home.
"You wouldn't believe what I have witnessed and experienced since I left the Watchers," Rook replied.
Myrna gently tsked. "No one truly leaves the Watchers, Rook. Especially you."
Rook gave a small pause. "I recall I was asked to depart from the Necropolis until asked to return. You wrote me and encouraged me to travel."
"Yes, and it's brushed the dust from your bones." The statement gave no room for argument, not that Rook could've. It was the truth, her time with Varric traveling and now the team had been quite the catalyst for growth within her. Though the circumstances for why she had been asked to leave the Necropolis and traveling she would've preferred to do without.
Looking at Bellara, the Elf was practically vibrating with excitement, her eyes flitting to Vorgoth and back to Rook. "You've been in touch with one of the Mourn Watch Necromancers, Bellara?"
"Oh yes, and he's been most helpful. Or at least, he was until he went on an expedition," Bellara explained. Her fingers were twisting together, almost knotting.
Myrna took a deep breath. It gave Rook pause. Years of knowing Myrna and more than a few times being on the receiving end of unpleasant news from the Keeper of Seals, whatever was about to come out of her mouth Rook was not going to want to hear.
"Do you know Professor Emmrich Volkarin?"
The world froze around Rook. Myrna knew the answer to this question. And while it may appear on the surface to be a trick question, Myrna was gently probing deeper to gauge where Rook now stood on the Professor.
"Perhaps becoming a Senior Necromancer is not the appropriate choice for you…"
His words lingered in her mind from their brief interaction. Haunting her, along with all the other skeletons she tried to keep shoved tightly into the wardrobe of her heart, pretending she didn't hear the screeching. That singular moment had altered the course of not just her career, but subsequently her life.
Taking a deep breath Rook gave a curt nod. There was far too much at stake, things far bigger and more important than her singular broken life. They needed a Senior Fade Expert and unfortunately for her, Professor Volkarin fit that role. She could not afford to let her personal feelings and her past mar any hope for the future of so many across Thedas.
"I have heard of him around the Necropolis. Never had the opportunity to meet," Rook punctuated the last sentence.
Myrna's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, Rook might've missed had she not been paying attention. But Myrna gave a curt, approving nod. "Professor Volkarin specializes in the Fade and spirits. He is a powerful psychagogue. There were disturbances in the Shrouded Halls that he went to investigate. Go seek him there."
Shrouded Halls. The Grand Necropolis. Home. She was being invited back home.
It took every ounce of control to maintain what little composure she had and thought it wasn't a social call, nor was it explicit that she was fully welcome, Rook was after 2 years going to step foot into the Necropolis again.
In search of Professor Emmrich Volkarin.
"ROOK. PREPARE WELL." Vorgoth's deep voice broke through her spinning thoughts.
"We can be ready to depart in half an hour," Rook said turning to Bellara. "Gear up and let's meet at the Eluvian then."
Myrna and Vorgoth followed Rook as she left Bellara to gather her supplies and put on her armor. "This Lighthouse is a marvel," Myrna said. "Your letters did not quite convey the magnitude of it's splendor."
"It's hard to really translate it's beauty, but it's been a good home base, easy access to the Crossroads which makes traveling across Thedas to chase the gods simple," Rook rambled.
"YOU HAVE DONE WELL."
Vorgoth's words carried pride within them and Rook couldn't help but feel warmth spread to her cheeks. "It does my heart well to see you both. I am glad that you came."
"Many in the Necropolis feel the absence of your presence, Rook," Myrna was gentle with her words. "I know this is not the social visit you might have wanted, but I do believe that time is coming. Soon."
There was stinging in the corners of her eyes, but Rook blinked it away, and held Myrna's gaze. "I am appreciative of the Mourn Watch's assistance with all that is happening right now. Professor Volkarin's skills be a great asset to the team."
"YOU FULFILL YOUR OATHS."
"I do try, Vorgoth," Rook couldn't help the laugh that escaped.
"AND YOU SUCCEED."
The Library was empty and quiet, save for the creaking bookshelves oscillating above. Rook motioned to the couch. "I won't be but a minute. Please feel free to look around and peruse…." Vorgoth was floating up to examine the astrolabe and Rook could only smile at the scene. "Same old Vorgoth."
"Indeed not much has truly changed," Myrna conceded with a polite smile.
Journeying through the Crossroads with Bellara, Myrna, and Vorgoth was quite the expedition. Vorgoth floated along side the Caretaker, both chattering away, at least Rook thought that was what they were doing, as their group was ferried across the expanse. Two great Beings communicating in a way that surpassed her mortal comprehension. But the sensations that tingled her skin and the way in which the Fade pulsed around the two of them made for an intriguing display. She got the sense they were both fascinated by each other. What did Beings like Themselves discuss?
The ferry docked, the group disembarked, and Rook felt a great pit begin to form in her core. This was the moment she had imagined and dreamt of for so long. Now that she approached it, she almost felt sick. Through the spirit market they walked, Rook nodding to the spirit merchants and a group of Veil Jumpers with supplies for Minrathous. Every time she visited the market it was busier than the last. More supplies and shops popped up, more spirits were making their way to the haven, and the number of wisps whirling playfully through the open air had grown exponentially.
Bellara led the way to where the Eluvian to the Necropolis stood. When Bellara slept Rook needed to find out, what with repairing every Eluvian she had found, constantly studying the Lighthouse, and fidgeting with the Nadas Dirthalan. There were skeletal statues and memorials leading up to the glowing mirror. Veil fire braziers stood as a watchful sentries and witnesses.
"When we arrive I will escort you to the lifts. The Necropolis has once more rearranged itself since your departure and the Shrouded Halls are not as deep as they once were," Myrna explained standing before the Eluvian, an image of the Necropolis reflecting pack, rippling as if it was made of liquid. "I will have the Eluvian brought down to the Shrouded Halls once you make contact with the Professor."
All Rook could do in that moment was nod. This was it, she needed to keep her composure and focus. There would be time later to sort there all the complex things suddenly demanding her attention in her mind. Beside her, Bellara was bouncing. "This is so exciting. I've read so much about the Grand Necropolis, but to be able to see it, I'm so honored!"
"WARE THE SPIRITS. THEY GROW RESTLESS IN THE DEEP."
Through the Eluvian Rook followed Vorgoth and Myrna, leaving behind the warmth and bright of the Fade and entering into the chill and lovely gloom of the Grand Necropolis. She exited into Myrna's private study, a plush red carpet cushioning her steps. Intricately carved iron sconces hung through out the room, illuminating the large room with the green of veil fire. A ornate cherrywood desk sat facing the Eluvian, large black armchairs placed before it with beautiful gold stitching ladened upon them. Cherrywood book cases lined the walls holding trinkets, baubles, skulls, scrolls, and many tomes.
Rook breathed in deeply, the lit incense Myrna had on her desk was calming, soothing with it's strong spice notes with undertones of vanilla. The scene greeted her like a welcoming hug, and Rook could only stand basking in the familiarity of it all. After so long, Rook was finally home. She could've stood there for an eternity, soaking it in, telling each nook and cranny of Myrna's study thank you for remaining constant and unchanging. It was beautiful.
"This way, we will take the private lift,"Myrna's voice called from her doorway. Rook shook her head in a futile attempt to clear her mind.
"Oh Lady Myrna, this study is quite grand," Bellara said.
"Thank you. It has been mine for some years. Though I do think I may be approaching the time to replace the carpeting," Myrna supplied. Myrna's study was at the back of all the Administrative Offices, a prime location for access to one of the private Mourn Watch lifts for travel about the Grand Necropolis.
The marble halls were just as pristine as Rook remembered them, gold torches burning green veilfire, skeletal statues holding the memorial lanterns, and stone benches entrenched upon the walls every so often. There were grand chandeliers hanging from the vaulted, carved ceilings, every ten or so feet with hundreds of tapered candles burning without ever dimming or going out.
"Wow, this place is stunning. So elegant and grand," Bellara cooed as they stopped in front of a pair of gilded black iron doors.
"Thank you, but this is merely a small hallway. We can arrange a tour of the Necropolis at a later time should you wish it," Myrna's voice was more light than normal. Her absolute pride in the Necropolis and joy at showing it off was not lost. Rook allowed herself to smile.
Bellara gasped. "Really? I… I would absolutely love that. I mean, later. Much later. When we've found the Professor and maybe dealt with the whole world ending…"
"AN APOCOLYPSE?"
With a squeak Bellara immediately closed her mouth. Rook sighed. Vorgoth and Myrna both had their full attention placed on Rook, waiting quite patiently for her to elaborate on Bellara's words.
"Varric and I stopped Solas from performing his ritual. But two Blighted Elven Gods escaped. That is why we need a Fade Expert." Whatever good standing she might've been earning, Rook was positive it was now gone. The ritual that she was supposed to help stop, instead had made so much worse. One apocalyptic end of the world was stopped and yet another was birthed from those ashes. Another mess at the hands of Young Watcher Ingellvar.
The silence which fell upon the group in front of the lift was thick and heavy. "I see." The doors of the lift opened. "This lift will carry you straight to the Shrouded Halls, it is no longer necessary to take multiple lifts. We will see you when you find the Professor."
Bellara and Rook stepped into the carriage. With a pull of the lever, they descended into the depths of the Necropolis, Myrna and Vorgoth disappearing above them, though Rook noted no disappointment or contempt was held within the Keeper of Seals face. Small favors.
"This should be easy, right? Finding a Professor." Bellara was overly cheerful, a sign that she was excited. Or nervous. Most likely both.
Rook gave an ugly, pig like snort. "When has anything ever been easy and according to plan?"