#Rook/Lucanis

[sun-marie]

an extremely self-indulgent comic set a little post-Veilguard, ft. a new baby wyvern for Lucanis <3

[no1lucanispegger]

I wish there was a mod that made Nevecanis happen even if you're romancing Lucanis.

I want my Rook to have a girlfriend AND a boyfriend and I want my girlfriend to HAVE my boyfriend and I want him to make us both dessert because dammit, after everything we've been through, we both deserve dessert!

I don't see Neve and Lucanis' banter as flirty, but if that's the hill we're all collectively dying on, then let the man flirt! I love watching my boyfriend flirt with my girlfriend. They remind each other of the good parts that live inside them with all the rot, and dammit I love to see it!

Neve Gallus flirting with my man could never be a threat to me, because dammit that's her man too! Let her flirt, her job is stressful!

Why be jealous when you can just kiss them both? Threesomes are so much more fun than seething, jealous rage.

Why be bitter when you can be on your back instead?

[cryptid-jack]

"And it hits me I don't want anybody else touching you like I do Like I do, like me Is it okay?"

Finished Veilguard today and needed to do some art of my Rook and Lucanis. I think he'd probably be pretty touch averse in the immediate aftermath of the Ossuary, but then swing back hard in the opposite direction and find himself absolutely desperate for it from Rook as they come together <3

[darethshirl]

rookanis, friends to lovers

The sauce sizzled in its pan, red and redolent, thickening along nicely. Lucanis rubbed the basil in his fingers before adding it to the mix, listening to the scrape of his wooden spoon as he stirred. On his right the pasta pot bubbled merrily, for now not needing supervision. On his left a row of golden garlic bread aired itself out, small bubbles of dough still fizzling on the surface. Everything in order, like a magic trick unfurling on a timely manner.

Truly, a kitchen could be the most peaceful place in the whole wide world. 

"Hello hello—oh! That smells amazing! Whatcha making?"

Lucanis looked over his shoulder. Like the sweet breeze brought in by coy spring weather, Rook stood at the entrance with both hands holding the doorframe, her hair disheveled and limned by sunlight. She looked vibrant and out-of-breath, as if she'd just stepped out of a fight and was ready to jump back into the fray. Which, judging by the state of her armor, she probably had. Her grin was as bright as always, her cheeks flushed and healthy—and her gaze was focused, with wolfhound intensity, on the boiling pot.

"Spaghetti," Lucanis told her, stirring the pasta one last time. Perfect consistency. "And you're just in time. How do you always do that?"

"Just luck, I guess," Rook laughed, and made a beeline for the stove. From up close Lucanis could smell the forest on her, and sour-sweet sweat, and that undefinable scent of reality that made Fade air seem dead and stale in comparison. The whole entirety of her suddenly felt more real than anything in this kitchen, her arm warm and solid as she reached around Lucanis for the garlic bread.

"Ouch!"

"It's hot," Lucanis said, belatedly and mildly reproachfully. But only mildly. He watched Rook wince and yelp and toss the bread from hand to hand, then picked up the pot by the handles with an air of finality. "Table. If you're eating then you're going to do it properly."

"Oh, fine." Rook achieved the dubiously impressive feat of rolling her eyes while stuffing her face, but went to her seat obediently enough. "I don't see what difference it makes. Eating is eating."

Lucanis placed the pot on its dragon-shaped trivet. “We’re not animals.” He forked the pasta over to Rook’s plate, then ladled the piping hot sauce on top. Steam rose up from the dish in a perfect finishing touch. “Respect the food you eat. You never know when it’s going to be your last meal.”

To her credit Rook, now serious, made a game attempt at eating slowly. She wielded her cutlery carefully, contemplated as she chewed that first bite. “Mmm,” she hummed with clear relish, a sound that made warmth and pride travel all the way down Lucanis’s belly, and then she—well. She forgot all about restrain and scarfed down her food, the hunger overcoming her.

Lucanis sighed. “You eat like a wolf,” he said, but there was more amusement than censure in his voice. He wiped his hands on his apron and leaned back against the benchtop, crossing his arms. “I thought they fed you well in those clans of yours. Aren’t the Dalish supposed to be tall and strong?”

“We sure are,” Rook grinned, bunching her arm theatrically to show off her muscles. They were… not inconsiderate, for a mage. Lucanis let his eyes trail over her well-shaped sinew, mostly—partly—out of professional interest. But before he could finish his assessment Rook shrugged, her attention back on her plate. “I grew up in an alienage though, remember? Things weren’t so sweet back then.” She toyed with her next bite, sliding it around the dish to mop up more sauce. “I learned early on to grab onto every morsel I could get, and I suppose some lessons you never really forget.”

“...Right,” Lucanis agreed thoughtfully, caught off-guard. Rook always exuded such an easy, simple happiness, confident and positive no matter what the world threw at her. It was easy to forget she had her own slivers of darkness lurking in her past. Papered over with good mood and a friendly attitude, but there nonetheless. Did she ever think about those memories, Lucanis wondered? Did she bury them or simply accept them, like the sting of a cane that after a while felt like a kiss?

Silence fell upon them, familiar enough at this point to feel comfortable. Lucanis idly watched Rook’s fingers clasped around her fork, the warm brown of her skin glowing under the kitchen’s perennial torchlight. Her curls darkened in contrast, a messy, blue-black halo moving minutely with her motions. With her gaze downturned like that her eyelashes looked unexpectedly delicate, soft and fluttering.

And then she was looking up—she must have noticed Lucanis’s staring—of course she did, you idiot—and then Lucanis was caught in those bright, electric eyes, wide and surprised and impossible to pull away from.

Lucanis’s cheeks flared up with heat. “Uh. Sorry.”

But Rook was smiling at him—a slightly confused smile, but a smile nonetheless, easy and friendly. “What’s up?”

“Sorry. It’s nothing.”

A wrinkle of bemusement creased Rook’s forehead, but it didn’t douse her good humor. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“No”—and Lucanis had to pause because Spite was hissing at his ear, needling at his nerve endings with jagged spikes—”no thank you. I’m not hungry.”

Rook considered Lucanis for what felt like an interminable amount of time, oddly expressionless. Then her lips curled up again, a smaller, kinder smile, and she shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Pure relief washed all over Lucanis, making his shoulders sag. She never pushed him, not even—not even when she should. He was shamefully grateful for it. For her.

“Sorry,” Lucanis said for the third time, in yet another intonation. The one he meant the most. “Maybe next time.”

Rook just chuckled, eyes twinkling, and returned to her meal.

[jockvillagersonly]

“Man,” you — a person of refined, discerning taste — say. “It’s cool that I can kiss Lucanis in the game. But wouldn’t it be cool if I could kiss Emmrich, too?”

“Absolutely correct, my liege,” I reply, leaning over your throne to whisper in your ear. My voice is unctuous; there are countless rings on my fingers. “But why stop there? Why limit yourself to convention? What if, perchance, *they* could kiss?”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63158968

[evenstarre]

It wasn't long after Weisshaupt that the timid and mournful condolences started rolling through to Rook. It started with Emmerich, and of course the necromancer would be the first and least painful to address. Then it trickled down to Neve, Harding, and timid Bellara. Taash simply clapped his shoulder and shook their head. Lucanis, undoubtedly the most awkward, at least brought Rook a slice of freshly made cake that he admittedly made in a spiral of depression.

Rook started in on the cake in his room. Maybe it was him. He never was very good with pity, and was always one to make a joke or brush it off. Rook sighed heavily as he picked at the bits with the most frosting. Varric trusted the team to him, and he had to be sure he wasn't letting them down. Now more than ever they needed a leader who wasn't going to crumble after a loss. They needed to be stronger. They needed Rook to be stronger.

“Rook.” Davrin's low timbre startled Rook out of his thoughts. He cursed himself as he nearly leapt to his feet, hiding the cake behind him like contraband. Maybe he was a coward, but he was not ready to address the situation with Lucanis and Davrin just yet.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62064418

[glitchinginthegarden]

A Wider Lens

Like a twig snapping in the woods, the air shifted around her as nearby movement broke the stillness. She sat up. A whisper of charred magic, followed by a taste similar to sugared violets and dry wine hit the back of her tongue—bitter and powdery sweet in equal measure. She knew it and turned toward the source.

At the far end of her no-longer-private overlook, Lucanis, dusted in almost imperceptible flakes of dissipating amethyst, halted mid-step beneath her scrutiny. Neither of them moved for a breath. Two Crows on a rooftop, looking one another over from head to toe and back again. Assessing.

“Rook. What are you doing up here?” he said slowly, eyes politely trained on her face.

“Lucanis.” Suddenly and acutely aware of how deep the collar of her own shirt plunged, she flushed and quickly drew the lacing tight, closing a few extra inches of cloth over her chest. She quietly cleared her throat before countering his question, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Paring: Female Rook/Lucanis Dellamorte + Spite

Rating: Gen/Teen

Themes: first kiss, fluff, a sprinkle of angst, Spite is a tattletale

Spoiler Notes: This is not a rewrite of any of the in-game romance scenes, but it does directly follow and refer to one of the more notable first instances to flirt with Lucanis.

[nervestatic]

undeserving of your sympathy

“We don’t have to do this, you know.”

Rook’s hands are gentle and soft as she loops the ropes around Lucanis’ wrist, two of her fingers slipping underneath the rope to test the tightness. Her cataract-riddled eyes stare vaguely into the middle distance as she works, tying off the first rope before moving to his other wrist. “I mean, you do have to sleep,” she continues as her fingers find his pulse point and she begins looping the second rope. “That’s non-negotiable at this point-- if you keep pushing yourself like this, someone’s going to end up getting hurt.”

Lucanis frowns up at the ceiling, absently testing the binding on his left wrist. It gives him around an inch of movement when he pulls at it, but holds against the tugging. Whether it will hold against Spite is another question entirely, but Rook seems unbothered as she works.

The demon itself is quiet, unusually so, as Rook works. They both watch her, two sets of eyes tracking her every motion as deft hands twist rope to her bidding.

“You seem rather practiced at this,” he says eventually. The implication of his words hits him the moment they leave his mouth, heat rising in his face as he shuts his eyes.

read the rest on ao3

[headachecat]

Fellow Rookanis here, and Chaosfay on AO3. Here's a fee writing prompts to play with or combine:

"I've never kissed someone with a beard before."

"How did you keep the beard so neat in the Ossuary? Did you bathe and shave before taking on the Ventori?"

The first time Lucanis reaches out and comforts Rook.

The first time Lucanis reaches out and comforts Rook.

As a principle, Rook did not get upset.  It was one of those things Harding shared with Lucanis when he first joined the team. It was just the five of them at the time, and the Scout felt like it was her duty to fill him in. Bellara’s mind was in the clouds, but, by the Maker, was she brilliant in her expertise. Neve was always on the case, chasing another lead with a snarky comment locked and loaded. And Rook? There was not a moment a smile went absent from her lips. Not a second of doubt they couldn’t do it. There was simply nothing that could make her waver, make her break. And definitely nothing that could make her cry.

They had just saved Treviso from Ghilan’nain’s dragon, and Lucanis could have sworn he had never felt such a profound sense of gratefulness, a warmth that filled his heart and refused to fade for the first time in a very long time. That morning, he lingered in the pantry, scribbling away notes of thanks. The thoughts spilled from his mind and onto the parchment, words cascading like an untamed river, each stroke of his pen a desperate attempt to capture what words could barely hold. The scratching of the pen sent a delicate vibration up his fingers, as he crossed out yet another sentence, unsatisfied. The ink bled through the paper, leaving faint shadows on the pages beneath, echoes of thoughts too vast to remain contained. It seeped onto his skin, black stains blooming across his fingertips, as if to tattoo his feelings for the world to see. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Rook’s face –not her smile, bright and reassuring as always, but her eyes. They held everything: a will that could not be bent, compassion that refused to falter, care that brought his mind to her more and more recently nowadays.

’We will go to Treviso. We will defend it, whatever it takes. I promise.’

He felt a deep, aching pain in his chest with every beat of his heart. He owed her so much – more than he could ever hope to repay in a lifetime. His family, his home, the very fabric of his existence, all tethered to a singular choice. Words danced on the edge of his mind, but none ever felt worthy, none ever seemed to measure up.

How could he possibly tell her that she had saved his life? Not just the moments he cherished, the memories he had yet to create, but quite possibly his literal life as well. The enormity of it threatened to swallow him whole. How do you tell someone that they are the reason your world still turns? No words felt right. No words ever could.

It was just Lucanis in the Lighthouse, its ancient walls accompanying his quiet solitude as he awaited everyone’s return. That is, if you ignored the persisting presence of the demon lodged in his head. To keep his hands and mind from wandering too far into uneasy thoughts, he busied himself in the kitchen, the simple rhythms of preparation soothing him. When the time for the meeting finally drew near, and Rook was due to arrive back from Minrathous, Lucanis prepared something small for her. A cup of tea, her favourite, and a plate of Nevarran plums. Travel was exhausting, after all. She would be hungry, surely.

He placed them on the coffee table in her room, before retreating to the library’s upper level to await the others. Barely a minute went by when the sounds of boots on stone echoed up the tower’s cold, stone walls. The team had arrived, and Lucanis moved to meet them at the centre. But as their figures emerged into view, his heart sank, the stillness in the air pressing down on him. The clinking of metal weapons accompanied his companions’ slow steps, the silence so heavy it seemed to absorb every sound.

When his gaze fell on Rook, the ache in his chest deepened. She stood by the seating area, her usual energy absent, her presence subdued in a way that felt foreign. Her staff slipped from her fingers, dropping against the chair with a hollow clink that echoed in the quiet. There was no trace of her laughter, no sign of the effortless confidence that usually radiated from her when she stood with her hands on her hips, her head held high, a spark of hope lighting her every movement.

Instead, she turned with heaviness, nodding briefly to Harding and Bellara as they passed her, their quiet words barely breaking the stillness. Davrin appeared next, emerging from the staircase leading to the Eluvian room, his form tense, his sword clutched tightly in his hand as though it grounded him. And then Rook’s eyes finally met Lucanis.

The Crow lifted his hand in a gentle greeting. Rook cleared her throat, her voice breaking through the thickness of the air. ‘Right. I suppose we should talk about it.’ She was being careful, navigating a fragile thread that could snap at any moment. 

By the entrance, Bellara stood with her hand resting against her lips, her composure strained and delicate. Lucanis wasn’t certain, but it seemed as though she was fighting back tears. Her shoulders trembled faintly, and Harding, standing close beside her, reached out to pet her arm in a quiet gesture of comfort. The Scout let out a sigh, heavy with shared grief, as if trying to soothe both Bellara and herself at once. ‘Neve is staying in Minrathous for now,’ Rook continued, her tone steadier for a moment, ’The Shadow Dragons… could not defend the city as well as I had hoped.’

Lucanis turned his attention back to Rook, studying her carefully. She placed her hands on her hips, a familiar pose that should have felt reassuring, but this time it didn’t. Her fingers curled around her armour just a little too tightly, the slight tremor in her hands betraying the tension she was trying to mask. It was as though she were forcing herself to embody the unshakable presence they all relied on, struggling to be who they needed her to be. Who they expected her to be.

For a fleeting second, Lucanis’s thoughts drifted back to Harding’s words, her voice ringing in his memory. Rook doesn’t break. But now, standing before her, he couldn’t shake the gnawing doubt creeping into his mind, the uneasy certainty that for the first time in a very long time, Rook had reached her limit.

‘Please, rest well. We will discuss next steps once everyone’s ready,’ Rook said, her voice soft, her smile tender but weary. She followed Bellara and Harding with her gaze as they made their way out of the room, the quiet shuffle of their departure accompanied by murmured words Lucanis couldn’t catch. Davrin lingered, giving Rook a short, shallow bow, a gesture of respect. As he passed her, he slowed, ‘In war, victory, Rook. Whatever it takes.’

Rook nodded in response, a flicker of acknowledgment passing between them, and the Warden turned, his footsteps echoing faintly as he trailed out of the library. The door creaked shut behind him, the sound sharp against the quiet. A draft followed in his wake, a whisper of cold air slipping into the room.

Rook closed her eyes as if bracing for something more – perhaps the whistle of the wind, the mournful howl that might signal an ending to this meeting. But no sound came. The Lighthouse stood resolute, unmoving, the last steady thing around them. Perhaps, in the face of so much loss and uncertainty, the Lighthouse was all they had.

‘Rook,’ Lucanis stepped forward quietly, all his carefully thought-out words evaporating the moment he opened his mouth. ‘I wish to say…’ Rook opened her eyes, studying him silently. Her smile lingered on her lips, but Lucanis could see now what he hadn’t before – it no longer reached her eyes. It was faint, her usual warmth dulled into something distant. It struck him like a brushstroke gone astray on a painting, a flaw only noticeable when you looked closely. Perfectly devastating.

‘I wish to thank you,’ Lucanis exhaled at last. The words felt small in the grandness of the space. ‘Thank you for saving my home. It is… perhaps the only piece of me I know anymore, after the Ossuary. And I am eternally grateful for that. I am at your service, whatever you wish of me.’

Rook’s smile widened slightly, a practiced kindness softening her expression as she stepped forward. She reached out, her fingers wrapping gently around his arm in a reassuring squeeze. ‘Of course.’ she said, her tone light, almost effortless. But Lucanis’s brow furrowed as he caught it – a faint tremble in her hand, a subtle shiver in her fingertips she tried to hide.

‘Perhaps a dinner?’ she added, her voice suggesting joke, joined by a soft laugh that seemed uncertain, rough around the edges. It was her usual lighthearted way, a balm she offered to ease tension, but it felt different now. There was something about her in that moment, something distant and foreign. The jest hung in the air, but it didn’t settle, like a fine layer of sand swept up by the sea breeze, abrasive and unsettling. Rook shifted, her eyes flickering for a moment. They both felt it. The air grew thick, charged with an electric hum. Lucanis felt it like a shiver running down his spine, a familiar sensation that tugged at his instincts, pulling at his focus. Spite emerged from the dimness, his translucent form barely visible in the faint glow of the crystal light. With a long, deliberate breath, Spite let out a soft hiss of disgust, his face contorting in a sneer. ‘Regret,’ he spat, the word hanging in the air like a foul stench. He threw himself into the nearby chair with an exaggerated motion, ‘Terrible smell.’ Lucanis felt the coldness spread in his chest, a creeping chill that began as a subtle tightness and quickly grew into something more suffocating. It trailed down through his waist, his legs, his feet, burning with an icy dread that wrapped itself around him like chains. Regret. Fear. Doubt. A prison of its own. It was a familiar weight, one that clawed its way through his thoughts, dredging up the dark memories he had fought so hard to bury. The sleepless nights in the Ossuary, when exhaustion blurred the edges of his mind and the wet rags he wrapped around himself did little to ease the cold. He had tried to shield his ears from the screams of the prisoners, but they haunted him, unrelenting. Why them and not you? Why do you deserve to live? The questions crashed through his mind like thunder, each one louder than the last. You should have seen it coming. You should have killed yourself before they took you, like a real Crow would.

Lucanis reached out instinctively, his hand settling gently on Rook’s wrist, meant to offer reassurance, but as soon as his fingers brushed against her skin, he felt the tension ripple through her arm. Her lips parted as though she meant to speak. But the words never came. Instead, her breath hitched, and she held it, looking down at her feet. 

’Forgive me,’ she breathed out shortly, And then, in one swift motion, she pulled away from him, stepping past him with a sudden urgency that left him standing, still and unsure. Her staff clattered to the floor with a sharp, jarring sound, the clang ringing in Lucanis’ ears like a discordant note. Rook didn’t look back at it.

For a split second, Lucanis stood frozen, his heart beating in the rhythm of the weapon swaying on the stone. And then, with a sudden clarity, a single thought tumbled through his mind. She did not deserve to go through it alone. He stepped aside, his movement a blur – faster, swifter, determined He blocked Rook’s path, arms wide as if to contain her. She gasped, her body crashing against his, and in that instant, his embrace closed around her, tight and sure. They swayed for a heartbeat, finding balance, and Lucanis felt her legs tremble beneath her, threatening to give way.

A cry tore through the vast expanse of the library, its sound so raw and piercing, it seemed to shake the very air – a wail so haunting it could have been mistaken for the roar of a beast. They fell to their knees, drawn together, clinging to each other in desperate need of support. Rook’s body quivered, tensing as the waves of torment crashed through her, relentless and suffocating. Lucanis felt her scream vibrate against his shoulder, her fingers digging into the back of his vest, sharp as claws, desperate and frantic. Her pain consumed him, a fire that threatened to burn away all else. For a moment, he feared her. No, that wasn’t quite right. He feared for her. 

His hand drifted gently to the back of Rook’s neck, her curls winding around his fingers, as if they sought to hold him back, to keep him away from her. He wouldn’t let them. The warmth of her skin radiated beneath his touch, a subtle heat that made his fingertips dance over the smoothness of it, feeling the soft rise of goosebumps in their path. He began to caress her, slow and tender, as though time itself had stilled around them. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against the side of her temple, grounding himself in the sensation of her presence. Guiding her breath. Reassuring her racing mind. He allowed her the space to cry her pain away, to take her time, to steady herself – there was nothing of greater urgency. They didn’t talk, for there was nothing to be said. Everything he wished to ask, to explore, to understand, it was all in her voice. In the shudder of her body, the pain of her emotion.

He couldn’t say how long it had been before Rook’s sobs began to soften, the raggedness of her breath gradually easing into quiet sniffles. Her hands had found their place around his waist, gripping him with vulnerability he hasn’t seen from her before, while her fingers traced the edge of his vest in a slow, absent rhythm, as if the motion itself were a grounding force, bringing her slowly back to herself. Caught in the moment, he found his own fingers weaving through the strands of her hair, his touch gentle, natural and tender. His index finger brushed the delicate curve of her ear, the softest contact, yet it made her ear twitch in response. The sensation surprised him, and he pulled his hand away just a bit too fast. He opened his eyes.

Rook lifted her head, her tear-streaked face flushed and red, her eyes still glistening. Lucanis could feel the warmth of her breath against his cheek, unsteady and shaky. Yet he refused to pull away. He would stay until she was ready, until she found her footing again. Until she decided it was enough. She reached up, her fingers trembling as they brushed against her ear, a quiet, broken chuckle escaping her lips. It was a sound that was more of a sigh than anything else, exhausted, vulnerable  humour. ‘It does that sometimes... like a cat’s ear.’ Her gaze wandered over his face, lingering on the way their bodies were entwined, the intimate closeness that neither had expected. ‘Forgive me. Again. I’m uncertain what happened–‘

‘Rook,' Lucanis interrupted her softly, his hand moving to cup the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. For a moment, he paused, lost in the simplicity of the gesture, marvelling at how effortless it felt to hold her so close, how completely natural it came to him, like with no-one ever before. It was as if the world had folded around them, and only in that stillness did his thoughts finally catch up to him. Yet even then, he refused to let them overtake him – not when Rook still needed him. She shifted slightly in his arms, and he drew his gaze up to meet hers. ‘You have made an impossible choice,’ he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within. ‘I meant what I said. Whatever you wish of me. Whenever you need... my help. I will be there.’ Her eyes shimmered with the soft light of the crystal hanging above them, the glow reflected in the deep haze of her pained eyes. ‘I cannot ask that of you,’ she chuckled weakly, as her usual demeanour fought to come back to light.

‘I insist. Anything.’

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze falling away, as though weighing her next request. When she finally spoke again, her voice was different. Her Trade Tongue’s accent dropped ever so slightly, and her Nevarran lilt curled around the edges of her words, as if it was only now she allowed him to see her truly for the first time. ‘Can you call me by my name? Tell me everything will be all right? I wish to believe it... if only for a moment.’ 

Her request felt like the softest blanket, wrapping around Lucanis’ shoulders and across his heart. And in that moment, all he could feel was the quiet ache of wanting to protect her, to fight for her, to care for her. To give himself away to her will. He closed his eyes again, swaying gently with her in his arms, as though the rhythm of his movements could bring the lost memory back to him. And then, like a flash of clarity through the haze, it came to him. A name, soft and foreign, whispered in the heat of battle as they fought their way toward freedom. It was a name that had lingered in his mind, unspoken until now. Pleasant to the ear, yet strong in its means. A strength that mirrored her own. It was fitting, somehow – perfect in its simplicity and its power. He tasted it on his tongue, letting the sound roll gently over his lips, savouring the moment. It was sweet and proper, a name that could become a part of him, if only for a lifetime. He breathed in, steadying himself before speaking it aloud, the words falling from his lips like a promise, like a tender reassurance.

‘Everything will be all right, Hissera.’

––– More of Lucanis taking care of Rook:

[athenasdragon]

Five Times Lucanis Got Some Sleep, Chapter 1

f!Warden Rook/Lucanis Dellamorte

Since Rook seems to have a knack for managing Spite (perhaps because the demon has taken a liking to her), Lucanis reluctantly agrees to get some sleep while she keeps watch. Here are five times he falls asleep in Rook's presence, accidentally or otherwise.

Excerpt

Rook heaved a sigh and went to rummage for the kettle. Harding’s herb garden grew weak and scrawny in the odd light of the Fade, but at least the mint made for passable tea.

No sooner had the breath passed her lips than the door to the pantry opened. “Still awake, Rook? Are you hungry?” Lucanis asked.

Rook felt a moment of embarrassment. Her hair was down from its ponytail and mussed from where she had tossed and turned futilely before giving up on sleep. The spell scars over the side of her face, an unpleasant memory of the confrontation that had led to her being pushed out of the Wardens, were visible since she had washed off her typical blue face paint. And now she had been caught skulking around the kitchen in her patched nighttime shirt and trousers.

The feeling passed when she saw that Lucanis looked much the same. He had undone the top button of his somewhat rumpled shirt, and his hair gave the impression that he had been holding his head in his hands. Stark shadows from the fire made the circles under his eyes look skeletal.

“No, just awake,” Rook answered, relaxing. “Making some tea.”

“Are you sure? I’ve heard that Grey Wardens have large appetites. I could make something.”

Rook laughed. “That’s true enough, especially right when you join. We’re expensive to keep. But no, supper was great. I had plenty.” She located the kettle and went to put it on the fire.

“Good.” It was impossible to miss the note of pride in his voice. He followed her at a distance, coming to lean against the wall beside the hearth. “Would you prefer coffee? I was about to make another cup.”

“Hmm,” Rook hummed, looking at him sidelong as she tried to ignore how his attention made her stomach flip. She had felt the same reaction—guiltily, as she was still flirting with Harding then—when he had insisted on shopping for the group in Treviso. Beyond the thought itself, it was the pleasure he took in it that made her take attention despite her better judgment. Lucanis seemed to take her hesitation as disapproval. “Spite,” he explained with a shrug. “I don’t want another sleepwalking incident.”

[sun-marie]

Something that makes me. insane about Lydia/Lucanis is that, deep down, I think they both have a part of themselves that desperately needs someone to look out for them, and they feel they can be there for the other person when they weren't there for themselves 🥲

[aiambia-writes]

In A Moment

🐦‍⬛Lucanis x Rook 🐦‍⬛ Hope, determination, and falling asleep in your lover's arms 🐦‍⬛ Chapter 6/6 🐦‍⬛ https://archiveofourown.org/works/60777091/chapters/156448198

It's Spite who pushes Lucanis forward, determined to find Rook, no matter what it takes. Any shard of hope, gleams in the light, but cuts like glass. Still, Spite pushes them onwards, forwards. They can't stop looking, can't stop trying until they find her. Rook is out there, somewhere, and Spite will bring her home.

[upallnightallday]

My warden is romancing Lucanis on this playthrough.

And I just KNOW Viago is having an heart attack because last time this cursed pairing of Crow/Warden was happening, they lost whole house worth of Crows.

So Lucanis has to remind Viago that he, infact, is a First Talon now and Viago should take a shot of whiskey. Or ten.

[zombolouge]

WHAT'S UP NERDS. I'M HERE TO FIX YOUR CANON WITH EXPLOSIVES.

I was intending on waiting until the cover art that @miliabyntite is wizarding up for me was finished, but it's New Year's Eve and I kinda wanted to post as a sendoff for the year. So, here we are, with chapter one of the DAV fic. Please everyone go put your eyeballs on my words, I have assembled them with care.

I do hope you enjoy it :)

[midnightminx90]

Lucanis was my first romance in Veilguard, with a transmasc crow mage named Antonio

[jockvillagersonly]

Are you looking for fun, low-stakes Veilguard team fluff? Do you want to read Rook getting stuck on doors and also attempting to flee the scourge of gardening? What about gently horny Rook/Emmrich/Lucanis bar fights?

Do I have the fic for you!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63694420

^ read it for him (he sets the kitchen on fire ❤️)