#also this is not to say I don’t like Neve and Lucanis together just prefer Davrin and Lucanis a bit more | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slothquisitor · 5 months ago

Text

In the Margins

Summary: In which everyone reads Rook's dissertation and hilarity ensues. Eventual Lucanis/Rook (the dessert scene has happened, we're just deep in the yearning!), 3.8k.

Also on AO3.

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For the first time since the Ossuary, Lucanis sleeps. Not well, not for longer than a few snatched hours at a time, but intentionally. It is something to not be actively fighting against sleep every moment of the day. It feels like a weight has been lifted off of him, like he can finally, truly breathe.

It doesn’t mean that dealing with Spite is suddenly easy, but Spite isn’t fighting him anymore. Isn’t thrashing at the ties that bind them or sleepwalking to different places in the Lighthouse. Free at last, Spite is obsessed with the world, with smells, and with…Rook.

Spite has always been interested in Rook, always hanging on her every word whenever she is near, but since their time spent together in his mind…Spite is more…vocal about his preference for Rook and his desire to see Rook. All the time.

“Should go see. Rook.”

Lucanis is on a very respectable third cup of coffee for the day. He’s still tired, still using the coffee to stave off the worst of his exhaustion, but it’s not the same as it was. He sighs. “No.”

“Want to talk. To Rook.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “About what?”

“Candles. Lighthouse. Flowers. Wisps.”

Rook has been kindly indulgent of Spite’s newfound energy and desire to talk to her. Lucanis doesn’t mind, not really, not when he’s also fond of spending time with Rook. And he’s not scared of Spite anymore, but he is worried about exhausting her seemingly unending patience. Especially when she has so many other problems to deal with, a demon’s curiosity really should be the least of her concerns.

Things are…different with Rook now. He’d tried again to show her how he felt, with a gesture more his speed: lemon tarts. There is a shared understanding, an acknowledgment of a commitment to each other. He’s not sure what it all means, what exactly it is they are, but he knows that she knows he cares and there has been no pressing, no expectation. And he is grateful for the space to figure this all out. Besides, they have time. She had told him he is enough, in all his blundering inexperience, and he believes her.

“How about we take a walk? Check in with Neve?” Lucanis proposes instead.

Spite seems to consider it. “Rook, later?”

“Perhaps she’ll find us.”

He rarely shows up empty-handed when he visits Neve mostly because she’s terrible about eating at regular intervals and taking breaks. Lately, she’s been very engrossed with a case, some Venatori blood mage she’s got history with. He’s already offered his help, and she’s mostly waved it away, but he keeps checking in anyway. Today, he brings with him a fresh cup of coffee.

She glances up as he enters before noticing the coffee and smiling. “Have I mentioned lately that you’re my favorite Crow?”

He sets the coffee on desk before taking a seat across from her. “Don’t let Teia hear you say that, she’s no fun when she pouts.”

She takes a sip and seems to relax just enough. He’s glad to be able to do something for his friends, even as small as this.

“Speaking of, Bel said she and Viago paid a visit.”

“They had news about Illario,” he replies.

“Now that, I did not hear.”

He recaps the conversation, the plans, but he leaves the whole Rook getting pulled by Spite into his mind out of it. If Neve notices the omission, she doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, she leans back in her chair as she listens, and he’s sure that she’s thinking this whole thing through like it’s a case.

“So when he discovers you’re not dead…he panics…kidnaps your grandmother…but doesn’t kill her? That’s very sloppy. What was he thinking? You can’t keep someone locked away forever without something slipping out.”

Like a ring? She’s not wrong, the whole thing reeks of desperation and…sentimentality. The only thing Illario might want more than the seat of First Talon is Caterina’s respect. Too bad refusing to kill her in this play likely means he’s lost it forever. “Viago is keeping an eye on things, they’ll alert us if something changes. For now, I continue to stay away from Treviso to avoid spooking him.”

“Well, when Viago sends word, I’m right behind you. Whatever Illario’s up to, he’s wrapped up with the Venatori.”

“I appreciate that.” He’s grateful, really, to have somehow stumbled into such good friends. Now that he’s not as sleep deprived, he’s realized just how important this team has become to him.

Neve shrugs delicately. “Well, it’s the least I can do, really. Ashur told me about a delivery of supplies that arrived, already paid for in full. Would you know anything about that?”

He knows everything about it. Neve isn’t one to ask for help, but she’ll accept it on behalf of her city, or if the work has already been done. “Perhaps.”

“Well, thank you,” she says, rushing the words. However, it doesn’t do much to hide the emotion behind the words. “So, turns out you can smile. A real one. And more than once.”

He’s taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation. Though he’s not surprised she’d want to move the focus off her. “Of course I can. I’m guessing there’s a point to your observations?”

She leans forward at her desk, her chin resting on her hands. “Only that Rook’s good for you.”

He laughs, feeling his cheeks flush. “Yes. I have figured that out.”

Neve looks delighted at his slight embarrassment. “Just making sure.”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” he confesses. His last attempt at romance was ignored, and he so rarely feels interest in anyone that it was just never a priority. He still worries that he has nothing to offer Rook, but if being possessed isn’t a deal breaker, then maybe his ambivalence about sex won’t be either. Besides, he’s happy just being around her.

“Does anyone?” Neve laughs. “Look, the world’s a terrible and unfair place filled with terrible and unfair people. You and I know that better than most. We find what happiness and peace we can, and we hold onto it.”

She’s not wrong. He feels…rather undeserving of it all, but he has no intentions of letting go of this…whatever it is.

“When someone catches your eye, am I going to be parroting that back to you?”

She considers that for a moment and chuckles. “Probably.”

“I’ll see you at dinner,” he says and leaves her to her work.

He doesn’t make it far into the courtyard before running into Emmrich and Manfred. He’s always been the type to keep to himself, prefers the quiet. But he’s not bothered by being waved over by Emmrich or running into Davrin or Harding. Is this what it means to feel part of a place?

Emmrich smiled. “Ah, Lucanis. And Spite. How good to see you.”

“Emmrich.”

Emmrich looks at him with pride. “You know, I must say it’s so good to see you and Spite working together. The magic around you has much finer etheric transfusion.”

Lucanis wishes he knew what that meant. “...Thank you?”

“Curiosity!” Spite exclaims, bobbing over to Manfred.

Lucanis pinches the bridge of his nose. If he has to hear another tirade about Manfred’s feet…But if Emmrich has noticed a change, does that mean…“Did you know that Spite still thought we were in the Ossuary?”

Emmrich seems to consider that. “That is odd, but more of his words and behavior make sense in retrospect, don’t they?”

“So no.”

“But even you did not realize he was stuck there?” Emmrich asks thoughtfully.

Lucanis sighs. “Are you kidding? I barely understood where we were.”

Emmrich looks at him kindly. “And yet, you’ve clearly reached an accord. I’m quite glad, but that is not why I came to see you. Manfred?”

Manfred and Spite have been communicating together in a series of talking and increasingly excited hissing, but at Emmrich’s request, Manfred produces a small stack of papers bound by rings that look suspiciously bone-like and holds it out to Lucanis excitedly.

The Catacomb Codex: Bone Reading and the Reconstruction of Cultural Histories by Camina Ingellvar stands out in stark black ink at the top of the papers. Maker, that's a mouthful.

“What is this?”

“It occurred to me that while many of us are aware of Rook’s talents on the battle-field, not many are familiar with her other work, namely her scholarship within the Mourn Watch. I thought it might be a fun surprise to include a short discussion of her dissertation at the beginning of our next book club meeting,” Emmrich explains.

Lucanis laughs. Oh, Rook is going to hate that. “And she doesn’t know?”

Emmrich steeples his hands. “I do think that it’ll be better as a surprise, don’t you?”

Lucanis smiles. Emmrich is very well-meaning and this has the potential to be hilarious. “Oh, absolutely.”

Emmrich looks comforted by Lucanis’s support. “Delightful! I’ll leave you to it then. Come along, Manfred. We still need to deliver Neve and Bellara their copies.”

Manfred offers him and Spite an enthusiastic wave before hurrying after Emmrich.

Spite inches closer, peering over at the papers Lucanis holds. “Rook?”

“Something she wrote,” Lucanis explains. “Should we read it?”

Spite responds by sniffing the papers. “Smells like grave dust and old books.”

Well, that’s not a no. He starts for the dining room, picking up a quill on his way as he takes a seat at the table and begins to read.

***

Camina loves book club afternoons. She’s always found escape in books and in the ability to be worried about someone else’s problems for just a little while. When Bellara first suggested starting a book club, it had seemed like a silly thing in the face of the end of the world, but she’d also underestimated just how much of saving the world would be hurrying up and waiting. Book club gives all of them something to hold on to, and she likes that she finally has other people to read romances with. She’s always loved a good romance, has always found something comforting about reading a story with a guaranteed happy ending (the sprinkling of smut also doesn’t hurt). Also, Bellara and Lucanis ensure that they are never short of snacks. That’s the most important thing, really.

She ducks into her room for her copy of the book and heads down into the library. Emmrich, Neve, and Harding are already there chatting.

“Hey there, Rook,” Neve says with a knowing smile.

“Thrilled you could join us, Rook,” Emmrich smiles.

“Yeah, Rook, glad you made it,” Harding says, practically bouncing.

She takes a seat; she’s a little put off by the pointed greetings, but decides that everyone must just be being nice. Bellara and Lucanis join them then, each carrying a tray laden with food. She cranes her neck excited to see what they’ve whipped up. Are those…Nevarran fruit tarts? And Perendale shortbread? That’s odd, there’s nothing particularly Nevarran about Harding’s pick, Her Champion of the Landsmeet . Bellara and Lucanis tend to pick food that fits the theme of whatever they’ve read, and she would have expected more…Ferelden inspired fare?

Everyone is eagerly praising the food as Lucanis takes a seat beside her. In addition to his copy of the book, he’s got a small binding of papers. It’s bound like most scholarship works in the Necropolis. Is he reading up on something to do with Spite again? He offers her a smile as he sits down, but then the papers are shuffled away before she can see anything beyond a staining of black ink across the margins. Whatever it is, he’s annotated it heavily.

“I now call this meeting of the Lighthouse Book Club into session,” Bellara says cheerfully. “Emmrich, would you like to get us started?”

Odd. This book was Harding’s pick.

Emmrich smiles. “Of course. Last week, I was talking with Bellara and it occurred to me that beyond myself, none of us are familiar with Rook’s very important scholarship work within the Mourn Watch.”

Oh. Oh no. No. No. No. “Emmrich…” She realizes quickly that everyone has a copy of something that looks suspiciously like her dissertation. “We really don’t need to have everyone read that.”

Neve grins. “Oh, but Rook, we already have.”

She glances at Lucanis, her only hope of someone on her side in all this. He’s grinning and then it occurs to her what he’d annotated. She folds her arms and hates the way her face is burning.

“You’re all the worst.”

“I had some questions about how you identified the remains of grouping six in the furthest tomb. You mentioned some peculiarities in the reading,” Bellara begins. Of course, Bellara read every word.

What follows over the next half an hour is a halting and somewhat awkward question and answer session by a group of non-necromancers about a highly specific necromantic topic. Neve and Bellara seem to grasp the most, and Emmrich helps her out by being far better at explaining some of the underlying necromantic theory. Mostly, she’s touched that any of them made the effort, or that Emmrich would bring it up in the first place.

Emmrich is always quick to affirm her role in the Mourn Watch. He had organized a welcome in the Memorial Gardens as well as requesting her help with the rituals there. At every turn, he has emphatically asserted her full membership as a Watcher. And now this. It’s a sweet enough gesture it almost nearly eclipses the exasperation she feels at him having everyone read her dissertation. Even Lucanis, who she knows has openly shared his feelings about necromancy asks insightful questions, all the while looking utterly delighted by her discomfort.

Everyone puts in a laudable effort, but when it’s clear that the conversation is winding down she pulls out their actual book club book. “Are we not going to discuss Harding’s pick?”

And just like that the conversation shifts, and she is off the hook as everyone dives headlong into the far easier conversation topic of love and romance against the backdrop of a fictional and very historically inaccurate Landsmeet.

In what has become not an uncommon phenomenon, she and Lucanis remain unmoving. They linger together in the library until they are at last, alone.

“You knew about this,” she says.

“Of course.”

“Traitor,” she says without any real rancor.

He grins, brown eyes bright with mirth. “It was worth it to see your face when you realized what was going on.”

She’s positive that’s why Harding, Neve, and him had all agreed to Emmrich’s plan anyway. Bellara, Maker bless her, seemed genuinely interested. She sighs. “You really read the whole thing? It’s not exactly light reading.”

He laughs. “No, it’s not, but it was…interesting.”

She crosses her arms. “You found the explanations of using bone reading to date and classify corpses interesting?”

He shrugs. “I find everything you do interesting, but yes. I didn’t realize your specific gift could be so useful for telling us about the past. The way you write about it…you know so much about history and the world and magic. I…you had a whole life before this place.”

“I did.” She might be slightly offended if what he was saying was filled with any less awe. “So did you. You traveled and worked and made a name for yourself.”

He shakes his head one hand resting on her dissertation. “But you loved this.”

Oh. And that’s the difference, the piece he can’t help but marvel at. He likes being a Crow and enjoys being good at what he does, but there’s too much duty and expectation tied up for him to ever love it the way she loved her occupation. There was never enough agency in it for him; she knows that after the glimpse inside his mind.

“I still do. Maybe someday when we’re not chasing down gods and fighting dragons, I’ll get to go back to this kind of work.”

She snags the pages of her dissertation from him and begins thumbing through the carefully annotated pages. His writing is neat and precise, and it’s immediately clear that he spent a lot of time on this. Her cheeks warm a little at the thought. Something has shifted between them since Spite pulled her into his mind…There is an acknowledgement at least of their care and interest in one another. But having seen just how much Lucanis is dealing with, it feels utterly selfish to push for more. Besides, when he gives her gifts like this: dessert made just for her, the careful reading and annotation of her work, and the uncomplicated acknowledgement that he has her back. It’s enough.

She pauses when she notices heavier scrawls on the page, the ink dark and blotted in parts. “What’s all this?”

He sighs. “Spite wanted to participate too.”

“Can you. Read bones. Of Living?” Spite asks through Lucanis. It’s becoming more commonplace, part of their new deal she suspects though she hasn’t asked. She marvels at the ceding of control from Lucanis to allow it.

She considers the question. “I’ve never tried it. Mostly because getting access to a living person’s bones is a bit more…painful than the bones of the dead.”

Lucanis looks a little to his right and shakes his head. “No.”

“What is he saying?”

“He is offering me up for experimentation. Spite doesn’t seem to understand the necessity of skin?”

“Spite, I prefer Lucanis with his skin on,” she says, glancing toward the spot where Lucanis had spoken.

Lucanis laughs. “That would be my preference as well. Oh great, now he’s sulking.”

And then they’re both laughing. It is the utter ridiculousness of their situation and giddy sort of ease they’ve found. What does it matter that they haven’t so much as touched or kissed when he looks at her with such open, unguarded fondness? When they are able to laugh and joke about Spite?

“Would you mind if I kept this for a bit?” she asks, holding up his copy of her work.

He looks rather surprised by that. “If you’d like. Perhaps when we have the time, you could show me around the Shadowed Catacombs?”

“You want to see them?”

He nods. “The place where you spent so much time and worked so hard? Of course. I’d go anywhere with you.”

Well, when he says things like that it’s very hard to want to reach for him. “Perhaps we’ll find the time.”

He stands then, picking up the tray with the last of his and Bellara’s offerings. “I’d like that.”

There’s so much she wants to say, but more than anything, she’s just grateful to him and good friends. Speaking of, she really should visit Emmrich.

Upon arriving in Emmrich’s quarters, she finds him sitting at his desk, quill in hand and brow furrowed. Manfred appears to be attempting to dust but keeps getting distracted by the feathers of the duster and playing with them instead. He offers her a wave and a friendly hiss as she enters.

Emmrich smiles, and she can see the work he puts in to banish his frustration. “Ah, Rook. What can I do for you?”

She’s clutching Lucanis’s annotations close, a precious, precious gift. “I just wanted to thank you for…embarrassing the hell out of me today.”

Emmrich winces. “I know that you don’t particularly love that sort of attention, but…”

She holds up a hand. “There are no explanations necessary. It was very thoughtful of you.”

He smiles. “You are quite welcome.”

“I’ve been meaning to thank you as well, for the way you’ve been so…emphatic about me being a Watcher…it’s…my experiences haven’t always been so positive.”

“I am so sorry. People can be so small minded, can’t they? I know it’s not the same, but when I was coming up in the Watchers…I was an orphan as well. A poor boy from a poor family. I wished for someone with seniority to be in my corner, so I have tried, where I can to be what I so desperately needed. You are a Watcher, Rook. A brilliant one at that, and I am grateful to call you a very dear friend.”

“You too, Emmrich.” Manfred pipes up at that. “And you too, Manfred. You seemed a little frustrated as I came in, everything alright?”

Emmrich toys with his quill. “It’s nothing, really.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. There’s not a lot in this world that gets you scowling.”

He sighs. “It’s my…academic archnemesis.”

She laughs and takes a seat. “You’re kidding. I never believed you could have beef with another Watcher.”

He looks rather indignant at that. “And why not?”

“You’re so…nice.”

“Well, I assure you that I do occasionally ‘have beef’. This is quite a long-standing one. Every time I publish a paper, they publish a response! Which would be fine if they were ever wrong, but their analysis is often quite sharp. And they’re never critical, but it does feel rather like they’re attempting to undermine me.”

It’s not uncommon within the scholar circles to publish responses and analysis of work. “Well, who is it? Anyone I know?”

“That’s precisely the problem! They’re writing under a pseudonym. It’s rather cowardly. Emilia Mondblumen. There’s no Watcher by that name, but they must be a Watcher…so I can only assume they’re writing under the guise of anonymity. It’s maddening.”

Camina freezes. “What was the name again?”

“Emilia Mondblumen.”

And then Camina cannot help but burst into laughter.

Emmrich’s eyes widen. “You know something!”

“What did you call them again? Your academic archnemesis? Oh, this is too good.” She wipes her eyes. “I do know something. Maybe next time we’re in the Necropolis I can help shed some light on your little mystery.”

“Rook.”

She stands then. “As always, this was delightful. See you, Manfred.”

“Rook!” Emmrich calls, but she simply waves on her way out.

Oh Emmrich is going to lose it when he finds out Emilia Mondblumen is none other than her best friend, Willow. And Willow is going to similarly lose it when she discovers that not only has Emmrich Volkarin taken interest in her responses to his articles, but that he’s interpreted her responses as criticisms. She needs to write a letter to Willow immediately, but first, she wants to read more of Lucanis’s annotations.

She settles down on the chaise in her room and slowly thumbs through the pages. His annotations are thoughtful, more often questions than responses, some are even notes to himself: Read up on Steel Age, so I can ask about the dagger identification. But her favorites are the shortest ones where he’s simply underlined something she’s written and added a little note: That’s incredible, Wow, or Brilliant . Lucanis has always been quick to offer encouragement, especially on the battlefield, but there’s something about him being impressed with the work she’s most proud of that brings her specific type of joy.

She’s still not really sure what they are to each other, but whatever this is? It’s perfect.

#lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #roocanis #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age: the veilguard #lucanis x camina #the watcher and the crow #slothquisitorwrites

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