#pov: gallus

[ezrazzle]

The Veilguard.

[trashwithvariety]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard: 1940s Minrathous Pairing: Emmrich Volkarin & Francesca Ingellvar Rated: M Summary: Emmrich and Francesca's reunion is fraught with simmering regret and undisclosed desires. Words: 6624

praeterita

He remembered waking to the sight of her dark raven hair spilled across the silk pillow beside his, strands catching the dim candlelight like threads of ink. The warmth of her body lingered in the air between them, carrying the familiar scent of bergamot and vetiver—unmistakably her. He breathed her in, savoring it as if it were the first time, as if by some magic he could keep her there forever.

His fingers traced a slow, reverent path from the curve of her neck to the dip of her hip, stirring a ripple of goosebumps along her skin. She shifted in response, sighing softly as she blinked awake, amethyst eyes glinting in the low light. A sleepy, knowing smile curved her lips as her delicate hand slid up his chest, curling around his neck to pull him closer. He let himself be drawn in, drinking in the warmth, the quiet intimacy of the moment.

There had been many mornings like this. But this one… this one was the last.

Maybe it hadn’t been as perfect as he remembered. Maybe time had softened its edges, polished over the imperfections, turned heartache into nostalgia. But in his mind, it remained untouched—the morning before everything changed.

The day had begun as they all did. Her coffee, his tea. A light breakfast before parting ways—him to his lectures, her to her shift with the Mourn Watch. She had already graduated, was already carving her own path toward teaching, balancing studies with duty. Their love was no longer hidden, no longer a whispered thing confined to stolen moments. They belonged to each other openly, effortlessly.

continue on ao3!

[gallusneve]

fighting for my life rn

[luosaugury]

My music player just randomly shuffled to Addicted to you by Avicii and I'm filled with thoughts of the perfect woman called Neve Gallus

"I don't know just how it happened

I let down my guard

Swore I'd never fall in love again

But I fell hard"

[...]

"You came into my crazy world

Like a cool and cleansing wave

Before I, I knew what hit me, baby

You were flowing through my veins"

[dancing--lights]

Pov, you're a Dock Town citizen and you need a mystery solved, so naturally, you hire Neve Gallus. She shows up with this idiot who won't stop cracking jokes, and who seems to only be there for moral support. There's obviously something going on between them. They bicker playfully like an old married couple. They finish each other's sentences. Maybe a woman who you know used to be a templar shows up and tries desperately to be the voice of reason, but she just ends up getting dragged into the bickering as well. Their investigative methods seem chaotic at best. You wonder if you've made a huge mistake. Then, they somehow solve the case in five minutes.

[ofcrowsanddragons]

Now on Ao3!

Coffee (Shop) with the Crows

(Rated M for Canon-Typical Violence)

For the prompt "Confessions/Love Potions/Enemies to Lovers", but make it a Coffee Shop AU. Almost. Lucanis is just about to close up the shop when Rook stumbles onto the rooftop patio, tripping over the extended strap of her scribe’s purse. The bag tears open, sending Rook to the ground in a clatter of pens and broken ink vials. As another customer rises from her seat—in her usual shadowed corner, where she often stays until Lucanis kicks her out for the night—he drops his towel on the table so he can run to Rook’s side. “I’m sorry,” she says, helplessly, tears streaming from her cheeks as she looks up at him. “I didn’t want to get you involved in this. I just… didn’t know where else to go.” On her hands and knees, palms bleeding and ink-stained from where they’ve skidded across the broken glass, she smells like saltwater and sweat and something else, bittersweet. She’s breathing hard as his thumb hovers over her cheekbone, and her pupils are too wide, visible even in the dim light of the candles placed in intervals along the trellis that surrounds his little haven. His breath catches as she leans fully into him, one of her stained hands rising to clutch the fabric of his cheap linen shirt.

Pairing: Lucanis/Rook Other Relationships: Lucanis & Illario, Lucanis & Spite, Lucanis & Neve Chapters/Length: 1/3, 3k words

Tags: POV Lucanis Dellamorte, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Minrathous, Minrathous needs a good Antivan coffee shop, First Talon Illario Dellamorte, Antivan Crows, Antivan Crow Politics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, mentions of torture, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Love Potion/Spell, Love Potion as Truth Serum, Love Confessions, Blood Magic, Refugees, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Lucanis Dellamorte is Bad at Feelings, Neve Gallus: Detective Extraordinaire, Shadow Dragons, Drama, Suspense, Forehead Touching, Blood and Injury, First Aid, Hurt/Comfort

Link

Thanks to @beepoven for the quote in the image, and thanks to my workshop group @dymme, @biowaredisasterbisexual, @basedonconjecture, @mageofquandrix, @bygonesigh for all your feedback and support, and especially @hyperions-light for leading the workshop! Also a big thank you to everyone here for your ongoing support and encouragement!

[rooks-dagger]

OTP Vibes Game

Saw this cool OTP Vibes Tag Game started by @future-ghoost and thought it looked fun!

Tagging @dancing--lights @jouskaroo @augustnugs @dudewheresmynug @thepoetskettle @ladysashasworld @korecrimson @larkinna @litchigaming @shadowsrook and anyone else who sees this if you want to play! No pressure of course!

Rules: Post some pictures of your OTP and their vibes, some info, and a song that fits their vibe. That's it. Edit as you please.

OTP: Neverook (Neve Gallus x Rook)

Dynamic/Tropes: Golden Retriever x Black Cat, Battle Couple, Partners in Crime, Legolas & Gimli Kill Count Banter, Slow Burn

Fate: Endgame, eventually crime-fighting and world-saving wives 💕

Songs:

From Rook’s POV

I Dare You (Kelly Clarkson ft. Faouzia)

Hit Me With Your Best Shot (Pat Benatar)

Rewrite The Stars (The Greatest Showman)

This Love Isn’t Crazy (Carly Rae Jepsen)

Angel With A Shotgun (The Cab)

From Neve’s POV

How It All Works Out – Stripped (Faouzia)

I Won’t Say I’m In Love (Hercules)

Labyrinth (Taylor Swift)

Love Me As If There’s No Tomorrow (Nat King Cole)

At Last (Etta James)

Vibes:

[heylavellan]

Hello and happy Friday! ^^ How about ""I don't want explanations. I want…" 💋" for Neve and Bellara?

did i get carried away? yes! i had so much fun writing from bellara's pov. veilguard spoilers, read at your own discretion! @dadrunkwriting

no takesies-backsies

rating: t

words: 1282

notes: bellara follows in varric's friend fiction footsteps and writes her self insert falling in love with neve's character. wingman lucanis

Maybe Bellara went just a bit toooo far. Sometimes that happened. More than sometimes. This whole writing thing had been Neve's suggestion. Well, Neve and Rook's. It was a nice break from interrogating the Nadas Dirthalen made by Anaris the Forgotten One and trying not to think about the fact her brother was serving said Forgotten One. Also that her gods thought it would be fun to try and Blight the world.

There was a lot going on, and sometimes Bellara would rather distract herself. The serials Neve brought her were great, but she always finished them before the next chapter was ready. Then she'd read the week's assigned reading for the book club and get bored, so she'd try one of those large academic tomes Emmrich brought. Which inevitably brought her back to the Nadas Dirthalen and all those thoughts she was trying to avoid.

So she started writing about the Veilguard! It was really fun at first, but she quickly ran into a problem. She caught up to the present day. Which was good, because it meant that she could write about things as they happened. But bad. Really bad, since it meant she was stuck with the original problem. Nothing to do.

One day when Bellara was complaining to Lace, the dwarf shared what she knew about Varric's books. About how Hard in Hightown was based on some of his friends in Kirkwall. Donnen was Donnic, Belladona was Isabela, and Maysie was Merrill. Friend fiction, he'd called it.

It was then that Bellara had the perfect idea. Neve was always saying that the press was giving her a bad rep in Minrathous. So why not write a story about how awesome she was? The Neve Gallus!

Well, clearly the main character couldn't be Neve Gallus exactly. Varric didn't drop his friends straight into the works. No, he gave them new names. So how about Guinevere? It had "neve" in the name, but it wasn't immediately obvious. She could be called 'Gee' for short! Agent Gee? No, that wasn't right.

Neve was a suave detective, so Gee needed to be too. But what was she sleuthing? Maybe... for stolen elven artifacts? No, that wouldn't sell in Tevinter. Which was where Neve needed to fix her image. No, she could be the Bloodhound of Minrathous, stopping blood rituals just in time and tracking down anything lost.

And every hero needed a sidekick. Lucanis seemed like a good option, but he didn't live in Minrathous. He was the Demon of Vyrantium. But maybe she could work with that. Maybe they were instead rival detectives, who shared a sidekick unknowingly. The Shadow of Vyrantium competing with the Bloodhound of Minrathous. Yes!

But who was the sidekick. Maybe they were telling the story. Maybe it was... her? Hmmm, that could work. Lucine, the elven sidekick who could sneak across the city unnoticed. She ran a repair shop in Dock Town and sold second hand and vintage wares.

As Bellara continued to shape the story and write the first chapters, it became quite clear that Lucine was in love with Guinevere. Which was strange. Because Bellara wasn't in love with Neve, right? She knew she liked women, after all she dated Irelin for a while. But Neve?

She continued to write. Gee was developing a crush on the Shadow, who she would later reveal to be Lucine's younger sibling Dellen. They both continued to solve crime in Minrathous and Vyrantium until Lucine got targeted by a scheme. The Shadow and the Bloodhound work together to retrieve Lucine, where they admit begrudging respect for each other. And Lucine confessed her love for Guinevere. And they lived happily ever after.

That felt like a good place to end the book. Rook helped her find a publisher, and it was out in Minrathous. She thought that was the end of that. She'd put her first book out in the world!

But with Neve Gallus, things weren't so. Publishing might have been the step too far. After an excursion to Arlathan with Rook and Lucanis (who politely informed Bellara that her book was very popular among the residents of Treviso), Neve was waiting in Bellara's room, reading through a copy of her book.

To be honest, she'd been shoving down her feelings for Neve in case they weren't returned. Until the crush went away, the book was a good enough outlet. "Guinevere took Lucine's hand and kissed her knuckles, looking reverently at her sidekick," quoted Neve, placing a ribbon in the passage she was on. "I was wondering why so many people were asking me if my full name was Guinevere recently."

Bellara blushed and stammered, "I'm sorry if I put your real name out there, but I wanted the character to be like you but also not you?"

Neve smiled -- a real smile, not the ones she wore when she was patiently putting up with Bellara's rambles. "No. I just think it's sweet what you think of me," she replied, setting the book down on the table. "I hope I have enough stories to fuel your next book."

If it was possible, she flushed an even brighter red. Neve drew closer, and Bellara became immediately aware of the curve of her body, the click of her shoes. The deep cut of her shirt. She gulped. "I think so? I don't know if I'll write another. I mean, you're awesome and deserve to have another written about you, but um. Only if you want me to. I really should have asked," she said, letting her mouth speak whatever words crossed her mind. Mythal'enaste, she hadn't been this flustered since she first met Irelin!

"I'm honoured that you want to write about me. But I think the one thing that's stumped me is who Lucine is. The Shadow, Dellen. That's like Lucanis. There's Guinevere, me. You even had Inge, that was a slick way to get Ingellvar in there. But Lucine?" Neve dissected the book and placed a hand on Bellara's shoulder.

She knew? She had to know, right? There was no way she didn't. She was a detective and had clearly picked up that she'd used last names to inspire first names. Guinevere - Gallus, Dellamorte - Dellen, Inge - Ingellvar. Leaving Lucine - Lutare. Neve had to know. And if she didn't she'd certainly have it confirmed by her facial expressions.

Before she could stammer out an apology or explain it away as just part of the book, Neve started, "Look, I don't need explanations. I need…"

Well, if the nug was out of the bag... Bellara cut her off by standing on her tiptoes to kiss Neve. It wasn't intense really, just a quick peck. Before she embarrassed herself. She already felt like she did, but... Whatever. Also, if she kissed Neve longer she'd want more. And Neve might not want that. "I'm sorry!" Bellara squeaked.

The second part of her apology was cut off by two warm hands grabbing her cheeks and a long kiss on her lips. It began to heat up, as Neve licked and nipped Bellara's lips. A small gasp left her mouth, allowing Neve to slip her tongue into Bellara's mouth.

Someone coughed at the doorway. "I'll just bring your tea later?" Lucanis asked, slowly backing out of Bellara's room. Bellara darted over, grabbing her tea from Lucanis with a smile. She missed the pointed look Lucanis shot Neve over Bellara's thank you hug.

Neve mouthed a thank you to Lucanis, and picked up the book. "I'll be back later, Bell. I'm certain we can come up with more ideas for the next book," she teased.

Elgar'nan, Neve was going to be the death of her.

[uchidachi]

Well, I've gone rogue for @datvcompanionweeks' Taash Week once again, and not stuck to the prompts at all.

Here's a very angsty Taash POV after returning from Tearstone Island. I cried writing it so be warned:

Denial

Author: Tafka Fandom: Dragon Age: The Veilguard Rating: Teen Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Rook/Taash Characters: Taash, Davrin, Neve Gallus, Emmrich Volkarin, Lucanis Dellamorte, Female Dwarven Ingellvar Additional Tags: Canonical Character Death, Temporary Character Death, Angst Chapters: 1/1 Words: 1,120

Summary: Taash deals with their emotions and grief in the immediate aftermath of losing three of their teammates, including Rook, on Tearstone Island.

[future-ghoost]

Hi! I'm Shirlsie

Here's a master list of my fics:

Pairing: Shadowheart X Tav (Kyra Silverhand)

I also made a playlist with vibes for both Selunite and Sharran Shadowheart

A War of Hearts (in progress - 16/18)

A retelling of the plot of Baldur's Gate 3, primarily from a Shadowheart POV. Tav is a half-elven Ranger with a surprising and dangerous past. The story follows Tav and Shadowheart as they progress through the game and fall in love.

Hand on a Dagger (Head in the Sand) (in progress - 6/?)

What would happen if Shadowheart's parents never got abducted? This fic poses an answer to that question. Tav is hired by Jenevelle Hallowleaf's parents to find their daughter and bring her home after being missing for 40 years. This is part of the Dark Justiciar Redemption collection on AO3.

It also has its own dedicated playlist

Pairing: Neve Gallus X Rook (Kyra Thorne)

I also have a dedicated playlist for this pairing

Collapse Into Me (Complete)

Rook spends an evening trying to fulfil Neve's wishes - a hot bath and an evening to look over her notes.

She's Just a Seat Filler... Right? (in progress - 6/8)

Instead of walking away after their almost-kiss, Neve breaks things off with Rook. Except, she's not sure how to feel when someone else shows an interest in their leader.

[neve-rook-datv]

Fanfic : The Trouble Within - Neve Gallus’ Personal Notes

Exploring Neve and Rook's connection in this fanfic dives deeper into the emotional nuances that many fans felt were missing or underdeveloped in the game.

In each part, Neve’s reflections bring us closer to understanding what Rook means to her, from their early encounters filled with tension and restraint to the moments where Neve can no longer deny her feelings. It’s a story of slow-burn romance, quiet realizations, and the courage it takes to let someone into a life shaped by independence and solitude.

If you’re into introspective POVs, a bit of angst, and that tension-filled slow-burn, I think you’ll enjoy this. 🌹

The story so far :

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5: Coming Soon

Let me know what you think! Your thoughts, feedback, and reactions mean the world to me. 🖤

[cacospirit]

[Read the complete work on AO3]

Title: Tangles of Crow's Nest

Pairing: Bellara Lutare/Neve Gallus

Rating: Explicit

Words: 43,420

Notable tags:

POV Bellara Lutare

dom!Neve Gallus

Bondage

Interrogation

Explicit Consent

Summary:

It seemed unlikely that she would ever be interrogated by a detective, yet there she was, tied up against the wall with Neve in front of her calling all the shots as the questions kept getting more pressing and intimate. A strange game to play, but it was just a game, right? Despite all the questions some things felt like they were left unanswered...

Reviews:

[suosopulius]

I wrote a little something! Neve POV, hinted Harding x Rook, Rook is GN and unspecified race but a clown. Just pure silliness.

Cool Lines

Neve Gallus sidestepped a puddle and smiled to herself when the sound of Lace’s giggles carried over the noise of rain and market goers.

Rook laughed too or rather giggled. Neve noted that this bout of giggling had a worrisome note to it. It was conspiratorial, barely stifled, the kind of laugh that one tried to hide to no avail. 

As Neve had not been an active part of the discussion that evidently had led to this giggliness, the detective concluded that she was, in fact, somehow the reason or the object of the aforementioned giggles. Which one, however? She planned on finding out. 

Stopping under a terrace of the Lamplighter, Neve turned to face her companions who had been following her around Dock Town a few paces behind. Lace’s hair clung to her flushed cheeks and Rook stepped into a puddle, oblivious to anything but Lace’s laugh. 

That had been happening more lately. Lace laughing, and Rook causing it. Those two got along like a house on fire. Both were stubbornly positive and valued action over contemplation. Both of them were good to have on your side in a battle and loyal to a fault. Lace liked to laugh and Rook liked to make Lace laugh. 

Neve had the suspicion that something more than friendship was growing between the two. But that was not a mystery she felt the need to investigate. Things seemed to be moving well on their own. As rather action-oriented people Rook and Lace were eventually bound to kiss about it. 

“Care to share what’s so funny?” Neve asked and couldn’t help but be a bit amused as she took in the pair. 

“It’s really stupid,” Lace replied but didn’t seem guilty. So, the two of them had probably not been laughing at the detective’s expense.

“It’s really, really stupid,” Rook continued and looked a little sheepish. Neve lifted her brow in silent question. 

“Well, I - ”,

“Well, Rook was -”,

Again, a bout of giggles erupted from the two as speaking at the same time seemed to be a fine joke. Though, Neve was not impervious to the silliness of it all and she smiled at her companions. 

Rook managed to take a calming breath and cleared their throat. 

“We were wondering if you’d say ‘you’re on thin ice’, next time you cast blizzard.”

“Or ‘stay frosty’ when you do some other spell,” Lace added.

“Or ‘keep it cool’!”

“Oh! Oh! Oh! I know!” Lace exclaimed and waved her hands in excitement. “‘Looks like you’ve been put on ice’ when you do that time slow spell.”

Rook gasped in genuine amazement and mouthed ‘Lace!’, which caused the dwarf to snicker. 

Neve sighed. Of all the silly antics to suffer through… well, this wasn’t the worst, but it would take a while to forget these gems of expression. Though, maybe she’d write down one and on Lace’s name day perform a spell and deliver the line. The one about thin ice was not too bad… no, it was bad for a battle, the venatori would laugh but as a gift, it’d do. Besides, Neve could picture how happy such a small gesture would make the dwarf. All right, she’d embarrass herself at a later date as a treat to Lace. And Rook. They probably would be a couple by then. 

Neve sighed and placed her hands on her hips. An authoritative stance, but not an intimidating one.

“No,” Neve said. “Those kinds of lines belong to serials. Not the streets of Minrathous.”

“Okay,” Rook relented in the same tone they had used when they had gotten on a roll to empty their supply of hand-related puns in Arlathan. Luckily Bellara had been present to tell them to stop while they were ahead. 

Lace sighed and cast her eyes downwards, clearly a little disappointed to end the shenanigans.

“Though, Lace,” Neve said. “Why won’t you say ‘no stone unturned’ next time you move stone?”

The dwarf’s head snapped upwards and her eyes shone brightly as her mouth split into a grin. Rook gasped again.

“That’s… perfect!” Rook uttered and looked down at Lace who was already practicing the words while taking the stance she typically took when concentrating on moving stone.

“You two are children, you know?” Neve asked, not expecting a reply as she watched her two friends enjoy a moment of levity. The drizzle had started to wane, and a bit of sunshine reflected from the puddle Rook had stepped into a moment ago.  

[edvervain]

Wrote a snippet today of the first time my Rook cast real, unmistakable magic in front of Neve. This is the Rook from my Rookanis fic, with Primarily Lucanis POV. This bit likely won't make it into the fic as it's well before Lucanis joins the team, but it was nagging me so I write it out.

(Under the cut) It looks like Neve also decided to weigh in (just a note) introducing the Rook-shaped enigma she found herself following around.

An enigma named Rook

There is one defining moment in which Rook became a puzzle for Neve Gallus to solve. Before, he was just a coworker, of sorts, and not a particularly useful one. But she'd known Varric for years, give or take, and he wouldn't have put someone useless in charge. "One of the most powerful pieces on the board, but he tends to think in straight lines." That's how Varric had described Rook's namesake and how he'd linked the two.

Neve had thought Varric had been alluding to the way Rook could make decisions on the fly and, despite herself, she was coming to appreciate how he did so with a thought towards each opinion he'd been offered. Rook didn't need someone hand holding him through the process and didn't seem too concerned about the reception of his choices. He'd even made some of the same calls she would have, logical and reasoned, even if she hadn't appreciated them as such in the moment.

But Rook was almost dead weight in combat. That didn't bring to mind a powerful piece. Until the moment she or Lace were in a tight spot and he came barreling in with that bull-in-a-china-shop energy that she'd seen in other Qunari she'd seen fight and, somehow their ragtag group had all made it this far alive. There was the odd fire bolt that flew across the field that she'd never found the source of, and that one time she had thought she'd caught a blinding flicker of lightning out of the corner of her eye, those things were curious, but enchanted items did exist, and she was certain he had some kind of trinket.

Until the ghoul had sunk it's claws into Rook's guts. Neve had caught her breath, certain she was about to watch Rook fall to the ground, just like she'd watched Varric- but Rook didn't fall. Instead he'd let the ghoul dig into his guts and raised his hands and Neve had thought she was about to see the source of those odd bits of fire. Watching the raw magic pour out of Rook's hands in the form of blue tipped gouts of flame for more seconds then she'd had the presence of mind to count was more then impressive. Where had he been keeping all that power, and why hadn't he been using it before?

Raw Magic

Rook remembered casting raw magic in front of Neve for the first time. 

He’d thrown a few bolts of fire and one sweat-inducing lash of lightening beforehand, as they chased the ghoul with the Lyrium dagger, but catching up to the actual ghoul had been more of a fight then they’d bargained for. The lightning cone it could fling out was easy enough to dodge after Rook had underestimated the first painful strike that skittered over his shoulder. But when it got close, it flung itself into a whirling frenzy of slashing claws and Rook had to get in range of the tearing claws to use his dagger. 

Even throwing bolts of fire only seemed to sear the crust of blight from its flesh. Pain and fear and desperation built, Harding must have brought extra potions from all the places he remembered the thin glass shattering against him. But Harding’s hands had been plenty full enough with the darkspawn throwing javelins to keep a constant eye on him and when the ghoul’s blackened claws sunk into his guts, ripping and tearing, Rook found his magic surging. 

The pain and fear turned into fury, primal and raw, and he had only the choice of where the magic spilled from. He knew Neve was just a few steps behind him, he couldn’t let it go wild. It was hard enough to force it into a single burning beam that his palms seared from the heat of containing the beam. But the ghoul had been so close to him, claws still buried in his flesh, that it had never had the chance to dodge or flee. Fire consumed it. Burned the blight from the things skin and blackened the corrupted flesh as it’s blood spit and sizzled from the heat. 

The fire finally failed and Rook stumbled back, not sure when the blackened claws had fallen from the wounds in his abdomen. The fire that had welled inside him had licked the blight from the gashes in his skin and Harding’s last potion closed the wounds to the point that he could stand without help. “Well, would you look at that.” Neve’s drawl poured ice down his spine and he didn’t know what to do with the smug satisfaction in her tone so he ignored it. He ignored it until Harding stumbled into his vision, pale and staring at her hands. Rook understood that look. His palms were still seared from the burn of the magic he’d used.

“That… that dagger. What did it do to me?” Harding asked, as though either he or Neve could possibly have an answer to such a question. But then — somehow, Neve did have an answer. Not a good one, but something that made this seem, if not normal, at least not the strangest thing she’d seen today. 

“Not sure,” Her voice was even, thoughtful, but when Rook chanced a glance at her from the corner of his eye, he found her dark, unreadable eyes on him. “But we should get back, we’ll talk it through there.” Harding looked up at Neve, relief plain on her features and nodded. 

Rook had no option but to lead the two women back the way they’d came, through the mirror that made him want to hold his breath when he passed through it, and then into the cool basement of the Lighthouse.

[ironwoman359]

A Thief's Gamble - Ch. 12

A Ghost From the Past

Prev: Ch.11 Misdirection || Next: Ch.13 Lacking in Virtue Fic Masterpost

Fic Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Chapter Summary: Brynjolf is used to dealing with Mercer's temper, but when an old enemy of the Guild resurfaces, not even he is prepared for the explosion that follows...or for its fallout.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence.

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 3,602

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

— — —

“You forgot to get intel from the girl before she left?” 

Brynjolf closed his hands into fists, forcing his face to remain a mask of calm. 

It was difficult; he was sore and exhausted after his long day of travel. When he’d arrived back at the Guild, he’d intended to share the good news that the payout from the Markarth job was likely to be double what they’d expected and then take a well deserved nap. Before he could get out a single word though, Mercer had asked him about the Solitude job. 

Which of course, he’d completely forgotten to get an update on before sending Ariene off to Markarth.

“What do you mean you FORGOT?!” Mercer shouted, and Brynjolf rolled his eyes.

“Is there another meaning of the word ‘forgot’ that I don’t know about?” he asked lightly, and Mercer glared at him. 

“Don’t test me right now Brynjolf, I’m not in the mood for your games.” 

“I don’t know what else you want me to say,” Brynjolf said with a sigh. “We were being watched in town, and the job turned out to be just as dangerous as Ariene feared. In all the excitement, the mission to Solitude slipped my mind.”

“I seem to recall one of your main arguments for going to help her was so that we could get the intel from Gulum-Ei sooner,” Mercer snapped. 

“She had to rendezvous–”

“Rendezvous with the client in Markarth, I understand that,” Mercer interrupted. “What I don’t understand is why you failed to do the most basic part of your job and get a report from her before heading back here.”

Brynjolf didn’t answer, mostly because deep down, he knew Mercer was right. He should have thought to ask Ariene about what Gulum-Ei said before letting her ride off into the sunset, but after their near death experience and subsequent conversation, he’d been more than a little bit preoccupied.

Mercer, apparently taking Brynjolf’s silence as confirmation of his suspicions, shook his head, his face twisted with distaste. 

“This is exactly what I was talking about,” he growled. “Gallus was getting sloppy towards the end too, you know.” 

“That’s not fair,” Brynjolf protested instantly. “I told you–”

“That this won’t turn out like last time? You don’t know that,” Mercer shot back. He huffed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, regardless of our differences, I don’t want you getting a knife in the back because you got distracted.”

“She saved my life, Mercer,” Brynjolf hissed. “What, you think now she’s going to turn around and murder me?”

“More than once, I’ve been burned by someone who used to have my back,” Mercer said simply. “In this line of work, loyalty means nothing.” 

Brynjolf opened his mouth to protest more, but Mercer waved his hand dismissively. 

“I’m not saying the girl will turn traitor, Brynjolf. Just that, so far? You’re not doing a great job of proving to me that she’s not a liability.” 

“So you’re just going to ignore her record?” Brynjolf asked. “Take a look around, Mercer. The Guild is finally starting to gain some footing again, and it’s nearly all thanks to her. She’s even managed to win over Vex and Delvin. Just because she reminds you of Karliah–”

“Don’t say her name,” Mercer cut him off, his eyes flashing with anger. “This isn’t about her.”  

Brynjolf ground his teeth in irritation, biting back his urge to reply:

Yes, it clearly is. 

Instead, he took a deep breath and folded his arms, fixing Mercer with a steady look. 

“So do you not want to hear about the massive payout we got from the Markarth job, then?” 

Mercer’s expression was still glowering, but at the mention of money, he raised a curious eyebrow. 

“Payout?” 

Brynjolf’s assurance to Ariene that coin would cheer Mercer up didn’t end up ringing completely true. Mercer was still angry, and Brynjolf’s haul of septims wasn’t enough to totally soothe his temper. However, the promise of even more coin when Ariene returned was enough to spare Brynjolf any further scolding.

He retreated from the cistern, and decided that what he really needed wasn’t a nap, but a drink. He made his way into the Ragged Flagon and fell into a chair, burying his face in his hands and letting out a frustrated groan. 

Delvin looked up from his table and grimaced in sympathy. 

“Mercer’s in a mood, I take it?” he asked.

“What do you think?” Brynjolf quipped as Vekel approached with a tankard for him.

“I think that when even coin isn’t enough to calm that rotten old skeever down, then it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep clear of him for a few days,” Delvin said, and Brynjolf snorted.

He took a sip of his ale, then looked at Delvin thoughtfully. As one of the few holdovers from the time that Gallus had been Guildmaster, the old thief had been a constant in the Guild for as long as Brynjolf could remember. He knew the younger thieves in the Guild thought the same thing about him and Vex now, but that was hard for him to wrap his head around. 

Brynjolf had been only nineteen when Gallus was killed, and had only been with the Guild for a few years. Just long enough to come to idolize Gallus, Mercer, and Karliah, but not long enough to really get to know them. Delvin, meanwhile, had been one of the Guild’s top members even in those days. He was even the first person that Mercer had made a lieutenant, though he had always been firm that he didn’t want to lead anyone. A sentiment that Brynjolf hadn’t understood at the time, but now that he was a lieutenant himself, he couldn’t help but  sympathize. 

Being a thief was hard enough; it was so much more daunting when you knew that everyone else was looking to you for direction.

A thought struck him, and he found himself wanting to ask something that he’d never really considered before.

“Delvin?” he asked, and the older man looked up. “Why exactly do you think the Guild is cursed?” 

Delvin looked surprised at the question, but he leaned forward, eager to have someone listen to his theories willingly. 

“It just ain’t natural, Bryn,” he insisted. “I’ve been doing this a long time, longer than even you or Mercer. I’ve seen bad thieves, and I’ve seen bad luck. This? It’s different. It’s affectin’ every single member of the Guild, even the most experienced. Vex got made on a job, for cryin’ out loud. Vex!”

“There were over a dozen guards…” Brynjolf offered lamely, but Delvin waved his protest away. 

“Guards, yes, but guards that she should have noticed sooner than she did. The fact that she didn’t is just plain bad–” 

“Bad luck,” Brynjolf finished, and Delvin nodded. 

“Exactly. And it’s like that every time. Things that shouldn’t happen, happenin’ to folks it shouldn’t happen to. Look, I know you lot think I’m crazy, but I can feel it. Something out there is doing this to us.” 

Brynjolf thought of the crypt in Pinewatch, of the way Rigel had appeared seemingly out of thin air without either of them noticing. It had certainly felt unnatural at the time. But how on earth could you be sure of something like that? 

Delvin swirled his mug of ale thoughtfully, then he smirked at Brynjolf. 

“At least, that’s what it has been like. I can’t deny that over the last few months we’ve actually been on the up and up, for what feels like the first time in ages. Maybe that girl of yours is some kinda good luck charm.” 

“She’s not my–” Brynjolf began, and Delvin chuckled, cutting him off. 

“Don’t give me that, Bryn. Maybe it ain’t official yet, but everyone knows the two of you’ll be an item soon.”

“Are you going to scold me about it like everyone else?” Brynjolf asked tiredly, but Delvin shook his head. 

“Nah. As far as I’m concerned, she’s a good match for you. Besides, she’s nearly single-handedly pulled this Guild outta the gutter. How could I complain? A word of advice, though.” 

Brynjolf leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow.

“Vekel I could understand, but what makes you qualified to advise me on my love life?”

“Very funny,” Delvin said flatly. “Look, all I was gonna say is this: the girl’s a free spirit. And you’ve gotta be quick to make your intentions clear with ladies like that, or you’ll find that they’ve slipped through your fingers.” 

“Do I pay you to sit around and gossip?” a familiar voice growled, and Brynjolf suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. 

Mercer walked up and grabbed a piece of bread off of the plate that Vekel was bringing Delvin, before dropping one of the ledger books in front of Brynjolf. 

“Look over this, and see if your projected take on this oh so special Markarth job will allow us to pay a portion of what Maven plans to give the jarl. She’s not too happy with the idea of paying for the entire bribe herself.”   

Mercer turned and stalked out of the cistern, and Brynjolf sighed. He reached a hand to his forehead, massaging his temples, then grabbed the ledger and stood up.

“You’re not actually going to work on that now, are you?” Delvin asked.

“Gods no,” Brynjolf said. “I’m going to bed. And if Maven and Mercer are lucky, I’ll wake up sometime before the fifth era and I can finish crunching their precious numbers for them.” 

— — — 

Brynjolf did not, in fact, sleep for hundreds of years. However, he did make himself scarce around the cistern for the next several days, opting to do his accounting work from the relative privacy of what passed for his quarters down in the Ratway tunnels that surrounded the Flagon. 

Fortunately, the gold he’d brought back did provide the Guild enough extra funds to foot half of Maven’s “donation” to Mistveil Keep, and Mercer’s mood improved considerably after the guard patrols were pulled back to their normal rotations. He didn’t apologize, Brynjolf could count on one hand the number of times the Guildmaster had done that, but at least he’d cooled down enough for Brynjolf to walk through the cistern again without being treated to withering glares and backhanded remarks. 

Still, when Ariene finally returned from Markarth, Brynjolf made sure to pull her aside before she went to report to Mercer. 

“It’s my fault, not yours, lass,” he said quietly. “But Mercer’s not pleased that he’s had to wait an extra week for the news from Solitude. Tread lightly, alright?”

Ariene’s face twisted in a grimace.

“Honestly, he could be in the best damn mood of his life and he’d be more livid than a cave troll after getting this news. No sense beating around the bush.” 

“Gulum-Ei didn’t have good intel?” Brynjolf guessed, but Ariene shook her head. 

“Worse.” 

She headed into the cistern without another word, and Brynjolf followed, unease stirring in the pit of his stomach. 

Ariene marched right up to where Mercer was bent over his desk, and the Guildmaster frowned at her as she approached. 

“About damn time you got back,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “Please tell me Gulum-Ei gave up some information on our buyer.” 

“He did,” Ariene said bluntly. “It’s Karliah.” 

Mercer’s head snapped up and the room went dead silent. 

“She’s the lieutenant you told me about, isn’t she?” Ariene said, looking at Brynjolf. “The one who murdered Gallus?”

“Aye, lass,” Brynjolf said quietly. “If she’s back…” 

His blood ran cold at the thought.

“You’re absolutely certain?” Mercer asked, his voice low and dangerous, and Ariene nodded. 

“Gulum-Ei acted as a go-between for her with Aringoth, though he swore up and down he didn’t know it was her until after he’d agreed to broker the sale.” 

Mercer swore and slammed his fist down on his desk, and Brynjolf didn’t miss the way Ariene flinched before quickly regaining her composure. 

“Damn that Dunmer to Oblivion! I hoped we’d never have to cross paths with her again, but it seems she won’t be satisfied until she’s destroyed the Guild for good. Did Gulum-Ei have any information about her current whereabouts?” 

“Nothing concrete,” Ariene said carefully. “But apparently she told him she was going ‘where the end began.’ I pressed him for details, but he insisted that’s all he knows.”

“Where the end began…” Mercer repeated, his face darkening. 

He began to pace back and forth behind his desk, muttering the phrase to himself over and over. Ariene glanced at Brynjolf, a questioning look in her eyes, but he could only shrug in confusion.

“There's only one place that could be,” Mercer said finally. “The place where Karliah killed Gallus over twenty years ago…a ruin called Snow Veil Sanctum.” 

“That’s a few hours north of Windhelm, right?” Brynjolf asked, and Mercer nodded absently, still muttering to himself. 

“I’m the only one left who knows all Karliah’s techniques, all her skills. If she manages to take me out…” He looked up sharply. “We have to go out there and stop her before she does anymore damage.” 

“We as in…?” Ariene asked hesitantly, and Mercer glared at her.

“As in you and me, obviously. We’re going to go out there together and kill her. That should put a stop to any more of her attempts to bring the Guild down.”

“Mercer,” Brynjolf cut in, unable to hold his tongue any longer. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Mercer snapped. “This needs to be done, and I won’t hear any argument otherwise.”

“Aye, and I’m not saying it doesn’t, but the two of you can’t go on your own.” 

“I think you’ll find I can do whatever I damn well please, Brynjolf.” 

“This is Karliah we’re talking about, for Shor’s sake!” Brynjolf exclaimed. “She killed Gallus, and she almost killed you! Vex and I should–”

“I don’t need you to remind me what she’s done,” Mercer interrupted, shooting him a withering look. “I am well aware of exactly how capable she is.” 

“So don’t rely on one new recruit for your backup,” Brynjolf insisted. 

“A recruit who’s proven herself capable in combat multiple times over.”  

A part of Brynjolf urged him to back down. He argued with Mercer often, but he could always tell when it was best to put his own concerns aside in favor of the Guildmaster’s will. It wasn’t exactly good for morale if the underlings saw the Guild’s head and second in command fighting over decisions. This would ordinarily be the type of argument where he had to swallow his pride and concede. 

And yet, this time he found that he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

“Not three days ago you were complaining that she was a liability,” Brynjolf pressed. “Now you want her to help you hunt down Karliah?”  

“She’s a liability for you, Brynjolf,” Mercer growled. “I’ll be just fine. Which is it, exactly? That she’s a competent thief who deserves my respect, or a green recruit who has no business putting herself in danger? It seems to me the answer is whichever is more convenient for you in any given argument.” 

Brynjolf’s face burned, more from anger than embarrassment, though he could feel the eyes of everyone in the cistern on the two of them as they argued.

“You’re making a mistake,” he insisted, forcing himself to ignore the staring. “This isn’t just another job. Leave the lass behind and let me and Vex come with you.” 

“Karliah is trying to destroy the Guild! I’m not putting my best lieutenants in her path.” 

“You’re too close to this, Mercer,” Brynjolf hissed. “You’re not thinking straight. You shouldn’t–” 

“I am your GUILDMASTER!” Mercer roared. “I’ve made my decision, and you are in NO position to question me!”

The shout echoed around the cistern, and any murmuring from the other Guildmembers stopped instantly. Brynjolf and Mercer openly glared at each other, but before things could escalate further, Ariene’s voice cut through the rising tension. 

“It’s fine,” she said quietly. “I’ll go.” 

“Damn right you will,” Mercer spat without taking his eyes off Brynjolf. “Get your things ready and meet me at the stables within the hour.” 

Brynjolf felt a muscle jump in his jaw, but he didn’t speak or break their eye contact, and eventually Mercer turned and stomped out of the cistern. Brynjolf had half a mind to march right out after him, but Ariene’s hand on his arm stopped him. 

“Don’t,” she said quietly. “It’s not worth it.” 

“It’s not right,” Brynjolf said through gritted teeth, and Ariene shrugged, flashing a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring, but came off as slightly manic.

“Well, look at it this way,” she said, her voice full of false cheer. “Maybe after this, he’ll stop seeing me as a liability.”

She turned and started walking towards the Flagon, and Brynjolf winced.

Damn you, Mercer.

“You don’t have to do this, lass,” he said, falling into step beside her.

“Actually, I do,” Ariene said, ducking through the passageway and into the dingy tavern. “I think he’d kick me out of the Guild altogether if I refuse him.” 

Brynjolf shook his head immediately. 

“I wouldn’t let that happen. Mercer may be too dense to see it, but you’re one of the best we have.”

“I can’t let you use up all your good will with him on my account,” Ariene protested. “You’ve done enough for me already. Syndus!” 

The last was to the fletcher who kept shop beside the Ragged Flagon, who looked up as they approached his alcove. Ariene pulled a coin purse from the satchel at her side and held it up for him to see.

“I need fresh arrows. Two quiverfull.” 

The Bosmer quickly filled her order, and she pulled out a few coins from the purse and handed them over. She turned to Brynjolf and held out the rest of the purse to him. 

“Here. The profits from Markarth. I didn’t get a chance to report to Delvin, but tell him that Endon is happy to open whatever doors are necessary in the city. With any luck, we’ll be able to use the foothold there to start operating more in Haafingar.” 

Brynjolf took the purse, not missing the way that Ariene didn’t quite meet his eyes as she spoke. 

“Are you certain about this, lass?” he asked in a low voice. “Karliah’s too damn smart to let slip where she was going by accident…this is more than likely a trap.”

Ariene sighed, running a hand through her dark hair. 

“I know, but that’s a chance we'll have to take. Mercer is an asshole, but he’s also right. Putting more of the Guild’s leadership in harm’s way than is necessary doesn’t make tactical sense. It’s…it’s better for everyone if I’m the one to go.” 

Brynjolf moved without thinking, stepping forward and taking one of her hands in his. She startled at the touch, but she didn’t pull away. 

“You’re not expendable, lass,” he said softly. “You know that, right? I– the Guild needs you in one piece as much as it needs me or the other lieutenants.” 

Ariene’s looked from where their hands were joined up to Brynjolf’s face. Reflected torchlight danced in her eyes, so deep and blue that he felt as though he could drown in them, and he felt his pulse quicken.

“The Guild needs me?” she repeated, her voice low, and he swallowed. 

Standing inches apart, it was like all rational thought flooded from his mind in an instant. Absently, he reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and he let his hand linger beside her face. It would be so easy to cup her cheek, lean forward and…

The creak of a door and sudden footsteps cut through the silence, and the two jumped apart on instinct. Brynjolf dropped her hand, wondering briefly if he was imagining the flicker of disappointment on her face. 

Damn this sewer’s lack of privacy!

“Well. Good luck, lass,” he said lamely.

She nodded, swinging one of the quivers of arrows she’d bought over her shoulder. The movement made her knapsack shift, and he saw the empty space on her belt where her steel dagger had sat. 

On impulse, he reached for his own belt, unbuckling the sheath of the dagger on his left side. He held the weapon out to her hilt first, and her eyes widened. 

“Here. To replace the one that broke in Pinewatch,” he said.

“I– Brynjolf, I can’t accept that. It was a gift!”

“A gift from Gallus,” Brynjolf agreed. “If you’re going out to avenge him, you may as well take a piece of him with you.”

Reluctantly, Ariene took the dwarven blade and strapped it into place. The silence between them stretched into awkwardness as she fiddled with the straps and straightened the sheath. 

“I guess I should go,” she said eventually. “Don’t want to keep the Guildmaster waiting.” 

She turned to leave, but before she could walk away, Brynjolf called after her. 

“Ariene.”

She looked back at him, and his breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t explain why, but he felt he had to say something before she left, something important, but for once in his life he couldn’t find the right words.

“Just…come back to me in one piece, alright lass?” 

She smiled, though the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Of course I will,” she said. “You still owe me a drink, remember?”

— — —

Prev: Ch.11 Misdirection || Next: Ch.13 Fic Masterpost

[ofcrowsanddragons]

Chapter 2: Coffee (Shop) with the Crows

Thank you to @serensama @hightowerqueen @rookinthecrownext @the-sparrohawk and @pixiedurango for tagging me in Shameless Self Promotion Saturday!

I will promote the Rookanis coffee shop canon-divergence-au fic I'm posting this week, with a new chapter today.

Thank you to everyone who tagged or commented with the note that this is really not what you were expecting out of a coffee shop fic! I love you all! Please mind the tags!

Chapter 2 Start with Chapter 1

Rated M for Canon-Typical Violence

Pairing: Lucanis/Rook Other Relationships: Lucanis & Illario, Lucanis & Spite, Lucanis & Neve Chapters/Length: 2/3, 6k words

Tags: POV Lucanis Dellamorte, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Minrathous, Minrathous needs a good Antivan coffee shop, First Talon Illario Dellamorte, Antivan Crows, Antivan Crow Politics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, mentions of torture, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Love Potion/Spell, Love Potion as Truth Serum, Love Confessions, Blood Magic, Refugees, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Lucanis Dellamorte is Bad at Feelings, Neve Gallus: Detective Extraordinaire, Shadow Dragons, Drama, Suspense, Forehead Touching, Blood and Injury, First Aid, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter 2 Start with Chapter 1

Inviting @thedissonantverses @hyperions-light, @dymme, @biowaredisasterbisexual, @basedonconjecture, @mageofquandrix, @bygonesigh to shamelessly promote any of your own work if you haven't yet! And tag me!