#rook: Lin

[antivan-sprig]

A Splash of Pyromancy 🔥

Oh man so I’ve rewritten this one at least three times! I’m super into Lin’s story and also really like how he and Lis are almost foils for each other (probably not the right term but something is there!!! 😅) But anyway, I just could not get it to come out the way I wanted! I will probably revisit this one over the summer once it’s cooked in my brain a little more.

Anyway love a “choices are always made for me” Dalish story ♥️✨ Lis relates big time.

@wardentabriis : Lin crouches next to the fire. His hand hovers over it for a moment--his right hand, veins and grooves cracked with black scars. His sleeves, rolled to the elbows, reveal how far the scars travel up his arm, how deep they run. It seems almost impossible that the Wardens managed to save it at all.

"Don't worry," he says, grinning. "I'm not stupid enough to stick my hand in."

He settles down, cross-legged, with a sigh of relief. "It's been too long since I sat around a fire like this. We didn't have rituals like this in my clan, but I remember nights like this. The Keeper's other apprentices and I would smoke some elfroot, dance until we were exhausted, collapse, then just...look at the stars until we fell asleep."

Lin takes a notebook out of his satchel. "I might have something to offer the fire."

He opens it to a page of pressed blue flowers, plucking two blossoms, and tossing them into the flames.

"Brona's Bloom. There was a time, centuries ago, when these still blossomed in the Anderfels. The blight strangled the life from almost everything, but...these little flowers survived. Strange, don't you think?"

Lisel turned her head at the sight of his scars, she knew from experience how tedious it could be to have to explain how you’d gotten them, and she didn’t want to force that burden on someone she only knew in passing. Still, she was annoyed by how curious they made her.

At the mention of his clan, Lisel’s eyes brightened. As silly as it sounded, she’d only just realized Lin was Dalish.

“Dirthamen? Correct?” She asked, motioning to his facial tattoos and continuing on as if she hadn’t just asked a question, “Elfroot before dancing?” She cocked her head to the side, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “Not sure your clan had the right order on that one… but I’m sure it was fun nonetheless.”

She sat up straighter as Lin lowered himself down, looking at the page of pressed flowers with subtle curiosity. She made a mental note to bring it up next time as a conversation starter and gave a dallying smile.

“Never seen Brona’s bloom until now. It’s pretty. And resilient too, sounds like it at least.” Lisel looked at Lin appraisingly, “Sure you don’t want to stick a hand in? Last chance.”

As he tossed in each of the flowers a gentle plume of smoke burst from the flame, punctuated by a soft sizzle. The pair gazed into the flames expectantly, looking for any abnormalities. The flowers had begun to shrink and blacken. Within the smoke, small, luminous, lights began to rise and float above their heads. Lisel took a deep breath to steady herself, already feeling something coming on.

“Well, I see lots of aravels and Halla? Typical Dalish stuff I guess.” Liselath teased.

To each of their surprise, it wasn’t the appearance of the fire which changed, but the smell. The scent of Dalish stew began to rise from the pyre, a savory mixture of mushrooms, rice, and assorted herbs. They couldn’t help but smile, it smelled like home.

“You saw the blight when you were a child?” Lisel asked curiously, but your fear was tempered by something…” Lisel rocked her head from side to side as if thinking of the correct word, “Fascination.”

The pyre cracked loudly as a small plume of embers erupted out of the flames, once again demanding that the pair keep their eyes on it.

“You’ve always lived inside a world which forces you to hold back. Rules, traditions, limits.” She paused, “People set you up for failure. Giving you important duties, determining your fate without any input…”

“Your life is never your own.” Lisel furrowed her brow, “But carving your own path is second nature… ” she trailed off, eyes shut tightly.

The fire began to grow hotter, flames rising above their heads as a pillar of white smoke poured from the top.

Lisel shot him a sudden look of confusion as if suddenly realizing what she was seeing, her eyes locked onto his, “Don’t you feel guilty for leaving your clan?” She didn’t wait for an answer, continuing on in a questioning tone, “all to join the wardens?”

There was something else there. A dreadful feeling which lingered just under the surface. It felt ancient, corrupt, and most of all, dire. The fire reacted to it as well, arcing violently upwards and creating the grating sound of rising steam, like the shrieking of a teapot. The pair flinched, but kept facing the fire.

Just as a prey animal would recognize a predator, Liselath realized what was lurking far too late.

Blight

The scent, the sight, the very feeling of doom. She felt nauseous, it took everything in her to keep her dinner down. Her vision splotchy as she looked at Lin across the fire. Her blood squirmed within her veins as if it were desperately trying to escape.

“This is awful.” She said quietly, “Really awful.”

She couldn't imagine how anyone could live like this. Lis peeked an eye open at Lin, beyond surprised to see how well he was handling it. Was this normal for a warden? Was it always like this?

At least she understood now. Leaving his clan hadn’t been much of a choice at all, it had been a matter of life or death. The Grey Wardens had been thrust upon Lin just as the Crows were thrust upon her.

The blooms in the fire had shrunk into shriveled black spots of oil and were wholly unrecognizable now. While they’d survived the blight, even they couldn’t survive the heat of the fire.

“Upheaval, despair, loss. All for the proverbial greater good.” Liselath said with obvious contempt, “You didn’t even get a chance to determine your own doom. Even that was chosen for you.”

A tense moment passed between them and the pyre began to fade out as the last bit of Brona’s Bloom burnt up. Small streams of smoke streaked through the sky.

She tilted her head to the side, regaining some semblance of self, “They really kicked you out? After you went through all that?” Lis questioned, “Figured the Grey Warden’s couldn’t afford to kick anyone out.”

She leaned her head back onto the statue of Mythal and looked up at the night sky. A soft smile adorning her face as she said, “I hate watching the stars. Nothing makes me lonelier… but I suppose since you so willingly tried clan Talim’s pyre ritual, I might as well try Then'hima’s.”

[shadow-kid-cole]

thinking about the cage for gods quest and a rook that might be too lost in regret to make it out on their own (a la inner demons) and the team having to figure out not only how to tear open the fade but go through the layers of their rook’s psyche as challenges to finally find them frightened and alone and bring them home while experiencing every horrible thing that’s ever happened to them that they never told anyone about along the way. something something keeping your distance as a leader only for your team to witness every horrible broken part of you and rescue you anyway. if you even care.

(edit i’m reading all your tags and to everyone saying they want to write this as a fic i’m on my hands and knees begging you to to tag me if you do)

[gwinaesfer]

Still working on the Rook Week portraits and I noticed they're evenly divided in looking exactly like this picture

And it's funny as hell

[emmieloumay]

🔍👀

[eepy-samzie]

a bit over a month ago I started dabbling in epoxy, thus I've finally crawled back to share smth fandom related I made

it's a tiny usable potion bottle inspired by pomefiore ^^

this toiny. already filled it with scented oil

here's Vil modeling with it :d I originally made it for him to display, but I might just wear it as a necklace sometime

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

staring at the Rook x Lucanis relationship like. so which fairytale archtype am I going to cram you into for my own personal gratification as such subtle references that no one but me will ever pick up on this in fanfiction. we could do a much gentler Tam Lin thing or an East Of The Sun And West Of The Moon thing or the older version of the same thing which was the Cupid/Psyche myth............ boy there sure are a lot of options for the whole 'holding on anyway despite you sometimes becoming Something Terrifyingly Other' trope. much to ponder...

[ajaxbell]

For my Veilguard Rook, I combined my Dragon Age obsession with my cdrama obsession to make sure I'm always thinking about everything all the time. Meet Lin Thorne, based on Yan Lin from Story of Kunning Palace.

[thaoworra]

The Science Fiction and Fantasy Poetry Association recently released the poems that made it to the finalist stage for consideration for the 2024 Rhysling Awards for Short and Long Speculative Poems of the year. Congratulations to all of the nominees! This will be the 46th year these awards have been conferred!

Short Poems (50 finalists)

Attn: Prime Real Estate Opportunity!, Emily Ruth Verona, Under Her Eye: A Women in Horror Poetry Collection Volume II

The Beauty of Monsters, Angela Liu, Small Wonders 1

The Blight of Kezia, Patricia Gomes, HWA Poetry Showcase X

The Day We All Died, A Little, Lisa Timpf, Radon 5

Deadweight, Jack Cooper, Propel 7

Dear Mars, Susan L. Lin, The Sprawl Mag 1.2

Dispatches from the Dragon's Den, Mary Soon Lee, Star*Line 46.2

Dr. Jekyll, West Ambrose, Thin Veil Press December

First Eclipse: Chang-O and the Jade Hare, Emily Jiang, Uncanny 53

Five of Cups Considers Forgiveness, Ali Trotta, The Deadlands 31

Gods of the Garden, Steven Withrow, Spectral Realms 19

The Goth Girls' Gun Gang, Marisca Pichette, The Dread Machine 3.2

Guiding Star, Tim Jones, Remains to be Told: Dark Tales of Aotearoa, ed. Lee Murray (Clan Destine Press)

Hallucinations Gifted to Me by Heatstroke, Morgan L. Ventura, Banshee 15

hemiplegic migraine as willing human sacrifice, Ennis Rook Bashe, Eternal Haunted Summer Winter Solstice

Hi! I am your Cortical Update!, Mahaila Smith, Star*Line 46.3

How to Make the Animal Perfect?, Linda D. Addison, Weird Tales 100

I Dreamt They Cast a Trans Girl to Give Birth to the Demon, Jennessa Hester, HAD October

Invasive, Marcie Lynn Tentchoff, Polar Starlight 9

kan-da-ka, Nadaa Hussein, Apparition Lit 23

Language as a Form of Breath, Angel Leal, Apparition Lit October

The Lantern of September, Scott Couturier, Spectral Realms 19

Let Us Dream, Myna Chang, Small Wonders 3

The Magician's Foundling, Angel Leal, Heartlines Spec 2

The Man with the Stone Flute, Joshua St. Claire, Abyss & Apex 87

Mass-Market Affair, Casey Aimer, Star*Line 46.4

Mom's Surprise, Francis W. Alexander, Tales from the Moonlit Path June

A Murder of Crows, Alicia Hilton, Ice Queen 11

No One Now Remembers, Geoffrey Landis, Fantasy and Science Fiction Nov./Dec.

orion conquers the sky, Maria Zoccula, On Spec 33.2

Pines in the Wind, Karen Greenbaum-Maya, The Beautiful Leaves (Bamboo Dart Press)

The Poet Responds to an Invitation from the AI on the Moon, T.D. Walker, Radon Journal 5

A Prayer for the Surviving, Marisca Pichette, Haven Speculative 9

Pre-Nuptial, F. J. Bergmann, The Vampiricon (Mind's Eye Publications)

The Problem of Pain, Anna Cates, Eye on the Telescope 49

The Return of the Sauceress, F. J. Bergmann, The Flying Saucer Poetry Review February

Sea Change, David C. Kopaska-Merkel and Ann K. Schwader, Scifaikuest May

Seed of Power, Linda D. Addison, The Book of Witches ed. Jonathan Strahan (Harper Collins)

Sleeping Beauties, Carina Bissett, HWA Poetry Showcase X

Solar Punks, J. D. Harlock, The Dread Machine 3.1

Song of the Last Hour, Samuel A. Betiku, The Deadlands 22

Sphinx, Mary Soon Lee, Asimov's September/October

Storm Watchers (a drabbun), Terrie Leigh Relf, Space & Time

Sunflower Astronaut, Charlie Espinosa, Strange Horizons July

Three Hearts as One, G. O. Clark, Asimov's May/June

Troy, Carolyn Clink, Polar Starlight 12

Twenty-Fifth Wedding Anniversary, John Grey, Medusa's Kitchen September

Under World, Jacqueline West, Carmina Magazine September

Walking in the Starry World, John Philip Johnson, Orion's Belt May

Whispers in Ink, Angela Yuriko Smith, Whispers from Beyond (Crystal Lake Publishing)

Long Poems (25 finalists)

Archivist of a Lost World, Gerri Leen, Eccentric Orbits 4

As the witch burns, Marisca Pichette, Fantasy 87

Brigid the Poet, Adele Gardner, Eternal Haunted Summer Summer Solstice

Coding a Demi-griot (An Olivian Measure), Armoni “Monihymn” Boone, Fiyah 26

Cradling Fish, Laura Ma, Strange Horizons May

Dream Visions, Melissa Ridley Elmes, Eccentric Orbits 4

Eight Dwarfs on Planet X, Avra Margariti, Radon Journal 3

The Giants of Kandahar, Anna Cates, Abyss & Apex 88

How to Haunt a Northern Lake, Lora Gray, Uncanny 55

Impostor Syndrome, Robert Borski, Dreams and Nightmares 124

The Incessant Rain, Rhiannon Owens, Evermore 3

Interrogation About A Monster During Sleep Paralysis, Angela Liu, Strange Horizons November

Little Brown Changeling, Lauren Scharhag, Aphelion 283

A Mere Million Miles from Earth, John C. Mannone, Altered Reality April

Pilot, Akua Lezli Hope, Black Joy Unbound eds. Stephanie Andrea Allen & Lauren Cherelle (BLF Press)

Protocol, Jamie Simpher, Small Wonders 5

Sleep Dragon, Herb Kauderer, The Book of Sleep (Written Image Press)

Slow Dreaming, Herb Kauderer, The Book of Sleep (Written Image Press)

St. Sebastian Goes To Confession, West Ambrose, Mouthfeel 1

Value Measure, Joseph Halden and Rhonda Parrish, Dreams and Nightmares 125

A Weather of My Own Making, Nnadi Samuel, Silver Blade 56

Welcoming the New Girl, Beth Cato, Penumbric October

What You Find at the Center, Elizabeth R McClellan, Haven Spec Magazine 12

The Witch Makes Her To-Do List, Theodora Goss, Uncanny 50

The Year It Changed, David C. Kopaska-Merkel, Star*Line 46.4

Voting for the Rhysling Award begins July 1; a link to the ballot will be sent with the Rhysling Anthology, as well as with the July issue of Star*Line. More information on the Rhysling Award can be found here.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

https://x.com/__qm____/status/1906836067980136816?t=CG_Mg6-9AgYy3nsrMb5axQ&s=19

Looks like the Coral Sea event is some kind of wedding? They look like they're ready for some wedding, wearing those fancy suits I kinda imagine of Miss Raven attending too with Jade

[Referencing the April 2025 JP schedule!]

ADSBHLDAWBYPRABIQRWFIWFAIBAF LA WEUDFKCIBG WEDDING EVEN T this time without ghosts and kidnapping 💀💀💀 A WEDDING... ON THE BEACH/SHORE,LIN e ... . ........ . . ...... . .... . .. . .. . . . . .. . .... . . .. . YOUT MIGHT AS WELL END ME NOW, I'M SUCJJH A SUCKER FOR THIS SHJ!T %TTT OTL THE WEDDINFG FSCENE AT THE END DTOF THE LKILTTRTTLE MERMAID ALWYAS MAKES ME AKEJME TEARSE UP LIKE A A NEWBONR *AHGGRESSIVELY KEELS OVER IN APAiNNNNNNNNDN*JASNMAFDNKAFLBKJEAFQELBIQYERIAWY74QT4.;,;L'LF'LRHWPOUEWPQEGPMUAEGOAEGOASMPADFBOIYADF IT LOSKMS LIKE ERIDDLE MALEUS AND ROOK ARE FLOWER BOYS FOR IT?? ?? ? ???? ? ? ? ? AND JADE SEEMS TOB E CLAPPING FOR THE BRIDE (iS THAT HER VEIL oR A CURTAIN???? ?? ? ??) bUT THENE WHY'S BROsTARING SSTAIGHR T AT US???????? EVERYONE LOOSKS SO DARMN GODO ITN THEIR SuIT s ANDS SSEASHELL ACEEC ESRROIES WHAT T ETSBETATHEUF CUKGF WHAT THE GUFDDCKEW WHGAWT TUFCFD DSAWADKFDKCXVKCVKKKKKKK K K K K KGSKAKAFSKAFSKEFAKAEFDKADAFEJBKEGKHFBIHLFABLAF

I'll close my eyes and conjure up a daydream scenario in which Jade invites Miss Raven to be his plus one to a swanky ass wedding 💀 He offers to hold her up to give her an advantage at catching the bride's bouquet when she tosses it... "E-Excuse me?! I don't want YOUR assistance for this!" / "Oya, Miss Raven... do you not wish to secure yourself good fortune in love?" / "I-I am in no need of such a thing!!" (Malleus, who normally doesn't observe this dynamic, asks if this is normal behavior for Leech and the young Crowley. Riddle sighs and says yes, that's their bread and butter. "They somehow end up like this one way or another whenever they cross paths..." Rook doesn't see an issue with it, he finds it fascinating when a land and sea-borne creature butt heads :>)

[bdafic]

Insights on Elven

While stuck in bed being ill I went completely off the deep end while trying to understand the use of letter-doubling in Elven (spoiler: I think it's a feature of fusional language). I ended up spending two days collecting canon phrases with official translations, retranslating it myself, and then applying each bit of knowledge to the formation of other words and phrases... and I think I've stumbled into a few insights.

First off, the word "vallaslin". We know this means 'blood writing', and we've always assumed the 'lin' is 'blood' and 'vallas' is 'writing' -- and up until two days ago I thought this too. But the more examples I dug up the more I think it's actually 'val' that means blood as a root -- though not necessarily in terms of violence. I believe it originally referred to mortality. We already have use cases of "vallas" meaning "life" in canon (Vallasdahlen: "life trees"), but I think the most damning evidence comes in Veilguard, where an Elven Rook will comment that the word Anvallenim means "womb".

an (place/location) + val (mortal/physical life) + len (people, n.) + im (him, become) = where mortal life becomes.

I think the real root of the word vallaslin is exactly what Solas says it is: a chattel brand. val (blood/physical) +las (have) lin (person).

Second insight was the word 'lath': it's used to refer specifically to a person in physical form. Over time, it expanded to encompass feelings that involve the physical form (eg. love and sex). The World of Thedas vol 1 actually lists two definitions for it, and that first one was really pulling at me when I read it:

Some of Solas' banter with Cole may even confirm this: "Have you felt no interest in women since you came through the Veil?". Spirits are singular in purpose and don't reproduce -- they probably do not fall in love, need, or have sex.

Leaning into this assumption, I found that the presumed translation of 'ath' by the illustrious fenxshiral ('taking the characteristics of' or 'embodiment of') not only works, but actually helps clarify a number of other words. Like, 'athim' for humility. ath (relating to physical/human) + him (become). With so much commentary about the limitations (and consequences) of physical form, and the constant struggle to become better and more powerful in it, the origins of the word would seem to reflect the views of the culture it emerged from.

I think the "L" in "lath" is borrowed (or implied) from the words for 'people' (as in group, not capital-P-People, which is 'vhen' or 'Elvhen'), depending on use). This would make "lath" very literally "love of being".

Along this same path, we know 'eth' is canonically used for "safe". I think it can also mean 'trust'. This would make "lethallin" translate more literally to 'trusted person': friend or kin.

This would also clear up a currently-untranslated word spoken by Solas' spirit sentinels in Trespasser. When you approach, you're greeted with, "Atish'all vallem, Fen'Harel elathadra."

The only other time we see the "adra" at the end of a word is when you're greeted by Study in the Vir Dirthara. They'll greet Sera, or an elf Inq, as "honoured elvhen", or, "mirthadra elvhen". Mir has been used as a root in words about rebellion, fighting, or weapons -- and that tracks, given that the first thing everybody did upon getting bodies was start a war. If the "th" is coming from my interpretation of "lath/leth", that would make the "adra" apply a concept to an individual.

Honour + physical being + applying base term to that being: honoured.

Spirits embody a singular idea or feeling - they're only ever spoken of in that way. Once they began taking form, they'd need an entirely new vocabulary around the existence of a spirit who is not a spirit -- especially when referencing a feeling/state/idea as a personality trait rather than their whole existence.

So, that spirit guardian isn't saying "peaceful welcome". It's saying, "(come) in peace, those-who-became-physical". That untranslated word, "Elathadra" would be something like, "those loyal/close to the Dread Wolf".

"Peaceful greetings mortals; loyal of Fen'Harel".

[nunchikoi]

“They are griffon wings, are they not? On your arms… Is everything about you Warden-themed?”

“I’d ask you something similar. You’ve got everything from the colour scheme to being able to fly, but I’ve yet to hear you caw as crows do.”

Despite himself, Lucanis let out a little snort. For a moment, he thought he saw the ghost of a smile on Rook’s face before his attention shifted, turning his arm over and under in the light of the hearth.

“Yeah, all my ink is Warden-themed. Except for the vallas’lin, obviously.”

“Bala—?”

“Vah-Las-Lin,” said Rook slowly, tapping his cheek. “Blood writing.”

Like a crown, three strands curled from the diamond at the centre of his brow, weaving across his temples and down into a winged branch that travelled the strong curve of his cheekbones. It wove around his eyes too, beneath the paint that dragged under his bottom lashes like thin blue fangs, and it continued in a line that bisected his bottom lip, fanning out down his throat.

“They declare you are Dalish, yes?”

“Along with being of age, that I’ve completed the rites… yeah. Tells people I’m part of a clan.” Rook smiled slightly, hand on the back of his neck. “My keeper insisted. ‘Take us with you, wherever you go’ he said. ‘Not as a burden but an anchor. Know that you always have a place with your people.’”

“He sounds like a wise man.”

Rook scoffed. “He was the most obstinate of our ha’hrenen, as thick-headed as a druffalo. You’re supposed to be quiet when you receive the vallas’lin. They call you weak if you make the smallest whimper during the ceremony, might even stop altogether saying you’re not ready. But Keeper Thorne let it slide when I started snotting up. Only cuffed me twice for crying because he didn’t want me ruining the lines…”

He made it sound funny, and now, when he was donned in Warden regalia, when he had another place with this team, when he could kill darkspawn without even flinching, it probably was. But Lucanis conjured up the image of an elvhen boy, more than a few years shy of manhood, crying as a needle punctured his freckled brow over and over. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like, getting marked as a member of the only family you’d ever known only to leave it all behind. He couldn’t imagine travelling through the wilds with a fresh tattoo healing on his face, with blight boiling like a fever beneath his skin.

“Did it hurt?” he asked, quiet and tentative. It was a foolish question; of course it did. But Rook considered it all the same, in his careful way.

“For a time. But the pain was grounding. Missing the wilds, missing the aravel and my people… I think of it as a privilege.”

It was so like him to frame pain as an advantage. No, as a sentiment. Lucanis had a deep respect for this part of Rook, which carried thoughtless pain with grace. The part of him that dug its feet into the barren ground of a bad memory and grew something beautiful there anyway, a man so stubborn, steady, and—

‘Strong.’ Spite said, standing over Rook now, studying the lines of his face. ‘Lovely.’

Lucanis frowned.

---

an excerpt from my indulgent rookanis fic.

[shadow-kid-cole]

hold me close (and mind the blood on my hands)

Rook disappears the moment everyone returns from rescuing the Dalish in Arlathan. Lucanis checks in, and realizes several things very quickly:

1. There is a great deal more wrong with Rook than he'd realized;

2. He is completely, overwhelmingly not equipped to handle this; and

3. He has to handle it regardless - it's Rook. There is simply no other option.

(or, Rook's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day)

read it on ao3!

hey gang! it's been a while. i haven't written anything substantial in YEARS at this point, but despite any complaints i may have about veilguard, it launched me back into writing sad dragon age fics at terminal velocity. i have way too many thoughts and feelings about my rook, and even more about the dynamic with my rook and lucanis.

this is set after committing to the relationship, immediately after the return from the blood of arlathan quest. the relationship is established, but is still very new, and prior to this they've mostly still danced around each other.

my rook is named and described, and has their backstory fleshed out - sorry to those looking for generic!Rook fics, but this isn't the one for you! also, their backstory parallels that of my tabris warden with everything that entails, but the type of violence is left unspecified, so be wary if that's a hard line for you.

other warnings include: symptoms of mental illness, PTSD, and hallucinations.

The aftermath of rescuing the Dalish from the Venatori went like this.

The team returned, battered, bruised, but alive. The Dalish were brought along until the Veil Jumpers could find them a safer place to stay. Everyone was exhausted and still feeling the fear of running out of time, but the mood was otherwise high - they had won. They had saved people this time. Not even Elgar’nan’s monstrous archdemon could take that away.

Everyone took their time drifting back off to their own spaces to clean up; there was an air of subdued celebration around the Lighthouse, long overdue.

Everyone, that is, except for Rook.

Nearly the moment they stepped through the eluvian, Rook vanished with only the retreating sound of their footsteps on the stairs to mark where they’d gone. Lucanis watched them go, trading a concerned glance with Harding. She stepped closer and lowered her voice, murmuring “Something’s up with them. They haven’t said a word since we found the Dalish.”

Lucanis had noticed, too - the entire way back, Rook had been silent, staring at the distance with a haunted look in their eyes. Several members of the clan had tried to thank them, and they hadn’t even seemed to recognize that anyone was speaking. He’d asked if they were alright, and they had only nodded, slow and quiet. Rook was many things; slow and quiet were not typically among them.

“Did Neve or Bellara say anything else about what happened?” he asked.

Harding shook her head. “No, they’re both shaken but okay. I saw Bellara watching them, too, on the way back. She seemed surprised they didn’t want to talk to the Dalish.”

Lucanis looked back at the staircase, frowning. “I’ll give them some time - this mission was hard, and they may just need to rest. But I’ll check in later, see if anything else happened.”

“You may want to push those plans up a bit,” a voice added from his other side. Neve slowed and leaned in as she walked past them, adding, “I don’t know what happened, but the moment they saw the clan, it was like they just… shut down. Which is odd, because between then and getting trapped in Elgar’nan’s maze, they were crying.”

Lucanis stiffened, worry flickering to life. He had seen many things from Rook, in some truly abysmal circumstances; he had yet to see them cry.

“What? Did you talk to them?” he asked, trying to ignore Spite demanding they leave right that instant.

Neve crossed her arms. “I was a little busy trying not to get killed. We didn’t have time for a heart-to-heart.”

Harding sighed, looking back to Lucanis. “I’ve known Rook a long time now, and I’ve never seen them cry. Not even when everything’s falling apart. They trust you; I don’t think they’d be honest with anyone but you right now. You should go.” The words had no resentment to them, only concern. Harding had always been one of their best; Lucanis found himself more grateful than ever for her constant steady presence.

He nodded sharply, resting a brief hand on her shoulder as he turned for the stairs. With another nod to Neve, he left, forcing himself not to rush up the stairs two at a time. No point in worrying the others; this was uncharted territory with Rook, but if he knew them at all then he knew that they wouldn’t want people walking on eggshells around them.

Rook’s door was closed when he arrived. He knocked gently, listening to silence for a moment before saying, “Rook? It’s me. Can I come in?”

For a long moment, there was no answer. Spite was growing louder with every passing second, working himself up until he was shouting for Lucanis to just break the door down.

Lucanis didn’t think it was locked in the first place, but there was no point in arguing.

Finally, though, he heard Rook’s voice, the quietest and most defeated he’d ever heard them sound. “Fine.”

He pushed the door open slowly. At first, he didn’t see them; the room was dark save for the gentle glow of the water through the glass. It took him a moment to focus past that. At first glance, it always reminded him in stunning, horrific clarity of the Ossuary. But that was long since past; Rook had saved him twice over from that place. He forced down the immediate recoil that raced along his skin and stepped carefully into the room, closing the door behind him.

It took only a moment to find Rook, and to realize why he hadn’t seen them at first. They were on the floor in front of their couch, their whole body curled in like they were trying to make themself as small as they could possibly be. They were trembling, he realized at the same moment that he heard their breathing; far too fast, ragged and loud in the silence of the room.

Alarmed, he knelt in front of them, reaching out but stopping himself before he could touch them. They’d confided in him once that an unexpected touch could bring up bad memories, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt them, especially in a state like this.

“Rook? What happened?” He asked, trying and failing to keep the worst of the urgency out of his voice. They still hadn’t looked at him; their face was buried in their arms, copper-pink curls wild around their head where their hands were gripping tight. They shook their head, breathing only growing faster. He forced himself to calm slightly, if only for their sake, and tried a different tactic. 

“Lin? Would you please look at me?” he asked, soft as he could manage. He’d never used this name for them before, though they’d said he could; it felt strange after knowing them only as Rook for so long, and the way that they had looked when they told him about it made it clear that it was a name from fond memories, a sweet, familiar shortening of their full name, Lindiranae. He’d never felt right to use it. Even after everything, it felt too personal, too close - but maybe that was what they needed now. Not to be Rook, leader and god-killer, but just Lin, an elf from Ferelden.

At that, they looked up, something like shock piercing briefly through the misery etched across their face. The depth of it stunned him. Tears streaked their face. Red marks like they’d clawed at their own skin marred their cheeks; no broken skin, he noted, but raised and angry nonetheless. A cut high on their cheekbone from their fight with the Venatori had reopened, and blood oozed lazily down until it met tear tracks, dripping off their chin tinged red.

For a single heartbeat, Lucanis was paralyzed with indecision. How could he help without making things worse, especially if they couldn’t speak to tell him what they needed? Before he could even attempt anything, however, the problem was solved for him - Rook all but launched themself at him, fingers tangled desperately in the fabric at his back as they buried their face in his shoulder. A sob tore out of them like they’d fought to keep it buried, and suddenly they were weeping in his arms like the world had ended.

It terrified him, but this at least he could do. Without another word, he tightened his hold, pulling them all the way against his chest and pressing his lips to the top of their head. If nothing else, he could weather this with them, and hold them together until they stopped falling apart at the seams.

He whispered reassurances against their hair, cradling them as they cried. He could feel the tension in their body; every muscle felt rigid, every joint locked to the point of trembling. It made his heart ache. How many nights had he spent in the Ossuary, alone, entire body stiff with the effort it took to keep his fear and grief and sorrow buried? Whatever they were feeling, they had been carrying it for a long time. He’d always seen the way their shoulders curved in, the slump to their spine when they thought no one else was looking. He knew that while they had shared some of their past with him, there was so much more he wasn’t privy to, and it ate away at them in a way that took a physical toll. He clutched them a little tighter, wishing not for the first time that battles of the mind could be fought with knives, and that they didn’t need to be fought alone in the end.

Slowly, Lin’s breathing began to quiet. They were no longer gasping for air. Their desperate sobs calmed, going from wracking, breaking things to soft whimpers that made his chest seize. After a long, long time, they lifted their head just slightly, acknowledging that the worst was over without quite meeting his eye.

“Sorry,” they whispered, voice still thick with tears. “Didn’t want you to see me like this.”

In spite of himself, the corner of Lucanis’ mouth twitched up. “That’s my line,” he murmured, hearing a quiet chuckle from them. “Mi vida, there is nothing you can show me that will scare me away. Not now. Not after everything we have been through.”

They sighed, the tension in their shoulders finally easing a bit as they laid back against him. Their arms remained wrapped around him, but hung looser at his waist now. He brought one hand up to brush aside their hair, cupping their cheek and gently turning their face towards him. The warm olive of their skin was flushed, the deep red tattoos and pinkish scars across their face fading into the color. They looked younger, he thought. Less miserable now than when he’d arrived, at least. Their eyes weren’t quite dry yet, but despite the sadness that lingered, there was a spark of their usual joy as they finally met his gaze.

“I don’t deserve you,” they said softly, leaning into his touch and pressing a gentle kiss to his palm.

He shook his head. “Don’t. I would not even be here if it weren’t for you. You saved my life, Rook. More than that, you have shown me more compassion in a few short months than I have known my entire life. You deserve everything I can give you and more.”

Their eyes welled again, and they hid their face against his neck, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“You called me Lin, earlier,” they said, voice muffled. “I didn’t- I didn’t realize that I missed being called that name. I like ‘Rook,’ but it’s starting to feel like they’re not quite me. Larger than life, a leader, a hero…” Their voice turned sour on the final word. “I’m not a hero. A hero would have succeeded all the times I failed. Would’ve stayed with the clan, or have saved my sister and stayed in Denerim in the first place.”

“And you would have never stopped Solas, never planned to save the world, never brought any of us together,” Lucanis countered, tucking away the new information about a clan and a sister away in the back of his mind. “You never would have saved me, and we would not be here now. The Dalish are safe, we are safe for the time being; if you’re not a hero, Lin, then I don’t know who is.”

Still hiding their face, they mumbled something that sounded like “Don’t know if I want to be.”

To that, Lucanis had no answer. He kissed the top of their head and finally settled on “Then you’re not. You’re just you, and no matter what the rest of the world may believe, that is enough. After all, it got you this far.”

They finally broke into the barest hint of a wobbly smile. “I’ll steal your other line, then; how do you always do that?”

He grinned. “Do what?”

“‘Break apart my perfectly gathered clouds of doom,’” they quoted at him in a poor imitation of his accent. At that, he laughed. Relief swept through him; here was his Rook. His strange, vicious, vibrant Rook. Maker, but they were everything.

“Someone has to,” he said. “You watch over everyone else; someone should be watching over you, too.”

“I think that’s what I have you for,” they said, smile growing.

Unable to help himself, he pressed a kiss to their forehead, feeling them take in a breath beneath him. This was quickly becoming a habit, it seemed, as though he hadn’t done it for the first time just minutes ago.  “Always, corazón.”

For a quiet moment, they sat, tangled together on the floor; they didn’t seem inclined to move, or even notice that they were curled together closer than they’d ever been. They were slowly relaxing in his arms. All the time he’d known them, Rook had always been cautious with touch. They often moved like they were going to lay a friendly hand on his shoulder, tap Davrin’s arm for emphasis, grab Bellara’s shoulder to keep her steady - and then, they always stopped before making contact. He’d seen them flinch away from others on the battlefield; he also knew, however, that if they were comfortable, tired, or inebriated,  they began to lean further into touch, instead. They’d always been careful with him, too, never touching unless they knew he could see it coming. He’d never known a thoughtfulness like theirs. It was appreciated; after so long in the Ossuary, any contact, friendly or otherwise, was often too much to bear. He’d been finding, lately, that this was less and less true the longer he spent with this team.

But now, they were curled in his lap like a cat in a sunny window. He wondered idly if this was how they had been once; if little Rook growing up in the alienage had been free with their affection and not thought anything of casual, everyday touch. The thought twisted a little in his heart. They likely missed it, but held themself back out of either a respect for others’ traumas, or their own.

At that thought, he pulled back a bit to look at them. “I am… not the best at this part, but did you want to talk about it? Neve said that you just… shut down, when you found the Dalish. Did something happen?”

They sighed, swiping a hand under their eyes. “No. Well, yes, but a long time ago. It’s just that - the clan we saved was the clan I belonged to once.”

Whatever Lucanis had expected, this wasn’t it. No wonder they’d had such a reaction.

“I didn’t even know until we found them, and that whole time… I was already so desperate to save the Dalish, they’re all my people, but I had no idea it was my clan’s lives on the line. If I’d been just a little slower….” they finished, voice going hoarse as they fought back more tears.

“But you weren’t,” Lucanis said firmly. “You got them out. They are safe, and so are you.”

“I know,” they whispered. “It’s just… I already failed them once. If I’d failed them again, and they’d gotten killed because I wasn’t good enough, especially after all the danger everyone put themselves in to help - I couldn’t live with that.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” they repeated. “But when I realized it was them, it was all I could think about.”

Lucanis paused a moment before answering, letting this wealth of new information settle, then said carefully, “I didn’t know that you had belonged to a clan before. I thought you grew up in the city?”

They nodded, their gaze far away. “I did.”

“Then, the clan came later? Can I ask what happened?”

Rook sighed, a tear tracing its way silently down their gaunt cheek. “I… I found them after I was- after I left Denerim,” they said. Lucanis noticed a hesitation as they spoke, and thought back to what little they’d already told him. They had been forced to leave, he knew, after they’d killed a human who had gotten a little too bold in the alienage. He didn’t know the nature of the incident beyond that; he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“I’d been on my own for a few years. I’d always wanted to learn more about the Dalish, be a part of keeping all those old stories the elder in the alienage told us alive. With how we lived… it sounded like a dream come true. Freedom, always moving, allowed to go wherever you wanted - I’d never left home before I had to, and then I never felt safe enough to enjoy the travel.

“When I met them, most of them were kind, sympathetic. I told the Keeper what had happened, and begged her to let me join. She agreed. I was with them for years; they taught me all their stories, and how to hunt, to fight. It was… more peaceful than anything I’d ever known.”

Here they paused, taking a deep, steadying breath. Lucanis frowned. “I am happy to listen, but there is no need to tell me, if you do not wish to.”

Rook shook their head. “No, I - I think I need someone else to know.”

He nodded, threading his fingers through theirs and lightly squeezing their hand in wordless support. They returned the gesture, then continued.

“Many of them were kind, but it was still fairly clear I didn’t belong. I was the only one that wasn’t born to the clan. There were those that never let me forget it.”

“Then they were fools,” Lucanis found himself saying, surprised at the vitriol in his own voice. How much of that was him, he wondered, and how much was Spite? He didn’t suppose it mattered much, not when they were in agreement.

Rook blinked at him, wide amber eyes a little startled. Then they smiled, tucking themself back in closer to him. “Well said, but it hardly matters now. I… grew tired of never feeling like I was good enough. We travelled up closer to Arlathan, and a few hunters were wounded by a demon that had come through one of the Fade tears. The Keeper forbade anyone from going near it, but it was scaring away the halla, killing or driving away prey. I-I guess I thought that if I killed it, they’d finally take me seriously.”

Lucanis’ heart sank. “I assume that’s not what happened.”

They grimaced. “No. I was an idiot, and I should’ve just listened to the Keeper. I convinced a few other hunters to go with me. It was a rage demon, a powerful one. We didn’t stand a chance.”

Their grip on his hand tightened, shaking a little. “It killed one of them, Naeris, almost immediately. The rest of us ran, but it followed. Thea tried to slow it down, and it nearly killed her too. By the time we lost it, I couldn’t breathe from running so far. We waited for hours so that at least we wouldn’t lead it back to the clan. We had to carry Thea back. Naeris was just… gone. We didn’t even know if there was a body to return. Faen was badly hurt. All of us were burned. And I brought them there.”

They were crying again. Lucanis held them close, a terrible understanding dawning over him as so many of the odd little pieces that made up his Rook slotted suddenly into place. No wonder they were so content to let others take the lead on missions, no wonder they shied away from being presented as a leader. No wonder they ran themself ragged jumping at the chance to help people wherever they went, and vanished into themself when they couldn’t.

“The Keeper was furious. She got halfway through telling me I was no longer welcome before I told her I was already leaving. Even if they’d let me stay, I couldn’t, not after that. Only a couple other hunters said anything to defend me, and it didn’t last long. The worst part was the staring. I could feel them all watching me the whole time I packed up to leave. When I actually walked out, almost the whole clan was gathered, just… watching me leave. They were so disappointed, so angry, I-” Their voice broke.

Lucanis was about to put his best effort towards a reassuring response, but then their eyes shifted to the side, as though watching someone in the corner of the room speak. Then, a moment later, “No, that’s the problem, it was my fault! I took them there! It was my stupid idea!”

“Rook? What is happening, who are you talking to?”

“No, it was my fault! My fault I lost you, my fault you’re dead, my fault-” Their voice grew louder with each passing second.

If Lucanis had felt uncertainty and concern before, this sent him into something close to panic. He had seen odd behaviors from Rook on occasion, but never like this. They sounded nearly hysterical now, addressing someone who wasn’t there in response to something that hadn’t been said. Even as he tried to calm them, his mind raced through possibilities. Possession? No, Spite would know. Magic? Unlikely; Spite would sense that, too. Were they seeing things? Had they hit their head fighting the Venatori? No, Bellara and Neve would have said something.

They started to sit up, to pull away from him, shoulders shaking, opening their mouth to respond again in their one-sided conversation. Suddenly, fear gripped him, and it could’ve been either his own inner voice or Spite’s that said dangerous; don’t let them go. Without thinking, he caught their wrist. “Rook - Lin-”

They reacted like an animal in a trap. They surged away, twisting their arm, all but howling - he winced, hating to be the one causing this for them, but he had no idea what was happening. If he let them go in this state, they could hurt themself, or worse. He held fast, reaching out with his other hand to turn their face towards him.

“Rook, please - it’s just me, I’m not going to hurt you-”

“That’s what they always say,” they snarled, their eyes devoid of recognition or even cognizance. They weren’t fully here, he realized. They were living out something else, a memory that had been buried until their conversation had unearthed it. Still, to see this much fear and know that he had caused it was a shame like he’d never known.

“Please, listen - you’re safe, Rook, mi vida, I promise. No dejaré que nada te lastime, please just look at me-”

Their gaze sharpened, focusing on his face even as they continued to struggle against him. For a split second, all he could see was rage and terror. Their nails dug into his arm hard enough to draw blood.

Then something seemed to dawn on them, and they froze, eyes roving across his face like they were trying desperately to place where they knew him from. Their chest rose and fell in short gasps. He could see their pulse fluttering in their throat, could feel it against his fingers. After a long, agonizing moment they whispered “Lucanis?”

“Yes, mi amor, I’m here,” he breathed, brushing curls back from their sweat-damp skin. A breath, then two, then they were shaking their head, looking away with guilt written across their face. “I-I’m so sorry, I don’t-”

He could feel them trying to retreat the way that they had both done before, when everything spilling out of them was too much of a mess to trust other people to help clean. It frightened him, in such a sudden, sharp way that he knew he was past the point of no return. Whatever else happened, whatever they did, whatever the gods threw at them, he loved Rook. He couldn’t bear the thought of them pulling away and trying to deal with this on their own.

Abruptly, he pulled them into the tightest embrace he could. They were warm against his chest. Their babbling apologies cut off with a yelp, and they sat rigid for a moment before tentatively raising their hands to his back.

“What? Lucanis, I-I don’t understand, I-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he interrupted. “I will not leave you alone in this. Whatever happens, we face it together.”

He felt their grip tighten, their face fall against his shoulder. For the second time that day, he held them as they cried, with the sudden understanding that every day could be like this and he would never once complain. He would do anything they needed of him. He would kill a hundred blighted gods to keep them safe.

“I’m still so, so sorry,” they choked out through tears. “I didn’t- I wasn’t myself, and I - oh, creators, did I hurt you?” They tried to pull back to look at his arm, but he shook his head and refused to let go.

“No, corazón. You did not hurt me.”

They sniffled, relaxing fully against him again, and took a slow, deep breath. Their racing heart began to calm; he could still feel their pulse hammering beneath their skin, but it was less frantic now.

“I’m… usually better at knowing when it’s real,” they murmured, with the air of someone admitting a deeply painful secret. “It’s harder when I’ve already been thinking about the past. Like it all catches up to me, and I have no idea when or where I am.”

Lucanis shut his eyes, breathing in the faint scent of juniper that lingered in their hair. How long had they been dealing with this? To spend their life haunted by ghosts - though, now was perhaps not the time for every question he wanted to ask. Just the first, then.

“Who do you see? Or what?” he asked gently, finally loosening his hold so that he could look at them.

They kept their eyes firmly on the floor, fidgeting with the frayed hem of the sleeve they’d wiped across their cheeks. “My-my sister, mostly. But there are others. And it’s not all the time, it’s worse when I’m tired, or stressed. It’s not so bad when it’s just her - she’s still kind to me, usually. Tells me things aren’t my fault. The others, though…” they shuddered, shaking their head. “I see… I see that first human I killed sometimes. He says horrible things. So does the other one, his friend. Sometimes he kills my sister all over again, on the really bad days.”

“Rook… I am so sorry,” Lucanis said, letting his forehead rest against theirs. “I will not ask you to stay in those memories any longer; just know that if I could carve my way through time itself to prevent them from ever reaching you, I would.” He could feel something like rage boiling in him. Of all the people to see things like this, he could think of few who deserved it less than them. Those two men had begun all of this back in their alienage, and that single choice had warped Rook’s entire life, to the point that over a decade later they still haunted them at every turn. Cowardice, selfishness; Lucanis wanted to stab something. He settled for taking Rook’s hand and pressing a soft kiss to their knuckles. There would be time for all of that later, to determine what exactly they were going through and how best to help them. For now, they had to be exhausted. They needed to rest.

When he looked up and saw them staring at him, wide-eyed, he froze, righteous anger dissipating as he realized how absurd this whole situation was. All of this, easy vulnerability and intimacy the likes of which he’d never imagined sharing with another person, and he still hadn’t even kissed them properly. He nearly had, that day in the pantry, but he’d panicked at the last second. So much for his Crow training.

He’d have to rectify that, and soon - but not now. They deserved a first kiss done correctly. Not a spur-of-the-moment thing tempered by tears and blood, but something properly sweet - like honey and lavender cream, he’d told them once.

Carefully, he extricated himself and stood, holding out a hand to help them up. They took it gratefully, leaning against him for one last brief moment before sitting heavily on the couch. Deep shadows ringed their eyes. They rubbed at their face, blinking blearily up at him - they seemed calm, now, if still a little sad.

“‘m tired,” they said, the words slow and indistinct. “I should - I’m gonna take a nap. Can you… Can you just stay until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

As they stretched out, Lucanis dampened a cloth in the washbasin in the corner of the room. He crouched beside them, and they smiled softly at him, eyes already heavy with the promise of sleep. He held up the cloth in lieu of asking out loud. They nodded, wincing a little as he ran it gently over the cut on their cheek.

He felt a small, calloused hand slip into his as he finished cleaning the cut. When he looked up, Rook’s eyes were already closed. He set the cloth aside and sat back down on the floor beside them, careful not to move too much. As their breathing evened out, he leaned forward and pressed a feather-light kiss to the top of their head. They curled unconsciously closer to him and let out a soft sigh. He smiled.

Right now, they just needed steady comfort. He wasn’t sure he was quite qualified, but he loved them, and that would have to be enough.

[teamtakagi]

Vows to Cherish: The Thorne-Ingellvar Wedding

Prequel stories: (written from a Companion AU where Jerran is Rook and Eleanor is a Companion)

Scars and Confessions by @a-mumbling-nerd

Wisteria by me

9:54 Dragon

A spare bedroom in the Ingellvar Estate

“Stand up straight,” Sergeant Jin ordered.

Jerran swallowed thickly as she straightened his ceremonial jacket, her hands gentle despite the usual intense look in her eyes. Behind her, Lin, Isiah, Kalais, and Portia bantered while playing an impromptu game of Wicked Grace on an ornate bed.

“There. Not too shabby.” Jin patted him on the shoulder. “How’re you feeling?”

“Nervous that I’m going to fuck up.” Jerran pulled out a scrap of paper where he’d scribbled his vows. “Last time I tried to read from a note, I ended up kissing her. I don’t think that’s going to work here.”

Portia laughed. “You never know. She obviously likes it.” She threw her cards down with a giggle and gathered the winnings as the others groaned.

“Yeah, but VORGOTH said something about ‘needing to do things correctly’ but more…. VORGOTH-y. I feel like they’ll hunt me down if I screw this up.” Jerran squinted at his handwriting, muttering the words to himself under his breath.

Kalais started another round when a tap on the door interrupted their conversation. “Come in,” Jin called.

The door opened and Myrna stuck her head in. “Warden Thorne. VORGOTH says the fortuitous time draws nigh and binding vows must be uttered.” At Jerran’s blank stare, she sighed. “It’s time.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Jerran slipped the piece of paper into a pocket.

“And that’s my cue. I’ll see you in the front pew, Thorne.” Jin patted him on the shoulder one more time and followed Myrna out. 

As the others put away their cards and straightened their clothing  – Portia cackling gleefully – Jerran breathed in deeply, trying to ignore the sudden rapid pounding of his heart. A mix of cologne, perfume, and slightly musty furniture mingled in the air. 

Glancing one more time in a mirror hanging on the wall, he pushed back a strand of hair, revealing a long, jagged scar just barely missing his right eye – a souvenir from fighting the Juggernaut at the final stand against the gods. 

“You ready to attach the ol’ ball and chain?” Kalais laughed.

Jerran smirked, glancing at his fellow Grey Warden. “Someone’s got to set an example, especially for Isiah. This’ll be him in a few years.”

Isiah blushed. “Well, I don’t know…”  

“Come on, we’re supposed to meet Eleanor’s wedding party.” Lin hustled Isiah and Kailas out.

Portia high-fived Jerran and winked. “Don’t let me down, Thorne. I bet on you.” 

“A bet?” 

“That you wouldn’t run.” Portia laughed before skipping out the door. 

Jerran chuckled. “You’ll get your money.” After checking one more time that the fancy sleeves on his Grey Warden uniform were buttoned properly, he followed the boisterous voices until Myrna directed him toward the garden.

This was it.  Can’t be harder than fighting Ghilan-nay and Elgarnads, right? 

💙💙💙💙

A second bedroom, opposite wing

In truth, Eleanor had dreamt of this day since she was a child. Though those dreams, she had initially believed, would only come to pass in her slumber or on the pages of her favorite fairy tales.

To be honest, she still felt as though she’d wake up any moment. As she sat in front of an antique vanity table, her eyes drifted to her own reflection in its large mirror, admiring the graceful lines of the ballroom wedding gown that she’d chosen. Months of planning and alterations had finally come down to today. 

The gentle touch of Zephyr’s claws running through her hair brought her back to the present as they deftly wove blue ribbons along with white roses and baby’s breath into a crown braid wrapping around her head. They matched the bridal bouquet sitting in a nearby vase.

In the vanity’s large mirror, Ambrose’s reflection smiled widely as they lounged in a chair across the room. “Jerran isn’t going to know what hit him when he sees you. Hey, Zephyr. Two coins say that he starts crying.”

Zephyr chuckled softly, a slight smile twitching on their lips as they used pins to secure the braid in place. “I won’t take that bet. I know that he will.”

Rowena leaned forward from her place across from Ambrose, her eyes keenly examining Eleanor’s appearance. “I agree. He is not the most articulate elf.’”

“Not even in the best times. After seeing her? He'll barely be able to function,” Heloise chimed in from her spot on a bed as she sipped on some punch and made a face. “Jerran wasn’t wrong about the punch.” She set the drink aside. 

A gentle knock on the bedroom door interrupted the friends’ banter. “Eleanor? May I come in?” Yesult’s voice called. “Your veil is ready.”

Zephyr finished putting one last flower in place and nodded. Eleanor turned. “Yes, Mother.”

Yesult Ingellvar, a tall human woman with elegantly styled dark hair sprinkled with silver,  stepped in with a translucent cloud of cloth draped over her arms. “Oh, my. Everyone looks so wonderful.” Her hazel eyes softened as she turned to Eleanor. “Eleanor, dear. You look like an absolute vision. Zephyr, you did an incredible job with her hair.”

Zephyr murmured their thanks.

A knock at the door made everyone jump as Myrna peeked in. “It’s almost time. Jerran’s party is already walking to their spots.”

“We’ll be right there,” Ambrose called. To Eleanor, they added, “Don’t forget your bouquet.” They pointed to the vase on the counter.

“Thank you, Ambrose. I’ll remind her.” Yesult waited until Eleanor’s companions had left before turning to her daughter. “Let’s get that veil attached.”

Eleanor held still as Yesult carefully arranged the gauzy cloth around her face, pinning it to the crown of braids. After a few minutes, her mother choked out, “I’ve finished. Take a look.”

Opening her eyes, Eleanor gasped at the beautiful bride staring back. This is real. She blinked back her own tears. “Mother?” 

“Yes, dear.”

“I know it’s different than what we practiced, but I…I want both you and Father to give me away, I think.” Turning, she clasped her mother’s hands in her own. 

“Of course.” Yesult squeezed Eleanor’s hands, blinking rapidly. “I would be delighted. Let me relay that to Myrna so she knows.” She stepped away and handed Eleanor her bouquet. “Now, let’s not keep your handsome Grey Warden waiting. He’s practically climbing the walls.” 

💙💙💙💙

As Jerran made his way through the hall, he nearly bumped into a familiar skeleton dressed in a bowtie and dapper jacket and carrying a pillow. “Manfred!” He fist-bumped the skeleton, who offered a quick game of rock-paper-scissors. Jerran lost, of course. “You got the rings?”

“Uh-huh,” Manfred nodded, offering the pillow to Jerran. Two gold rings – gifts from Ambrose –  rested on the silk cloth, loosely attached by delicate ribbons. One was an engraved band decorated with a blue stone; the other a larger stone surrounded by delicately entwined leaves.

“Good man. Uh… skeleton. Try not to lose those.” Jerran patted Manfred on the back.

Manfred gave him a thumbs-up before Professor Volkarin’s distant voice called for him. 

Jerran waved the skeleton onward before stepping out into the Ingellvar’s gardens from a side door. A wisp danced around him; he grinned. “All right, lead the way.” 

Following the wisp to his assigned spot at the front of the garden, Jerran nodded to VORGOTH waiting patiently under a floral arch. A large bell hung over the Mournwatch faction leader, two silken cords swaying in a slight breeze, while a small table with an unlit candle stood in the center of the display. 

Once in place, Jerran glanced around to get his bearings. 

People mingled on a private balcony overlooking the Ingellvar Estate’s garden. He could distantly recognize the darker hues of a Morlitasi mage, the tall horns of a qunari warrior, and the distinct diamond-shaped hat of a famous detective, but the railing blocked much of the view. 

Long benches on either side of a long aisle filled the gardens, festooned in large flower arrangements of forget-me-nots, baby’s breath, and big, spiky flowers – Eleanor told him once, but he couldn’t remember – and draped in delicate gauze. 

Wisps darted throughout the crowd, chittering with excitement. Some helpfully lit the Veilfire braziers lining the area, while others led guests to open benches.

On one side, Eleanor’s extended relatives sat primly, mouths pursed with disapproval as they glared over at the Veilguard guests celebrating loudly on the other side of the garden. A few of the younger Ingellvars craned their necks. Jerran bet a whole dragon’s hoard that a few of them would stealthily make their way to the Veilguard’s reception area throughout the night. 

Some of the Veilguard – Reto and Tira leading the way –  had evidently commandeered the aisle for an impromptu fashion show. Mercer flexed his muscles for an admiring crowd.  

Someone screamed as Osla brought out her new favorite bug while Dáire and a group of Shadow Dragons pantomimed how they took down a building full of Venatori to Dan and several other Grey Wardens. 

Mournwatchers and Veil Jumpers gathered around Ezra, who was no doubt explaining something complicated about Spirits and gesturing to a Morlitasi instrument on display.

In the Crows’ section, Aria kept a strict eye on Nheil, Alecto, Shirevas, and the others who were obviously planning on stirring up shit later. Her face relaxed when Nels nudged her shoulder with his own.

It was almost like being back at the Lighthouse again. 

“YOUNG WARDEN.” VORGOTH’s rumbling voice from behind cut through his thoughts. “TODAY IS A FORTUITOUS DAY.”

“Yes, sir,” Jerran replied. Better to be polite to the unknown entity that could probably wipe him out with just one ringed finger. Even if you didn’t know half of the words, or how to address them. So far, VORGOTH seemed content with Jerran’s “sir.”

“A JOINING OF TWO HOUSES BODES GREAT PROMISE OF THE FUTURE.” The robed entity seemed to peer at him even without eyes. “YOUNG ELEANOR MUST BE TREATED WITH GREAT CARE.”

Was VORGOTH really doing this? Now, of all times? “I intend to, sir.” Sweat started trickling down Jerran’s back as VORGOTH let the words hang in the air.

In the awkward silence, the faint sounds of a violin began playing, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. Jerran had never been so relieved to hear music in his life.

VORGOTH slowly turned their gaze toward the garden entrance. “THE MOURNWATCH WILL KEEP DUE DILIGENCE.” 

The guests began finding their seats; Esha waved to Jerran excitedly from the Shadow Dragon section as she plopped down next to a scowling Darius, who looked like he’d rather eat nails than be there. Jerran managed a small wave back before he spotted Jin eyeing him from her spot in the front row next to her partner, Elysia.

Heloise and Portia first appeared at the entrance, linked arm and arm as they walked slowly toward Jerran. Heloise's lips slightly moved, and Jerran could practically hear her counting off the pacing that Myrna had forced everyone to practice for hours the day before. 

The Crows separated at the union candle, with Portia finding a spot on Jerran's side and Heloise's on Eleanor's.

As Zephyr and Kalais began their descent, Jerran squeezed his hands together to keep them from shaking. 

💙💙💙💙

Eleanor squeezed her father's arm as she watched Myrna cue Rowena and Lin, then Isiah and Ambrose to follow the others. 

In front of her, a young griffon wearing a wreath of flowers around its neck pranced, letting out a quiet squawk as its trainer occasionally fed it gingerwort truffles. Manfred clutched the ring bearer pillow to his chest, occasionally hissing at anyone who got too close to the precious items. 

Her father, Khoen, cleared his throat. “My daughter. Your mother and I… we are so very proud of you.” He glanced at her and she was surprised to see tears brimming his eyes. 

“When we found you… we had no idea how much you would change our lives. How much joy you would spark in us.” He paused as the trainer led the griffon out to the sound of the audience's faint gasps of delight. 

Yesult joined them, bending down to kiss Eleanor’s forehead. “You gave us an experience that we didn’t think we’d ever get the chance to have, and we are so happy that you’ve found love. You picked a good one, Eleanor.” 

She looked out down the long aisle where Jerran stood tall in his Grey Wardens Ceremonial uniform. Waiting for her.

Eleanor smiled. “I think so, too.” 

💙💙💙💙

The music changed. Jin stood, her blue dress swirling around her, and pivoted deliberately toward the garden entrance. In unison, the audience rose – some Veilguard members nudged by others – and followed her lead.

Looking up, Jerran focused his gaze at the end of the aisle and completely forgot about everything else. Fuck. 

Eleanor was absolutely stunning. 

Flanked by her parents, she seemed to float in a long wedding gown decorated with embroidered flowers on the bodice. Pale golden hair flowed freely over her delicate bare shoulders. A crown of braided flowers and ribbons encircled her head while her veil drifted behind her. 

And her smile and eyes. Maker’s Breath. He’d never seen her so radiant. 

A nudge from Isiah made him aware that his mouth was hanging open. Snapping it shut, Jerran took a deep breath and fought the urge to take her hand immediately.

The trio stopped just in front of the candle and VORGOTH raised their head. “WHO PRESENTS ELEANOR IN HER UNION WITH JERRAN IN THE PRESENCE OF MORTALS AND SPIRITS ALIKE?”

“Her mother and I do,” Khoen replied, looking steadily at Jerran. Take care of her.

Jerran nodded.

Eleanor hugged both of her parents before turning toward Jerran, her forget-me-not eyes dancing with delight. Grinning, he offered his hand to begin their new life together.

After VORGOTH welcomed the audience, intoning something very Mournwatch-y about life and death, they asked if anyone had objections to the union.

Jerran was vaguely surprised that the Duchess Isla Ingellvar – not his biggest fan – didn’t protest. Maybe the Crow Veilguard members obviously putting their hands on hidden daggers and other weapons had something to do with it. 

At VORGOTH’s prompting, Jerran and Eleanor rang the bell in the middle of the arch to invite Spirits of Love and Sacrifice to attend. The Spirits manifested in spots specially reserved for them off to the side.

VORGOTH turned to Jerran. “AND NOW THE GROOM AND BRIDE WILL EXCHANGE BINDING VOWS OF ENDURANCE.”

Oh. Right. Jerran dug the paper scrap from his pocket and squinted at the words. “Ellie, I…..” He blinked; the words seemed to blur. “Aw, fu– I mean, forget it.” He crumpled up the paper and tossed it. 

Taking one of her delicate hands in his own, he inhaled the scent of roses and Eleanor’s expensive perfume, and plunged ahead. “Ellie, when we met, I was the most screwed up, angry little shi – uh, elf. I didn’t think that I deserved happiness after everything I've done.You changed all that.” 

Eleanor bit her lip, trying not to cry. Distantly he heard someone – Portia, maybe? – start to sniffle. He squeezed her hand and continued, “Your kindness, your gentle spirit, taught me forgiveness, that everyone deserves a second chance. You saw me at my lowest and didn't walk away when most people would. You helped me heal in ways that I didn't think possible.”

An errant tear dropped down her cheek. He used his thumb to wipe it away as he finished, “Eleanor Rudith Amaryllis Ingellvar, I would choose you again and again even as a wisp thingy in the Fade. Ar lath ma, vhenan. I love you.” 

💙💙💙💙

Eleanor looked up at Jerran; her own notes were tucked into her bouquet. But at the moment, they didn't seem right. She handed the flowers to Ambrose and took Jerran's other hand. “Jerran… to say you have completely changed my life would seem like an exaggeration to some, while I would argue it is an understatement.” She paused as she searched for the words.

“Before meeting you, I believed I was never meant to find the love I read and dreamed about. I thought I was meant to live my life alone. I first told you that my scars made me feel unloveable. I thought you would walk away that day.” 

She reached up to caress his cheek. “Instead you kissed me…you kissed me and told me that you loved me and that my scars were beautiful. You have proven to me that those words are true over and over again. I will love you for the rest of my life and even when we are both gone and forgotten. I love you.”

Jerran blinked rapidly; she could tell he was moments away from breaking down.

VORGOTH coughed, or as much as the entity could cough. “EXCHANGING OF THE RINGS WILL NOW COMMENCE.”

At the cue, Manfred eagerly trotted forward with the pillow; the flower griffon joined the little skeleton at the front, giving Jerran a chance to recover. 

Eleanor giggled as the griffon trainer tried to bribe the animal with gingerwort truffles, to no avail. Despite cajoling, the griffon ended up lying at Jerran’s feet.  

Eleanor and Jerran exchanged rings, following VORGOTH’S prompting: “With this ring, I give you my heart. From this moment on, we shall walk side by side. I will shelter you from the storms and my arms shall be your home."

As they finished their vows, a wisp lit the unification candle between them.

Then VORGOTH uttered the words she had been waiting for a lifetime: 

“WITH THE POWER INVESTED IN ME – I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU HUSBAND AND WIFE. YOU MAY NOW KISS THE BRIDE.”

Eleanor looked up at Jerran as he slowly pulled her close, one hand around her waist. She placed her hand on his shoulder, feeling the strong muscles beneath the thick cloth. His hand gently cupped her cheek, the thumb stroking her jawline as his lips met hers. 

She opened her eyes when the kiss ended, the reluctance in Jerran’s eyes mirroring her own. The cheers and whistles of their friends masked his whisper as he leaned forward and promised, “There’ll be more of that tonight.”

They turned to face their beaming audience, Jerran nearly tripping over the griffon in the process. Someone – Ambrose – shoved the bouquet into Eleanor's hands as VORGOTH's sonorous voice echoed in her ears:

“I NOW PRESENT WARDEN JERRAN AND MRS. ELEANOR THORNE-INGELLVAR.”

—------

ROOK CREDITS

Eleanor, Isiah, Heloise, Khoen, Yesult- @a-mumbling-nerd 

Aria and Elysia - @bubblecat-co

Esha - @i-creatied-au

Nels - @madrabbit014

Darius @ennayeliah

Daire -@legendstrauma

Mercer and Dan - @evans-endeavors

Osla -@moonbunecho

Portia and Rowena - @booksncatsworld

Ambrose - @knowlsey

Nheil - @so--whoonos

Ezra -@lunammoon

Lin-@wardentabriis

Kalais -@sleepingtodream

Alecto - @alystrin03

Shirevas - @alliminoobers

Jin - @wickedadaar

Zephyr - @larknnightingale

Tira and Reto - @tiravi

_____________

A HUGE thanks to @a-mumbling-nerd for providing insight and Eleanor's dialogue. Again, I am honored to be able to work with such a wonderful character.

Apologies if I missed anyone. There were a lot of Rooks to juggle. Please know that your Rook was included in the wedding even if not mentioned!

Edit: Changed the ring vows slightly because I forgot I used a vow from a wedding website as a filler and forgot to change it.

[angelltheninth]

Fandom and Character Masterlist

Hazbinverse

Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk, Lucifer Morningstar, Lilith Morningstar, Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Cherry Bomb, Valentino, Vox, Velvet, Rosie, Blitzo, Stolas Goetia, Striker

Arcane

Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman, Ekko, Sevika, Silco, Marcus, Finn, Viktor, Jayce Talis, Mel Medarda, Ambessa Medarda, Cassandra Kiramman, Enforcer Grayson, Maddie Nolen, Steb, Loris

Jujutsu Kaisen

Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento, Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, Nobara Kugusaki, Maki Zenin, Gojo Satoru, Yuta Okkotsu, Geto Suguru, Haruta Shigemo, Mahito, Junpei Yoshino, Choso, Toji Fushiguro

Boku no Hero Academia

Keigo Takami, Bakugo Katsuki, Izuku Midoriya, Dabi, Shoto Todoroki, Eijirou Kirishima, Aizawa Shouta, Tomura Shigaraki, Hitoshi Shinsou, Mirio Toogata

Twisted Wonderland

Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond, Leona Kingscholar, Jack Howl, Ruggie Bucchi, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, Kalim Al-Asim, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit, Epel Felmier, Rook Hunt, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt, Dire Crowley, Divus Crewel

Avatar the Last Airbender/Legend of Korra

Aang, Katara, Sokka, Zuko, Suki, Azula, Ty Lee, Mei, Jet, Korra, Asami Sato, Mako, Bolin, Kya II, Lin, Kuvira

Call of Duty

Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, John Price, Alejandro Vargas

Blue Eye Samurai

Mizu, Akemi, Taigen

Honkai Star Rail

Blade, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Himeko, Sampo, Caelus, Gepard, Bronya, Serval, Welt, Kafka, Stelle, Luocha, Yukong, Fu Xuan, Luka, Argenti, Veritas Ratio, Gallagher, Aventurine, Jiaoqiu, Moze, Anaxa, Phainon, Mydei, Mr. Reca

Wuthering Waves

Calcharo, Jiyan, Rover, Aalto, Mortefi, Yuanwu, Scar, Xiangli Yao, Geshu Lin

Genshin Impact

Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Gorou, Thoma, Ayato, Xiao, Al-Haitham, Kaveh, Cyno, Tighnari, Scaramouche, Dottore, Pantalone, Pierro, Childe, Arlecchino, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Ororon, Dainsleif, Sethos, Zhongli

Zenless Zone Zero

Anton Ivanov, Lighter, Wise, Billy Kid, Von Lycaon, Seth Lowell, Asaba Harumasa

Love and Deepspace

Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

DC

Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Clark Kent, Connor Kent, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor, Diana Prince, Selina Kyle, Harley Quinn, Tim Drake, Wally West, Garfield Logan, John Constantine

Marvel

Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova, Kate Bishop, Bruce Banner, Thor, Loki, Druig, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, James “Logan" Howlett, Scott Summers, Remy Lebeau, Kurt Wagner, Stephen Strange, Carol Danvers, M'Baku, Peter Parker, Eddie Brock, King Valkyrie, Shang-Chi, Matt Murdock, Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Jake Lockley, Peter Quill

[antivan-sprig]

🔥Pyre Side Master List🔥

Figured I’d like to have a complete list for these since I don’t trust my own tagging system and because I really enjoyed doing these. Thank you again to all the folks who let me read their Rooks! I feel like I have an encyclopedic record for each of them now! And uh… sorry if Lisel brought up their worst memories ever and then dipped 😉

Scene Setter Post

⬆️ For anyone who wants to request a reading ⬆️

Ezra @lunammoon

Jerran @teamtakagi

Kalias @viagosbrother

Zephyr @larknnightingale

Kalais @elfmaid

Nheil @so--whoonos

Reto @tiravi

Alana @therivercrow

Shirevas @alliminoobers

Alecto @alystrin03

Xander @ezriell

Aria @bubblecat-co

Lin @wardentabriis

Sabine @seaglassmelody

Anselm @vishantikaffar

Cara @pixiedurango

Isabella @kissmythedas

Heloise @a-mumbling-nerd

Rook/Vincent @officialnostradamus

Jin @wickedadaar

Tamrian @randomness-in-motion

Ambrose @knowlsey

~ Wish I had come up with cool names for these- I may retroactively add some ~

[wardentabriis]

I haven't finished it yet, but have a little bit of the upcoming Lin/Lucanis wedding for Rook Wednesday :3

It's not what House Dellamorte would have wanted for its favorite son. No chantry, no wedding bells, no parading down the streets of Treviso. Still, Arlathan Forest is beautiful in a way only something so far from any city can be. At night, the glow of wild magic illuminates the sky like an ever-shifting aurora. The Veil is thin here, and the smell of burning kindling is heavy in the air.

“Fireflies,” Lin says, holding out his hand to one of the glowing insects floating through the Veil Jumpers’ camp. It alights on his outstretched finger, pulsing yellow-green. Before he can offer it to Lucanis, it flits away once more. “Flighty little things, beautiful nonetheless.”

In the bonfire light, the violet details of Lucanis’ black coat shimmer, embroidery shining with silver threads. It lays open over a simple undershirt, ruffles peeking out at his wrists, accompanied simply by high-waisted trousers and his newest, least worn-in pair of knee-high boots. It’s not what he’d wear for a chantry wedding, Lin knows that much, but it’s far more suited to a night of revelry in the middle of the woods.

Lin considered wearing his Warden dress uniform for a brief moment before they left, but it didn't feel right. Not to mention how poorly it fit when he tried it on for the first time in months. He opted for loose blue tunic and trousers he bought in Treviso, decorated with a navy and silver silk shawl. It felt right, somehow.

He asked Harding to braid Brona’s bloom into his hair tonight. She’d been bedridden in the Lighthouse infirmary for weeks, but Lin wasn’t about to let her miss out. Neither was she, it seemed, considering Eavan carried her here.

There’s hardly a soul missing among their friends, come to think of it. Surprising, considering how quickly they’d put everything together; then again, access to an eluvian network doesn’t hurt when it comes to planning.

It feels wrong to call the guests a rag-tag group. Some are far too important for that label. In any other circumstance, having the Lord Inquisitor, the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, the acting First Warden, the Imperial Divine, and the Archon of Tevinter seated around a fire in the middle of Arlathan would seem like an assassin’s dream. Not when the Crows are involved; at least not when the Fifth and Seventh Talon are present.

“Does it bother you?” Lin asks, caution tempering his voice. “Caterina not being here?”

Lucanis doesn’t answer for a moment. “I don’t know. She asked if I was joking when I invited her. And when I said I wasn’t...”

“You don’t have to tell me, not if you don’t want to say it.”

“She said I must be trying to fix my mistakes.”

“...Ah. I see.”

Lucanis rests his hand on Lin’s arm. “This is not a mistake. You are not a mistake.”

“I don’t think you’d be marrying me if you thought so.” Lin laughs, but it catches in his throat. “Creators, that’s strange to say. I never thought I’d get married. Honestly, I thought I'd succumb to the blight before I had the chance.”