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The lighthouse kitchen was bathed in the soft green glow of the Fade, casting an eerie yet tranquil light over the room. The midnight hour brought a stillness that was almost palpable, interrupted only by the faint hiss of the coffee pot. Alessa moved quietly, preparing two small dishes of spaghetti alongside the coffee, an Antivan blend with a splash of liquor, known as caffè corretto.
Alessa wasn't a fan of coffee, especially not late at night, but she had chosen this particular blend as a peace offering. It was an attempt to break the ice, to find common ground with Lucanis, her fellow Crow, who had been avoiding her since their initial tense encounter a week ago. The lighthouse had become a temporary refuge for their team, a place to regroup, rest, and strategize. Yet, the silence between her and Lucanis felt like a ticking fire bomb, a tension that needed to be addressed. The elf knew that much from experience.
The lighthouse had become a temporary refuge for her team, a place to regroup and plan their next moves. The urgency of their mission hung in the air, but so did the silence and tension. Alessa noticed the quirks of her teammates, small habits that spoke volumes about their state of mind. It reminded her of the early days of the Blight, when she had tried to build camaraderie amidst the chaos. Each person not realizing just how observant she was until a small thing was done to help make their task easier, or a bobble popping up like a small gift to lighten the wear mood. Harding and Davrin seemed to like the secret helper, Taash grew suspicious, Neve was cautious. Emmrich she was unsure about still since she was a tiny bit weirded out by the whole undead manager thing.
Yet, Lucanis remained an enigma. The fellow Crow had been evasive, purposely avoiding her whenever possible, and she knew he was since she caught his shadow quickly disappearing as soon as she noticed him. Their initial encounter had been tense, glaring at the other to not reveal anything to the rest of the group, daring to let out the other's secret. It was a mutual understanding that they kept quiet, but it also felt like a dangerous game since the other had no clue just how much shit Lucanis was in and her being the Heroine. Two could keep a secret if one was dead, a grim Crow proverb that felt uncomfortably relevant.
She glanced at the door, half expecting Lucanis to appear. Instead, she heard the soft footfalls of Emmrich no doubt finally going to bed after a long night with his nose in his books, a reminder that she wasn't alone in her thoughts. But it was Lucanis she was waiting for. She had chosen to make coffee— and betted he would smell that aroma from his room.
She had noticed his late-night habits, often finding him in the kitchen when she herself couldn't sleep. However, the elf would only peek around the crack in the door to check on him before continuing on her way. Tonight, she hoped to catch him in one of those moments, to share a meal and perhaps a conversation that would help clear the air. May be even be on friendly terms.
But, she knew that he would most likely be suspicious of her motives and why she was really here since they had yet to really speak to one another.
When the door finally creaked open, Lucanis entered, his expression guarded. Alessa looked up, offering a small smile as she poured a cup of coffee into two mugs and handed one to him. "Buenas noches," she said, her tone casual. "Figured you'd want some."
Lucanis accepted the mug, his eyes briefly meeting hers. "Grazie," he replied, his voice neutral. There was a pause, a moment of awkward silence. ‘Ugh, I’m going to have to take the first sip. I don’t even like this type of coffee!’ In fact, Zevran constantly teased her mercilessly about how she had hers with milk and sugar. But, there was no way this Crow in front of her was going to drink if she didn’t. Understandable, but she hoped the grimace would be masked well.
"Seems we both prefer to avoid crowds," Alessa said, trying to lighten the mood. But ‘avoid crowds’ was an understatement, both preferred their solitude even though they could be found sitting around the edges of the group during dinner time. "I thought we could talk. Clear the air, maybe."
Lucanis took a small sip of his coffee, his gaze shifting to the window. "What's there to clear? We're here for the same reason. We know what's at stake."
Alessa nodded, humming as she leaned against the counter. "True, but it's not just about the mission. It's about trust. We can't afford to keep secrets from the team, not ones this big."
Lucanis's expression hardened slightly. "Secrets are a Crow's currency, you know that as well as I do."
"Yes, but this isn't just a Crow matter," Alessa countered, her voice steady. "We're dealing with Solas and the fate of the world. If we want to succeed, we need to trust each other."
There was another pause, longer this time. Lucanis seemed to weigh her words, his fingers tapping lightly against his mug.
"So, 'Rook'," he began, the name tinged with irony. "How do you plan to lead us? Is this how you defeated the Blight, with secret identities and hidden truths?"
His question was pointed, almost a challenge. Alessa met his gaze, but instead of the defiant or dismissive response he might have expected, she hesitated. Her eyes flickered away, a shadow crossing her face. The mention of the Blight stirred memories that were clearly painful.
For a moment, the kitchen felt even colder, the weight of the past pressing down on them. Alessa swallowed thickly, a haunted look overtaking her expression. She looked away, the momentary vulnerability surprising them both. It was clear that the Blight was not a victory in her past, but a burden she still carried.
Lucanis, taken aback by her reaction, softened his tone. "I'm not here to undermine you, but trust goes both ways. We can't afford to be in the dark about each other , especially not now."
Alessa nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. "You're right," she admitted quietly. "But some things... some things are hard to let go of. The Blight, it wasn't just about defeating an enemy, gathering an army with all the hoops I had to jump to do so. It was... it was losing friends, making impossible choices. It changed me."
Lucanis watched her, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "I get it. We all have our scars."
She looked back at him, a flicker of determination returning to her gaze. "No more dodging, please? I’m actually a pretty good listener and easy going. We face this together, as a team, si ?"
Lucanis nodded, a subtle acknowledgment of their newfound understanding. It wasn't a full reconciliation, but it was a step towards building the trust they needed. It was something.
Alessa nodded, the brief moment of understanding between them easing some of the tension. She turned back to the counter, starting to prep the noodles for cooking. The quiet of the kitchen was broken only by the clatter of pots and the soft simmer of water heating on the stove.
As she reached for the pasta, Lucanis watched her with a curious expression. "You've got quite the knack for this," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "A bit different from what I expected from someone who claims to be from an unwashed country like Ferelden."
Alessa chuckled, catching the playful edge in his tone even if it did sound a bit… off. Like he wasn’t used to joking with a friend. "Well, a few years in Antiva should have fixed that," she quipped back, a teasing glint in her eyes.
Lucanis snorted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You'd think so," he retorted. "But habits die hard, don't they?"
Without a word of hint to her passive aggressive thoughts, Alessa picked up the bundle of spaghetti noodles, holding them out in both hands as she prepared to break them in half. Lucanis's eyes widened, a look of mock horror crossing his face. "You wouldn't," he said, his voice filled with exaggerated disbelief. "You wouldn't disgrace the spaghetti like that."
She paused, looking at him with a playful glare, the noodles poised to snap. There was a dramatic silence, the tension building as Lucanis tilted his head, challenging her with a raised eyebrow. With a slow, deliberate motion, Alessa bent the noodles just enough to make them creak, but then let them fall whole into the boiling pot. They began to soften and sink, slowly melting into the pasta they were meant to be.
"See?" Lucanis said, his tone light with relief. "I knew you had some respect for my homeland."
Alessa shot him a look, her eyes narrowing playfully. "The only disgrace here," she muttered softly, just loud enough for him to hear, "is you calling me an unwashed Ferelden."
Lucanis chuckled, a genuine laugh that softened the lines of his face. "Fair enough," he conceded. "But it's good to know you're not completely without taste."
“I am half Antivan too, thank you.”
“So betraying your homeland with the breaking of cooking rules, tsk, shameful.”
“Careful, you’ll eat these disgraced noodles.”
As the noodles cooked and the aroma of brewing coffee filled the air, the atmosphere in the kitchen lightened. It wasn't just the casual banter or the shared meal; it was the small steps towards camaraderie that neither felt since leaving home, and for one of them, that had been for a good long moment. Alessa and Lucanis might still have their secrets, but for now, they had found a way to coexist, bound by the uncertain future they faced and the silent promises of mutual respect and understanding.
As the water bubbled and the noodles cooked, the initial light-heartedness gave way to a somber silence. Lucanis watched Alessa, his expression thoughtful. When the noodles were strained and set on plates, he finally broke the silence with what was bothering him.
"How are things back home?" he asked, his voice low and serious. The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken concerns.
Alessa hesitated, her hands stilling as she prepared to serve the meal. She didn't speak until she placed a plate in front of Lucanis, the steam rising between them like a fragile barrier. "Do you truly want to know?" she asked, her voice quiet but edged with an intensity that hinted at deeper turmoil.
Lucanis met her gaze, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "I do," he said simply.
Alessa took a deep breath, her expression hardening as she began to speak. "The war isn't going well," she admitted, her tone tinged with frustration. "The Houses are in turmoil, still torn between old loyalties when it should be dealing with the new threats. Treviso fell under Qun hands, and we’re fighting to gain our city back. What should have been a straightforward mission—to find you, to kill whoever was hunting you, and bring you back—has turned into another wild chase. And now, here we are, facing the possibility of another world-ending catastrophe. So if doesn’t look like we’re going home anytime soon."
Her voice grew harsher, colder, with each word, the weight of her burdens evident. "I've already saved the world once. It feels like every time we think it's over, there's something new. How many more times do we have to fight the same battle, save the same world? It's exhausting."
Lucanis listened in silence, his expression growing more somber with each sentence. He had known Alessa as the hero of Ferelden, the Warden who had saved the world during the Blight. Then the woman who he saw in Viago’s backyard training with fresh, nasty scars from her tortured months. Still fighting for herself, for her sanity. Then in passing as she and Zevran walked Antiva City beach, skin healed and far more darker than any Ferelden, laughing with their son. But seeing her now, weary and burdened by the endless cycle of conflict, he understood the depth of her frustration. The weight of being a hero was a heavy one, and it seemed that the world was content to keep adding to it.
Alessa's eyes were distant, lost in thoughts of battles fought and sacrifices made. "Sometimes I wonder," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "if the world should just make up its mind—stay saved or end already."
Lucanis had no response, no comforting words to offer. The reality of their situation, the gravity of their mission, and the toll it had taken on Alessa were painfully clear. In that moment, he saw not just the legendary hero, but a person exhausted by a seemingly endless struggle.
‘Let her rest.’
Alessa looked at Lucanis, bright blue hazel eyes piercing through the dim light of the kitchen. "Do you really understand what this is going to do to you?" she asked, her voice firm and unyielding. "This isn't just another job. It changes you, down to your core. Once you step into this, there's no going back to who you were before."
Lucanis felt a chill run down his spine, her words striking a nerve. There was a stab of uncertainty in his chest, a fear he hadn't felt in a long time. He tried to maintain his composure, but the gravity of her warning was palpable. "Did it change Zevran?" he asked, his voice quieter, more introspective. They both knew he wasn't just talking about the mission, but the life they led during the Blight and the choices they made after.
Alessa didn't shy away from his gaze. "More than you can imagine," she replied, her tone softening slightly. "Zevran... he's different because of all of this. It's about the things you lose, the parts of yourself you have to leave behind."
A heavy silence settled over them as they finished their meal, each lost in their thoughts. The clang of dishes being washed was the only sound that filled the room, a mundane task that felt oddly grounding amidst the weighty conversation.
As they dried the pans, Alessa glanced at Lucanis, her expression softening, there was no way she was going to leave him hanging with this new dark tension. "Know this," she said, her voice steady. "I've got your back if you've got mine. Whatever happens, I will stand by you."
Lucanis looked at her, seeing not just the determined leader but someone who had faced countless trials and still stood strong. Her offer of solidarity was both a promise and a challenge, a commitment to face whatever lay ahead with mutual trust and support. He nodded, a sense of something undefined settling over him. "I've got your back," he replied, the words carrying a weight of their own.
‘I’ve got your back.’