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“It’s so strange to think we’re famous now,” Bellara gushes, tucked up in one of the numerous lounge chairs in the Dellamorte estate. “I mean, I guess Neve was already famous. And you, too, Lucanis. Or, infamous, rather. People knew about Harding, too, probably, from the Inquisition. But you know what I mean!”
Emmrich chuckles over his wine glass. “Of course, dear girl. We’re all heroes now, after all - none more than our very own leader.” He raises his glass to Rook on the other side of the room, who gives him a little laugh and waves a hand dismissively.
“Your name will go down in history, Rook,” Neve adds, “for better or for worse.”
“Well - ‘Rook’ will,” Lucanis muses.
Davrin cocks his head, swallowing a slice of cheese. “You don’t think she’s done enough for her given name to be renowned? She stopped three gods,” he says, as though Lucanis could have forgotten the events of the previous day.
“That’s not what I meant. I don’t even know her real name.”
The room falls silent as side conversations dwindle, forks are dropped, and every one of his friends turns to face him in various states of disbelief, amusement, and horror. After a moment, Rook howls with laughter and doubles over where she stands next to Taash.
“You don’t know your girlfriend’s name?” Taash asks while slapping a hand onto Rook’s back.
“I… She goes by ‘Rook.’” Davrin begins laughing at him, too, which gets everyone else going. Lucanis groans. “Oh, don’t tell me you all know her name!”
“Of course I do!”
“She’s our friend, Lucanis!”
“Since the day we met.”
Lucanis swears just as Rook straightens, wiping tears from her cheeks. He twists in his chair to face her. “Did you tell everyone but me? Why?”
“I didn’t! They just - Well…”
“Well?”
“They asked,” she says, and starts laughing all over again.
Heat blooms in his cheeks. He glares at the rest of his so-called friends. “Really?”
Bellara shrugs at him, smiling sheepishly. “After we met, she came to talk to me at the lighthouse, and I said ‘Hi, Rook! Do you like being called Rook?’ and she said ‘Sure,’ and I said ‘Is that short for something?’ and she said ‘No, it’s a nickname. Varric gave it to me.’ So I said, ‘What does it mean?’ and she told me that he called her that because she cheated every time they played cards together. Then, I said something like ‘What’s your given name? Or do you not like it?’ and she said, ‘Oh, I like it fine. It just makes sense to have a codename. My real name is-’”
“Bellara,” Rook interjects, “take a breath.” She glances at Lucanis. “Besides, if Lucanis wanted to know my given name, he would’ve asked by now, right?”
With that, she collects Taash and Davrin’s empty cups and steps out of the room.
“All right. You’ve had your fun,” Lucanis drawls as he enters the wine closet after her.
“Whatever do you mean?” Rook grins at him, her eyes bright with mischief. She’s busy lining up a plethora of glasses on a barrel. With nothing more than the briefest glimpse at the label, she thoughtlessly plucks a bottle from the rack and stabs her dagger into the cork.
“You got me. I am a terrible partner. Hilarious.” Lucanis watches with horrified fascination as she crudely yanks her dagger out with a sharp twist, cork impaled at the end. She lets out a delighted little laugh at her triumph and he adds his own glass to her line as he goes to stand beside her, bumping her hip with his. “Should I be expecting a punishment?”
Rook gives him a look as she starts pouring, and Lucanis has to guide her hand to stop her from spilling everywhere. “I wasn’t planning on it, but if that’s a request…”
“Another night, maybe,” he laughs. She finishes with the last bottle and downs the remaining sip or two still in the bottle.
Rook winces at the taste. “Blegh.”
“Do you have any idea how expensive that bottle was?” Lucanis teases.
“Then why does it taste like rotten grapes?”
“...Because it is red wine. That is sort of the whole thing.”
“That cannot be right,” she mutters under her breath. Rook grabs three of the glasses and Lucanis takes his and hers. “Ready to head back?”
“Tell me first, mi vida: your name?”
“Of course I’ll tell you.” Her wild grin softens as she pushes open the door with her lovely hip. “Once you guess right.”
And she turns out of the closet.
Maybe in an alternative universe out there, Lucanis was able to enjoy this party that he himself was hosting, merrily celebrating the continuation of the world with his dear friends.
Maybe, in this strange, alternate universe, he asked the love of his life her damn name.
“Lorelei?”
“No.”
“Mae?”
“No.”
“Dorianne?”
“What? No.” Rook looks down at him. His head is in her lap and she’s petting his hair so sweetly that he swears Spite is purring - but that might just be him. Vaguely, he’s aware that an attempt at conversation is being made above him between Rook and Davrin, but he’s too tipsy, frustrated, and high off the relief that naturally comes with killing three gods and living to kiss your lover another day to care. He realizes that he must look ridiculous, all sappy and love-drunk staring up at her, because she snorts at the sight of him. “Are you just guessing all the Tevene names you know?”
“No,” he scoffs. “Is it… The Viper?”
Rook cackles and brushes a hand over his forehead. He’s only had two glasses of wine - there’s no reason for his face to feel so warm. “Want a hint?”
“I think he’ll need one,” Davrin mocks somewhere above him.
Rook snorts. “It starts with an ‘E.’”
Getting closer. “Ella?”
“Nope.”
“Emory?”
“No.”
He thinks for a moment, then sits up. Lucanis narrows his eyes at her and peers at her face closer, closer, closer. “It couldn’t be… Elgar’nan?”
Davrin barks out a laugh, but Lucanis’ eyes stay trained on Rook’s crinkling eyes, mere inches from his own. “You caught me!”
Lucanis gives a faux-gasp at the faux-scandal. She pushes his face away.
He corners Neve as a conversation between her and Bellara splinters off. Lucanis takes his moment to strike and grabs Neve’s elbow before she can follow Bellara’s path toward Assan. Neve whirls around instantly, yanking her arm from his grasp with brute strength he didn’t expect from her. Or, perhaps he was just too inebriated to keep a decent grip. Concerning, if true.
Lucanis stares down at his fingers and flexes them. They seem to be in working order. Was he just not swift enough? No, it was the lack of follow-through. To truly take her down, he must pin the arm, and-
“Lucanis?” He blinks up at his name. Ah, yes. Neve. “Was there… a reason you hid in a corner until I was alone to grab at me? You better have a good reason, or I’m telling Rook.”
“Rook,” he parrots. “Her name. You’re a detective. You know it.”
Disarmed, Neve laughs and crosses her arms. “I asked Varric, you mean. I don’t just meet up with anybody.”
“But you know her name,” Lucanis insists.
Neve sighs. “Yes, Lucanis.”
“Tell me.”
“Rook’s clearly having fun playing with you. Why should I take that away from her?”
He’d predicted this. “Free stakeout. Best eyes in Treviso.”
Her eyebrows raise. “Just a stakeout? I’ve got a dozen folks in Docktown who do that for me already.”
“Free assassination.” Neve starts laughing at him. “Anybody you want. No questions asked.”
Neve takes a few steps away from him, shaking her head and turning back the way she was going. “Sorry, Lucanis.”
“Free assassination!” Lucanis says again. “Do you know how much I am worth?!”
Across the room, Rook turns away from a conversation with Taash to look at him. It’s hard to say with the distance, but he thinks her face is somber and her eyes are red and glinting in the light. At the sight of him, her tight frown is loosened a bit. Over the other voices in the room, he can just make out her wet chuckle.
Well. At least his failures cheer her up.
“No, Lucanis."
“Why not?” Oh, Maker’s breath, he needs to stop drinking. He can’t be whining like some bratty child to Davrin of all people. Lucanis sets his newly-refilled glass onto the countertop beside him and summons a semblance of sobriety by sheer force. “This is my house, you know.”
“Meaning?”
“I could uninvite you at any time.”
“Is that right?”
“That is right.”
Davrin nods sagely. “But could you uninvite Assan?”
Lucanis falters. “If you drive me to do it. It would be on your own conscience.”
“All right,” Davrin leans in closer. “How about when Rook sees that you’ve kicked us out? You don’t think she’ll mind?”
He can already picture the sadness in her eyes. Her little pout. Her rage at him turning out dear friends on such a night over something so juvenile.
“Bluff called,” Lucanis admits, and pushes off the counter to lick his wounds.
Honestly, Lucanis was ready to give the whole thing up for the night. He could beg forgiveness from her another time, in the privacy of their bedroom.
Naturally, Spite had other ideas.
Bellara had been entertaining them all with a story when Spite slid up to Emmrich’s side. Something about a time when her and her Veil Jumper friends got lost - when weren’t they getting lost? - that ended up with them joining a nug colony for a few days. It was, truthfully, pretty hilarious.
Of course, Spite had to ruin it.
Tell. US.
Emmrich blinks in surprise and turns towards Spite’s voice. “Tell you what, my friend?”
“Ugh. Ignore him, Emmrich.”
“Spite’s acting up?” Rook asks, standing from the chaise in concern.
“It is nothing.”
Left out. SECRETS.
Emmrich hums thoughtfully. “I see. Yes, it does not feel nice to be left out. Would you like a drink, Spite?”
“He does not need a drink-” Lucanis starts before being cut off by Spite worming his way to his mouth. “Need. ROOK.”
Lucanis quickly takes control again and covers his mouth with his hand.
“Tell us how you really feel, Spite,” Taash grunts.
Sparing a glance to Rook, Lucanis notes that her cheeks have gone delightfully rosy. When their eyes meet, she quirks an inquisitive - or perhaps suggestive - brow.
“Rook’s name,” he quickly corrects. “With the gods taken care of, I guess this is where his energy must go. Pay him no mind.”
Only one. Not. FAIR!
“No,” Emmrich coos, “it’s not very fair. Oh, Rook, won’t you just tell him?”
Rook cocks her head in thought. “Is there a way I could tell Spite and not Lucanis?”
“I am leaving,” Lucanis announces, and walks across the room to stare at a wall.
Distancing himself from Rook may have shut Spite up, but it did Lucanis no favors. Well past tipsy, all he can think is Rook, Rook, Rook. The world was saved, she was back, and they were both free - Despite his affection for their friends, he sort of wishes everyone would go to the guesthouse already so they could at last be alone together. He is still recovering from the weeks without her, and thus needs nothing more than to drown himself in her scent, her touch, her love.
Determined and desperate for her, Lucanis crosses the room quickly to weave his arms around her stomach from behind and drop his head onto her shoulder. The discussion with Emmrich he was interrupting could have been life-or-death - he couldn’t care less.
“Rook,” he says insistently. He feels her stomach contract in laughter and a hand come up to caress the side of his head.
“Sorry, Emmrich - Yes, dear?”
“Rook,” he says again, and kisses up her neck.
She squawks indignantly and swats half-heartedly at his iron grip around her waist. “You know we’re around people, right? This is very unlike you.”
“Make them leave,” he mumbles into her skin.
“Oh, amatus…” Rook sighs happily and knots her hand in his hair.
“Another time, Rook?” Emmrich says fondly.
“What does ‘amatus’ mean?” Lucanis asks once Emmrich’s footsteps are far enough away. He's heard the term before, of course, and knows it to be a term of endearment, but he's never questioned its literal translation.
“It means ‘pain in my ass.’”
Lucanis hums and nips below her earlobe. “I can be, if you so desire.”
“All right!” Rook says loudly and suddenly. She steps forward and claps her hands, so Lucanis lifts his head from her shoulder - though he doesn’t release her from his embrace. “It’s awfully late, so we’re just gonna head to bed now, yeah?”
Lucanis can’t help his grin. (He is never drinking again.)
“Would you like any help cleaning up?” Sweet, sweet Bellara asks, but Lucanis is already pulling Rook to the door.
“Leave it for the morning,” Lucanis decides. “Stay as long as you want. Emmrich has the key to the guesthouse.”
“And don’t come upstairs!” Rook adds before letting the door slam shut behind her. She swivels to face him. She is devastatingly beautiful like this; soft and relaxed; pink and warm with drink; gentle eyes betraying how utterly infatuated she is. “I hope you’re happy. Now they’re all gonna think I have a crush on you or something.”
Lucanis cackles and leads her upstairs.
They haven’t actually done this that many times. There was the hands-in-pants fumbling in the music room; A few days later, when he broke that whole promise about how Dellamortes never kneel and tasted her for the first time on her chaise; The night she returned to him and they made love, taking the time with each other they thought they would never have again.
This is different.
Lucanis’ hands clasp her hips. Rook’s head is thrown back and her spine arched, exposing the long line of her neck and accentuating the movement of her breasts. She rises up off of him before sinking down again, again, again, and grinding her hips against his once he’s fully sheathed inside her.
“Lucanis,” she moans. “Fuck, Lucanis.”
“Yes,” he groans. How he wishes he could sing her name the way she does his.
“You feel so good, Lucanis, Andraste’s tits-”
“Mierda - Evelyn-”
Rook freezes above him. Chest heaving, she lifts her head up and blinks down at him, caught somewhere between ecstasy, bewilderment, and fury. “Who is Evelyn?”
“Not you, evidently.” Lucanis smirks as her eyes narrow, and rolls his hips. “Don’t stop, mi vida, please.”
Skeptically, she rises again, and resumes the rhythm she seemingly cultivated perfectly to destroy him from the inside out.
“That’s it,” he praises, and he earns a breathy whine for the effort. “Perfect, Eleanor.”
Rook collapses on top of him, laughing breathlessly. She smushes her face into his chest and swats his arm. “Lucanis,” she groans in dismay.
He soothes her, running a heavy hand over her spine. “Yes, Edgar?”
Rook snickers again. It feels it inside her as her stomach tenses with each giggle. “If I tell you my name, do you promise never to say another woman’s name in bed again?”
“I vow to never waste my air on any other syllables. What good are other words at all, if they don’t prompt your eyes to meet mine?”
Rook leans up, pressing her arms against her chest so she can look at him properly. “You are ridiculous.”
“I am in love.”
Rook kisses him then, so delicately he might call it ‘innocent’ were he not still inside her. She pulls back just enough to ask, “What sort of drink would that kiss be? Not honey and lavender, nor a kiss goodbye…”
“How cruel of you to ask me a question when you haven’t answered mine.”
Rook tilts her head at him, matching her crooked smile. Finally, she admits, “My name is Elodie.”
“Elodie,” he repeats, marveling at the feel of it on his tongue. Elodie, Elodie, Elodie. “Perfect.”
“Well?” Elodie asks after another chaste kiss. “You have to answer my question now.”
“If I ever taste anything as sweet as your lips, my Elodie, you’ll be the first to know.”