Archive of Our Own

Lucanis initially noticed it in the weeks leading up to summer’s end. At first, he had surmised it was the subtle cooling of the air that had Rook feeling a little melancholy; when she did not bounce back in her usual way, a slow churning concern began to form in the depths of his heart. It wasn’t enough to act upon. Not yet. They hadn’t been together for the past two decades without a solid foundation of trust, and he would fall back on that to soothe the growing uncertainty he carried.

He watched her from the doorway to their bedroom for a while; Rook was reading in the dying evening sun on the balcony, her feet propped up on the railing and a glass of wine set down beside her chair. Even now, he was still often captivated by the quiet beauty of her. She’d been graying since the fall of the Evanuris, but her features were as sharp as ever. Truly, he’d been blessed to have her as his partner – his equal – for all this time.

Which was why the subtle shift in her had him worried.

Spite had been lounging out there with her; the demon came silently padding inside back to him with an unsettled grumble that only Lucanis could hear. Something has changed . I don’t know what it is .

He wasn’t sure if Spite picking up on it actually made it better or not. Over time, they had become far more adept at communication, and it was easy for them to relay thoughts and ideas nearly seamlessly these days. Time had tempered much of the spirit’s anger.

She will tell us when she is ready . Lucanis offered the affirmation to him, and Spite seemed satisfied with that for now. 

“Amor.” He said softly, finally entering the room. “I’ve come to collect you for dinner.”

Rook smiled before she even looked up from the page, and Lucanis was struck – as always – with a warmth that nestled its way right next to his heart. When she closed the book and stood to meet him, there was only the faintest glimmer of sadness in her eyes that he wished she would let him just chase away forever.

“How was your day?” She gladly slipped into his arms in the doorway, her fingertips carding through his graying facial hair and smoothing over his cheek. Lucanis leaned in to kiss her, a soft hum rumbling in his throat when her other hand curved around the back of his neck in response. He marveled even now about the way they fit together, two parts of a puzzle always destined to finish what was left unsaid between them.

“Ordinary,” he replied blithely, “By some miracle of the Maker himself.” 

Her smile widened at that, and she looped her arm in his to allow him to lead her to the hall. 

Lucanis had never believed he could settle into the mantle of First Talon given time, but he supposed his grandmother had actually seen something within him all those years ago. With him at the head of the Antivan Crows, they bolstered defenses in both Treviso and beyond, providing safety where a previously exploitable gap had been. Never again would his city see an occupation under an army like the Antaam; not while he drew breath, at the very least. With his own personal demon prowling at his heels, the handful of assassination attempts over the years had been easily stamped out. Spite did not tolerate anyone entering the home that wasn’t supposed to be there, always eager to alert if anything was even the slightest bit out of line.

Rook had mostly retired from Grey Warden patrols within the last five years, instead spending time among fledglings from other houses to teach them combat against something that wasn’t another Crow. Some Talons had been adverse to the idea initially, but the last batch of more robust fighters that had been produced spoke volumes on the technique’s efficacy. With less darkspawn roving outside Treviso’s borders these days, it kept her otherwise busy and involved in a way that she enjoyed.

Dinner was a casual affair, as it often was when it was just the two of them. Illario and his brood had other plans for the evening, which meant Rook and Lucanis could share the same side of the table overlooking the villa’s gardens. The seasonal change normally brought around a different array of blooms; the final breath of summer was determined to keep them around as long as possible this year.

The last flecks of sunshine had just begun to disappear behind the trees. Lucanis lifted his arm to allow Rook to tuck against him on the banquette; she threaded her fingers into his, and leaned her head into the crook of his shoulder. He let out a soft, satisfied sigh.

For a moment, he felt her tense and hesitate against him. Wordlessly, he brought her hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. Rook slowly exhaled beside him. 

Spite stirred restlessly, but ultimately their partner revealed nothing.

She will . He reassured the demon. She is trying . The words did little to assuage the slow curling anxiety in his chest, but they were true. All in time.

The rest of the evening passed relatively uneventfully – although not boring in any stretch of the word – and by the time the two of them fell into the sheets together, it was closing in on midnight. Her lips met his in a needy way he adored – on the occasions it surfaced –, her hands already sliding under his shirt to remove it. He trailed open-mouthed kisses down her throat, along her clavicle, lower still past the curve of her breast, until he could only chuckle against her slick heat when her thighs held him firmly in place.

Lucanis was, if nothing else, a devoted romantic; when she asked, he answered. Always. 

.  .  .

Spite roused him from slumber some time later. Not in the urgent way, where danger was imminent, but in the slow waking haze he often did when there was something that required his attention. Lucanis noticed Rook’s familiar warmth at his side was not where it should be, and when he opened his eyes he put both of those pieces together.

Rook sat at the edge of the bed, her back to him, the sheets pooled around her bare waist. The moonlight filtering through the window cast her in a pale glow, each ridge of lean muscle and old scars he knew by heart laid out for him to see. An occasional nightmare would wake her in the night, but this was different. He could see it in the tension of her shoulders, the subtle trembling of her fingers as they gripped the sheets.

“Mi amor,” he murmured, “Tell me what’s troubling you.”

She didn’t respond immediately. A slow, shaking breath filled her lungs, and Lucanis was suddenly filled with a deep, viscous dread.

“I hear it.” Rook spoke barely in a whisper. When she turned her head to look at him, he could see tears streaking down her cheeks. 

He pulled himself upright in an instant, his hands automatically going to wipe the tears from her face. Her eyes met his. Lucanis tried to ignore the way Spite buzzed at the back of his skull like an anxious dog.

“Hear… what?” There was a distinct possibility he did not truly wish to know the answer.

Quietly, Rook’s eyes flickered to the floor, and then out at the nearly full moon hung in the sky. She seemed to contemplate that for a moment, as if counting each star that speckled the night could fix whatever she was struggling with. Ultimately it did not, and she tore her eyes away to stare at the pattern of the carpet again.

“The Calling.”

Lucanis’ heart stopped, and just like that, it was twenty years ago and he was pulling broken glass out of her fist in the Lighthouse’s meditation chamber while she told him of the price a Warden eventually paid for their order.

Someday the blight in my blood will call me down to the Deep Roads, and I won’t be coming back .

If he was being honest with himself – and he did not wish to be at this moment – Lucanis had all but forgotten it. The topic had never come up again, and there were precious few Wardens he knew personally these days, regardless. Davrin had spoken on it once or twice in their travels back then, nothing more than a passing comment. He knew of Crows who’d taken contracts from Wardens looking for an easier way out. Could he stomach that, if she asked? It didn’t really matter if he could or not – he would see through whatever she decided was right. He needed to.

What did matter was the way his wife was looking at him, stricken with a grief that he could not truly understand.

He gathered her up in his arms, and drew her back into his lap as a choked sob escaped her throat. 

“I’m sorry, love,” she bit out, “I didn’t – I couldn’t–”

Lucanis soothed her with a soft hush , fighting the cold panic threatening to rise within him, too. Whatever her reason for not telling him sooner, he did not need to know. The time they had together was suddenly quite precious and limited; he didn’t need an apology. He wound his fingers into her hair and cradled her close, tucking his head down into the crook of her neck. Her scent was there as always; leather, wood smoke, citrus. A hard lump settled in his throat, and numbness seeped into him, straight down to his bones. 

Spite appeared from a shadowed corner of the room, slinking his way up onto the bed beside them. The demon said nothing, only radiated a sadness so deep Lucanis had only ever felt it once before when they thought Rook lost to the depths of the Fade. Even then, it had been charged with rage and fury at Solas’ betrayal. There was no one to be angry at this time.

Rook drew one hand away from where she had it cradled against his chest, reaching near the place Spite had settled rather uneasily beside her. Lucanis watched as he wrapped both of his hands carefully around hers, knowing she’d only feel the ghost of his touch there. It was a tender gesture regardless, and she exhaled a shaky sigh in response.

“Talk to me, Rook,” he whispered after a stretch of silence, “Where do we go from here?”

“I should feel lucky that I got nearly thirty years.” She sniffled softly. “And probably should have discussed the particulars with you a long time ago.”

“Eternity would not be enough time, if that’s what you got.” Lucanis interjected. 

A mirthless laugh escaped her throat at that. “I don’t think you can kill every darkspawn in Thedas to get me out of this one.”

He hesitated. 

“Rook,” he started slowly, “I don’t know what you have planned, but I do not think I can–”

“ Maker , no.” She sat back from him in his lap to search his eyes, her hands coming to cup his face. “I would never ask that of you.”

Lucanis exhaled in relief, his shoulders slumping. The thought occurred to him that he knew her better than that; she was too pragmatic, too straightforward to ever take the easy way out. When she drew him forward he gladly let her, the tender kiss that followed saying more than words ever could.

“I have some time. A little.” Rook’s fingers roamed his face until her thumb came to rest against his lips. “Enough to settle what needs to be done. To spend the rest with you. Then I’ll leave for the Deep Roads.”

“I am coming with you.”

“Lucanis–”

“Rook, please .” He hated the way his voice broke when he said her name. 

She was silent for a long, heavy moment. Spite stirred uneasily beside them, unsure of why Rook would ever hesitate to have them come along. Finally she let out a slow, shaky sigh and nodded. Lucanis exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He leaned them back into the sheets again, tucking her close against him.

“We can figure out the rest in the morning.” Her voice was muffled from where she had her face tucked into his neck. Lucanis smoothed his palm down her spine, and she sighed again; this one was more relaxed, more herself. Spite settled with his back to Rook’s, a silent guardian.

When he felt her finally drift to sleep some time later, he pressed a kiss against her hair.

.  .  . 

Lucanis did not sleep well. Most of the night had been spent stuck in a racing downward spiral of thoughts. He knew he was grieving already –  how could he not be? They had killed gods together, fought the blight in ways that had been downright unimaginable. Most would assume they’d earned the right to a quiet retirement after that. Would he have done it differently, knowing that giving his heart to a Warden would always end in the dark?

No. He wouldn’t have. Rook had saved him in more ways than one during their time together; he’d do it a hundred times over if it meant ending up in her arms again.

She stirred against him with a soft grumble, and Lucanis was quick to nuzzle into her cheek with gentle affection. 

“Hi, love.” Her voice was rough with sleep, but she still moved to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer. “Did you sleep?”

“No.” There was no point in lying to her about it. She sighed against him, kissed his jaw, and then moved to extricate herself from their tangle of limbs and bed sheets.

“I’m sorry. Nothing about this is easy.” Rook sat up, and ran her fingers through her hair; from where Lucanis was laying behind her he felt his heart flutter. He’d witnessed her do the same action thousands of times over their years together. His chest tightened at the thought of waking up one morning, and her not–

Lucanis forced it from his mind. Laying in bed grieving was not the best use of time.

“Do you mind if I take the morning to get some things in order? I have some letters to write.” She looked over her shoulder to him. “I don’t have it in me to see everyone that’s left in person.”

“Whatever you need, amor. I’ll sort breakfast.” 

Rook smiled at that, warm and genuine. “I’d like that.”

She rose from the bed, and set about stepping around the spread of clothing they’d left on the floor the evening before in search of something to wear downstairs. After a short moment of staring up at the ceiling, Lucanis followed suit, and set to the task of getting around for the day.

The villa was thankfully quiet during the earlier hours of the morning. He parted ways with Rook at the top of the staircase – not before pressing a kiss against her cheek – and meandered down towards the kitchen in search of a cup of coffee.

It was blissfully devoid of any activity for the moment. Lucanis sighed in relief, and set about getting the water going. The staff he employed certainly knew how to brew a perfectly decent cup, but he’d become accustomed to making it himself and rather preferred it that way. He grabbed a pair of mugs from the rack above the counter, and let routine carry him through the familiar process.

“Lucanis.”

The voice startled him, and he whipped around to see Illario standing in the doorway. He regarded him quietly for a moment, but ultimately returned to grinding the beans by hand. “Isn’t it a little early for you to be up?”

He left a hint of humor in his tone, but Lucanis could feel his cousin’s eyes all but burning a hole in his back. Illario was silent as he paced around to the opposite side of the kitchen island, drawing a stool out to perch on. He leaned his weight onto his forearms with a contemplative expression.

“I must be honest with you. Yes.” He paused as if deeply pondering that for a moment. 

Lucanis snorted softly in laughter. He couldn’t help it. Silence stretched between them as he continued with his task. Illario wanted something, then; it was just a matter of what, and how he was about to go about asking for it.

The first few years after his betrayal had been the most difficult. Lucanis hadn’t known what he could and couldn’t trust from him, if he’d awaken with a knife to his throat, or if the disgraced Crow would decide to just up and disappear in the middle of the night. Eventually, he’d decided that the constant worrying over it wasn’t making him any younger, and if Illario truly was going to turn on him again, he would deal with it when it happened.

That was nearly twenty years ago, now. Not only had the entire event sobered some of the ostentatious behavior, but he’d eventually settled down, married – something Lucanis had never predicted he’d see in his lifetime. The signature charm had never lessened, of course. That was just who his cousin was.

“Are you going to tell me what’s the matter with your wife?” The question was more forward than he expected from Illario, and Lucanis found himself raising an eyebrow at him in return. 

“Did you ask her yourself?”

“I did. She told me to ask you .”

Lucanis sighed, filled the coffeemaker with water, and then leaned back against the counter opposite from his cousin. He regarded him cooly for a moment; Illario looked quite serious, for once. That was something.

“Rook hears the Calling.” Lucanis said before he could mentally talk himself out of it. He was family. He deserved to know. “So that’s… that.”

“Oh.” It was such a soft sound from Illario’s mouth that Lucanis nearly missed it. 

The two of them sat with palpable silence hanging in the air the entire time the coffeemaker dripped away. Illario’s fingers tapped a silent rhythm on the countertop. His posture was stiff, uncomfortable; it was entirely unlike him. Lucanis knew that despite the bitterness the two of them shared in the past, his cousin and Rook were quite close these days. Time had mellowed the righteous anger she’d harbored, softening the edges once she’d had time to get to know him the way he knew him.

“Lucanis,” Illario started slowly, “She did not ask you to–”

“No. She wants to go to the Deep Roads when she is ready.” He carefully lifted the brewed pot of coffee and poured a cup for both Rook and himself. The scent wafted through and filled the kitchen, smoothing frazzled nerves, and promising the relief of its familiar comfort. He moved to the cold storage in search of cream for Rook’s cup.

“And you?”

“I will follow.” 

Illario frowned deeply, the motion creasing his forehead. Lucanis turned, bottle in hand, to find him staring at the marble surface of the counter in thought. Neither said a word while a splash of cream was poured out, swirling down into the dark of the coffee.

“Cousin, I–” He hesitated briefly. “You know well enough we don’t always see eye to eye. You also know I don’t challenge you as First Talon, even when we don’t agree. But…”

Lucanis’ jaw tensed, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“But?”

“I just hope you are strong enough to come home after.” 

Silence hung heavy between them. Lucanis received the message loud and clear, and while he hadn’t explicitly committed to following her into the dark for good, he also hadn’t come up with much of a plan of what he should do. It was different for his cousin; Illario had a trio of little ones at his heels that were the sole heirs to their family line. Not for lack of want – or trying– on their part; Rook had warned him early on in their relationship that the blight in a Warden’s veins often affected fertility, and it had never quite panned out in their favor.

Lucanis was glad for his nieces and nephew, truly. He and Rook had spoiled them as if they were their own over the years, protected them… helped raise them, even. It just wasn’t quite the same as having their own. Once she was gone, it would just be him and Spite, and he wasn’t sure how the demon was going to cope. He was doing his best not to think about that part for now.

“I will try.” It was a noncommittal answer, and it would have to suffice. 

Illario sat thoughtfully for a moment. Ultimately, he patted the counter beneath his palm, then stood and left Lucanis alone in the kitchen without another word.

Lucanis exhaled a long, drawn out sigh. He collected both cups of coffee and made his way out of the kitchen, back up the stairs, and down to the office that he and Rook shared at the end of the hallway. 

Rook was at her desk when he entered, a thoughtful expression on her face as she leaned over a piece of parchment. She paused her writing to look up at him in the doorway, smiled, and set her quill down. Spread in front of her was a sheaf of fresh parchment, some pages with names notated at the top, and one or two that were already covered in her beautiful, looping cursive. She shook her wrist out to loosen the tension.

“Thank you, darling,” she said, reaching for her cup when he offered it to her, “Did Illario find you?”

“He did.” Lucanis took a slow sip of coffee, and leaned against the edge of her desk. “We spoke.”

Rook nodded, and didn’t press further. She eased back into the plush of her chair, propped her legs up on the surface, and then took a long draw from her drink. Comfortable silence settled between them, and on cue Spite materialized from some shadowed corner to set himself on top of Lucanis’ desk amongst the paperwork that needed to be done. 

The quiet of their company was never oppressive. It was always just right. Lucanis hadn’t initially intended to include the demon in the relationship when he and Rook had circled each other for weeks on end in their days at the Lighthouse. In time, he’d simply slipped into the cracks, filling the gaps with his strange brand of affection and, often, possessiveness. Rook indulged the spirit’s whims even now; nothing was ever dull when he was with them.

Oh, he was going to miss it all.

“I thought I would write these now, then send them just before leaving. I don’t want everyone descending on the villa and making it a whole… thing.” Rook’s brow furrowed as she stared intently into her cup. “It sounds selfish when I say that out loud.”

“No, I agree.” Lucanis stood, and came around to her side of the desk. His fingers slid over her shoulder before he gave a gentle squeeze of affection. “As much as I enjoy our friends, I would prefer not to entertain guests right now.”

“Once I’m done here, I’d love to go down to the cafe for brunch with you. We could hash out a rough plan over coffee, if you’re up for it.” She tilted her head to press a kiss against his fingers.

Lucanis turned his palm to gently cradle her cheek. “Mi amor, whatever you would like, I will make it happen. Just say the word.”

A tired smile crossed her features; he wished he could take her blight for himself – if only it would let him see that smile forever.

.  .  .

Lucanis wasn’t sure how many days actually passed. Not nearly enough – but still more than he’d dared to hope for. They filled them with whatever struck their fancy, dining at their favorite restaurants, working their way through some of the finest vintages they’d stashed away in the wine cellar, midnight walks in the villa’s gardens, and anything else in between. 

He reminded Rook of his love often – sometimes as whispered affection over coffee at the cafe, a squeeze of the hand on a morning stroll, or in a litany of words spilled from his mouth between the sheets at any hour of the day. Not that there had ever been a question of it, of course, and she never left him wondering at all, either. 

The nights were the hardest. As time crept on, Rook’s nightmares grew more frequent and visceral, often waking her drenched in cold sweat, or panicked in the dark. She’d assured him it was unfortunately quite normal for the Calling to have this effect on a Warden, despite the lack of an Archdemon to spur things along. It was an uncanny reflection of the days when he’d been afraid to sleep after being freed from the Ossuary, the shadows under her eyes deepening in intensity as it wore on her both physically and mentally. 

True to plan, they’d refrained from informing the remainder of their Veilguard companions. Each of them had a neatly labeled letter set aside on the surface of Rook’s desk, folded closed and sealed with her personal wax stamp. A handful of others sat in the pile, some names he recognized, and others he didn’t. An unmarked letter had been tucked away in the top drawer of the desk with great care. Lucanis didn’t press over these details, offering only his support and love when she needed it. She’d told their immediate family, smiling sadly as Illario’s children welled up with tears they surely couldn’t completely understand.

Somehow, she didn’t cry – not since the night she’d told him she could hear the song. Aside from the nightmares, she was still his Rook in heart and mind, and he was grateful for that.

One morning, Lucanis awoke with his head in Rook’s lap. She was upright against the headboard, fingers threaded loosely in his hair, and just barely dozing off. He regarded her silently for a minute or so, heart aching at the tired lines and dark shadows that haunted her face. When Spite surfaced from beneath the sheets beside him, he and the demon exchanged a glance.

She’s been holding on for us . Spite remarked. They both knew it. Rook wasn’t afraid to die – she was afraid of leaving Lucanis behind.

She stirred, and smoothed her hand through his hair. Slowly, she exhaled a steady sigh. Her fingers trembled against him. Lucanis drew himself up beside her, wrapping her in his arms like he’d done a thousand times before. Rook propped her chin on his bare shoulder, and reached out to where she felt Spite should be. The demon leaned his cheek into her touch with a soft purr of affection.

“My love,” she said softly, “I think it’s time.”

“I know, amor .” 

Her admission still made his stomach drop, but it was selfish to ask anything more of her when she had given him so much already. Everything he’d had in the last twenty years he owed to her – to her opening doors, and not closing them. 

They floated through their usual morning ritual, and enjoyed one last cup of coffee together in the garden. By now, autumn’s chill was bold and present in the early hours of the day, and each exhale left a gentle white cloud lingering between them. 

Illario stopped by briefly on his way through, and looked pained when Rook broke the news. He leaned in to press a chaste kiss against her cheek. She offered him a tired smile in return that only partially covered the exhaustion she carried these days.

“Thank you for everything, hermanita .” He gripped her shoulder for only a moment, and as he moved past, he pressed his palm flat to Lucanis’ chest. “Please be careful.”

With that, it was time to gear up and get ready to head for the Crossroads. Rook had previously mapped out a path of eluvians that would drop her closest to a Deep Roads entrance the Wardens used to use, ensuring she could spend more time at home without worrying about travel. Knowing you were approaching your end did have some benefits, Lucanis supposed; she had been able to wrap loose ends, and plan most of the details to make everything as smooth as it could be, given the circumstances.

The pair of them set to strapping their armor on in the armory, slotting too many daggers to count into every sheath and place they belonged. They’d geared together so many times over the years, he’d simply lost count. Lucanis helped her into the metal hauberk of her half-plate, fastening the strap around the back side with a sort of reverence he’d never lost for her. When he stepped back, she had her palm pressed to the rearing gryphon etched on the front of it, eyes closed and deep in thought. 

Then, the moment passed. 

“They don’t tell you about it when you enlist,” she said thoughtfully, turning to him, “I suppose for someone who completes the Joining because they’re blighted, it doesn’t matter as much. Any time gained is better than dying then and there.”

“It seems a little dishonest.” Not that it was the first time the order had hidden secrets.

“I’d think recruitment numbers would be down if everyone knew.” She smiled sadly, the humor she had meant to convey washed out of her voice completely. Rook cupped his face and drew him in for a slow, tender kiss. “If I knew it would put me at your side, I would still make that choice – even with the way it ends.”

Her words twisted something indescribable in his chest, and Lucanis leaned into her touch. He slid his palm around the back of her neck, thumb rubbing a soothing trail up her spine. She sighed against his mouth.

“Lucanis, I–” Rook hesitated, and pressed her forehead to his. “You don’t have to stay until the very end.”

“I want to,” he rushed out, fear spiking within him, “Please.”

She drew a slow breath, and after a moment nodded once. 

The rest of their preparations took little time. Rook handed a stack of letters off to one of the message runners hovering around the villa’s front door on their way past. Before long they were winding their way through the Crossroads to the eluvian Rook had already scouted ahead of time. It was blissfully uneventful. The Caretaker regarded them with some amount of worry, but a casual wave of her hand settled some of their misgivings. Lucanis made no mention of it himself, allowing Rook to set the boundaries on her own. It wasn’t his place.

When they stepped through the mirror and out the other side, it was silent as a grave. The Anderfels were substantially colder than Treviso this time of year, and the faintest flurries of snow scattered through the air. If it bothered Rook, she gave no sign. Some of her cold quiet worried him, but – he couldn’t fathom what could be going through her mind by now. Occasionally they exchanged soft words between them as they trudged along. It was enough. It had to be.

Spite stirred at the back of his skull, unsettled. If it was due to Rook, or something else on the air, he wouldn't specify. His mental pacing reminded him of days long past; he rarely acted this way.

It never ceased to amaze Lucanis just how easy someone could wander down to the Deep Roads, if they really wanted to. The entrance here looked fairly unused, decrepit with time, but there were no locks or bars preventing entry. At the top of the entrance, a stone statue of a great gryphon spread its wings wide, as if welcoming whatever Grey Warden was making the trek. Tattered banners still hung on the walls, the dyes faded with time but still clearly Warden heraldry.

Rook wordlessly stepped through the gate, a hand on the sword at her hip as she scanned inside. Nothing made a sound within.

“I feel darkspawn,” she elaborated when Lucanis came to stand at her side, “I think they’re down below in the tunnels. There’s an elevator shaft in the next room we’ll take to the bottom.”

He nodded and followed her lead, stepping through the bits of rubble and debris that littered the ground. Dead leaves rustled with a cool breeze that swept through, the only other sound around them. A slow curling feeling of dread had been building since the moment they’d stepped out of the eluvian, and as they approached the elevator, he felt it threaten to catch him by the throat. He swallowed. There was no turning back; there couldn’t be.

Rook cranked the door of the elevator’s cage open with a grunt, then gestured for him to enter. She followed behind him, yanked the lever that operated the lift down, and then released a sigh when it creaked to life and shuddered into its descent.

“These operate on counterweights,” she explained, settling in against the steel of the cage, “They don’t need magic or fuel to operate, so they need less upkeep. This one is pretty far out of the way, it’s been a long time since the Wardens actually used this entrance. Probably dates back to one of the past Blights.”

Silence settled after that, thick and heavy. There was just the creaking of the elevator, the grinding of its metal parts, and the weight of what was coming stretched between them. Rook’s expression was set hard, distant compared to the warmth and presence she normally had. Lucanis came to lean beside her, and took her hand in his with a reassuring squeeze. She squeezed back.

“I love you,” she whispered, “And I’m scared.”

“I know, mi amor .” In truth, he was just as scared as she was. He had no frame of reference for what was to come beyond ‘kill as many darkspawn as you can before you go down’. That put him in a rather precarious predicament to be alongside her, but he couldn’t bear the thought of ushering her off to her fate and just waving goodbye.

“Would you do it again, given the chance?” Her voice trembled when she asked, and Lucanis wrapped her in his arms in a strong, nearly desperate embrace. 

“I love you,” he reaffirmed. “And I would. I would even fight a hundred other elven gods if it meant I would always end up at your side.”

The elevator creaked again, then shuddered. Rook released the breath she’d been holding, and kissed him soundly. Just like that, her control came back to her, and she was the picture of the woman who’d led them decades ago. She drew her sword into her main hand, leaving her rapier at her side for now. When the lift finally ground to a halt, she closed her eyes for only a moment.

“Lucanis,” she said slowly as the door popped open, “There are a lot of darkspawn down here.”

He met her gaze, and something twisted inside of him. Spite set off a warning bell in his chest.

“I am ready.”

“And I’m sorry, my love. Please forgive me.”

Lucanis did not expect her to suddenly shove him back with her full strength, sending him off balance and to the ground with a grunt of surprise. Rook was out of the lift in an instant, and in one smooth motion she swung her blade into the thick rope holding the counterweight of the elevator stable. It snapped with wicked force, and there was only a half second of realization for him as the line whipped out of place. He looked up at her in disbelief, and the shattered look she wore in return was enough to bring the smallest understanding.

She would not allow him to throw his life away because hers was over.

The lift seized in a cacophony of grinding metal and lurched upward with speed, away from her and the part of his heart that she carried with her always. Lucanis could just catch sight of her drawing her other weapon and stalking into the dark, before he was left with nothing but the wall of the elevator shaft whizzing past and the memory of their last kiss lingering on his lips.

Spite howled in anguish within his skull, desperate to understand, and unable to do so. This was the only door that Rook had ever closed.

The demon’s grief bled into his, and Lucanis no longer could tell where one ended and the other began. Perhaps it didn’t matter. Perhaps it was one and the same. Slowly, he curled his fingers under his palm, and drew himself back to his feet on shaking legs. He could feel the sting of tears welling in his eyes, but the numbness of shock that wracked his body was deafening every other sense. 

It could not deafen Spite, however – and he did not have it in his heart to shut him out.

Even when the elevator hit the top of the shaft with a bone-jarring slam, Lucanis did not move. He stood in a sense of torpor, straining to hear anything from below – for how long, he didn’t know. Minutes. Hours, maybe. Time lost all meaning while he hovered there, Spite’s sorrow permeating every ounce of his being and melding with his own. There was no sound from far below. There couldn’t be.

The First Talon eventually returned to Antiva, but the Crows say that the Demon of Vyrantium died down there in the dark.