Chapter Text
1
Cold, icy fingers spread through her insides as darkness crept in from all sides. The pain was subsiding now, but the cold remained, permeating every part of her body. Rook tried to flinch away, shiver, do anything to stop the foreign feeling, but her body didn't feel like hers to control anymore.
Visions of her friends’ bodies danced through her memories. Neve and Davrin, turning to stone atop the dais, their stiffening corpses bathed in the green light of the veil.
Her mind shied away from the memories. It hurts. She was so tired; her spirit just wanted to let go. If they were gone, she wanted to go too…
Then the warmth of a healing spell cut through everything. It dispelled the cold, pushed back the darkness, and suddenly everything hurt again. Pain after the numbness - somehow it made the feeling so much sharper.
No. She was done with her fight. Let me go.
The magic persisted. Rook hated the feel of her body knitting together, drawing on the last of her energy stores to fuel the repairs. Weak, she tried to stop it but her feeble attempts were batted away.
A figure kneeled above her, only a hazy humanoid outline except for the ears. Another elf then, like her.
“You were never ready to make the sacrifices that leadership requires.”
Rook's bloody lips curled slightly at that memory. The Dread Wolf’s rage at his own words reflected back at him had been delicious. Bemusement and exasperation flashing through the god’s eyes as he'd looked back up at Rook, holding him against the Veil. Then the Fade took them, and reality dissolved.
As final words went, Rook figured they weren’t half bad.
Then lethargy filled her, and she let go of the chaotic madness around her for the exquisite relief of darkness.
*
“Hey kid. Fancy meeting you here again.”
Rook’s head lolled sideways to see Varric leaning against a nearby pillar. “Hey,” she said, her voice sounding weak to her own ears. “I thought you were dead.”
“Well, unfortunately that little fact hasn’t changed yet.” He pushed off the pedestal, walking over and kneeling beside her. “Sorry to disappoint you there.”
She blinked slowly, running a hand across her face and neck. Her fingertips danced across the dagger buckled to her chest, then fell away onto her lap.
There were no enemies here. None she wanted to recognize, anyway.
Her body felt far too tired to move, but still Rook tried to roll over and stand. At the very least, she wanted to face her old friend. Varric’s hand on her shoulder however stilled her for a moment. “Take it easy,” he said, concern lacing his voice.
She shook her head, trying to clear her vision, then used the pillar (tree? statue?) she leaned against to struggle onto her feet. Varric clearly didn't approve of her course of action, but the dwarf knew better than to insist on making her stay down. She stumbled once, leaning on the (marble? stone?) behind her for support. “Where are we?”
Varric snorted. “Look around and take a wild guess.”
Rook closed her eyes, head already spinning from the kaleidoscope beyond her friend. “Can I please not?”
“Sure kid." The dwarf's voice was soft. "Take all the time you need.”
Eyes still closed, Rook grimaced. “Did I ever tell you I hate it when you call me kid?”
“No, because you knew it would make me do it even more.”
They sat in silence for a long moment, Rook taking long, even breaths to try and dispel the weakness permeating her body. “We won, you know.”
“Really now? Never doubted you for a second.”
Taash, her outstretched arm under the rubble crushing her. Lucanis, chest a bloody mess from the bloodmage’s blast. Bellara, consumed by the Blight tentacles.
Rook’s breathing faltered, and she swallowed hard. She turned to see what surface she leaned against, then tilted her head up into the face of a wolf.
A bloody Fen’Harel wolf statue. She couldn’t get away from the man, even in her own dreams.
Turning her head, she stared at Varric for a long time, pain tugging at her heart. “Are you really you?”
The dwarf gave her a sad smile. “At this point, would the truth even matter?”
*
Rook opened her eyes.
She was laying on her back, staring up at the sky. Debris of all kinds floated above her, spinning lazily through the air. Her eyes followed the rubble, grounding her and allowing time to get her bearings.
“You’re awake. Good.”
Rook wasn’t prepared to hear the Dread Wolf’s voice, yet somehow she’d known all along that was who saved her.
She didn’t move a muscle, just stared up at the sky. This part of the fade was dark, as if night had fallen. Belatedly she wondered if there was a sun shining somewhere in this world, or if the light was a magical construct like the rest. Solas would probably know, but she'd be damned if she asked him for anything.
His knowledge came with too many strings attached.
One body part at a time, she took stock of her condition. Fingers and toes worked; limbs were weak but seemed intact. Her insides felt like she’d gone a few rounds in a boxing ring, each breath a dull ache, but her body overall seemed to be working. One hand crossed her chest, fingers closing over the Crow dagger she kept there, and she slid it from its sheath.
“You’d kill me now.” His smirk mocked her. “You, who tied my life force to the Veil?”
I can still hurt you. Maybe it would be enough.
It would never be enough.
Dagger still in hand, Rook rolled over, elbows digging into the hard ground beneath her as she struggled to rise. Solas, crouched beside a ball of blue flame, said and did nothing as Rook staggered to her feet. Almost immediately, a wave of vertigo made her stumble; she closed her eyes, trying to find balance, but went down to one knee.
“It will pass in a bit.”
Dragging in a ragged breath, Rook focused on the small pebble beneath her index finger, picking it up and rolling it between her fingers. When the nausea slowly diminished, she opened her eyes. Not taking her gaze off the ground, she attempted to stand again.
This time was marginally better, although her balance was off. She kept her focus on the ground before her, taking deep breaths. Her belly hurt; she felt through the tear in her leathers at the wound Solas made with the dagger, but it had been closed. All that was left was a raised lump of skin.
The god still didn’t deign to notice or acknowledge her. After a moment, Rook attempted to look at the horizon, and immediately shut her eyes again.
Even after so long in the Lighthouse and the Crossroads, the roiling sea of debris here in this part of the Fade made her want to puke.
Or perhaps that was the pain in her belly. It sucked either way.
She took one step, then another. The next time she looked up, the nausea stayed at bay, or at least hid behind the other pains of her body. A blessing, she supposed, since she’d have to get used to this hellscape anyway.
Solas gave a disapproving snort, probably annoyed she was moving around this soon after he’d healed her, but she ignored him. As much as she wanted to hurt him, to say something that would goad him, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of acknowledgment. So as best she could, she walked away from him, into the misty nothingness ahead of her.
“You’ll be back.”
Blow me, Chuckles. Then the swirling haze swallowed her up.
One foot in front of the other. It was all she could do. Eventually however, even the path itself was obscured from her vision. Rook tapped a toe each step to feel her way across, all too aware how fickle the ground could be in the fade. Within only a few steps however, the ground reappeared, the fog lifting again, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
Only to see Solas before her. He gave her a small wave, mouth twisted in a cynical smile.
Rook stumbled to a halt, staring at him for a moment. Then she turned away and tried again…only to come back up on him again that direction, still warming his hands against the ball of blue fire.
“In a way, you should be grateful for the mechanic.” He didn’t bother looking at her as he spoke. “It may have saved your life.”
Melancholy tugged at the corners of Rook’s mind but she refused to succumb. Casting her eyes about, she chose another direction and limped across the large opening, walking past the other elf without stopping. Behind her, she heard Solas sigh but continued to ignore him.
Viago had once told her that the definition of idiocy was trying the same thing over and over expecting different results. Then again, the older Crow mentor and her house leader had never called Rook smart, so maybe he knew what he was talking about.
Viago, Teia… No. She wasn’t going to do this now. Hopefully, if she had her way, not ever.
The mists again surrounded her and Rook kept an eye on her feet. Unlike the two previous times however, the ground did not disappear; it remained firm, visible, and unending. Indeed, she eventually reached shallow steps and began to ascend, although she had no idea where to.
Then she heard it: the soft footfall behind her. Without even thinking about it, she whirled around and let loose the knife already in her hands.
The blade halted in midair. Directly in its path, Solas gave her a bland look. “Really?”
Rook snorted. “I have others,” she muttered, refusing to ask for it back. “Many others.”
“I’m certain you do.”
The amusement in his voice grated on her nerves, but she ignored him and trudged onwards up the (apparently winding) staircase until she reached a narrow set of battlements only two meters wide. The mists swirled around her, thankfully obscuring the horizons or shifting world around her, so the vertigo was at a minimum.
Still, it felt strange moving forward when you didn’t know or couldn’t see what was waiting for you.
Sighing, Rook continued on, trying not to think about the elf's soft footfalls behind her.
*
After maybe an hour or so of careful walking, the ground changed. The stone battlements gave way to dirt, then to cobbles, and the thick mist grew less dense around them.
Rook almost didn’t notice the subtle changes, too busy contemplating her impending death. The easiest way would obviously be to fall off the edge and into the abyss. Then again, she reasoned, if she didn’t actually hit anything on the way down, she’d be falling indefinitely or at least until she ran out of food and water.
Which, she realized, would probably end up being what killed her. The last time she’d been in the Fade prison here, it had been a desolate affair; if her team hadn’t found her in those first few hours, she had no rations or anything to keep herself alive.
Perfect then! She’d just die of starvation…but first she’d probably die of thirst. That would only take maybe three days, right? It would certainly serve Solas right; the man deserved to rot here alone for what he’d…
She nearly walked into a tree, disrupting her cheerful thoughts of impending death.
Stumbling backwards, Rook caught herself and looked about her. The fog was lifting, slowly revealing their surroundings. However, unlike what she’d originally thought, they were not in a forest.
They were in Treviso.
Rook’s breath caught as she recognized the canals and bridges coming into view. The Fade copies did not have the vibrancy and life that her Treviso had, but she recognized it just the same.
Home. But not her home. Not really.
That didn’t stop the knife of pain going through her heart.
“Interesting. The Fade pulled this from your mind?”
They were the first words either of them had spoken since starting their impromptu journey, and Rook resented him breaking the silence. She didn’t answer, just scanned the surroundings trying to get her bearings, then came to a disturbing realization.
This was not the Treviso she knew. How did she know?
Because bodies didn’t randomly grow out of the gondolas navigating the canals, nor were the bridges made out of skulls.
“Fascinating.” Solas moved in for a closer look as Rook stood rooted, taking in the macabre scene around her. Swallowing, she looked down at the cobblestones beneath her feet.
Skulls of all shapes and sizes, some staring up at her and some turned so they actually looked like cobblestones, were beneath her feet.
“Andraste’s tit!” It was like Arlathan Forest with its creepy-as-fuck cadaverous wood art and ghoulish tree-limbs-made-from-human-limbs, only worse because this was her home.
“An odd reaction from a Crow assassin.”
“You.” She pointed a finger at Solas. “Shut up.”
“Ah, so she finally speaks to me.”
Dammit. Scowling, Rook started walking down the similar-but-not-the-same streets she had grown up in, heading for the familiarity of the Cantori Diamond.
Behind her, Solas’ feet whispered across the road of skulls.
They were about halfway there when Rook’s stomach rumbled. Suddenly, her earlier cheer about starving to death didn’t sound like such a fun way to die.
Walking through her city felt…strange, as if she were jumping around or blanking out on entire sections. What should’ve been a half hour walk to the casino took only five or so minutes, but Rook couldn’t remember what sights or city streets she may have missed.
Then again, given the macabre nature of everything here, she hadn’t really been looking too hard, relying on instinct and innate knowledge of the city to get her through.
Pushing that troubling thought aside, she cleared the many steps to the Crow’s casino on the upper floors. She knew this route – Viago had for years made her go up and down it every day multiple times until she puked. And yet, just like she'd recognized with the city streets below, the journey to the top of the casino took almost no time.
Oh, that it had been that short during her actual childhood.
Fletcher's merchant stand was nearby on the wood catwalk, but Fletcher himself was absent. The space there felt odd; the man had lived and breathed his wares as long as she'd known him, it was strange to see him missing from his station. Rook only hesitated for a moment, then moved to the back of the stand and tried to open the door there.
Locked.
She jiggled the handle, then sank down to her knees and reached for her pick set. Only to stumble backwards with a curse as she realized the handle was now a small human fist, a keyhole lodged between the fingers.
Fletcher's signet ring. And just like that, Rook was done with this macabre hellscape.
“Allow me.” Solas didn’t wait for her permission but stepped forward, waving his hands through the air. Old wood crackled as the hinges were dismantled, breaking off the doorway and freeing the wood. With nothing to hold it in place, the door fell backwards to the ground, revealing…
“A larder?”
Solas sounded disappointed, as if he’d expected more from her, but Rook couldn’t bring herself to care. She could feel his disapproving gaze on her as she went inside to take stock of the food and water caches. It was both gratifying and disappointing to find that, unlike other portions to the city, the food here at least still looked like actual food she’d be willing to eat.
Gratifying because she was starving. Disappointing, because now she’d probably survive at least a few more days here in this Fade prison.
With him.
Peachy.
“This is where you grew up?”
Rook slammed a drawer closed a little too loudly, but otherwise ignored the elf’s question.
“I read the Crows purchase their recruits as slaves and run them through trials, keeping only those who survive to join their ranks. Is this how you joined the organization?”
Rook paused, slowly turning her head to look at Solas. His expression was merely curious, but Rook knew better than to answer. The man never asked questions that he either didn’t know the answer to, or that weren’t designed to elicit a specific response from its target.
“You must have people you love in this location,” he continued, stepping outside of the doorway to look around the diamond. “You certainly headed this direction fast enough. Were you perhaps hoping that somebody would be waiting for you here, that perhaps--”
Glass shattered at Rook’s feet.
She hadn’t meant to drop the vinegar bottle, only to move it aside. And maybe “drop” wasn’t the right word; it wouldn’t have shattered like that without a little added force. “You need my help, don’t you?”
A flicker across his face; lip curling and nose wrinkling – disdain? – briefly before smoothing out. “What makes—”
“You need something from me,” Rook cut in. “Or you want something from me, it doesn’t matter. I have something you need and you can’t be arsed to just ask. So you needle, and you dig, and you poke and prod trying to get me to give up information.” She glared at him. “You couldn’t move unless you saved me – would’ve been annoying carting my body everywhere – so I was healed. You try to piss me off, get under my skin so I’ll talk to you, then the real manipulation begins. At some point you mention your respect for me during our work together, and suddenly we get all buddy-buddy or something? What could you possibly need so much that you’d demean yourself enough to…”
Realization dawned. “Ohhhh,” she breathed, and a muscle twitched in Solas’ cheek. “I’m an idiot,” Rook murmured, then gave a mirthless laugh. “I got out of your prison once, and you don’t know how I did it, do you?”
“You’re smarter than I gave you credit for,” he said, a curious look in his eyes, but Rook shook her head.
“I see you, Dread Wolf. Maybe not fully, maybe you’re still several steps ahead of me in this game, but I see enough. Don’t bother with compliments, I won’t believe a word that passes your lips.”
A reluctant smile tipped up one corner of his mouth. “You changed since we first met,” he said, an approving gleam in his eyes, and it was Rook’s turn to scowl.
She strode past him, slapping a small package of rations against his armored chest as she went by. “My stomach isn’t the only organ I think with, you prick.”