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Rook wasn’t hiding. He didn’t hide.
If anything, this was a strategic reclusion. He just wanted a quiet moment… In a hidden room.
The wooden boxes he’d had placed between them and the door just ensured that moment was not disturbed. Maybe moments was a more accurate word? He must have been here for hours by now. No, this wasn’t really hiding, the room wasn’t even hidden. The team knew it was here, and someone had walked in not long ago, just to walk back out again. Leaning on the wall beneath the windows, they filled the room with perpetual sunlight through the grimy glass panes. He’d propped a small pot of lily of the valley on the windowsill when he’d first found the room and now the softly refreshing floral smell of it was working overtime to calm his mind. Despite it’s more deadly properties, he loved the flower.
Rook has been doing a lot of… not hiding recently. Treviso, their home, was a mess. He’d been given a choice, again. He’d made the wrong decision, again. Rook squeezed their eyes shut as they began to sting. He’d cried so much in the moment’s he could get alone recently, it was genuinely surprising that his body kept finding ways to make more tears.
Seeing the blight clawing out of the canals, the bodies on the streets, the missing Crows he’d know for his entire life. Sleep had never been a close friend, but these days it was a distant enemy at best. Any moments of rest he did manage to get were plagued with flashes of dragons crashing over the cafes he and the others had spent their lives frequenting. He didn’t even need to be asleep to see the face of Lucanis in his mind, dejected and exhausted after spending hours trying to save the home he’d just returned to, only to have it torn asunder in front of him. Viago’s eyes had always pinned Rook in place, the same blue as his very own but with so much more strength, but when they’d been turned on him like that, with accusations about never thinking through actions and reminding him of a lifetime worth of failures, he’d nearly collapsed.
Rook squeezed his hands into fists at their sides, pressing them hard to the stone floor. It wasn’t that he was avoiding Treviso, not really. In fact, his guilt was like a chain pulled taught that always led right back there. If he was summoned, he went immediately, sneaking from the meditation room to the eluvian before anyone on the team could see, or worse, join. Wherever it was possible, he’d do whatever was requested with the information provided in the letters. However, given the nature of the Crowes, some things couldn’t be written down for fear of interception. In those cases, he’d taken to scaling the buildings and darting through the shadows, trying to avoid the other Crows. Which was hard, because Treviso city was fucking full of Crows, and they all frequented the same shadows. Moving past the comments the others made, the ones that cut deeper than blades, he’d reach Teia and Viago, and stand before them with his spine locked straight, and eyes cast down. He hasn’t even considered going back to the de Riva house, he didn’t think he could physically convince himself to if he tried, and he didn’t want to know if Viago would even let them through the doors.
“Rook.” A firm voice cut through the air. They shot to their feet in an instant, knives drawn into their hands, their body crouched and poised to attack. Over their makeshift barricade, they met the steel hard gaze of their brother. Fuck.
“Viago. What are you doing here?” Rook dropped their eyes almost as soon as they’d met the other de Riva siblings, levelling their voice to the rigid, professional one they had used frequently when they were a newly official Crow. They glanced around the room before adding quietly “and how did you find me?”
“Your tall friend, Taash, they said you were in here. Said it smelt like rain?” Viago stated, his voice as unmoving as it always was. “We have not seen you recently.”
“My apologies. Have I missed a summons?” Rook wracked his brain, he’d been checking frequently but perhaps the not-hiding was starting to get in the way of the tasks that needed doing.
“No.” Viago replied, the word drawn out slightly. “No, you’ve arrived swiftly to every message we have sent you. I’m referring to the house, or the Cantori Diamond. Or anywhere that isn’t amid a sloppy battle or a shadow.”
“Ah.” Rook murmured. It made sense Viago had followed them at some point. On Rooks last visit, Viago had commented on the whereabouts of his companions. Rook had lied, told him they were waiting outside of the Diamond for him to return. In reality, Rook could not keep up the balance of the strong face of a leader while hunting through Treviso, the home he’d abandoned in its hour of need. His fights had been getting sloppy too, not enough to kill him, but enough to leave more marks than they ever had before, even in his training days. He’d wanted so badly to help everyone, like a real hero would have. He’d torn through The Crossroads and Eluvians once the other dragon had left Minrathous, his lungs screaming for him to take a break. Still, when he’d arrived to Treviso, it was to Lucanis sitting anguished and Viago livid. Rook shook his head, as if the thoughts could be pushed out like water in his ears. “I-uh. I’ve been busy.” He lied, barely remembering what he was supposed to be responding to.
Viago paused for a long moment before stepping closer. Rook placed their knives on one of the boxes as they moved around the blockade. They kept their eyes down and moved their hands behind their back. Every bit the perfect young Crow they had once tried to be. “What are you wearing? This is not your uniform.” His voice was so sharp it made Rook dig their fingernails into their palms behind their back. He’d forgotten he was not in his old gear. He couldn’t quite bring himself to wear any of the blues that took up almost all his wardrobe. It didn’t feel right, like he was pulling on a skin he had never managed to earn. He didn’t have much other than Crow uniforms though, so he’d resorted to wearing a set of armour that had shown up at The Lighthouse not long after the team had first arrived. It was too much metal for their liking. The pieces clanged as he moved if he wasn’t being deliberate about his actions.
“It’s just something that was around.” He murmured.
“This is not fit for a Crow.” Viagos voice was so biting, so deeply cutting, it finally made Rook look up from the ground to meet his brothers gaze.
“Nothing I ever do is fitting for a Crow, Viago.” He spat back, although it came out with a choak in the middle he hadn’t meant to let out. His eyes were stinging again.
“Evidently,” He responded, cold and stormy. “Maybe you should do something better with your time on a contract than sitting behind boxes crying. How many times do I have to tell you? Crows always finish the job.”
Rook felt their chest cave in on itself, their rigid back feeling like it was snapping under the weight of those words. They willed their body not to let the tears threatening behind their eyes spill.
“You’re right. I should be out there, fucking up more peoples lives with my decisions,” Rook snarled. “Maybe get Neve hurt in another explosion? Oh, no, I should free more Antaam captives to ruin another Crow contract. Never mind, I’ve got it. I should let my own city fall to the fucking blight and watch people I have grown up with either die, or if we’re lucky, just turn their backs on me.” Rook swore at the outburst, turning their back to Viago as they look to the tops of the windows as the tears began streaming down his face uncontrollably. They tried to keep their back rigid, tried to stop their shoulders from falling with the sobs that threatened to tear through them.
“Eloi-“ Viago started, the sharp edges of his voice rounded, as they always did when he used his birth name.
“No, please Viago, I get it. Never, in my fucking life, have I been good enough at anything. You’ve made that clear. If I hadn’t pissed you and the other superiors off so well, this contract could have gone to someone who might have half a chance at doing it right.” Rook took a shaky breath, trying to cool their tone with little success. “Instead, the team has me. The world has me. All because you couldn’t let the de Riva name face the scorched mark of me being removed from the crows.”
“Eloi, please.” Viago tried again. Rook couldn’t stop now, who knows if they’d be around to have this conversation again. Knowing himself, he might accidently end the world by the end of this week.
“You should have dropped me. Let me go. Instead, now, the whole world is stuck with me, and I can’t stop screwing it all up.” Rook finally felt their body give up the fight to appear composed, a sob shuddered his body and his shoulders fell, his head lolling to the side. “No one has more faith in the Antivan Crows than me, Viago. Treviso had our best. They had you. They had Andarateia. Lucanis, the Demon of Vyrantium, was back. I just…. Didn’t think, in all of that, that I would be anything but in the way.” Rook had moved from yelling to quiet rambling by the end of the sentence, the fight seemingly knocked out of them.
“Illario was there, too.” Viago added distantly, forcing Rook to snort a laugh before it morphed into another sob.
“It was… unfair of me to say what I said to you. After the dragon attack.” Viagos voice had lost so much of its sharp edges, Rook had to force their body not to turn just to make sure it was still him. Instead, they tilted their head to the ceiling once more, praying that these damn tears stopped sometime soon. “You do think of something. Every time. It’s what makes you such a good Crow, and you are a great Crow, Eloi. After watching that dragon terrorize our city for hours, all I could think about when I saw you was how another city benefitted from that. They benefitted from you while we struggled and suffered the consequences.”
Rooks voice was choking in his throat now. It was caught, scarping and refusing to come when he willed it. He cleared his throat, trying to move the gravel that had formed inside of it.
“When you were a fledgeling, I didn’t train you so hard because I thought you were falling behind. I didn’t put you on this Dread Wolf job because you upset the other Talons. I trained you to the bone because you were good at this, and selfishly, I didn’t want my brother to die on the job. I put you forward for this job because when you took down those Antaam, you thought of a way to face them down twenty to one and still come out on top.” As Viago spoke, his voice slowly came closer, like he was worried Rook may flea if he moved too quickly. “I know you can do this Eloi. I know you can because you are one of our best, and I was so proud to put you forward for this job. Proud, and terrified for my little brother, but if anyone can find a way to do this, it’s you.” A gloved hand landed gently on Rooks shoulder. He flinched inward, like the contact had burned through the armour he wore that didn’t feel like his own. Then, before their brain could catch up with their body, he spun around.
Rook threw his arms around his brother, the tears flowing strong and the cries that came from his body sounding more like a wounded animal than himself. He hugged him tight, his arms tense around the man who had always cared for him. Viago moved quickly to catch him, his arms coming around Rook in a fierce hold that was familiar and protective, even if had been a long, long time since they’d been here. Burying his face against his chest, the smell of leather and polish mixed with the distinct scent of the deadly nightshade he used for poisons. Ever since he had moved in to the de Riva house, the smell of poisonous flowers had been the most comforting scent to him, because it smelt like Viago, and Viago was his home. Rook clung to him like he was a child again. Back when was little, and he’s sit on a stool to watch Viago mix his poisons and give them silly names that had always made him laugh. Sometimes, when things were simmering, or they were waiting for coffee and cioccolata calda to brew, Rook would ask his brother to braid Lily of the Valley or White Oleander into his hair. He liked how it looked, but he loved how it smelt. He always felt safe when he could smell the poisons Viago made.
Things had changed since then, both he and Viago had so much more to do now. When he’d started training as a fledgling Crow, his brother had taken on his training rather than Heir, and it changed their dynamic a lot. Viago did not coddle Rook, and Rook did not want to let his brother down. He’d tried his best, he’d trained hard and followed every lesson he’d been taught, but Rook always felt so… soft-hearted compared to the other fledglings and Crows. His emotions got him into trouble a lot, so he tried to hide them. He’d stopped adding flowers to his braids. He’d stopped his casual conversations with the other Crows. He’d stopped seeing them as people and saw them only as the well-trained assassins they are. In doing so, he’d stopped seeing that they also struggled under the weight of the world, as people who stumbled and faltered. That oversight was what had gotten so many people he cared for hurt.
Rook burrowed his face into Viago’s chest deeper, feeling like he did when he would scrape his knee as a child. The instinct to retreat into his brother’s arms overtook every learned habit of stoicism.
“I’m sorry… I betrayed our home. I’m so sorry I let you down, Viago.” He whispered, his voice muffled in the soft leather of his brother’s coat.
“You didn’t,” Viago said immediately, firmly. “Eloi, you didn’t let anyone down. Treviso was lost before any of us knew it. No one was ready for the Gods to move the way that they did, and you went to those you thought needed you the most because you have a good heart.”
“But Lucanis-“ Rook sniffled, feeling more like a child by the second.
“Lucanis is grieving, he’s been through a lot recently.” Viago interrupted, resting his chin on top of his head as he spoke. “We all have. We don’t blame you. I don’t blame you. Yes, we are angry, but not at you Eloi.”
“I don’t know how to fix it,” he whispered. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start by getting out of here. Talk to your team. Talk to Lucanis. To me and Teia. The Gods will continue to hurt people, and you need to stop hiding to deal with them.”
Rook stepped back from his brother, missing the smell of home already. “I wasn’t hiding.” He mumbled.
“Really? Not hiding, huh?” Viago hummed, thoughtful. “You’ve pulled off assassinations with less stealth than this.”
Rook gave him a watery smile, scrubbing the tears from his cheeks. He hated when his brother pulled him out of his moods, with his dry wit and blunt honesty. He also loved him dearly for it.
Viago’s gaze drifted past Rook, his face settling back into the familiar scowl of the Crows’ poison master. He squinted, distracted. “Is that one of my plants?” he smirked.
“Oh- Yeah, sorry.” Rook turned toward the small cluster of white flowers. “They always smell like home... I’m not actually sure how they grow in here, but the Fade has weirder things going on than flowers thriving in sub-optimal environments. I had to put them here so Assan wouldn’t try to eat them. That’s the, ah… griffon.”
“I’d hoped that wasn’t the name of one of your associates.” Viago scoffed. “Glad to hear it.” He moved past Rook, stepping toward the window and the pot plant propped up on an old box.
“Please don’t take them away,” Rook said softly, his voice more fragile than he meant it to be. “They remind me of home.”
Viago hummed noncommittally, carefully picking out two curved stems, each bowed under the weight of their clustered blossoms. Settling into a low chair, he gestured with his chin to Rook in a silent invitation.
Rook moved, lighter than he’d felt in weeks, and folded himself cross-legged on the floor. He leaned back against his brother’s knee, exhaling as Viago removed the clips from his hair, gloved fingers gently undoing the messy knots and neglected braids he’d left in too long.
The room fell quiet. For the first time in what felt like forever, Rook’s mind didn’t spiral through all the worst things he’d done, or all the people he’d failed. There were no storms of guilt and doubt tearing through his mind. He just sat. Just breathed. He focused on the familiar movement and pull of his brothers’ hands as they worked to braid two sections of his hair, gently weaving the small white flowers through the cross sections until they sat like a wreath around his head. The same way he had for him when he was a much younger boy.
Viago pinned the last strand in place then rested a firm hand on Rook’s shoulder.
“There,” he said at last. “Now you look like a proper assassin again. And if you’re still determined to fight like someone who wasn’t trained by the best poisoner in the Crows, at least your hair will be lethal.”
Rook huffed a quiet laugh and didn’t pull away. Instead, he rested his cheek against his brother’s knee, grounding himself in the steadiness he’d long feared was conditional, but it had instead always been given freely, in its own way.
He wasn’t planning on hiding anymore.
But for now, he’d stay here a little longer.